#this took WAY too long to edit because my fucking computer is slow as a god damn snail the fuck bruhhhhh

[xiuhnny]

a montage of love / mark lee

genre: college!au, acquaintances to lovers!au, slow burn, fluff, a lot more angst than anticipated

pairing: mark lee/female reader

word count: 26.5k jesus christ

warning: alcohol and drug abuse, explicit language, suggestiveness, a bit of heart-wrenching angst

summary: High school was a time in your life you didn’t like to think about, especially when the present days were the best ones you had ever lived. But when Mark Lee shows up in the form of blast from the past, you’re left with emotions you never planned on experiencing.

author’s note: i’ve been working on this for almost a year. amid the mess that is my life, i poured my heart and soul into this project, which is the first official piece of writing i do for the kpop community. it has taken longer than i expected, and i apologise to everyone who had been waiting for this to be published since i posted the preview quite some time ago. however, it is here! i’ll never be the person who can put out a short story because my need to go into fully specific details about every single thing is stronger than anything else. pleathe be mindful of the fact that this is fiction and i dont think any character in this work resembles their real life counterpart besides their physical appearance. also, i’m aware that i mix british terms with american ones, mind you that i’m neither so bear with me for a sec lol

High school was a time you weren’t particularly fond of. 

It was just a clustered mess of stillness-infused events happening one after the other, never having anything really good coming out of it. It was either neutral or downright disastrous and embarrassing, so sometimes you pretended it either didn’t exist or it was a foggy, distant memory in the back of your mind. 

Everything had been just plain, normal, detached, never good enough to think of it fondly.

You supposed being the new kid was probably one of the causes that made your attempts at fitting in with the others fail miserably. The people you hung out with were the type of people you knew your friendship wouldn’t stretch further than the last day of high school: you relied on each other for convenience. That didn’t hurt you at all because it was something you did too. And it wasn’t like you were the best version of yourself back then. 

The best came when you entered college.

The college you was the person you had always dreamed to be. Liked by people who genuinely cared for you and your wellbeing, with whom you shared good and bad moments. Carefree in the sense that you were no longer afraid of sharing your opinions and being yourself yet carrying all the same struggles every other college student did. This was your peak. You were at the top of your game in every aspect possible. And even if you were still flawed, like you would always be, the life you lead was still worth it.

However, not everyone shared the same path as you. Some people just had it all since the beginning: they were consistent in the way they presented themselves to other people throughout the years, and consequently that in itself appeased the masses no matter the environment they inserted themselves into. It didn’t help at all if they were truly nice people, which was the case.

You weren’t sure why the fact that Mark Lee was as loved — if not even more — in college as he was in high school surprised you, but the truth was, it did. 

Going through a blast from the past was something you were expecting, seeing people from your old school navigating through the halls of a place you really liked became second nature. You saw Sicheng every once in a while, the Chinese guy you had to become acquainted because both of you had transferred to your high school closely after each other. You saw Dahyun who was from your Math class though you never really made an effort to be friends, neither did she. You saw a variety of faces with whom you had shared tiny speckles of basic interaction.

But Mark Lee wasn’t just any person. 

Mark Lee was the cool guy who looked like he had everything without even trying or working hard for it. He had reliable friends, good looks, good grades, recognition and respect from pretty much everyone surrounding him. You were sure there wasn’t a soul capable of hating or so much as even having hard or negative feelings towards him. And rightfully so, for while Mark looked like someone who breezed through life without a scratch, he was severely passionate and strived hard for good results on whatever he put his mind in to. To top it off, he had luck on his side.

You couldn’t hate the guy, you’d give him that. He was too much of a good person.

It was nearly the end of the first semester of your second year of college when you saw him for the first time after you had ended your senior year of high school. With Mark being younger than you by one year, you had been swept away out of that hellhole before him. But as luck would have it, you were back to sharing an education facility. Not that it bothered you that much, except you had to be shocked not only by his presence, yet also by the happenstance he was talking to one of your best friends with whom you were supposed to meet up fifteen minutes ago.

You were the one who was late, of course. So many years had gone by and you still weren’t able to be on time whatever the circumstance was. And when you tried to be responsible and leave your dorm early, the universe seemed to be against you. It remained a mystery why public transportation would fail you on only those specific times. 

At that moment, being late was the least of your worries, because there, in front of you, stood two people who represented completely different times of your life colliding with one another, while you watched in the sidelines and wondered why something like this was even happening to you.

 It truly felt weird to you seeing the out-of-reach Mark interacting with completely-approachable Jungwoo. 

Pursuing a friendship with one of the school’s most popular people did not charm you in any way back then. You thought about it sometimes, what would happen if you were to befriend Mark, or his best friends Donghyuck and Yeri, but reality brought you back before your imagination pulled you in too deeply. Besides that, you were never interested enough in that kind of people, the ones who seemed like they were known by everyone and their mothers. The difference between you and them was ghastly, bound to never work out.

“___!” A voice shook you out of your memory lane themed thoughts, your eyes blinking into focus to the image of the two boys now looking at you, one with sheer happiness to see you and the other surprised. For what reason you couldn’t decipher why. He had always been like that. Not that you had paid Mark Lee too much attention in high school. It was just inevitable once in a while to look over to where he was sitting and analyse his behaviour for a tiny bit. You had that habit.

“Hey, Zeus,” You smiled softly, “Sorry for making you wait. Traffic sucked balls.”

Jungwoo rolls his eyes, clearly sensing your politeness had a reason. You had stopped apologising for being late after the first ten times. “Don’t even bother, you talk like I’m not used to it. Oh!” He seems to remember something by the way his eyes jump a little, and then he looks to his left where Mark Lee is, for a fraction of a second before looking back at you again, “That’s right. How rude of me. Remember that guy I told you about named Lucas? The one who is Kun’s cousin?”

“Tall, loud boy?” 

“That’s the one.” He grinned, “This is his friend, Mark. We’re heading together to Lucas’s. They invited me over for a game night! How cool is that, uh?”

“Very.” You deadpanned, completely averting the fact Jungwoo was introducing Mark to you. He would have a field day if he knew you knew who Mark was. Because there was no way in hell Mark would know who you were. Moreover, you couldn’t believe he asked you to meet up just because of a measly textbook which you could have handed to him another time. You were still going to meet up with other friends, but the fact you had to take a last-minute detour when you were already late to your original plans stung just a bit. “Here’s the book, by the way.”

“Thanks, you’re a gem.” The sad thing about your best friend was that he knew you couldn’t resist how cute he acted. It worked every single time, including this one. “Why don’t you come over too? If Mark doesn’t mind, that is.”

Mark immediately becomes flustered, eyes widening as if he’d just heard wrong, but you beat him before he can even utter a word in response, which could destroy your nonchalant façade, “Thanks, but I already have plans. The girls and I are actually sleeping over at Eunwoo’s today, and we’re going to the movies in about…” You take your phone out of your pocket to check, the numbers that stared back at you zipping you back into full awareness that you should probably leave if you wanted to make it on time. “Half an hour. We’re watching Venom.” There’s a strange heaviness in your chest making it hard for you to breathe. Being the centre of Mark’s attention felt so alien to you, so unreal and wildly unimaginable. “And I’m sure Lucas and his friend wouldn’t really be comfortable with having a stranger in their home.” You laugh at the end to soften the truth behind your words. 

As fun as it is meeting new people, bringing them unannounced in the last minute was never recommended, and it could seriously deflate the comfort in those who were present. Jungwoo had good intentions, but that’s all it was.

(You’re not a stranger, Mark thinks, I’ve had a crush on you for embarrassingly too long.)

“That’s a pity, really.” Your best friend pouts adorably, and you chastise yourself inwardly before you changed your mind, “Let’s set up something as soon as possible, though. I feel like we all will get along well if we get the chance.”

His determined enthusiasm was cute, almost contagious if you willed yourself to let your guard down. You’d let him get away with it this one time.

“Of course! Just let us know when and where, and we’ll be there.”

Mark goes back to looking like he could be feeling every type of emotion possible, chewing on his lip with his eyes unreadably stoic, and the three of you part ways at the school’s garden but not without the thought of how well Mark had grown between the last time you saw him and now infiltrating and contaminating your brain. 

Turned out Jungwoo’s ASAP was earlier than you would have ever imagined. 

Actually, if things had gone according to the way you had planned, he would forget about the whole ordeal and you would go on with your merry little way without any unfortunate recollection lurking around and probing into your life. You truly didn’t feel the need to meet many new people; everything was already perfect as it was, so why would you even ask for more?

Clearly, your best friend thought otherwise, seeing how seriously he had taken those words, and in the following week, prompted everyone to hang out at his place a Thursday night after classes ended. Much to your surprise, most of your friends seemed okay with it.

Vernon and Kino were just ecstatic over the prospect of meeting and chilling with new people since their social circle was always willing to expand no matter who tried to come in. Eunseo already spent most of her time in Jungwoo’s house to load off of his Netflix subscription and free food so having three or four more people coming over didn’t bother her at all as long as she had her spot on the couch. Yeeun and Eunwoo seized every moment Eunseo wasn’t home to suck each other’s faces off and do God knows what.

And you… Well. You wouldn’t normally mind under other circumstances, really. It wasn’t like you were actively seeking other friendships per se, but you also didn’t avoid them. So you decided that you weren’t going to scheme your way out of a meeting where half of the people there were people you cared about. Mark made you feel a tad uncomfortable because he was someone you had never thought of interacting so closely with — and by interacting you meant standing within a few metres radius while you looked at Jungwoo’s totally unnecessary yet nonetheless appreciated large 4K TV. 

What were you supposed to do? Confide in someone about it?

It felt overall illogical to tell one of your best friends about the issue, especially when you knew they would say you were blowing things out of proportion. You could already imagine Eunseo saying something along the lines of ‘High school is shitty for everyone’ and Kino agreeing with a stern look that totally said ‘Just because you had a hard time it doesn’t mean you can project those feelings onto people who don’t deserve it’ because Kino was just the kind of introspective person who would lecture you about how to detach yourself from the problematic behavioural ways you possessed. And you would do nothing but stay quiet, because the truth was, whatever words they deemed fit to tell you were going to be true. Furthermore, you knew you had no reasonable explanation as to why you clamped shut every time someone from your past popped up in your line of view. It just happened. Like the invisible string you had around you tightened every single time, and stupidly, you just let it happen. It was wearing you out little by little.

So for today, you were going to suck it up a little for everyone’s sake and relax around a person whose presence felt so foreign and unreal.

The walk to Jungwoo’s was filled with a 00’s hits playlist blasting through your earpods as a way to let yourself loose and calm down your stupid nerves, your steps matching the beat of whichever song came on shuffle. This whole situation was affecting you so absurdly that for the first time in a really long time you had left the confines of your dorm room earlier than you were used to, so you could get to your destination on time, if not before what had been scheduled. Arriving late meant everyone’s attention would be on you as you awkwardly waved to everyone, and you weren’t really in the mood to be the centre of attention to people you weren’t close to. You would fling yourself from the nearest window if you had to go through what happened when you saw Mark, having his gaze burn uncomfortable holes along every single visible surface of your body. Being fashionably late was not on your plans. Not today.

“Uh,” You should’ve guessed Jungwoo was going to be confused when he saw you standing on the other side of his front door at 19:45, your backpack slung over your shoulders and your university hoodie almost covering you entirely because of how large it was, “___… You’re early.”

You snort, “Yeah, I like to keep you guys on your feet from time to time so you never underestimate me.”

He lets you in with a scratch on the nape of his neck, and when you glance around expecting to see the entire expanse of his lengthy living room littered with known and unknown faces, you’re faced with only Eunseo sitting on the sofa with her computer perched on her crossed legs, face too close to the screen as she typed away.

“Wait,” You frown, craning your neck so his kitchen was visible to you, “Why isn’t everyone here? Am I too early?”

Eunseo suddenly chokes, looking up from the screen, “___! What are you doing here?”

“Don’t tell me you guys…” Trailing off your words, you begin glaring at your friends with a hand perched on your hip indignantly, “You guys… Wow! What time did you guys plan with the others? Let me guess—”

“Before you strangle me to death,” Jungwoo raises his hands over his shoulders in surrender, “We never thought you’d be here so early!”

“I don’t even remember the last time you were on time, ___,” Eunseo is pouting exaggeratedly, pleading her case alongside the other traitor in the room, “We just didn’t want the other dudes to have that first impression of you.”

As much as it pained you to confess, they had a point. If you were planning on actually appearing somewhat likable to these other people you didn’t know, several measures had to be taken. Even if deep down you felt stingy about it — about how your mind seemed to only focus on the fact that they probably had done something like that several times — you understood it. Time was precious, and some could even interpret your lateness as valuing your time more preciously than theirs, which wasn’t really the case because you never did it maliciously. It truly felt like it was apart of your nature, being like that.

“I thought it was one fake bitch in this house, but there’s two.” You sniffle dramatically before going into the kitchen to fetch food to eat in the meantime.

Jungwoo fist-bumped the air in victory. Something was up, he was pretty sure.

Until now things had been going amazingly well, as always. Having Kino, Jungwoo, Vernon, and Eunseo together inside the same place was as familiar to you as the way you recognised yourself in the mirror, so the inside jokes and jabs you threw at everyone were comfortable, homely even.

You were peeking into Eunseo’s laptop with your head against her shoulder, your glasses perched on the bridge of your nose to top off your lazy outfit of the day as you proofread the essay she had been working on for the past three days when the doorbell rang and your attention diverted. 

It was incredible how you heard Loud Boy before you could even see him or whoever was accompanying him. A cacophonous, high-pitched symphony of unintelligible screams filled the whole vicinity, Jungwoo’s softer voice practically muffled underneath it all.

“Well,” Eunseo closed the lid of her laptop before putting it back inside her bag, shrugging, “I was expecting this.”

“I don’t even know why you brought it with you, this is supposed to be a chill night,” Vernon quipped from his spot on the floor, the deafening sound coming closer and closer until it was blaring ridiculously loud in your eyes, “Oh, there they are!”

You weren’t sure why you were expecting not to see Mark amongst the other two unknown faces, yet alas, there he was indeed. Looking like a Sim waiting for instructions, stoic with his bugged-out eyes absorbing his surroundings until they land on you. And then he just observes you like he’s trying to make a point you’re unaware of coming across, just until the messy reunion between the other guys dies down. An intense stare-down between the both of you that ends with you averting your gaze not even five seconds later because you’re a little bitch when it comes to eye contact. You swore you would rather gauge your eyeballs out rather than stare at someone for a really long time, and if that someone was Mark Lee, even five seconds was too long.

Lucas, the boy you had coined as Loud Boy, was just as handsome as he was extroverted. The way he carried himself and the atmosphere around him left you with a good impression of him, just like the other boy who was next to him. Minhyuk — “Call me Rocky,” he said, like the discrepancy between his real name and his nickname wasn’t that big — looked like he was a fun person to be around by the way he reacted pertinently to everything that happened. Mark, however, waved at both of you and Eunseo with what looked like a strained, forced smile, a stark contrast to the ease he seemed to exude when he did those weird handshake guys always did, despite the fact it was the first time he had interacted with either Kino or Vernon.

The way Eunseo gripped your hand tightly against hers when the boys fell into a never-ending conversation about the most recent PlayStation 4 games was a foreteller that tonight was going to drag through painfully slow, the emerging testosterone spreading through the air as the themes of their talk rarely strayed too far from gaming. Which wasn’t normally something you would find so boring if it was just your group of friends talking about it. Because Eunseo and you also played, avidly, as a matter of fact, so the fact your friends were getting lost in the hype of having new gaming buddies was reason enough to put a damper on your mood.

You had her there, though, and that was more than enough for you. These kinds of situations never failed to leave you unsure how to act, afraid of looking like an antisocial snob who looked down on others. Together, the both of you looked the way you felt, a bit ostracised and uncomfortable with the undesired and unintentional division between gender, but you accepted it begrudgingly like the other things that had happened so far.

Half an hour into their bickering and fooling around you decide to go somewhere else within the house, dragging Eunseo with you, and it’s the lack of shuffling behind him that alerts Mark of what’s going on in the back scene. It’s then that it clicks — you. You were still there, alongside your friend sitting on the sofa while the rest of them laughed and talked without even thinking about how you must have been feeling. His chest suddenly feels heavy with guilt, mind flashing back to the way the hem of your sweatshirt almost touches your knees and how much he wanted to roll your sleeves.

He’s reminded of past times, times where you were both just a little younger and surrounded by a completely different group of people, but he thinks the way he looked at you back then hadn’t changed at all in comparison to the way he looked at you now. Like he wants to get to know you so much it strangely makes his heartache from time to time. Like he can’t find a way inside your world when he had been given the chance to see you again after two years of desperately agonising over whether he should send you a friend request on Facebook or not. Yet there he was now, just a breath and a half away from speaking to you and just like the God damned fool he was, Fortnite, of all things, cockblocked him into getting distracted by a conversation which he couldn’t get back on the groove because of how truly shitty he felt. 

“Uh,” He clears his throat, “I think we forgot about…”

“Shit,” Vernon says, and Jungwoo flings his head back to the now empty space on his sofa, eyes widening to the point of almost looking like an exaggerated animation. 

Lucas is shrugging indifferently, “They probably went to drink some water or something like that,” And then he’s back to telling the rest of the story he had been telling before Mark interrupted the flow. That doesn’t deter Jungwoo, who gets up from his spot and goes through the same path you had gone a few minutes before. 

“They were sleeping,” He announces when he comes back, “Said we should catch up while we’re at it, and to wake them when we decide to be… inclusive.”

Kino hisses, his face contorting a little at the blow, “That’s something ___ would say.”

“That’s because it was her who said it,” Jungwoo snorts. Mark feels a pang in his chest at your choice of words: they were words said to cause an impact, to bring awareness, to hurt those who were inconsiderate. You didn’t like these type of things, and now he was not even in the mood to be roped back into a setting where he knew it left you uncomfortable.

“Let’s just play two or three rounds, and then let’s watch the movie,” Lucas suggests, still trying to revive the situation.

“It’s not cool to leave them out,” Mark frowns, and he means it. There were many instances in the past where he really wanted to find a way to bring you into his circle of friends, maybe befriend one of your friends just so he could have you around, but as good he was in some things, Mark was disgraceful in everything related to crushing on someone else. He knew he would make a fool of himself, akin to everything he had done ever since he saw you last week. The closest he had been to you before had been in the cafeteria line, and even then he was cockblocked; you looked at him briefly in the eyes and trapped him there, and when he was ready to smile at you, a sign of friendliness which he hoped was inviting, one of his friends calls him and that bubble involving you two was burst just as quickly as it was formed.

That had happened the last days of his junior year, your senior year. And that was the last time he physically saw you. Until last week, what he considered destiny brought you two together. Or Jungwoo brought you two together. He supposed Jungwoo would be absolutely elated if he knew the extent of his thoughts concerning his best friend.

“Yeah guys,” Mark hasn’t known Kino for that long, but he just knew the guy had a serious and righteous aura surrounding him like a superhero cape. “Let’s keep the game talk for another time. This is a movie night for a reason.”

No one seemed bothered about it, as if the original plans weren’t watching a movie, and Jungwoo once again took it upon himself to go call you and your friend, disappearing once again from their eyes, and then returning some minutes later with a very grumpy looking you with said friend rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“This better be good if you felt so compelled to wake us up,” You huff, pushing the bunched up sleeves of your hoodie over your fingers, and Jungwoo pouts from beside you before throwing his arms over your shoulders. He’s hugging you close to his body and you don’t seem uncomfortable by that: you’re neither recoiling in his arms nor freezing, you just roll your eyes at his antics and even go the extra mile to hold the hand that’s dangling pretty close to your chest. Rub your thumb against it. Lead him to somewhere on the sofa where he leans against your chest so freely it stings Mark’s heart for a moment.

He’s unsure of what to make of this. When he saw you last week, Jungwoo didn’t really make an effort to introduce you to him at all. He didn’t say you were his girlfriend, but he also didn’t say you were just his friend. He’s pretty sure the way he’s looking at you both is obvious, because Vernon nudges his shoulder to catch his attention, and whispers, “It might look weird, but they’re friends.” And just then, your other friend — Eunseo? Eunhee? — sits down and cuddles right against Jungwoo, the three of you doing this really strange yet endearing three-way spooning Mark could never think of doing. 

The mood is somehow better now, he thinks. You are all watching Coraline — your choice, because ‘it’s only fair we choose it’ — and Mark’s friends don’t seem bothered by it, neither do yours. Maybe it’s an occasional reoccurrence of yours, watching animated movies, or maybe it was just pure coincidence, but Mark is storing all of this information inside his brain greedily like a man starving for life, because it’s information concerning you, and he’ll take whatever he can get if it means it lets him get a small glimpse of who you really are. He had always doubted you were that quiet and neutral.

When the movie ends, almost everyone is sleeping. Lucas was knocked out cold against Rocky halfway through, and little by little eyes start closing and fights are lost against tiredness. The only exception to this is, of course, you. You’re still awake, looking at the TV screen with the palm of your hand propped against your cheek, squishing it so cutely Mark has a hard time concentrating on anything else. It’s stupid, he thinks, how you’re somewhat of a badass — or at least that’s the way he sees you — yet you’re still very capable of melting his heart to a dripping mess without even meaning it. It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose, to appease him or something of the sort; you’re just… Being you. Minding your business. And he likes that a lot already. He wonders how he would react if you ever directed your energy towards him to offer him a smile, or caress the back of his hand, or even hug him. He’d combust on the spot.

 But you’re not even giving him the time of your day, and for now, he’ll take that. You probably don’t know who he is, can’t remember how you two go way further back than everyone else thinks. He wonders how he can get close to you when it seems like ten million miles are separating the both of you as opposed to the fact that you’re actually sitting close to each other.

You shake him out of his reverie when you meticulously and carefully withdraw yourself from the tangly mess of limbs you had been for the past two hours. Your friends don’t wake up if anything they snuggle even more against each other like two baby otters hugging as they sleep. Mark’s heart is crawling up his throat with the desire to follow you to wherever you had gone, probably the kitchen, and for the first time ever he doesn’t let the opportunity go to waste. There’s no one to stop him from his quest, he’s a man with a mission and he will knee kick whoever tries to stop him on the throat.

As predicted, you’re in the kitchen. Your back is turned to him, the billowiness of your large sweatshirt — the colour this bright orange that immediately caught anyone’s attention — engulfing your frame, making you look so tiny and huggable it’s no wonder Mark imagines a scenario where he just approaches you and hugs you from behind, cheek poising on your shoulder before your own arms reach back and stroke his hair. It was ridiculous of him to let his mind run so wild when the reality was that you two had never spoken to each other directly. But that was about to change, even if he was on the verge of peeing his pants because of how nervous he was.

A sound startles you, seemingly someone clearing their throat from behind. Much to your dismay, it’s the person you least expected to be there.

 Mark. 

You’re stunned beyond words to see him standing with his eyes trained on you and nothing else. There was no apparent reason for any interaction between the both of you, nothing was tying you together expect the fact that you both had gone to the same high school. But you were sure he didn’t remember you. You weren’t that recognisable. Just a normal looking face amongst the crowd.

“Um,” He starts off, blinking twice as if he’s gathering his thoughts and pondering how to word them correctly, “Sorry ‘bout… What happened out there.”

Now, this was interesting. Verging on the edge of uncomfortable if you really tried to apply some logic and let your mind take over. Though the mild curiosity plaguing you felt more enticing. You really wanted to know why he was here, apologising on behalf of the others for something you had decided wasn’t that deep. Annoying, perhaps, but deep down understandable. It had already washed out.

“What do you mean?” You cross your arms against your chest and lean back with the bottom of your spine against the counter. 

“I, uh. I guess what I’m saying is that I’m sorry that we ruined your night.” He sounds strained like he’s not proud of the things he just said, but had to do it because that’s how normal conversational situations worked.

It was cute, you thought. His words. His stance. The way he was jiggling his foot up and down in what you assumed was nervousness. Him, in general. 

Mark Lee was an attractive boy, and the stiffness you felt at the absurdity of what was happening wasn’t enough to stop you from acknowledging that. He just had to be absolutely handsome, because being perfect in almost every other aspect probably was insufficient to him. No matter the circumstance, even now — looking like he would rather pop off his head like a balloon instead of standing there — he looked divine. 

If you could bet he was unaware of how heartbreakingly good-looking he was, you would. He looked like that kind of person.

“You don’t have to apologise, Mark. It’s whatever.” His name slips out of your mouth so unfamiliarly you’re taken aback. This is the first time you’re addressing him personally, hell — this is your first conversation. You almost want to discreetly pinch yourself to see if it’s true, but you don’t. Mark was apologising to you for something you no longer cared about as a way to spark a talk between you two, and if that was just a figment of your imagination then so be it.

“Really?” He’s surprised, that much you can tell by the way his irritatingly cute lips round up. “You looked pretty pissed…”

“I was,” You shrug, “It was a bit shitty of you guys, if I’m being honest, but I’m over it.” You meant those words. It wasn’t something you were saying as a means to sweeten him up. You wouldn’t do that. Not to him, not to anyone else.

“I still feel bad… But I promise we didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I know.” Words cease, because you truly don’t know what to say other than that. What were you supposed to do? Instigate something that wasn’t related to the current topic? You felt weird even contemplating it.

Seconds go by, the sounds coming from the TV in the living room muffled yet audible, and voilá, there it was.

The uncomfortable silence you knew would happen if you ever were to speak to someone like Mark. It was there, and it made you inwardly wince at how obvious it was. You were looking to everywhere but him. Feigning interest in the speckles of black in the marble countertop of Jungwoo’s home was better than looking to him. Deep down you were planning your escape route. You were ready to gulp down the rest of your glass of water and flee to the living room, maybe grab your stuff, go home to your bed where you could think about whatever you wanted without fearing someone peeking into the mess your head was. 

And then,

“I’m… I’m not sure if you remember me, but we went to the same high school.” His voice is soft, so soft but still so capable of boggling you to the point of silencing your inner thoughts. 

Mark Lee knew who you were. He knew you, and not just because you were Jungwoo’s best friend, but he knew about your existence since the time you had always dreaded. The heavy feeling in your throat resembles bile, and you try to push it down for the sake of looking presentable and okay in front of Mark, despite feeling completely the other way around. Your hands are clamming up, you can sense them and the urge to fidget with something, the urge to shrink in size to the littlest you possibly could. 

But you couldn’t just disappear out of thin air. Unfortunately. So once again, you suck it up, remember who you are and where you are, and reply with a meek, gentle, “I know.”

He laughs dryly, a hand scratching the back of his neck, “I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

You’re somewhat befuddled by his statement, “What?” A chuckle leaves your throat, and abruptly you’re no longer feeling mortified by all of this, just bewildered, curious, intrigued. He made the leap, opened a path where you both could meet in the middle, and you weren’t going to let this one go without prodding it to its bone and core. “Mark… Everyone knew you. How could I not know you?”

“Not everyone knew me,” He sounds exasperated, and you deadpan at his reply, calling him out on his bullshit. The hue of the lights in Jungwoo’s kitchen must be completely fucked up because you swear if you squint there’s some lovely baby pink dusting Mark’s cheeks. “I was just… trying not to let the conversation die. Also, you’re the only person I have recognised so far that went there. It’s nice to see someone familiar.”

You almost choke at him calling you familiar, “Your best friends go here too, though.”

“That’s different.”

You want to roll your eyes but decide against it. “How so?”

They’re…” He trails off, “My best friends. I know them. I’m with them all of the time. And you’re…”

He must have a habit of not finishing his sentences, you realise. Either that or his brain cells are trying their hardest to formulate coherent, plausible thoughts so he can say them. If that’s the case, they’re failing miserably.

“A stranger.” You quip. It’s the truth. You racked your brain for a more appropriate word, but the scan you did for approximately two-thirds of a millisecond failed you. He bites his lip and looks away like he knows you’re right but he’s afraid of confirming it. Great, you muse privately, now I’m focusing on his god damning lips. “You know something? I think I should be the one saying that.”

“Saying what?”

“I thought you didn’t know who I am,” Dropping the tone of your voice by an octave, you mimic what you think Mark’s voice sounds like. As a response, he bursts out laughing at your silly imitation, even going to the point of lowering his upper body against the island separating the both of you, and covering his mouth a few moments later because of how loud it was in comparison to your tranquil surroundings.

His laugh starts low but then ends high-pitched, and as surprising as it is, it doesn’t overwhelm you like you thought it would. It’s kind of ridiculous how something so absurdly normal is capable of making your night, but it does. Also, his face looked kind of cute when he laughed, but you weren’t dwelling too much on that.

“Sorry… That was funny as hell.” He lifts his head, scooting his body closer so he’s closer to you, so he can see you better, so he can be more attentive. There’s still that island blocking him from being too close to you, and for that you’re thankful. Having him where he was already proved to be nerve-wracking if he was mere centimetres away from you… You’d take your previously forgotten escape plan in consideration. You note that it’s the first time you can physically recognise how he’s feeling. “But to reply to what you said, I saw you around school a lot, so it’s normal for me to know who you are, I guess?”

“It’s not, Mark. Okay, let me see if I can explain it to you the best I can.” You sigh, hopping onto the counter behind you. This boy had to be oblivious of all things. “You were popular in high school. A lot of people liked you because you were cool and funny, and good-looking, and a plethora of other annoyingly good qualities.”

It’s too late before you can fully grasp what you just said. 

Because being the normal human being you were, you had just revealed to Mark you thought he was good-looking. To his face. On the first conversation you two were having.

This was one of the reasons why you had always steered away from people like him. They were dangerous, but your idiot of a brain, which was known to be very quick when thinking, was worse, and subsequently, it left you with a variety of unfiltered, unbridled voiced opinions you should keep to yourself from time to time. 

It didn’t happen this time. And if Mark is aware of it or not, you can’t really say. The weird lighting is still playing tricks on you, making his cheeks appear flushed. But you know he’s not. His expression is as confusing as it had always been.

“You have to at least know that,” You giggle nervously, “It’s okay to acknowledge it. It’s not bad to be popular.”

“So a lot of people knew who I was. What’s the big deal about it?”

“Nothing,” You shrug, “I just find it weird how someone like you recognises someone like me, that’s all.”

He furrows his brow, “I don’t follow.”

Of course not.

“I was the most ordinary person in that school. I guess I’m just surprised you know who I am from back then since we pretty much were on opposite sides.” He sends you a look, silently asking you to explain further, and with a grumble, you add, “You ran with the cool kids. I ran with… normal kids.”

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms against his chest. You’re impressed with the range of emotions you’re pulling out of him. “We ran with different crowds. That doesn’t mean I can't know who you are. If that was the case, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Pausing for a dripping second, he eyes you intensely, the same kind of look he gave you earlier when you saw him. So he was trying to make a point come across after all. “I’m not an asshole… or a fuckboy if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s exactly what a fuckboy who’s an asshole would say.” You’re obviously joking. Mark was a wonderful person, you heard it a lot through the grapevine back in high school. How much of a selfless person he was. How caring he acted towards his friends. How serious he took things. It was simply impossible to hate the guy. You tried to hate him for being so nice, back in your sophomore year when you moved, but that just said more about you than him, really. 

He’s grinning at your choice of words, so you know he took it as a joke. You’re thankful for that. You already felt stupid enough trying to clarify your point of view in this whole You-Know-Me fiasco, it felt childish now that you thought about it, but if he wasn’t able to detect your sarcasm it’d be awkward time anew. “No, but really. I’m not that kind of person, ___.”

It’s the first time you have heard him say your name, and it floors you so inexplicably you can’t help but scratch the non-existent itch you were feeling in the back of your hand. 

Mark Lee was dangerous, you already knew that. He was that person who was able to lure you in without even wanting to, to make you feel important because you were on the receiving end of his attention.

You were dipping your foot, testing the waters. Seeing if the temperature was ideal. Like you’re standing above a swimming pool, buzzing with the rush of wanting to dive in, but holding yourself back because you don’t want to suffer a shock.

Curiosity gnawed at the frays of your being. You wondered if you would back out because you’re lazy and scared if you would submerge yourself in it, little by little as not to spook. 

Above all, you wondered if you would leap intrepidly into it and let yourself drown without a care in the world.

You smile, genuinely, “I know. You’re a good person, Mark Lee.”

Jungwoo pops up in the exact moment you finish saying Mark’s name, rubbing his fists over his closed eyes as a child does. Your heart swells at the sight. “Hey guys, what’s up?”

You grin. His timing was impeccable, as always. You were thankful the conversation ended that way.

One hour later, when you’re in the comfort of your own home, huddled underneath your warm, fluffy blanket, you put on your big girl shoes and do something for once. 

You were going to add him on Facebook.

Mark had the initiative to talk to you, which you were somehow grateful for, even if you were positively puzzled by his effort. So taking a big breath to calm down the incessant knock of your heartbeat, you click on the little Add Friend button before locking your phone quickly and shoving it under your pillow.

Turns out the prospect of never befriending Mark because you two were too different was embarrassingly ludicrous.

Your friend request on Facebook had been accepted not even five minutes after you sent it, your grubby, anxiety-ridden hands clutching your phone as soon as you heard it vibrate against your pillow. And when you woke up the next morning and checked your phone for notifications, one of them belonged to him, standing out and asking you to click on it while the others blurred in the background.

Did you get home safely? He texted, followed by a smiley emoji. In the haziness of the morning, where your senses weren’t still quite acute, your heart pounded intensely. It wasn’t like it was something out of the ordinary, but the fact it showed an inkling of worry and courtesy left your mind reeling and aware of your surroundings.

That was the beginning of a long string of texts that just never seemed to stop. From genuinely getting to know each other through questions to tagging each other on funny memes you saw on Facebook and reminded you of each other. You finally understood and were experiencing first-handed the hype about Mark Lee. And even if you didn’t hang out that much in person, the way you two had connected through messages was satisfying to you already.

Your schedules didn’t exactly match most of the times, so you could only see him in fleeting appearances when he popped up in front of your classroom, waving enthusiastically with a smile so cute it made you melt a little. Or when he went to lunch with your group of friends on Wednesdays instead of going back to his dorm room to study because he wanted to spend time with you. You supposed he was also speaking about Jungwoo, Vernon, and Kino too. He had gotten close to them as well.

On Christmas break, Mark goes back to Canada. The brief thought that floated through your mind about distance being an obstacle to your friendship is quickly washed away when he calls you through Facetime at 1:27AM, daylight clearly radiating in his surroundings while only your forehead showed on your side of the screen.

He wanted to show you the snow.

There were these instances in your conversations where your heart almost leaped out of your chest because of him. You weren’t going to make a big deal out of the first time he tagged you on Facebook until you saw the thought about you lol comment that was right after your name. 

It was annoying, the way he was making you feel.

You try to convince yourself you’re just thrilled over the prospect of being so close to him because your high school friends would be jealous of you. You tell yourself over and over it isn’t deep at all, that you have a greedy, superficial, and mean reasoning behind befriending Mark. But every time your phone dings with a notification, it feels like your heartbeat is crawling on your throat, leaving you no room to breathe at all. Like stepping on a seemingly shallow puddle yet it swallows you whole by surprise. Surprisingly enough, you don’t mind being underwater. 

Even if it means you’ll be gasping for oxygen soon.

______

It’s December 31st, and you’re sitting in the middle of Kino’s apartment deep in thought. Drunk, yet pensive nonetheless. 

If your calculations were correct, you still had two more weeks of classes left, and then the semester would be over. Normally you wouldn’t allow yourself to become so inebriated when you had finals just around the corner, but Vernon had told you Mark returned earlier than expected, subsequently confirming his attendance to the New Year’s party your friends had planned. 

Spending some days away from everyone really had put everything into perspective, and that scared you beyond words. 

The truth was, perhaps you were crushing on Mark Lee. It was insignificant, though. Everyone had a crush on him, it was as ordinary and common as liking superhero movies. As singing along to songs you like when they come on shuffle. It was as ordinary and common as breathing. So you weren’t dwelling on it too much. Except you nearly panicked at the thought of seeing him in front of you while your emotions ran high, unfiltered. It left you no choice but to chug three vodka lemonades in five minutes.

It was 11:05PM, there was a random song rumbling through the speakers you neither didn’t care about nor recognised, and you were sitting down on the floor, wondering about your academic life. Not one of your best moments, you reckoned.

But that’s how Mark finds you, anyway. 

He had shaken Lucas off of his back the moment he arrived at Kino’s, the boy clinging to him like a Koala, yelling a much-slurred m’ssed you bro against the shell of his ear, and hugged the other guys quickly. There are a lot of people he doesn’t know or run within his circle of friends. Furthermore, there seems to be a particular spot amongst the crowd that’s void of physical presence, like a black hole of sorts keeping people away from getting near. He doesn’t understand why he’s walking towards it until he gets there, sees you, siting crisscrossed and completely zoned out.

The most irrational chunk of his being wants to blast someone’s ear off for leaving you unattended and alone while you’re clearly not in a position to be so, but he’s Mark and you’re you. So he kneels beside you like he’s on autopilot mode, touches your shoulder to get your attention, and when you look up to him he just knows.

It would truly be an understatement to say he didn’t miss you.

You blink twice at him as if you’re in disbelief. He tightens his hold on you ever so slightly, just enough to make you realise he’s not a figment of your imagination. It’s obvious you’re questioning his presence. The way your eyes are glossed over so heavily plus the inconvenience of being sat on the floor rather than a normal sitting surface. They indicate your lack of sobriety. 

And when it dawns on you, amidst the fog of your thoughts, that he’s really there, you’re looping your arms around his middle, spooking him beyond words as you pull him into a hug. “Marky!” 

This is uncharted territory. Public display of affection wasn’t something you two ever did, well, except the occasional shoulder bumping or once when you grabbed onto his wrist because he was going in the wrong direction. There was no logical reason behind what you were doing, Mark was aware of that, you were drunk after all. But you have your forehead against his chest — awkwardly, if he really thought about it — and your arms are crushing his back, and yeah. In times like these, all logic flies right through the window.

“Hi.” You’re beaming and Mark feels nauseous.

“Hi, you okay?” He says in your ear, brushing away a small strand of hair. Not even the loud pounding of his heart could overtake the worry he was feeling. “Do you need anything?”

“I’m good, Marky boy! Now that you’re here, I’m even better.” 

There it was. That jolt in his chest.

It was much like a constant whenever he was with you. Whether you were with friends or not held little to no importance, it happened every time you said or did something that left his mind reeling with unrealistic possibilities. Normally, these things would be mildly dubious, like that one time where you wiped some sauce he had on his chin with your thumb — he dubbed that your motherly nature, you did similar stuff to pretty much everyone in your group. But you had hugged him, indicated his presence was a positive aspect in your life. He was about to overthink the hell out of that for the next two weeks.

“How much have you drunk?” You blink at him, pat the spot in front of you. He’s so focused on everything concerning you he doesn’t even feel the strain on his thighs from being on his knees. But he humours you anyway, sits across from you and mimics your position.

“M’drunk.” You shrug, “Not too drunk, but drunk. My feet hurt so I sat here, there’s nowhere else to sit.” 

“Kino’s room?”

“Yeah,” She snorts, throwing her head back, “That was my plan until I saw Jungwoo and Eunseo aggressively making out. I’ll pass.”

Mark’s eyes just about grow twice their size at your statement, “Jungwoo… and… Eunseo?” He pauses for some time, “Is it surprising that I’m actually not that surprised?”

“I’m not either. It’s like you’re expecting it but when it happens you’re surprised that it actually happened… It was a matter of time, I suppose.”

“I mean, she spends so much time at his place. I’m surprised, but not shocked.” He says, “It seems like everyone is getting a significant other, don’t you think?” His attempts at flirting are lame, yet he was going to try nevertheless, considering the circumstances you two were in, of course. 

“Everyone but me, m’forever alone.” You’re pouting dramatically, wringing your fingers together. He wishes he dared to say you didn’t need or were fit to be forever alone because right in front of you was someone who would die to make you his. 

But Mark was a coward. He would sooner shit his pants than say that out loud.

“Let’s cheer to that.” You take him seriously, rejoice at his suggestion, and drag him to the kitchen to get alcohol into his system. He doesn’t mind the implications of what he was about to do at all, you held his hand all the way through, only letting it go so you could grab a cup and mix a concoction you promised he wouldn’t regret drinking. And it wasn’t those palm in palm kind of hand-holding. You had your fingers laced in between his.

There’s a bitterness in the drink you hand him, yet he can still feel the sugar rush in the aftertaste. It’s something acidic, a mixture of passionfruit and lemon, and he winces at the first gulp only. It gets progressively easier when your eyes seem to make him burn a lot more than the alcohol.

One cup turns into two, two cups being enough to make him way past the tipsy stage. To make matter worse, Kino drops by the kitchen, slobbers a kiss on your cheek and offers you a blunt before skidding away. You get giddier than you already were, jumping around in your seat like a small child. It’s actually endearing.

Mark already knew Kino and some of the other guys indulged themselves with weed, and even if deep down he already knew you were one to do that too, it still shakes him a little.

It was kind of hot, the prospect of you smoking.

And he was about to witness it.

“This place is filth. Let’s go somewhere else.” You say. And by somewhere else you mean the floor. The one you two were sitting before you came here. But this time you find the rug in the living room empty and take him there, claiming you two should be comfortable.

His vision is spinning and blurry, the loud voices and music in the background muddled, and he curses himself for being such a lightweight. Mark was never much of a drinker.

You plop down on top of the fluffy red rug and he follows suit, watching you take a lighter from the back pocket of your jeans. You light the joint and take the first hit with calculated expertise only someone who did it way too frequently could pull off.

“M’conflicted.” You say after a while, blowing the smoke far from his face. Mark keeps quiet, just eyes you silently, waits for you. “I want to offer you the blunt because I don’t want to seem indelicate or selfish, but at the same time I don’t want to because I’d hate it if you felt pressured.”

There’s a twitch in his heartbeat. He hates it. “I… I have never done it before.” He gulps, pinching his hand to keep himself sane, “So I wouldn’t know how to do it.”

“I can teach you. If you want.” You quip, the joint still poised against your finger, “Only if you want, though. It’s cool if you don’t, more for me.”

It’s somewhat a dilemma to him. He wants to try it, not because you’re the person he has been crushing on for quite a while, but because he was always curious about it. Lucas was his housemate after all, and getting contact high was inevitable around him. That small buzz he felt those times was appealing to him, it made him wonder how it would be if he experienced it firsthand. He had always been curious, but never really acted upon it. Until now, with you right in front of him, offering him a chance at squashing his curiosity. 

That was his problem. You.

Mark was all for taking risks, and experiencing what life had to offer, but only if the people embarking with him were his friends. His friends friends, who knew how fucking silly and weird he was, and that definitely didn’t make his heart feel like it was about to explode inside out. 

But here you were, right in front of him, being so incredible considerate it was borderline annoying how even tipsy he could feel every nerve end. 

“Okay. Yeah, teach me.” Those are some dangerous words, he realises after he says them. His tummy feels like it’s a pot of lava, burning and waiting until it spills over.

You scoot closer to him until your knees are knocking against his, smiling brightly when he jumps a little. “It’s no big deal, really. Put the joint between your index and middle finger.” He’s frowning in concentration, and to avoid any messy situations — because of your hazy surroundings — you grab his palm to steady it and put the spliff in between his ready fingers. 

“Feels weird…” He says, and you roll your eyes playfully.

“Of course, it’s your first time holding it. It’ll become second nature to you once you do it more often.” You hum a bit, “If you keep on doing it, that is.” You hope he does. You’re nowhere near prepared to see the glorious sight of Mark smoking, and if he decides it’s just not it for him you’ll have to store that mental picture forever in the depths of your brain.

He doesn’t take his eyes away from the blunt, or if he does you miss it, so you continue instructing, “Now, you put it in between your lips, just the tip.” You’re aware of how blatantly sexually charged these instructions could sound to anyone else, and you were feeling it too. The crude images on the back of your lids were truly unnecessary when you were trying to teach the guy how to take a hit, not how to… do other things. You felt too hot in your clothes. “And you inhale. But lightly. I don’t want you to cough to death.”

Mark giggles at that, his shoulders less tense than before, “Okay,” He exhales nervously, “I’m gonna do it.”

“Lightly, Mark. Don’t forget it. After you inhale it, try to keep the smoke in for a little, and then you can push it out.” The hand he’s keeping free is wiped insistently against his jeans. Before the little rationality you have left on your brain kicks in, you put your hand on top of his and squeeze. As a way to comfort him. As a way to maybe let him magically know you had a stupid crush on him without saying it out loud. Who knows.

He inhales just like you taught him, the flame burning alive in front of you for a few seconds. The small cough he lets out is expected, and you laugh way more than you should have, considering it was his first time.

“You’re making fun of me!” He whines, the little pout adorning his lips testing your patience.

“M’sorry, Marky… It’s just cute, that’s all.” You mumble, feeling a blush take over your cheeks at your unfiltered confession. “Was it good? Did it feel nice?”

“It’s… different.” He places the joint back to his lips, takes a drag once again. His eyes widen at the intensity, and the way he exhales the smoke seems like he’s somewhat disgusted. “This shit is strong as fuck, Jesus.”

“Kino has a soft spot for me.” You shrug. 

“It seems like everyone has a soft spot for you,”

“I wouldn’t say that,” You roll your eyes at his statement, “I just feel like I have really good friends. I love them a lot. They mean so much to me I don’t think I can put it in words.”

Normally, you weren’t much of an emotionally forward person. The dullness in your life had never allowed you such novelties. 

Sometimes it truly felt like you were void of them, void of the feeling of showing someone how much you cared, outwardly. That changed when you got drunk, or high. It was as if every repressed emotion you crushed into the pit of your being just spilled out without any warning. You didn’t mind it though, neither did your friends. Jungwoo said it was a very you thing but still berated you constantly with hugs, which you didn’t mind. Eunseo always bragged about being the only person with whom you were affectionate. Kino and Vernon probably didn’t even realise it. Eunwoo and Yeeun were similar to you except when they were alone together.

“I’m glad, really. You deserve it.” He’s looking at you in a way you can’t possibly describe because he’s Mark Lee after all. And he could be looking at you in ten million different ways and you wouldn’t be able to decipher which one corresponds to how he’s really feeling. Sometimes you wished you could crack open his skull and take a peek inside his mysterious brain. 

The two of you keep chatting and passing the blunt to each other, the paper burning at the tip of your fingers as time flew by. Your eyes were droopy and your vision blurry, Mark’s body becoming one with the background. Even if you had important things to take care of, there was nowhere else you’d rather be than there with him. And so the two of you keep passing the blunt back and forth, enjoying each other’s company in silence.

Two minutes or five hours could have passed, and you wouldn’t even realise it. You’re unaware of how it happens but when you come back to your senses you have your cheek pressed against someone’s chest, their hand loosely wrapped around your back. At first, you assume it’s Jungwoo or any other of your friends. But the gentle pout of lips you see when you raise your head slightly tells you otherwise.

It was Mark.

If you were in your right state of mind, your heart would probably be catapulting out of your chest, splattering against the nearest window. Lucky for you, the weed just leaves you calm, and the slow drum of your heartbeat proves it.

There’s a sudden startling commotion in the room, voices rising in pitch as they start screaming a countdown. The countdown for New Year’s, those specific ten (and plus) seconds that held so much meaning for so many people, but to you had always been sort of a silly thing you did with your friends. When it came to the dreaded New Year’s kiss last year, Eunseo had been your partner since both of you were single and close enough to peck each other amid a drunken state.

“10! 9!”

The year was about to end and Eunseo was nowhere in sight. You figured she was finally smooching the hell out of Jungwoo, leaving you alone to kiss the back of your hand. You didn’t even have the strength in you to get up from Mark’s comfortable hold to go bother her about it.

8! 7!

Right. 

The year was about to end and you were cuddling Mark Lee in your best friend’s living room, tucked away in a corner where no one could see you both. You sit up, the arm he had around you sliding to the rug. He only opens his eyes for a second before he closes them, a smile permanently etched on his lips.

6!

These stupid traditions were not your thing. 

You were not getting swayed into kissing someone just because 2019 was six seconds away. Though it had been too long since you kissed someone. To make matters worse, you were a needy drunk.

5!

Sure, you weren’t one to fall through with silly traditions. But then again, you had a crush on Mark and he was a breath away from you, looking so peaceful it hurt you to even disrupt him. And you had liquid courage coursing through your veins.

Maybe you were going to kiss someone this year. 

To keep the tradition going.

4!

The seconds are ticking by, and there’s a foreign weight settling on top of Mark’s thighs. When he opens his eyes, he is almost sure he’s dreaming, the weed he had smoked fabricating cruel inceptions out of spite. Because the prospect of you really sitting on his lap, legs caging his, was so unrealistic he had to prop himself on his elbows, gaze wide and unblinking as if he was being deceived, scared it would vanish.

3!

You don’t have much time left. 

Processing the fact you were about to kiss Mark Lee for the sake of tradition — an excuse you would take with you to your grave, and the excuse you would give to anyone and everyone who asked you about it — was making you sober, the rush of acknowledging your decision clearing up your vision just enough so you could see how beautiful he looked.

He really was stupidly attractive. And you were going to kiss him.

“Mark,” You yell over the voices, scooting yourself closer to his waist and leaning closer to his face, “M’gonna kiss you, okay?”

2!

This was a dream, it had to be. Reality was probably playing sick tricks on his mind. Still, the weak, cowardly part of him was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

So he nodded towards you — the fabricated version of you sitting prettily on top of him.

1!

You were one second from kissing Mark Lee.

Before the last second dissipates you clasp the sides of his face gently, eyes zooming in on his lips. He swipes his tongue over them just then, and it resonates so deep within you it’s imperative to close that space distancing the both of you.

“Happy New Year!”

Calculated plans usually looked and sounded better in theory, when they were just a pencil-drawn draft with little annotations scribbled around it. The end result doesn’t always go exactly as planned. Theoretically, Mark and you were supposed to be passionately making out as others did the same around you. You had envisioned it clearly in the few seconds you had before putting your plan into action.

That’s not what happens.

You miserably miss your aim by a few centimetres and end up kissing half of his mouth instead, the force behind the puckering of your lips so strong he loses his balance, elbows giving out below him. There’s some nose bumping on his jaw, chests touching, a mess of limbs even the non-sober you feels embarrassed about. Mark knocks his head quite harshly against the rug, but his reaction ends up being a laugh. This severely high-pitched squeak like he’s truly in disbelief.

(He wasn’t dreaming, after all.)

“You okay?” He keeps on laughing loudly as you put your hand behind the nape of his neck, “Stop laughing, you idiot!”

His laugh is also stupidly contagious. As if every other quality he had wasn’t enough to make you like him. So you end up laughing with him, put your head on his chest again and listen to the sound of his heartbeat.

You’d worry about the consequences tomorrow.

You prided yourself for never getting serious hangovers in the past — usually, alcohol ran fast in your system and by the end of each night you drank plenty of water to avoid those terrible happenstances. Being the designated drunk mom of your group didn’t come with many perks after all. But the dull throb palpitating in your temples was a telltale on its own. When you opened your eyes, it only intensified. The blinds had little sits in which the light came in, and they only seemed to worsen your state.

If a pile of shit was a state of mind, it would be exactly how you were feeling.

The kitchen is completely spotless when you enter it, the bottles and snacks that used to be littering every possible surface simply gone. It’s not much of a surprise since Kino abhors having a messy house, his reasoning being one’s personal space reflects one’s inner self. Another thing that’s not a surprise is the fact that Kino is cooking, his back to you as he concocts something you are pretty sure it won’t disappoint you. Vernon is as useless as one can be in the kitchen; if it wasn’t for Kino he would be living off of frozen meals and warm tap water.

“Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty.” He only acknowledges your presence when you sit down in one of the kitchen chairs, resting your closed eyes against your palms due to the sunlight hurting them. You don’t even make an effort to look at him.

“Afternoon— Jesus. How much have I slept?”

“It’s almost 3PM.”

“Jesus Christ. Get me some sunglasses, will you?”

He snorts but still obeys. It takes a minute for him to come back, yet when he does he drops not only the sunglasses in front of you — which you scramble to put them on —, but an Advil alongside a water bottle as well. “Can’t believe I’m friends with a real-life vampire. Do you want to feast on me for breakfast?”

“Shut up,” You groan, pausing to unscrew the bottle and down the pill, “I’m a wreck.”

“That you are. We found you last night drooling on Mark’s chest. The boy was positively spooked for life.” You nearly give yourself whiplash with how quickly you glance up to a head-shaking Kino, yet he turns his back on you and goes back to preparing his food.

There are a lot of things you want to ask: if Mark was okay, if he had told anyone what happened, how he had left, if he really had been spooked by your whole behaviour — even the one you prayed only you and him knew about, but you compose yourself before all of those questions tumbled out of your mouth without you even wanting it.

“What did he say?” A seemingly innocent question on your behalf. You couldn’t show too much emotion.

“Not much, if I’m being honest,” He shrugs, reaching upwards to grab two bowls from the white cupboard, “Just told us to get you safe on a bed and to make sure you drank water. He was baked as hell, by the way. I didn’t peg him as a stoner.”

Your heartbeat picked up unconsciously at his display of concern, once again. “He’s not. It was his first time yesterday.”

“Look at you, you little nymph, luring the innocent boy in with your illegal ways.” He’s taunting you, you can feel it. Kino always knows more than he lets on, it’s one of his specialties besides being incredibly insightful and introspective. There’s this little smirk on the right corner of his mouth you are entirely too familiar with. He doesn’t say anything else, just puts down the bowls of rice mixed with vegetables and scrambled eggs on the table, and sits on the chair opposite of yours. 

“I know, right? I’m such a bad influence. Someone tattoo BAD FRIEND on my forehead, please.” You roll your eyes, spoon digging into the mixture, “Speaking of bad friends. Where are Jungwoo and Eunseo?”

“They—”

“I know. I saw them eating each other’s faces off last night, unfortunately.”

He shudders, “They left together. It was painstakingly obvious, but it still threw me the fuck off. If he does so much as comment about what they did, I’ll choke him to death.”

“The fucker would probably like it.” You say in between a mouthful of food.

“That’s what worries me the most.”

The conversation dies down comfortably after that, both of you indulging in your bowls of food and throwing the expected occasional jabs that came along with befriending an idiot. Your friendship and Kino’s was just like that, there was this mutual understanding that neither of you pressured the other into spilling their hidden thoughts or emotions to the other. The glint in his eyes was loud enough, it said ‘I’ll be here whenever you need me. Take your time. Don’t rush things. They need patience to grow, to gain form’. Each one of your friendships was different, distinct in their own special and important way. Kino’s held a dear place in your heart for the eminent trust rooted in its foundation. You would always find a safe haven in his presence.

“Oh, that’s right. Yesterday, Mark also told me you should check your phone after you woke up.”

“You only tell me that now? We should skip strangling Jungwoo, I think you should be the one to go first.” You push the chair back and get up, making your way to the room while your friend only laughs.

“It’s probably on the bed!” He yells.

The blinds are still closed, so you paw around the bed aimlessly until your fingers clutch the glass screen of your phone. You don’t even grab it, you just throw yourself onto the bed and frantically tap the screen twice so it comes to life.

You could swear you had never clicked on something so fast.

[03:09] mark: I know you’d probably say to text you when I got home safe so

[03:09] mark: I got home safe

[03:11] mark: Rocky was the designated driver last night lol Lucas and I were fucking out of our minds

[03:24] mark: I already told kino but make sure to drink a shit ton of water, you’re not getting a hangover on my watch

[03:25] mark: Text me when you get up so I know you’re okay

[03:36] mark: Tonight was a dream

[03:49] mark: Goodnight

[13:33] you: hiiiiiiiiiiiiii

[13:34] you: i’m glad you got home okay!!!! you know damn well i’d freak tf out if you didn’t lmk

[13:42] you: btw i’m sorry i drooled on your shirt. and got you high as a kite. amongst other things……. lmao 

[13:45] you: woke up with a bitching headache but i’ve drunk water and taken an advil so worry not kind sir

[13:53] mark: Good morningg

[13:53] mark: Have you eaten yet?

[13:53] mark: I mean good afternoon lol

[13:54] you: gmornin!! yes kino cooked for me omg:( i love him

[13:54] mark: Also don’t apologize you dummy, I really didn’t mind any of it

Grabbing the pillow from beneath you, you put it over your head to stifle the embarrassing yet necessary scream you let out. Mark hadn’t given you any sign he didn’t remember the sad excuse of a kiss you shared last night, so you would have a little bit of faith in him, pray to the Gods he dared to make the next move since you had already taken quite the leap.

The ball was in his court now.

Or you hoped so.

For someone who had the ball in his court, Mark Lee did absolutely nothing that proved it. You were dreading for a move on the inside, every single moment you spent with him leaving you analysing in detail all his mannerisms and actions while hoping something would be a dead give away of a smidge of retaliation to your feelings. 

Nothing. Weeks went by, and nothing happened. Nothing. Nada.

The hope you once felt dissolved slowly into plain misery and heartbreak like toxic acid on untainted skin. And still, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you bend and break before him, even if you didn’t really believe he was at fault.

At the end of the day, Mark never did anything specific that could be interpreted as flirting or as a suggestion of different intentions other than a friendship. You were foolish to believe he’d look at you in any different way: you had created expectations all by yourself and now you were left to collect the shards of not only your broken heart but the hope you had built up alone as well.

He never mentioned the kiss, never even allowed himself to be presented in any other way than the way he always was, the social, happy-go-lucky boy everyone loved to be around. And you were stuck pretending you felt fine, pretending everything was okay. You should have known better than to even dream someone like him was interested in someone like you. Becoming his friend had already been a marvelous feat considering how much of a disparity existed between you two.

You delve into your studies to take your mind off of him, which works out for the best, really. Getting good grades, as a result, soothes your heart in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Before you know it, the semester ends. 

The gang meets up after the last exam at Jungwoo’s house to discuss plans for the holidays. One month was a lot of time, so some of you are expecting to visit your parents for the most part, while saving the last week for the group trip. Not any group trip, the group trip. This was going to be your second year, and you were excited to go back.

“What about you, ___?” Eunseo inquires from her spot where she has only one foot on top of Jungwoo like she was lazily claiming her property. The two had started dating on the first day of the year and since then they had been the grossest yet cutest couple to ever exist. “Jungwoo, Mark, Vernon, and I are staying for the whole month. I don’t really feel like going back to my mom’s.”

You look at Mark to find him already looking at you in the same way he always did. It used to bemuse you but now it only irritates you. He looks dead inside. Averting your sight from him with the most stoic expression you can give, you then hum, “I think I might go home. I really miss my family.”

“No,” Jungwoo moans, dragging on the vowel, “Stay with us, ___. Please.”

“And risk me into getting roped in couple activities with the lovebirds? Thanks, but I’ll pass.” You snort, and Kino joins in.

“We’re gonna miss you, though.”

“Yeah,” Mark adds, “You always make the mood better.”

Your heart still skips a beat for him, there was no denying that. Even listening to his voice was enough to make your mind reel, but now you were no longer on cloud 9. Rationality had taken control of your heart. Getting over this stupid crush was the best for everyone, especially for you.

“Sucks for you, because I can’t wait to take a break from seeing you almost every day.” You looked Mark dead in the eyes as you said it, desperate to make him understand the coldness of your speech had a reason. You were hurting on the inside, though you couldn’t let it show. Words of indifference and annoyance were your defense mechanisms, the armour you had to built to preserve and protect yourself. Before your words felt too personal and too targeted at someone in specific, you quipped, “You guys tire me.”

The laugh was collective, but Mark’s was forced. Maybe his eyes were unable to make you see his true self, but the way he squared his shoulders while he laughed couldn’t fool anyone, not even you.

It seemed like the shoe had fit. He looked uncomfortable.

Good. 

Mission accomplished.

Seeing your mom smiling at you because she missed you was almost enough to make you sob right in front of her. 

But you don’t do that.

You only allow yourself to break down when you close the door to your childhood bedroom, the secureness it transmitted being enough to break apart the dam holding you together by the seams. It wasn’t like the tears rushing down your cheeks were there only because of how stupid you felt for liking Mark. Sure, part of it was because of that too, but you had the tendency to bottle your emotions until they couldn’t be contained anymore, so everything that had caused you pain during the past few months was being let out after suffering repression for a long time.

Spending three weeks in the company of your family proved to be a better remedy than you expected. Even the inevitable arguments and misunderstandings were welcomed, for they brought a sense of nostalgia which calmed the storm inside of you. In the times you isolated yourself in your room, it gave you a safe space to freely think about everything surrounding you, especially the Mark situation. 

He didn’t want to talk about the kiss, and that was fine. You were sure he had a reason for it, namely not wanting to go through the whole I’m sorry but I don’t see you like that scenario, which once again, was understandable. Mark didn’t owe you anything. You had set up the trap and fell for it all on your own.

You still talked to Mark throughout your time away from the group, because you’d hate yourself even more if you alienated him for something that shouldn’t intervene in your friendship. It was weird at first, the chemistry and dynamic between the both of you didn’t change whatsoever, which was good. Whenever he mentioned doing Facetime you always found an excuse to avoid seeing his face. Hearing his voice in the inevitable phone calls you did was already causing so much damage to begin with, imagine if you tended to his every wish. You would never improve. But you held on and followed through with it, as you knew you would. 

Those three weeks made you rationalise your feelings, swallow them whole and cage them in the depths of your chest. The longer you kept on daydreaming about you and Mark doing mundane couple things instead of focusing on the harsh reality that he didn’t like you back, the more it was going to hurt.

So when you got back in the city you deemed yourself normal again.

Jungwoo gave one of his infamous dramatic speeches about you never leaving his side again otherwise he would commit atrocities, while Eunseo did her best as the supporting role of a sidekick. These two were the closest to you out of everyone else, and the fact that they were dating now used to scare you in the beginning. Scared they would eventually distance themselves from the group like many couples do when they start dating. But that ended up being far from the truth since they annoyed the hell out of each other so frequently they even begged to be away from each other whenever they were with other friends.

The gang only had one week left until the second semester began, and this meant it was time for your group trip.

Besides being several things, Jungwoo was also absolutely loaded. Well, his parents were rich, which technically made him rich too, though he always preferred to say he just lived a comfortable life.

When the two of you met in your first year of college, in a class both of you were starting to abhor, you would never imagine how close you would become in the span of a few months. But little by little, your group began to form — Eunseo and Vernon came next, then Kino — and when the end of the first semester neared, he had suggested for the lot of you to head down to his vacation house, the one he went to every Summer. The prospect of going to a place like that in the middle of February was ridiculous until he said he had an indoor pool. Just like any other person who lived comfortably.

This year, though, there were going to be new additions to the trip. Including, of course, Mark and Lucas.

Everything was going to end up just fine because, at the end of the day, your friends were there. And no matter what happened, they were more than enough for you.

The downfall of Kim Jungwoo was being too kind and considerate of others no matter what the situation was. He didn’t have it in his heart to say no to most requests, especially if those came from someone who he considered a great friend of his. He really disliked seeing other people unhappy or lonely.

One hour into the drive to your destination for the next week, shit had already hit the fan. Jungwoo breaks the news that some friends of Mark and Lucas’s friends were tagging along because they were going to be left all alone back in the city without anyone else to keep them company. Lucas supposedly mentioned quite aloofly that statement, and Jungwoo, ever the altruist saviour, couldn’t resist but to make a proposal.

Eunseo almost choked on her gum, Vernon was sleeping with his head resting against Kino’s shoulder, Kino made this awfully funny stank expression, and as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t really avoid the poker face after he drops that bomb on the four of you.

“Are you fucking serious? Again?” Eunseo sounds completely exasperated, rightfully so. You were thankful she was taking the lead, as his girlfriend, it was more acceptable if the nagging came from her, and not from you. Even if deep down you were itching to slap the side of his head.

“Listen,” He tries to reason, side-eyeing her to keep his focus on the road, “They were going to be all alone until the semester started! And it’s not like we can’t accommodate two more people. My house is enough for all of us.”

She scoffs, “It’s not about the size of your fucking house, Jungwoo. It’s about how you just said fuck it to a comfortable environment between people who know each other to bring two more people because you pity them!”

“I know, honey,” His voice is soft, a twinge of regret and desperation coming through, “They know Mark and Lucas, though! It will turn out okay, trust me.”

You doubted it, but you couldn’t possibly hold some judgment or impact over Jungwoo invited over to his house. It was his after all, and if he had deemed fit inviting people who weren’t apart of your group of friends, you just had to accept it. Much like when Mark, Lucas, and Rocky came over to Jungwoo’s place for movie night. They were strangers to the rest (except Mark, but well, no one knew about the circumstances of your prior acquaintanceship except the both of you), but your best friend really tried hard to make his both group of friends become one.

If these friends were like Rocky, who unfortunately had gone abroad with his parents for vacations and couldn’t be present, maybe the environment was going to be amicable, fun even. You were willing to keep an open mind, despite the primary discomfort of mingling with people you weren’t familiar with refusing to wear off.

Eunseo slapped Jungwoo’s hand when he tried to hold it across the console, and you closed your eyes, repeating everything will turn out fine in your head over and over like a mantra until it became true. 

Fake it ’til you make it.

Someone had to be playing some kind of sick, cruel, and twisted trick on you.

Whoever was pulling the strings up there in the sky, God, that abstract deity or deities, were definitely set on making you suffer. Or perhaps someone who was into voodoo had a little stuffed doll version of you, and they found pleasure in pinpricking you whenever they were bored. That person must have been bored to death because nothing had prepared you for what you saw when you stepped out of the car.

You knew it was over as soon as your eyes landed on the two petite, dainty, and incredibly beautiful girls in front of you.

In your stupid, dumb, sad excuse of a brain, these friends Jungwoo was talking about were boys, rowdy, stupid boys, to match the rowdy, stupid energy Mark and Lucas emanated whenever they were together. It never crossed your mind, the possibility of these friends being girls, so unaware yet so powerfully able to destroy your self-confidence and childish hope that something would blossom between Mark and you. One of them, the tallest one with long wavy dark brown hair, has her arm on Mark’s shoulder as she laughs, head thrown back like he had just told the best joke of the century.

You feel sick to your stomach, there’s something akin to bile rising to your throat and you furiously try to swallow it down alongside the feelings you thought you had buried and locked safely in the confines of your chest.

“Guys!” Lucas bellows, and everyone’s attention shifts to your group, “Now the party can officially begin!”

A forced smile breaks on your lips, the kind everyone could see how fake it was. The girl’s hand slides from his shoulder as Mark shuffles forward, eyes on you, towards where you were standing next to Kino. The anxiety makes you grab his arm for safety, to keep you from acting stupid. You can tell Mark knows something is up by the way he scrunches his nose at your small, dismissive wave in his direction, but he neither says nor does anything about it. Thankfully.

The girls — the petty, hungry and jealous monster living inside of you ached to call them intruders — introduced themselves as Yoojung and Doyeon, the latter being the one who had been cosying all up on Mark. Much to your dismay, they’re both incredibly sweet and genuine people, to the point of helping the rest of you set up everything in the house so your stay is comfortable.

On the first night, Doyeon cooks everyone dinner and nothing but high praises are sung to the food she makes. Mark repeats the dish twice, compliments leaving his mouth incessantly, and the dagger piercing through your heart is dug deeper. You were painfully aware that she wasn’t to blame, but when even your friends begin asking for more of it, you were bound to feel the metaphorical blow on your stomach. The cook of the group was you. The person whose food always had everyone raving about was you. You can’t even stomach more than three bites before you say you’re not feeling too well.

 It was starting to resemble like that fateful movie night all over again, with you feeling retracted and alienated. For the remainder of the night, you claim to be extremely tired due to the traveling and withdraw yourself to the room you shared with Eunseo, — since she still wasn’t completely over the stunt he had pulled, but you just knew she was going to trade places with Kino midweek, who was rooming with Jungwoo for the time being — covering your entire body with the duvet. You can hear the cacophony of laughter coming from the living room. It rings in your ears until you fall asleep.

On day two, you wake up earlier than usual. Scoping around the enormous place, you find that no one else is awake, just you. Not even Lucas, who was curled in a ball on the U-shaped sofa, snoring. You tiptoe your way to the kitchen, set on making something guilt-free to ease the relentless growling of your stomach. After last night’s dinner, you were positively starving.

Cooking had always been something you loved to do as a hobby. As a kid, you had watched your grandmother, and your mother too, make the most delicious food with so much gusto it was inevitable for you to follow their steps and prove how cooking ran in your blood. Acknowledging how good you were at it was far from bragging: it was barely the result of kinship. So it was safe to say your ego was bruised at the lack of request from your friends to cook last night’s meal. This particular breakfast was meant to be therapeutic, to settle the sensitive nerves you had clawing inside of you.

You were finishing pouring the first spoon of pancake batter onto the oiled frying pan when the scraping of a chair against the floor sounds behind you, announcing someone else was now with you. The sudden heaviness clutching around your heart is a foresight, it’s like your body had become so in tune to his you were now able to feel his presence without any of your five senses.

“Good morning.” You don’t turn back to look at him, afraid the sight of a sleepy Mark would devastate you beyond the point of no return. 

“Morning,” He hums. You’re floored at how sultry and comforting his voice sounds. “What are you making?”

You were silly to think sharing a vicinity for a whole week with the person you were crushing on was going to be okay. The hand holding the scoop trembled pathetically against the bowl, and you hadn’t even look at him whatsoever. Every little thing concerning him was enough to make your heart grow in size and volume until it occupied the entirety of your chest.

“Nutella pancakes.”

Mark groans, the sound rumbling deep from his chest, and it’s so effective in the way it elicits a shiver down your spine, “That sounds amazing. Care to share some with this boy who feels like crap?”

That’s enough to make you face him. As expected, it shakes you to your very core. You couldn’t even muster up beautiful and coherent thoughts about how good he looked. His hair is obviously finger brushed, yet there’s a cowlick standing cutely stiff against the rest; the urge to put it down is so immense you claw your nails in the meaty part of your palm. “Did something happen?”

“I could say the same thing to you. You barely ate yesterday, and fled so quickly I didn’t even see you.”

You roll your eyes, but inside you’re scrambling to find an excuse while you go back to your main task, “It’s called being car sick, Mark. I’m not used to really long drives.”

“Sure,” His lips twist as a visual cue to show he didn’t truly believe your words. “If you must know, I feel like crap because I didn’t check up on you.” 

You hum once again, taking a dollop of Nutella and dropping it in the middle of the pancake before covering it with another scoop of batter. He continues, “I was going to, though. Then decided against it because I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Maybe you should have.” You say, using the spatula next to you to flip the pancake, “I wouldn’t have minded the company.”

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs. You don’t reply, and the pancake sizzling on the stove speaks on your behalf.

Silence wraps around you so uncomfortably your skin crawls at how awkward it feels. What were you supposed to say? ‘No, Mark, I’m the one who should be sorry for acting all stupid around you’? Or perhaps saying ‘The reason I’m acting this weird is because I have a big, fat crush on you and seeing you act all chummy with an attractive girl makes me want to bash my head against a wall’ would reflect the dangerous tides drowning you better. So you do what you always do best, and place your feelings in front of him in the form of probably the most perfect looking pancakes ever. He would never realise it, and at this point neither did you want him to. The sting of being rejected had over-imposed itself over any fake bravado you could possibly pour out. 

He digs in like he hadn’t eaten for days, the moan coming out of his moan paired with his eyes rolling back into his skull so obscene it propels you to swivel your body so you could actually make something for you to eat.

You sit across from him while you eat your breakfast, and all Mark does is stare at you in the meanwhile. It weighs burdensomely on your shoulders for the first minutes, then disappears when the familiarity settles in. After you’re done, you go back to your room with exhaustion seeping through your pores as if you hadn’t slept in years. 

He doesn’t get up after you, just stays there sitting on the chair.

On day three, you try to keep a more positive aspect about every possible outcome. Sulking around in possibly one of the best occasions had little to no sense. You mingle a lot more with everyone, including Jooyoung and Doyeon. It pained you to admit, but they were really sweet, witty girls, which made it incredibly hard for you to hate Doyeon when she was so likable and genuine.

You didn’t want to be consumed by this restricting feeling of insecurity whenever she was around, because really, she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Sure, she was extremely touchy when it came to Mark, it seemed like she had to be touching him in any way, whether it was the side of their arms touching whenever they were sitting down — because they always ended up sitting next to each other, leaving you to be sandwiched between Lucas and Kino — or her hand seeking solace in the slope of his shoulder as she laughed and leaned forward, but that could be simply coincidental. Or maybe Doyeon and you were on the same boat, sharing a crush on the most oblivious guy on Earth. Yet the difference between the both of you lied in the fact that she wasn’t afraid to act upon it unlike you. Even if you had kissed him, which was probably way more than she had ever done. 

But Mark either didn’t remember, or he was pretending not to.

By the end of the afternoon of the third day, everyone seemed to be in the mood for a dip in the indoor pool. And your nightmare began to unravel from that moment onwards.

If Doyeon already looked absolutely stunning with loose-fitting, comfortable clothes and minimal makeup, it was no wonder she was five times better with a swimsuit and barefaced. The simple pink one-piece she was wearing outshined your navy striped one by a long shot. You never really stood a chance against her to begin with, but now that everyone was as less clothed as one could be in public, you were feeling insecure beyond words.

Especially because Mark and she kept on splashing water towards one another, the underlying tones of flirting barely visible to anyone else but you. The way he ruffled up his wet hair, his lips parting whenever she spoke, the crinkling in his eyes. It all made nausea boil up in your throat, so you tried to distract yourself by playing silly games with your friends. Pretending was your strong suit.

Or you liked to believe it was.

That night Doyeon huddles in a sweatshirt that is too big to be hers with her head poised delicately on Mark’s shoulder, and whatever resolve to keep being strong you thought you had withered away, the bitter poison of definite heartbreak taking over and spreading like an incurable virus.

This was it.

You had reached your limit, there was no going back. A silent sob tears through your throat, your hand reaching to clamp over your mouth to prevent any sound from coming out. This was too much, even for you. Parading his probable relationship in front of everyone while completely forgetting to acknowledge what happened in New Year’s Eve was proving to be too cruel. Never in your life did you think Mark Lee, the person who you didn’t believe had a bad bone in his body, was capable of crushing your ribcage and whatever was inside into fine dust. 

The waters had completely pulled you under, and there was an anchor strapped to your ankle continuously dragging you down until you no longer could fight back.

You had taken for granted how sweet it was to breathe.

Eunseo is sitting on her bed, back leaning against the headboard when you storm in with your face blearing red and tearful. Her eyes catch yours and your knees buckle under the metaphorical pending weight of your heartbreak, still covering your mouth to stifle the ugly sobs reverberating against your palm. 

It was funny how amid your sinkage, the main thought going through your mind was not to alert anyone but to suffer in silence and alone. But it seemed like she wasn’t going to allow that.

You hear the clicking of your bedroom door closing followed by frantic hands grabbing your shoulders. Your best friend has shock painted all over her face, like this façade you were allowing her to witness was not one she was expecting.

“What happened?” Her voice is shaky, hands shaking your frame, “___, what the hell is going on?” There’s no strength left in you, you can’t even support your own weight, let alone verbalise the tsunami inside your chest. Eunseo lets you drop your body against her, her arms wrapping around you to cradle your head against the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

She doesn’t pry any further, and for that you are thankful. You just keep on crying quietly while her fingers run through your hair, humming a tune so soft and sweet it lulls you to sleep, the now dry tears leaving stain marks in its stead.

You wake up in the middle of the night to find yourself sharing a bed with your best friend. She is latched onto you so tightly it almost glues back the broken pieces of your heart back into place, and the protective streak it possesses brings a fresh wave of tears to your waterline, but you hold it back because you already feel too bad for ruining her — it was Jungwoo’s, actually — shirt. Sleep comes back to you once again, the headache resulting from your mental breakdown dissipating in the process. When the morning comes and both of you are awake, she lets you be the one to open up instead of being the one to poke through your sensitive state.

“I…” Red burns your cheek yet for a different reason than yesterday. You felt so disgustingly embarrassed to confess to another person about your innermost feelings, disregarding the fact this was one of the people you trusted the most. “I like someone.”

“I see,” Her reaction is neutral. She’s void of facial expression as if she’s cautious with the way she should react to your words. “You like someone. And the reason you cried yesterday was because of this person.”

You gulp, “Yeah. It was.”

“This person hurt you.” Eunseo doesn’t ask any questions. She resorts to making blanket statements to help you untangle the mess going on inside of you. As if you didn’t already love her enough.

“He did, but I don’t know if it was intentional.” You laugh low on your throat, shake your head in disbelief. “He’s so fucking oblivious about everything, I highly doubt it was.”

“What happened yesterday was prompted by something you saw, then.”

She was getting closer to unveiling the grand truth. The thrum of your heartbeat picked up as if your body was giving you a sign that even if it felt like you had drowned, it was still beating for you. You were still alive. You weren’t okay, but you hadn’t died because of it. “Yeah,” Confirming it was leeway to compressing the scope of potential people. She now knew it was someone in Jungwoo’s house.

“Okay, correct me if I’m wrong. You like someone so much it made you break down, and that said someone is currently in this house. Therefore it’s a person you and I both know quite well, except if it is either Jooyoung or Doyeon. Which I highly doubt because you haven’t known them for longer than four days, and the fact you said he.”

You scoff, flicking her on the forehead, and Eunseo tries to swat your hand away but fails. “Of course it’s not them. Who do you think I am?”

“I was just crossing people from the list,” She shrugs, “This was the easiest way. I also suppose you’re not in love with Jungwoo.”

“Eunseo! What the fuck!” You shove her now, appalled. She laughs aloud at your reaction, and it only makes you even madder. 

“Oh, bite me, will you?” She huffs before shaking her head with a grin, “It’s called process of elimination. “I have to narrow my options here. Do you want me to take a guess or do you want to tell me who the person is by yourself?”

And there it was again, the stinging of incoming tears behind your eyelids. They don’t come out, however.

You knew to cry meant you had held on for too long, but you couldn’t shake the nagging perception that it somewhat weakened you. Especially since the reason behind it was related to the mechanics of your heart. But this was Eunseo, your best friend. The person who had been there for you through thick and thin, while never belittling you for your complex way of being.

She deserved honesty. 

Even if finally admitting it to someone out loud was beyond scary.

“It’s…” You take a deep breath, “It’s Mark.”

She doesn’t show any major physical reaction to your confession, zeroes in on something behind you and keeps her gaze there for a few seconds. It’s unsettling to you, the anxiety buzzing underneath your skin as you wait for her to react.

“Oh my God,” You whine. It has been too long since she has spoken, and it was slowly getting on your nerves, “Just say something.”

She exhales loudly, her shoulders sagging, “Am I allowed to freak out?” You roll your eyes at her comment but nod nonetheless. Any reaction was better than none. “This is so exciting. I’ve been holding it in since yesterday but now I can finally lose my shit.”

“This is not exciting, Eunseo.” You frown. There wasn’t anything exciting about heartbreak. “He doesn’t like me back. These feelings I have aren’t mutual.”

“And how do you know he doesn’t like you?”

“Because yesterday he was all cuddled up next to Doyeon as if we didn’t fucking kiss on New Year’s Eve!” Thinking about it again made the anger you tried to tamper down close to surface. Mark was cruel.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait. Kissed?! I haven’t had time to process the fact that you even like someone, and you drop the K bomb on me like this? Tell me everything. From the beginning.”

And that’s what you do. You tell Eunseo about how you two go way back, way farther than everyone else thinks you go. 

You tell her about how your high school experience hadn’t been the best, and how Mark was the person you had always aspired to be back then. How popular and versatile he was. About how meeting him two years later had been extremely uncomfortable because a person like him wasn’t supposed to mingle with your people, yet there he had been, laughing at what Jungwoo was saying. About how you had reluctantly given this friendship thing a try, since her boyfriend was so keen on him and his friends, and since deep down you had always wanted to see how he was truly like. 

You tell Eunseo about how well you two match. How every conversation was never-ending, like an infinite, sturdy string that went for miles and miles and never stopped. How caring, and genuine he had always been, even in high school. You tell her about how little by little your resolve wore off, and his company began to feel both needed and appreciated. How on New Year’s Eve you get drunk together, and you teach him how to smoke. 

You tell your best friend how you both ended up cuddling on the rug of Jungwoo’s living room. And you tell her about how compelled you had felt to kiss him when the countdown began. Not because of some lame fucking tradition like you had tried to convince yourself, but because you really wanted to. You had never wanted anything in your life so badly.

Heartbreakingly, you tell her then about how the saddening part of the story unfolds. He doesn’t acknowledge your kiss, he doesn’t make a move, he doesn’t give you so much as an inch of leeway to convince yourself he could be feeling the same thing as you were.

By the time your storytelling ends, her hand is overlapping yours in what you consider empathy. She’s rubbing the back of it with her thumb, and the way she’s looking at you makes the lump in your throat almost lurch. You want to cry, to show how sad you were, though you don’t do it. Yesterday’s shenanigans had proved themselves to be enough — you were mentally tired. There was no more room or strength to do so.

“I can’t believe all of this happened underneath our noses and we never realised it…” She’s incredibly surprised, that much you can tell. Her face scrunches like she’s trying to remember something, and you just keep looking at her in amusement. “I seriously just thought the two of you were really good friends.”

“And we are.” You pause, remember how recently things hadn’t been that okay on your side. “Or were. I don’t know, honestly. I just feel like it will be really difficult for me to pretend that nothing is affecting me, because I have the urge to punch someone every time I see them together.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I noticed that they’re close but I just assumed it’s because they’re friends.”

“That’s such flawed logic.” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms against your chest. “You and Jungwoo were also close but there was nothing platonic about it.”

“That’s differen— Okay. You’re right. So what are you gonna’ do?”

“There’s really nothing I can do. I’ll have to get over him.” You shrug innocently, and Eunseo glares at you. She wants to call you unbearable, you know it. “Three more days to go, and then I can put my distance.”

You can tell she wants to lecture you, tell you to find another way other than giving up. But she doesn’t, in true Eunseo fashion. 

The rest of that day is spent holed up inside your room without contacting or interaction with anyone except Eunseo, who takes one for the team and keeps you company during the whole time. She tells you Mark asks for you when she gets back from getting snacks on the break between the second and third Harry Potter movie you were marathoning on Netflix. You shrug in response, drink big gulps of water as if it would drown your feelings to death.

Sometimes you wished that was possible.

Day five arrives, and the prospect of things looking up is nothing but a mere pathetic theory. Quite on the contrary, it’s on day five where everything gets worse than worst. 

Throughout the day, the interactions between Mark and Doyeon are so disgusting to your whole system that you actually end up dry heaving against the toilet, retches tormenting you as you try to make sense of the situation. You had reached the lowest of lows, the rock bottom. 

But this wasn’t you. This had never been you. Not even back in high school where you longed to belong somewhere.

The migraines had been the only constant on that trip, and they kept on becoming stronger and stronger as the days went by, much like your mood. You had gotten to the point where the only people you tolerated were Eunseo and Kino, everyone else just contributed to the hammering going inside your head.

Still, you had been able to avoid Mark.

That is until the fateful day six begins, and Jungwoo corners you in the kitchen, a furious scowl etched on his face.

“Would you care to tell me what the fuck is going on with you?” His tone is accusatory, hurtful. He’s not there to be nice, that much you had already gathered.

“Is this an intervention?” You cock your eyebrow at him, leaning your lower back against the counter. He keeps staring at you, stance aggressive. 

“Let’s call it an intervention, if you want. Why the fuck have you been acting so weird lately? Why have you turned your phone off? Why are you avoiding Mark?” He’s firing question after question, not even giving you room to process them. The way he’s handling his energy is so chaotic, it makes your blood boil underneath your skin. Jungwoo had no right to be mad at you when he didn’t make any effort to consult you about your wellbeing during this whole trip, and the moment he does, his only instinct is to spit venomous words instead of choosing a more careful approach.

“And why the fuck do you care?” There’s a fire building up inside of you, the flames licking up your throat. You’re now almost chest to chest with him, your eyes wide and vicious. If it was possible, laser beams would be shooting out of them.

“Are you serious right now? You’re my best friend, of course I care about you!”

You scoff, “Took you long enough to figure out something’s not okay.”

“You’re being so unfair.”

“Am I?” You laugh darkly, eyes roaming around the room. Jungwoo hated being left in the dark. It made him feel powerless like he wasn’t doing enough for those he loved. And you were deliberately doing what you knew would hurt him. Because that was the person you had become. “Or were you simply too occupied to realise it?”

“Now you’re just pushing it, ___.” He grits out, “I don’t know what is going on, but you’re acting like an asshole. Everyone is commenting about how you’re avoiding us. Mark is like a lost puppy wandering around because it’s like he’s the plague to you.”

The thought of Mark feeling miserable because of you is just so absurd you don’t refrain from laughing out loud sarcastically. “Mark looks absolutely fine to me. Doyeon seems to be a qualified substitute.”

“Okay, I get it now. Something happened between you two.” He says, plain and simple. You feel the blistering heat on your cheeks, and words can’t even slip from your lips because he carries on, “Honestly, I’m not really interested in knowing what happened exactly. I care about the fact that you’re being an asshole to everyone else because of it. Don’t take your anger out on someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

Shame is staining your face in such an ugly red shade you can’t even muster up the courage to look him in the eye, and fight back. Mainly because there’s nothing you can really say to him. 

“I’m putting you on shopping duty today with Mark.” He pauses, reaches for the back of your hand, and runs his finger just once against it, “Running away from confrontation is literally the worst thing you could possibly do. It will never fix things.”

He’s right, of course, and it hurts you.

It hurts you, but not because of how bittersweet truth can taste. It hurts because of all people, it had to be Jungwoo. Jungwoo, whose words had always been like rivers of honey flowing through your ears, now felt like they had blasted your eardrums off, leaving nothing but blood trickling down in its wake. This was a side of him you were seeing for the first time. But then again, this was also a side of you nobody had ever seen.

The extremes to which you had taken the situation was destroying everything around you. This vacation was supposed to be filled to the brim with beautiful memories you would never forget. Instead, you were letting your childish emotions dictate your whole persona, and disregard everyone else around you as if they didn’t exist, only him. 

You had nothing left to lose.

Maybe the truth would set you free.

For a few seconds, Mark thought he was seeing a ghost, the apparition of something supernatural right before his eyes. He was more surprised than the moment you kissed him on New Year’s Eve if that was even possible. But it wasn’t a ghost, it was you making your way to him while he waited for the person who was supposed to help him with grocery shopping. 

Now he understood why Jungwoo was acting all secretive and straight-up refusing to say who that person was.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” You sound annoyed, and he has no clue why. Actually, Mark has been in a permanent state of confusion ever since that day.

He remembers how going home after being so intimate with you felt like he had been floating in a cloud, instead of having Lucas push him by the collar and throw him on the bed. He remembers how soft and supple your lips felt, even if they had missed the initial aim because of how much of a fucking idiot he was. Everything had felt so surreal, like a dream too sweet to come true. 

But you never said anything about it or mentioned it ever again.

And Mark didn’t have the guts to invest further, because he was a scaredy-cat who felt too weak when it came to you.

“Oh. Sorry.” He makes his way to the driver’s seat, spares a quick glance in your direction only to find you staring stoically ahead. You’re wearing a navy blue cap, it sits so low on your head he can barely see your eyes, just the end of your nose and the lips he had been fantasising about for the past month.

The lips which had touched his — kind of — and since then Mark only grew defeated at the lack of response coming from you.

There was such a tense atmosphere between both of you, in comparison to how comfortable you had been around each other at the party. Everything had been going so well, Mark had never been so happy in his entire life, and in hindsight, the end of the night was just perfect. But the truth was, the kiss had been the catalyst to how distant you had become. 

No more facetime calls, no more feeling at ease whenever you both were together. And in Mark’s perspective, this trip was supposed to make the spark from the New Year’s Eve party ignite between you both again.

His expectations paled in comparison to the reality. The person he saw was avoiding him, glaring at him across the dinner table, refusing to interact with other people. Something was going on, and it was killing him not knowing why. Or worse, if he was the reason behind it all.

The eery silence ceases when you’re inside the supermarket, standing awkwardly still in front of the small magazine stall near the registers. 

“Do you have the list?” Your voice lacks any emotion, yet it still startles him. He misses talking to you freely, hearing you laugh through the speaker on his phone as he buries his face against the pillow because he’s smiling so big his cheeks hurt.

“Yeah,” He takes the folded slip of paper from his back pocket. It’s crumpled and frayed at the edges — he had been fiddling with it before he saw you. 

You clear your throat, avert your head to look at the tabloid newspapers, “We should split up, it’s quicker that way.”

“No,” He takes pride in the way his answer makes you look at him, the sternness in his voice showing. Mark wanted to be selfish for once. “I don’t want to lose you.” The pregnant pause is meant to make you think about his words, but he continues before things got too awkward, “This place is huge.”

You say nothing, but still rip the paper from his clammy hand, and storm ahead of him to find whatever was written on it.

Jungwoo’s scrawny chicken handwriting is barely legible, Mark notices once he peaks over your shoulder. You’re deliberating between two brands of rice as if it’s the hardest choice you had ever encountered in your entire life. It’s adorable, to say the least. But he doesn’t say anything, like always, because that’s what people like Mark do: they wallow in self-pity until feelings dissipate within the particles of the wind. They cower behind the false pretense of unrequited affection. They never chase their dreams to the fullest. They let them wither and fall between the cracks in the pavement.

Change scared him. Still, the thought of losing your friendship was enough to sear his heart.

So that’s why Mark was going to tread a very fine line, in hopes of at least getting back what was slipping through his fingers.

“Can we talk?”

You look over at him, a light frown adorning your face in spite of the poor attempt at hiding your face with your hat, grabbing a bottle of Coke at the same time. “We’re already talking.”

“We’re talking about groceries.”

“Are you saying groceries aren’t important enough to be considered a conversational topic?” You muse, laughing dryly right after. This indifference was starting to get on Mark’s nerves.

He strides so he’s standing right on the other side of the cart, hands holding it so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Cut the crap, ___. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Now move.” Scoffing, you try to push the cart in your direction, but Mark tightens his hold even further so you’re unable to take it with you. “Mark. Let go. Don’t make me cause a scene right here in the middle of a fucking supermarket.”

He falters with the intensity of your voice and takes his hand off, sighing loudly, “We’re not done. I’m tired of this.”

Your head flings back violently to stare at him with the widest eyes he had ever seen. Mark finally takes note of the incredibly purple under-eye circles, the tired, dull-looking skin. The deep, heart-wrenching feeling in his gut was slowly confirming what he had been fearing: he probably was one of the reasons why you were like this, if not the only one.

“Oh, you’re tired? How sad, Mark. Maybe take your head out of your ass for once and take a hint. So many things are happening around you and you either choose to ignore it or you’re just fucking dumb enough to not realise it.”

“What do you mean?” Mark feels like he’s being stabbed all over again with every poisonous word falling from your lips. It’s not the words themselves that are hurting him, it’s the fact that he was the person who caused you to become this way and not knowing exactly what he had done.

You let out a low shriek of frustration, “Unbelievable. You wouldn’t see it even if it hit you in the head.”

“Let’s talk in the car.” He sighs. You don’t say anything back, but Mark takes the eye roll you throw in his direction as a small victory for now. The rest of the grocery shopping happens in complete silence sans the squeaky wheels of the cart and the Ed Sheeran song humming throughout the store.

Mark is dreading getting in the car with you, afraid of getting another earful of rejecting comments or worse, not being able to find out what exactly he had done for you to completely shut him out. Was it because he allowed you to kiss him while you were both not in your right state of mind? Should he had been more firm in his morals instead of giving in to what he had been wanting for the past three years?

More silence carries both of you back to Jungwoo’s house, Mark’s hand gripping the steering wheel on the way back so tightly his knuckles are ghostly white against the dark leather. The air felt stuffy, full of resentment and opportunities for new beginnings. You reckon the time to pour your heart out has come: there, inside that parked car, you were going to tell him everything without holding back. This crush had grown to lengths you had never expected, it had turned you into the shell of the girl you used to be. 

Your inferiority complex had never gone away.

“Can I ask you something?” You start off, taking the baseball cap off of your head before running a hand through your slightly greasy hair. Mark’s eyes immediately lock on yours, nods in your direction. “Did it even mean something to you? The kiss?”

“I- I thought you didn’t remember that.” He gulps, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You thought or you didn’t want me to remember?” You hate how feeble your voice sounds, how crystal clear the pain echoes with every word you say. “You know, Mark, it’s okay if you don’t like me back, the thing is that I can’t really go on any longer pretending everything’s okay when it’s not.”

Mark’s body coils like a springboard at your implied confession, his muscles tense, and the way he looks at you resembles a madman. You allow him some seconds to formulate some type of reply, yet all he does is open and close his mouth as if there is nothing he could say.

“Yeah, newsflash… I like you, Mark. I thought the kiss made it pretty obvious but then again we were drunk and high so I understand if you didn’t think too much of it.” There’s a lump sitting at the top of your throat and tears brimming in your lash line. The urge to cry is so strong now, you had never imagined that confessing your feelings to the person’s face would be so emotionally and mentally straining. “I guess I’m the one to blame because I expected you to make the next move, to show that this crush wasn’t one-sided but… Yeah… We all know how that one went, uh?”

“Anyway… This is why I’ve been distant.” You chuckle, wiping the stray tear that decided to go rogue against your will, “And as you can imagine, seeing the guy I like acting so close to another girl was bound to make me feel all types of sad. I don’t know if you’re dating or not and if you are I am sorry for telling you this. I guess I just needed to let this all out before I began moving on.”

He’s completely still, zoned out as if his body was there but his soul was absent. You’re unsure of what to make of this since you were expecting him to say something back. But maybe this was for the best, him not saying a word. It would spare you an even bigger heartbreak.

“I’ll ask the guys to come get the groceries.” You smile sadly before opening the door, leaving him confined in that tiny car alongside his thoughts.

You don’t see Mark for the rest of the day, fortunately. While in the previous days you had been the one acting all weird and evasive, now Mark had taken it upon himself to fulfill that role. It gives you time to reflect upon yourself and your situation.

Dinner that night is made by you and everyone loves it. The conversation flows beautifully between everyone, even with Doyeon: you find out the two of you have a lot more in common than you imagined. Surprisingly, the heavy burden sunk in the depths of your chest is no longer there, only a dull ache which throbbed only whenever your brain conjured any thought about Mark. You’d take that as progress. Except you can’t help yourself but think about what prompted him into isolating himself. Maybe he was too embarrassed to face you now that he knew you liked him. Or maybe he didn’t have the courage to be your friend anymore. All in all, your pride was hurt. Not having your feelings reciprocated sucked.

Later on, you watch Bird Box sandwiched between your best friends, let yourself shed a few stray tears over the sentimentality of the movie. You can hear sniffles and stifled sobs coming from Doyeon and Kino while Jungwoo holds Eunseo’s hand and brings it to his lips to gently peck it from time to time. It’s enough to make you reminisce about New Year’s Eve, about how right it felt to be with Mark in that kind of intimate setting. You want to do it again and again and again until you can’t even remember how many times you have been like that until it becomes second nature to you. But that won’t happen. So you force yourself to eradicate that painful thought from your mind and train your eyes steadily on the screen until it all blurs.

People start going back to their rooms little by little, eventually. The clock is ticking near one in the morning and contrary to what you were expecting, there’s not one ounce of exhaustion in your body. You are awake, you feel awake like there’s a buzz in your bloodstream that’s preventing you from getting sleepy. It’s as if not even your own brain wants you to stop thinking.

Lucky for your brain, you can’t stop thinking. So while everyone else is sleeping soundly in their beds, the cogs in your brain twist and turn desperately trying to formulate any reasonable explanation for everything that had happened recently. And in spite of the sting caused by rejection, your heart still called to him, pathetically so, and during this whole fiasco, you were worried about his wellbeing. You were worrying if he was hungry, thirsty, tired, either if he was crying or in need of a hug. Above your state of passion for him stood a friendship you valued tremendously; you were losing both at the same time.

The blood boiling beneath your skin makes the air around you feel too stifling like you’re in the middle of a heatwave on a July afternoon instead of a February late night where the temperature doesn’t even waver beyond 20ºC. You trudge outside to where the pool is, the moon illuminating and reflecting upon the tiny ripples of water ever so gently, just enough to showcase how beautiful stillness and darkness can be. There’s this urge within you to just dive in, even if the water is not as warm as you want it to be, and you do just that, damned be everything and everyone. 

You’re swimming in Jungwoo’s summer house backyard all by yourself in your underwear and somehow, despite the trials and tribulations of your pathetic life, you wouldn’t change anything about that moment. They are the ones that make you grow as a person, that help you shape yourself into a more mature, better version.

But moments like these are also meant to be changed. Like the way the pitch-black sky is coated with hues of pink, yellow, and orange just as dawn becomes daylight. Those seemingly slow and everlasting shifts in nature you can’t help but acknowledge: they’re meant to happen.

That’s why you don’t even flinch when you hear a small splash behind you, yet that restlessness comes to life, the one where you can feel in every fibre of your being whenever he was around. But you don’t turn around, don’t act surprised. You’re ready to embrace whatever it is that is about to come your way.

“Hi.” Mark’s voice is so soft and faint you can barely hear him. If it wasn’t for the stupid fact you like him so much to the point your chest felt like it was about to split open violently in any second, things like his uneven breathing pattern would go amiss. 

You flip around, see how sunken his face looks. It breaks your heart even further than it already was to begin with. Resisting the impulse you were having of swimming across the pool so you could hold him in your warms was proving to be the most difficult thing you had ever done. 

“Hi, Mark.”

In any other occasion, seeing Mark shirtless would be more than enough to make you go through hot flashes for the following hour, especially when you were only wearing your bra and panties, yet there was absolutely nothing sexual about this moment. You were both near-naked, stripped of barriers, of façades you put on in order to protect yourselves. At that very moment, there was only vulnerability oozing from your pores and his.

This was it. The grand finale was finally about to happen.

“How are you feeling?” You start off, lowering your shoulders inside the water to keep them warm from the breeze. “You look like shit.”

That elicits a snort from Mark’s lips followed by a gleaming smile which you can see from your spot on the other end of the pool. It’s sweet and it sticks to your memory like golden honey, reminds you of how much you have missed him in general. He was your friend before he was the one who could either make you or break you, so you yearn for his friendship way more than any other thing in the world. No one could understand you with the same intricacy and intimacy as Mark did; you would rather not be able to feel the suppleness of his lips than to lose him altogether, lose the gift of his friendship.

“Honestly?” He asks, mimicking your position and lowering his shoulders as well, “I don’t think there’s any way I can convey how I feel right now without it sounding like complete nonsense.”

This statement intrigues you. It sparks something deep within that you know it shouldn’t, but falling in love with someone brings out the person’s most vulnerable state to the forefront. A person in love will go back on their word if that means one step closer to the heart they want. “Try me,” You shrug, “I’m all ears.”

“I don’t even know where to begin.”

“If this is all because of what I told you… because I like you, then I’m sorry.” You cast your eyes downwards and flick mindlessly the water around you. “I know that it’s a lot to take in and maybe it was selfish of me to let it all build up and then lay it all on you like that.”

“No,” He interjects quickly, treading the pool waters in slow but steady strides until he’s more than an arm’s reach from you. “I was surprised, yes, and it was overwhelming because that was the last thing I was expecting you to say.”

You laugh, “You were malfunctioning back there. I get it though.”

“You don’t,” He deadpans, voice solemn, “You don’t understand at all… What it’s like waiting for years to hear something and then your brain completely shuts down when it does finally happen.”

Your heartbeat is thrumming so loud you can feel it reverberating all over your body, it courses through you like a rush of blood, intensely so, that you refrain from pinching yourself. The nuances in his speech are making you feel like you’re dreaming the sweetest dream and if it was indeed a figment of your imagination, you didn’t want to wake up any time soon.

“I’ve had a thing for you since high school, ___.” He confesses, angling his body to the side as if ashamed or embarrassed or afraid. Deep down you want to laugh because there’s no reason for him to feel like that at all. You’re desperately in love with him in every intricate and complex way possible in the world. Like a galaxy and constellations, and the moons, the planets, and the stars within orbiting in sync yet light-years away from each other.

But the heavy rise and fall of your chest and the tears welling up in your eyes tell a different story.

Mark liked you back.

He continues, “And I know you used to think I was too popular to even become your friend, but that sure as hell didn’t stop me from liking you. Hell, it made me like you even more… I knew it back then and I know it now too… I really, really like you. A lot. Like, you make my heart do these funky, weird flips every time we hang out.”

You’re crying by the end of his little confession, sniffling quietly so he doesn’t notice, yet when he finally dares to lift his eyes towards yours, he sees you wiping the back of your palm against your cheek. As if it was an instinct, he crosses the space left dividing the both of you, pausing right before his hand could touch you. Like you were a dainty marble statue that could break even with the tiniest of touches.

“Shit, I’m sorry— Don’t cry, please.”

“No,” You protest, “I’m crying because I’m happy. I’m crying because I never imagined this moment would actually happen. It’s just surreal.”

His hand stutters when it finally grazes your skin, yet his thumb still spans the surface of your cheek ever so gently, ever so softly. You refuse to believe it isn’t real, these last interactions you two were sharing were so dream-like your own hand reaches up to press against his, to feel the texture of his skin, your eyes closing in the process because of how full your heart was feeling.

Mark liked you. The person you liked, liked you back. You had been torturing yourself for the past week with thoughts of not being reciprocated to the point that you felt the very core of your being dim. And it had been all for nothing because he had a thing for you way before you even considered him a friend. 

Miscommunication was such a fickle thing. This whole situation could have been avoided if the two of you had been more open about your feelings instead of repressing them in fear of the reaction of the other.

“Mark,” You say, his hand still cradling your face, “Can we hug? Is that okay?”

Mark is unable to properly reply with words to your question, only a smile breaking through his lips at the pure disbelief of how happy such words could make him feel. He doesn’t need to say anything at all, he reckons, as he lowers your hand, and his too, before snaking his arms around yours, tumbling you softly into his chest in the process.

There’s a newfound comfort in the way your face is squished against his shoulder, like every single worry that had been weighing him down had completely vanished the moment you stepped into his arms. The pounding of his heart is no longer rooted in venom, it has tiny flowers blooming along each branch and stem, a small, lovely glimpse into paradise on earth. 

A wave of nostalgia hits Mark in the gut and he can’t help but to think about New Year’s Eve, think about how similar this moment feels to the one almost two months ago yet the contrast is so very stark. Back then you were both tiptoeing around your emotions, scared of taking a leap and finding out that there’s nothing but concrete down there. Now you’re worn down, you and him, by the cluster of emotions and the lack of experience on how to handle them. Yet you’re together in whatever this is, may that be navigating through the corridors of young love or finding out what’s on the other side of the door doesn’t quite correspond to what you’ve been idealising. 

“I’m sorry,” You’ve been in an embrace for probably more than ten minutes and Mark’s voice breaks a little, right hand spanning the middle of your back, “For not being so forward… I’m not very good at this— I’ve never been. I tried, back in high school, you know? I tried but it always felt like the universe was against me. Every time I mustered the courage to do something, another person cockblocked the shit out of me.”

You bring your head back to look him in the eyes, “It’s okay, Mark. I’m not very good at this either. I had this crazy way of thinking that you were like… unreachable to someone like me. So I never expected us to become friends, let along like you or have you like me back.”

“Please,” He scoffs playfully, tightening his arms around you, “I liked you first.”

You roll your eyes, stepping out of his embrace and flicking some water in his direction, “Anyways… I’m also sorry. For being too pushy and demanding too much from you. And for ruining this whole trip for everyone.”

“I wouldn’t say you ruined the trip, just… confused the shit out of everyone, maybe?” He tries to reason, voice a little doubtful. You’re aware of how your little jealous stints made the mood a little sour for everyone, and you feel remorseful for letting such negativity consume you. Love really made you do the unthinkable.

“Jealousy is a bitch, I’ll say that.”

“Jealousy? Were you jealous?” Mark asks, curiosity splattered on his face, “Jealous of wha— Oh. No way…”

Mark has a stupid little grin on his face like he already has you all figured out, and you stubbornly, yet playfully, turn your back to him as you begin to tread back to the other end of the pool to try and get him to follow you. Maybe hug you from behind. Kiss your neck or whatever. You’d leave that for him to decide.

A giggle leaves your mouth as you hear the water swishing from behind you. You keep going until you reach the border and when you twist your body to rest your back against it, Mark is hot on your tail, immediately caging you in between his arms.

“Jealous, uh?” He’s coming across as cocky, and given the circumstances you were now, it was far from making you annoyed or turned off.

“Yeah,” You breathe out, focusing on the droplets of water gliding from his neck to his collarbones. This game was getting dangerous. “What about it?”

“What were you jealous of?” He begins, taking another step towards you until you were chest to chest. “Or let me rephrase that. Who were you jealous of?”

You’re beginning to like seeing this new side of Mark. The Mark who unveiled what he was thinking and feeling free instead of masking it behind a façade of confusion. It was making you unravel a lot more from within yourself as well, the way you were reacting to his advances and stance just proved even further the extent of your emotional and romantic involvement. 

“You were all cosy with Doyeon during the whole trip. It was so annoying.”

“Okay, first of all, Doyeon and I grew up together.”

“That’s even worse,” You roll your eyes and Mark is feeling so inexplicably elated over seeing you express something as ordinary as jealousy that he decides to be ballsy and grab you by the waist. He ought to compensate you somehow. 

The blush dusting your cheeks makes it worth it.

“I only like one person, and that’s you,” He rasps, heart skipping a beat when you put your hands on his shoulders, feel the sturdiness of his muscles.

“I know now,” You say, caressing the nape of his neck as you look up to him, a fond smile on your lips. Mark feels so overwhelmed with the urge to kiss you. Kissing you had always plagued him, but now when it was just a breath’s away he felt dizzy with the anticipation of it really happening.

“Can I—”

You don’t even give him the chance to finish his prompt, for you take the initiative and kiss him yourself, too thirsty for something you were sure you were never going to get tired of.

Mark’s lips are exactly what you had always dreamed about being, yet more at the same time. They’re soft and supple and timid, and you don’t really mind taking the lead, spanning your hand across his jaw and tilting it to the side so you can deepen the kiss. You’ve been waiting for the opportunity of properly kissing him since what feels like forever, it shows in how you press yourself against him desperately, turn him around so he’s the one being pinned against the wall.

That seems to shake him out of his shy reverie: he poises his hand against your throat to keep you in place as the rush finally kicks in and he begins to take over, tearing a gasp from you at the sudden change in dynamics. He hums low in his throat then, using it as an opportunity to add his tongue to the mix, bravado fuelled by the desperate nature of the moment.

When the heat of finally being able to kiss each other dies down, the kisses become slow and languid, the touches delicate and sweet rather than frantic and wild, until you both stop completely to catch your breath. 

“Shit,” Mark is heaving as he starts laughing crazily, “If this is a dream I’m going to be so fucking pissed.”

You begin to pepper pecks all over his face to prove a point, “This isn’t a dream, Mark Lee. We like each other.”

“And had one hell of a kiss in the middle of the night at a pool. This is going to be a cool story to tell. After I tell the New Year’s Eve one.”

“First off, this was our first kiss.” You retort, grabbing his cheeks in between your fingers to shut him up when he starts protesting, “That will not account as a first kiss, it was a sad, sad attempt at demonstrating how much I liked you.”

“I can’t believe it didn’t dawn on me back then that you liked me back.” Mark snorts in disbelief, “What can be more clear than a kiss? Jesus Christ.”

“I was honestly disappointed but not surprised, coming from you. Such a dense, dumb ass person.”

“Take it back!” He starts tickling you in retaliation, the giggles coming out of your mouth so loudly you were sure you were going to wake someone up. But that didn’t matter at the moment, the unavoidable sweetness of the occasion is all you could think about.

You and Mark eventually get out of the pool when you notice your fingers get pruney, which in hindsight should have happened way before it did. He goes inside to fetch two towels while you sit on the little deck with your legs crossed, looking at the sky before you and wondering how a little over an hour ago you were looking at the same exact spot plagued with the opposite mindset of the one you had now.

He drapes the fluffy towel over your shoulders and sits right to your left, knees knocking against yours as he gets comfortable. His hair is sticking up in every possible direction and when he turns his head to look at you you notice how dull his skin looks and the tired under-eye circles, an exact match to yours. If this was another time before now, you would feel the itch to smoothen your thumb against them yet refrain yourself from doing so, but this isn’t the then, it’s the now and you no longer feel anxious about acting upon your desires. So you do as you wish and when Mark grabs your wrist to kiss it absentmindedly, you feel like nothing in the world could ever bring you down from the state of mind you were going through.

You and Mark stay together outside just until your underwear stops sticking obscenely to your body, not even saying anything to each other. The comfort in being around someone in complete silence, namely the person you love, warms you to your very core like there’s a fire gradually burning in the pit of your stomach, not strong enough to hurt you but not soft enough to go unnoticed.

“Mark?” You say when Mark slides the patio door open to go inside. He turns back to look at you with that facial expression you had grown to love instead of hate, the one where it truly looked like he was unreadable. 

“Lord knows if I wait for you to do this I’ll be fifty before it happens.” You laugh dryly, gaining momentum and courage, “Do you— Will you be my boyfriend?” 

His eyes widen in response and he stays frozen in place, much like what happened in the car. This was not happening again, not on your watch. “Are you having another mental breakdown? What I meant was— Do you… Do you like me enough to maybe like, want to date me?”

The cogs in Mark’s brain kick back to life the moment your voice becomes small as if you’re beginning to feel uneasy and uncertain about the situation. He really needs to work on how he reacts to positive events.

“Shit, yeah— I, yeah. I do.” He says hurriedly, fumbling for the right words, “Let’s do this thing. Let’s date.”

You duck your head to hide your smile inside the towel, but Mark notices it either way. It makes him all fuzzy inside, cotton-candy hearted. 

“Okay,” You tiptoe quietly until you’re right in front of him, reach for the back of his neck so you can press a quick peck right on the lips. “Goodnight.”

Mark blushing at you kissing him is a wonderful sight you want to see repeatedly. 

Contrary to what you think, you don’t dream about anything at all. It’s like you’re now catching up to all of the sleep that you had lost in the past, blacking out the second your head hits the pillow.

You were now going back to reality, back to civilisation. Back to having a routine and a schedule and abiding by it. For the first time in a long time, you were actually looking forward to it. 

Since Mark was on your side.

Literally and figuratively. 

To the others, the fact that Mark and you are sitting next to each other in Jungwoo’s car on the way back home was just pure coincidence, but Jungwoo knows what’s up. In fact, he didn’t even need to do much digging. He was such a light sleeper he had woken up in the middle of the night due to some strange sounds coming from his backyard. At first, he was afraid someone had broken in, even going the extra mile to grab the baseball bat from the kitchen.

But when he peeked through the glass door leading to the outside, what he saw left him in a state of disarray for only a few seconds before it settled in and he saw you smiling, giggling, and Mark beaming at you. Deep down he always knew something was bound to happen between you two, and he didn’t know the extent of your circumstances, but he was glad whatever happened before now was a done deal. 

You deserved to be happy.

“No funny business back in there, ___.” Jungwoo says loudly, bumping his arm against Eunseo’s.

“What?!” You gasp, quietly sneaking away the hand you had inside of Mark’s hoodie pocket, “What are you even talking about…”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll talk later, missy.” He replies, amusement in his tone, “You better not complain ever again about Eunie and I being all up in each other’s business. I’ll revoke your best friend privileges right away. And you,” He glares at Mark, “No breaking my best friend’s heart unless you want to end up like a headless chicken.”

“I…” Mark gulps, his trademark bug eyes widened to the max, “Yes, sir.”

Everyone except Mark (and Vernon, who had fallen asleep the second his head hit the window) start laughing at his response and a few moments later he ends up joining in. He looks at you then, holds his hand in front of you expectingly, and when you interlock your fingers right in the middle of his, he ends up putting both your hands inside the hoodie pocket once again, a big, goofy smile plastered on his face as he drops his head against your shoulder, shuts his eyes close, and snuggles closer.

You peck his temple affectionally, because well, you loved him. A lot. You weren’t afraid of acknowledging it any longer, even if you hadn’t told Mark how deep your feelings ran for him, even if there was a possibility he took a little longer to come to that conclusion as well. You just really, really loved him and everything that entailed being in love with him. Your mind goes back to that time where you tried so desperately to root obstacles between the both of you, for you belittled yourself so much and put him in such a high pedestal, avoiding constantly the slightest chance of interacting with him. Mark wasn’t stuck up or anything of the sort, he had never been that kind of person. It wasn’t his fault your high school experience hadn’t been like his. It wasn’t his fault that he had what he had. And maybe it wasn’t your fault either, but you shouldn’t have assumed he’d be iffy about getting to know you. About becoming your friend. Because those were your insecurities coming afloat and projecting onto Mark what you wanted him to be, so it would be easier for you to detach yourself from him, to not sympathise or like him.

Well, you had failed miserably at that. Gladly so.

You could only be a dumb ass for so long.

“You’re late.” 

“The bus—”

Mark sighs, “The bus arrived earlier than you expected. I know.” 

“Yeah,” You beam at him, kissing him softly. “Hi.”

“Hi, baby.” He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, “Let’s go, the guys are waiting for us.”

You grab his hand as both of you start walking from the bus stop to Jungwoo’s apartment. “We’re still leaving after the movie ends, right?”

“Yes, don’t worry.” He bumps his shoulder lightly into yours teasingly, “You’ve been so frisky lately, Jesus Christ. Can’t wait until you have me all to yourself, uh?”

“Mark!” You gasp, stopping in your tracks to hit him in the chest. He giggles at your feeble attempt at hurting him, “Okay, let’s not go to my house later, then.”

“Noooooo,” He whines, enveloping you in his arms and tightening them so you can’t leave, “I was only joking. You know I, uh… I like it when we’re alone.”

“You seem to like it too much if I remember correctly.”

Three months had flown by in the blink of an eye, so quickly you didn’t even realise it until Mark texted you one day with a screenshot of Lovedays, an app that showed how many days you had been dating with your significant other, and the number 100 was staring right back at you. A lot had happened in the span of that time since it was the first relationship for the both of you a lot of trial and error had taken place during the first weeks. That pent up flame you felt had been completely let out that time at the pool, which was followed up by a bit (read: a lot) of the awkwardness of navigating through intimacy and sentimentality for the first time.

Especially when Mark’s so clumsy and his brain runs one hundred miles an hour. But you had gotten used to it. Just like he had gotten used to your incessant rants about what you’re learning in your most interesting class, even if they leave him confused 99% of the times. Mark said you confused him in general.

You called it compromising.

“Shh…” He puts his hand across your mouth, “You’re being too loud.”

You strike back by putting your tongue out and licking his palm and he yelps in surprise, pulling it back, “Oh, now you don’t want to talk about it.”

He goes back to holding your hand“, You know I’m not very vocal about… that stuff.”

“Oh, you’re vocal alright, Mark Lee.”

“La, la, la!” He screams childishly, and you roll your eyes playfully at his antics, “I can’t hear you!”

When you arrive at Jungwoo’s, only Eunseo is there, as per usual. While getting a boyfriend had changed some of the dynamics in your life, some things would never change, like your friends scheming into making you arrive on time. Or three-way hugging Jungwoo and Eunseo in a way Mark never understood how it was done, yet respected. 

Or how college was proving itself to be the best timeframe of your life. 

Sure, things weren’t perfect, though we can’t expect them to be something that isn’t by all means achievable. You still had a long way to go, growing up and maturing was a never-ending process and every day that went by you learned something new either about the world or yourself.

Yet the very imperfectness of it all was what made it all worth it. In spite of every trial and tribulation that life had thrown or was going to throw at you, you’d face it with vigour and strength.

Because you were happy. 

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #mark imagines #mark scenarios #mark fic #mark fics #nct fanfic #mark fluff #nct fluff #mark angst #nct angst #nct fic rec #nct fic recs #mark fic rec #mark fic recs #this took WAY too long to edit because my fucking computer is slow as a god damn snail the fuck bruhhhhh #anyways #i hope you guys enjoy this #ackshUallY #the tumblr website just s*cks balls in general #fic: a montage of love

[remingtonisleithal]

Caught in the Storm

pairing: female!reader x Remington Leith

summary: two besties, being friends, sharing a bed because of a storm, definitely not going to lead to anything more.

warnings: smut, mentions of loneliness, no use of protection (don't be silly, wrap your willy), thigh riding? If you squint sub!remington

author note: if you like this please reblog! also, editing fics in the same room as family is bloody hard. Thank you @bidet-and-legolas for reading it first :)

oh gosh, that smile. He told himself he'd never fall but the moment he spoke to you, it was too late. Remington had fallen for Y/N. Years later, no one knew, but he couldn't keep it to himself for much longer.

You'd just spent the last few hours on his make shift bed on the tour bus, watching movies together. After hours had pasted, he was laying on his back, you were lying on him, back against his chest, and he was wishing that he could just kiss your head, your mouth, all of you. If he was going to make a move, now would be the right time, the guys had gone out for drinks hours ago so you had the bus to yourselves. This way no one would witness the rejection. No, no, he can't think like that. He needs you in his life.

You rolled over to face him more and mumbled a little 'I'm so tired Remi.' You looked at the computer in front of you both and saw it was 11:30pm. The sound of rain thundered down on the bus, as a violent storm began. "Shit, that weather's sounding bad." You were worried to go out into the pouring night. Remington was thinking the same things and said, much more softly than he intended, "Stay?". He coughed a bit and you pushed away the thought that he cared about you more than just a friend. It's just an offer after all, he's not asking you to kiss him... no matter how much you wanted to.

It was then that you realised you were still staring into his beautiful eyes. You wriggled gently to get up, claiming that nature calls and then turning red and regretting saying it instantly. In the small bathroom you hid for a moment, and wondered what to do. Maybe another movie? But you were exhausted and needed to go to sleep. Maybe he wouldn't mind you going to sleep?

"hey Remi?" you asked

"what's up Y/N/N?"

"Do you mind if I have a nap or something? i didn't sleep last night an-"

"Sure, I mean you can stay over if you want. It doesn't look like this storm is leaving." He cut you off.

Moments later, you had stripped into your undies (because no way are you trying to sleep in skinny jeans. Nope) and put on a baggy top Remington handed you, and he had changed into some shorts. And you were squished into his bed, Remington against the wall, you against him, no mattress to spare. It was going to be a long, long night of false unrequited love.

By the 2 am mark, the guys were not back, thunder jolted you awake. A groan.

"I can't fucking sleep with this storm" He groaned, and you agreed.

A moment passed. Silence except the storm.

"So. How's life?" Remington asked with a playful smile and you giggled.

"To be honest? Pretty bad." For once you answered the question with truth. Remington tried to wiggle around onto his back, but it failed. You shuffled over so you were facing each other.

"What's wrong?" his eyes and voice portrayed equal concern

"Nothing is right. To quote a very handsome man, I'm so sick and tired of being alone." he let out a half laugh as you called him handsome. "There's this guy. I love him so much and he will never know. I can't tell him."

"Well that's just dumb. You should tell him, no matter what happens, you have to be honest with yourself." He mentally punched himself for his hypocrisy, but he couldn't think of any other advice. What would he say, 'that's rough buddy'?

"It's not that easy. It's all just so hard. You know my track record with guys and girls, I never pick the right ones, I always get hurt and not in the fun way."

"The fun way? Oh so you like that?" He teased you with a laugh, without realising just how he was teasing you.

"Fuck off Remi. I know you have no rights to judge. My point is no one ever loves me, or seems to know how."

"Are we talking physical or emotional?"

"Both."

Conversations were always easy between you, and you saw no point in ignoring topics like sex.

You had both been looking away from each other for fear that the other might read their eyes and see the love in their souls. You were the first to look back.

"I just wish someone would kiss me. At this point, I'll take anyone! I'm just so fucking lonely. I know he'd never love me back, and-"

"Then he's a coward. He's not worthy for your love or of you if you feel you can't tell him this." He got so mad with jealousy, but overall he just felt horrible, as he believed he'd never be worthy of you. "You're perfect, do you know that?" He mumbled. He lent in, eyes pulling you closer, until the thunder boomed and you jolted apart.

You rolled over, scared, and there wasn't anywhere for Remington to put his arms besides around you. Slowly, you shuffled back into his warm arms and breathed a sigh. He moved around to get comfortable. You moved a little more, moving your hips a bit. You felt something hard against your butt and you let out a silent sigh. Neither of you were comfortable, and it was clear why when you moved your hips again and Remington couldn't hold it in. He let out the sexiest moan you'd ever heard.

"... Ah, Remi?"

"Shit, I'm sorry I didn't mean to I..." He rambled on, mortified and you moved your hips again. That made him shut up.

Turning around you looked into his eyes. They were pleading with you not to leave, not to freak. To just stay with him forever. Before he could stop himself, he lifted a hand to brush some hair away from your face, and, unable to form words, you let out a light whimper.

Neither of you could form coherent sentences, the conversation was held by your eyes. His, full of surprise, asking, 'do you like me?', biting your lip your eyes said yes. He smiled. Your hearts were beating so fast, but he moved slow towards you, gently placing an open mouthed kiss on your lips. A sea of emotions erupted in you as electricity flooded your body. He pulled away to look you in the eyes.

"Y/N, I have loved you since the moment I met you. I'm sorry I've been so scared to tell you, i can't handle the though of losing you."

"I- you- ah-" you couldn't form the words back, but you pulled him closer and kissed him with all the fire you felt in your heart. he responded with a groan and licked your lips, asking for entrance into your mouth.

You didn't hold back, and you explored each others mouths in a moment of excitement, bodies pressed against each other. You pulled away, needing oxygen, but he pulled you back, needing you more than air. Soon your were against each other, moaning, desperate for more.

"Remington?"

"Yes?"

"Take my shirt off?"

His response was immediate, tugging it off you, and claiming your mouth once again. Your hand wandered down his chest to his boxers. He released your mouth for a loud moan and you felt yourself instantly get wetter.

After muttering 'fuck' he kissed down your chest to your boobs, taking one nipple in his mouths and gently pinching the other, until your back was arched in pleasure. You nudged him back up, so you could reach down into his boxers.

He was painfully hard, and he was groaning in a mixture of pleasure and pain, as he had been hard for an hour trying to ignore your beauty.

"Please." he mumbled in your ear. Immediately, you moved your hand and put your leg in between his, starting to rub yourself onto his thigh as he did to yours. You were both a mess, sweaty and begging each other for more, more, more, until eventually you stopped humping him. You kissed down his chest but he stopped you.

"No. Please, I just need you now." So you both searched for a condom. You couldn't find one. He couldn't find one. You were dripping for him and he was painfully hard, you surrendered to your instincts.

You asked "are you good without?"

"I hope so."

You giggled a little but stopped when he took his undies off. He was perfect, enough to stretch you but not to hurt, and you felt your chest constrict without meaning to.

"How do you want me?" You asked

"However you want. I just need you." he said with a sigh

"Fuck" you moaned and climbed onto him.

You fell gently, both crying out in pleasure as you felt in all the way in you. You clenched and he moaned a high pitched moan that only turned you on more. Soon you were a mess, riding him, him thrusting into you in perfect timing, getting closer, closer, closer. Without saying a word he started to rub your clit gently. You screamed in pleasure and asked for him to go harder, faster. You cupped his balls and he groaned.

"I'm not gonna last much longer." he grunted into you, and you lay on top of him, boobs pressed to his chest, turning you on like nothing else. You ran a hand through his spiky, sweat-dampened hair and whispered:

"come into me, then"

You clenched and he was done, and seeing the face he made of pure ecstasy sent you over the edge, coming undone harder than ever before. Hands on your hips he helped you ride it out, and breathing heavy, you stayed like that for a long time.

"wow" was all Remington said and you laughed, rolling over. He climbed across you to find a wet wash cloth and clean you both up, taking time to kiss you softly and he cleaned you, only making you wet again.

"I love you Remington."

"I lov-" the doors to the bus suddenly opened, Sebastian screeched and shut it immediately, not wanting any more of a visual than he got. Neither of you realised the rain had stopped.

#remington leith #remington x reader #palaye royale #palaye royale smut #smut #remington kropp #fanfic #punching bag #palaye royale x reader #remington leith smut

[dystopiandilfs]

Dream's discord podcast. Basically him answering questions for 2.5 hours. This will sort of be in order but I fucked up my notes so it might not be in order completely. (From 13th May 2021)

For reference the photos at the end are: A prototype of fidget spinner merch as loads of people asked, a reference photo of his favourite merch and a photo he sent of his hair to prove he wasn't a brunette.

•He said his teeth are mostly straight but he's thought about getting Invisalign. He's never had braces. He has a tiny gap in the left side of his mouth and his canines are longer and sharper (vampire arc). He's never had teeth surgery so has his wisdom teeth still.

•He thinks pineapple on pizza is good.

•He likes seafood like lobster and crab. He had crab made in an air fryer last night. He like peas. He thinks quesadillas are good and likes most food.

•He hates Coffee and most drinks

•The Dream Shorts team is Ken who is his personal reminder (Ken's main job is to spam him with texts so he doesn't forget things as he's got a habit of reading texts and not replying) and also comes up with a list of sets for Dream shorts. The builder is a friend and munchymc builder "his talent gets wasted on Dream's shorts but we pay him so"

•His editors are currently Dizzy, Firesale and Mjcr. Willz doesn't edit for him anymore

•The mask animation isn't done but Mask should be released May 21st. He wants to release them together as "the whole song is a double meaning and the whole nuance will be lost without the animation" but no matter if the animation is done the song is getting released on the 21st.

•He and Sapnap eat together often.

•He and Sapnap prefer medium rare Steak

•He wants a home gym it's something he's willing to splurge on. They currently have a weight rack but they haven't even set it up.

•"Eat the rich? Shut up shut up" - Dream

•Talked about money basically saying "Most people don't understand how money works I don't have millions in my bank account it's in assets like merch, land and warehousing for that stuff" (He's not in his landlord arc)

•He's been debating Pride Merch because of Rainbow Capitalism. He doesn't want it too be seen as a money maker and if he does most proceeds would go to charity. He's currently super busy merch wise with Sapnap joining and George in the middle of joining. He did say "Only if the LGBTQ+ community in this community wants it" He thinks he's going to at least change the merch website to a pride one. Sapnap wants to make pride merch including a rainbow flame on his.

•He wants to create a charity that's centered around helping LGBTQ+ one day because he thinks that there's a lack of them. He mentioned that creating a charity was expensive and took a lot and was a complicated process including a board of directors but he wants to do it someday.

•He wanted to buy a bunch of houses in Florida which was a service to house mostly LGBTQ+ youth and people stuck in abusive households for free to get them out of bad home environments. But he didn't because he didn't want people thinking he was profiting of of abuse victims and LGBTQ+ community.

•He said he's terrible with time management and replying to people which is why Ken helps him (and also helps George and Sapnap). He mentioned how Sam messaged multiple times and Dream just forgot to answer but felt bad "I feel like people think I hate them..... Cause I'd be mad if people did that to me"

•He tries to reply to a few texts a day (community number). He also can't do birthday messages everyday because you can only reply at certain times so it's not abusing the system so if you get one it's special. He said he does try but it's got a weird time gap.

•Him and the manhunt winner are trying to come up with a good time to film

•He wants to stream this MCC on twitch and says his team is good.

•He talks about why he's not partnered with Twitch. Basically Twitch has a lock rate (in which you make money) and you legally can't stream on YouTube. So legally if Tommy wanted to stream on YouTube he couldn't. Someone then mentioned how Bad is a twitch partner but still streams on YouTube "Bad streams on YouTube but he has for a while and I don't think that he cares" - Dream

•He likes to reply to every donation he gets on stream and feels bad when he doesn't so he'll turn them off when he streams and wants a platform deal where he can be payed to stream (not twitch). If he gets a streaming partnership he will stream a couple of times a week. He looked in to Facebook but they don't have an alias system meaning you can see everyone's actual Facebook account and personal info, he doesn't like seeing real names on Facebook so it would require a lot of altering if he was to stream there so he's thinking it's probably going to be YouTube.

•He was asked about if his demographic was what he expected and he said he went in with no expectations, he didn't even know what stans were, wasn't really on social media so he wasn't aware of the fan culture. "You guys are a handful sometimes but it's worth it"

•He also mentioned how he and the DreamSMP changed the twitch audience demographic. It used to be male dominated in both streamers and audience and now it's almost split which is unheard on.

•He has 5 fidget spinners in his house. Two in his bedroom. Two in his office. One in the living room.

•He likes his Minecraft skin as he thinks the arm is cook and you never see the rest of his skin really. He says it's unique and different and "me". Dream: You can't even tell half the skins apart on MC.

•He's not lost the motivation to stream. Most of the times if he wants to stream he gets George or Sapnap to do it and he just turns up. It's more beneficial to them as they have donos and subs on. (Don't we fucking know it "can you say hi to")

•He has listened to Lovejoy. Says the ep was great and they're very talented and awesome. Doesn't know what his favourite song is but probably would pick One Day because the chorus slaps.

•RIP to acoustic Roadtrip. He said instead of acoustic Roadtrip we get Mask so no losses today for Dream stans.

•"With Roadtrip I went to Parker and I said Hey I have a story I want to tell through music. I have no experience with that can you help me" He said sure. He crafted the music and melodies and how things are formed where it's catchy. I have less comfort singing that. I love the song and it's my song, it's very representative of me and I'm sure I could sing it but it's a song I'd be kinds of scared to sing live, with Mask I basically did everything. I sat there the entire time and maybe an hour out if the 100 I wasn't in the call. Dream came up with the lyrics and main melody for Mask (First one he's ever come up with) "That was just notes in my fucking voice memos"

•The clip we heard of Mask was a prechorus not the actual chorus. He thinks he'd be more comfortable to do a mask acoustic and it's more melodic than Roadtrip. The chorus also has a lot of instruments similar to Roadtrip. Mask starts of slow and guitar with minimal reverb and is more raw.

• He doesn't want music to be his main thing. It's something fun to do and he's passionate about it as it's a way to express emotions. He wants to release mask then go from there. He wants to release at least one more song but has nothing on his mind currently. His two ideas were Roadtrip and Mask.

•He wouldn't quit his job to become a pizza delivery man.

•His favourite features on himself are eyes or freckles and he also confirmed that he does have eyebrows.

•He was told that Parkour warrior would be bought back some time in the near future and he got excited for it. "Even if I don't win, which I will, it'll be fun"

•Went on about his MCC team but I'm not going to put that in as we should be getting them today. He did say he wasn't on Pink but he did sound confused. (For reference he's always in Pink as it's the last team announced and keeps the hype up by announcing the biggest streamer last)

•Said he and his mum had the Mr Beast burger. He recommends because he likes the avacado. He mentioned how Mr Beast uses "Ghost Kitchens" which is basically where he gives restaurants permission to cook his food so it's restaurant quality food.

•His favourite piece of merch is the circle smile. (The pool photo on Instagram). He said the quality was bad (he worked with a different company and didn't have his own company) and it was elasticy feeling and he's planning on re-releasing it again but with good quality.

•He's started to send merch out in custom packaging. So his bags have the smile and will mostly be green. Sapnap's has the flame and is either black or white. He's also trying to make it so every order has the sticker packs for both him and Sapnap.

•He loves the coins as it's cheaper than a hoodie but still celebrates the milestones and will last a long time. He mentioned how the old coins are getting removed off the site and how if you have any of the coins your special because only a few thousand get made. He's kept around 100 of each coin that he wants to give away in person.

•He wanted to have a cool store where you could access computers that give you access to the DreamSMP in spectator mode. But it's too costly and would require too much time and isn't safe fight now. He doesn't think it'd be worth it financially.

•Most of the hoodie are black instead of multiple colours because of limited supply and covid. Getting the colours are harder because if the pandemic which hopefully won't be an issue soon.

•He wants to do a short meetup tour with Sapnap and George with a few locations in the US (and if others nearby want to join like Quackity or Karl they can). He also wants to visit Australia, UK, Canada, Mexico and Philippines and do something like that there but definitely at least visit with George and Sapnap.

•He's never been to the Philippines but his mum has. He wants to set up a place in the Philippines where he can ship merch in bulk and it would help to reduce shipping. However it would probably be big milestone merch.

•He's not got the vaccine yet but will get it when he needs to. He doesn't leave the house so he doesn't see the point.

•He's the ideas man. George's footcam video was Dream's idea. The T-shirt video was Dream's idea. Most if not all of the Dream Team's videos are Dream's ideas.

•Said he's got a similar/the same hair colour as Froy (Dream buddy at this point the only difference between you and Froy is that one of you is dating Richard Madden /lh)

#dreamsmp #dream smp #dreamwastaken #mcyt #georgenotfound #sapnap

[sour--disposition]

End Of The Road

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harry lewis x fem!reader

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please check my masterlist to see if my requests are currently open 

You’d met Harry whilst on a trip to Guernsey with friends from university and you’d never really gone home. You were visiting the hometown of one of your flatmates, after they’d boasted about the beautiful sea views that everyone had to see at least once.

And then you met Harry.

To you, Harry was the goofy kid you’d met in one of the hidden beach coves you’d been taken to. He was where you went on your holidays from university, wherever he was. You felt like you’d found a future in Harry, with Harry, on that beach that day.

Harry would fly you out to wherever he was as soon as you had time off from your studies, he’d pay first class train fares for you to come to London and get you the best tickets for a ferry over to Guernsey. Harry’s friends and family had made you feel welcome and loved and wanted, almost as much as Harry did.

Until you tried to surprise him.

Harry knew you were due to finish university soon, but you’d never given him an exact date of when to expect you. You’d given him excuses about moving out and seeing friends now that you had the time, all the while planning on coming down to London to surprise him as soon as you could.

You’d arranged it with Cal, who knew when you were coming. Even some of his friends knew when you were coming down, but you only told them if they promised to keep it a secret from Harry. And, so far, they’d held up their end of the bargain.

You were trudging through the middle of Kings Cross station, battling your way to the car park pick-up where you were expecting to meet your Uber driver. It felt like the day was trying to annoy you. Your train had been delayed before you’d even gotten to the platform, and then you had to wait in the rain since the waiting rooms at the station were closed, someone had taken your seat on the train so you had to argue with them over that, and now your suitcase seemed to slip into every single minute crack in the floor.

Once you slid your way into the back of the Uber, you let out a deep breath. The next person you saw would be Harry. You would see Harry and Harry would see you and all of the palaver you had been through would be worth it because, as much as the two of you tried, it had been weeks since you’d seen each other. FaceTime calls seemed to be getting less and less, too, but you chose to chalk that up to an over-critical, overactive mind.

You zoned out as you were whisked through the dark streets of London. A long final semester followed by a long day of travelling mixed with a dash of (possibly imagined) relationship doubt had started to take its toll on you. You wanted nothing more than a long, hot shower and to curl up into bed in Harry’s arms and sleep for a week or two.

Even though Cal had already told you he’d be out for the night, you sent him a text when you arrived at the apartment building, just so someone would know you’d made it into London safely.

You couldn’t help but tap your foot and fiddle with anything that was in reaching distance once you’d made it into the lift. The pent up anxiety and exhaustion mixing together was a strange feeling in of itself. You counted the floors and the lift rose, not taking your eye off of the moving counter until it drew to a slow stop, the doors sliding open in front of your face.

You walked down the hall to Harry’s flat, letting yourself in with the key he’d had cut for you as an anniversary present. You left your stuff quietly by the door, sneaking through the flat in the direction of Harry’s room.

You could hear noises coming from in his room, but you presumed he was editing a video or filming something for either his second channel or one of the Sidemen channels. You opened the door slowly, hoping not to make too much noise as you snuck into his room.

You turned around, expecting to see Harry lounging on his bed or hunched over his computer. You didn’t expect to see him with his tongue down another girl’s throat.

“What the fuck?”, the girl screeched when she moved her head and saw you standing there, eyes wide and already flooding with tears. “Who the fuck are you?”, she asked you accusingly.

Harry pulled his face out of the girl’s neck, expecting to see Cal or an intruder. “Y/N...”, he trailed off quietly. “It’s not what it looks like”, he started, “I didn’t realise - you said - you never told me-”, Harry stumbled, trying to stand up.

“It’s not what it looks like!? It looks like you’re about to fuck some other girl, Harry”, you all but shouted at him, shocking both him and the girl still awkwardly in his bed. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted to surprise you, because I haven’t seen you in weeks”, you told him. By this point, the tears that were building up had begun to spill over, slowly rolling down your cheeks.

“I-”, Harry started, mouth hanging open as he tried to find the words to say. “I think you should go”, he said quietly, turning to face the girl who was trying to awkwardly straighten out her clothes without making too much of a commotion.

She nodded, standing up and gathering her things before slipping out of the room. She mumbled a soft ‘sorry’ to you as she walked past, causing you to scoff and glare at Harry.

“Are you going to try and explain, or are you going to stand there looking like a fish out of water?”, you asked him accusingly. Harry’s face darkened.

“Explain? What do you want me to tell you? You’ve barely spoken to me the past few months, and when I’ve seen you you’ve been ‘too tired’ to do anything. You don’t want to spend time with me anymore, Y/N!”, Harry shouted at you.

“Harry, you’ve known since we met that I’m at university. I was juggling a long distance relationship, a part-time job that was asking too much of me, job hunting for once I graduate and writing my final year dissertation. What did you want me to do? I can’t be in two places at once, Harry!”, you shouted, moving your arms around in anger.

“You made me feel like shit, Y/N. Like you don’t fucking love me!”, Harry hurled at you accusingly, like this was somehow your fault. “I always made time for you, whether I was at home or here or somewhere else”.

“Are you forgetting how many days I sat here in the flat on my own or with just Cal because you were at shoots? I never said a fucking word about it, because I knew I’d signed up to that when I fell in love with you. You think walking into the room and seeing you all over some other girl made me feel loved? Made me feel appreciated?”, you yelled, ignoring how cool your tears felt on your burning skin.

“This isn’t my fault. Y/N!”, Harry yelled, storming over to you. You flinched slightly, making Harry stop short. “What? You - You think I’d hurt you?”, he asked quietly, recoiling into himself.

“Well, you clearly have no fucking problem hurting me!”, you snapped, wrapping your arms tightly around your body.

“I’d never hurt you, Y/N”, Harry murmured into the silence of the room.

“Really? Then why the fuck did I walk in here to see you with your tongue down someone else’s neck, Harry. That’s pretty fucking hurtful, if you ask me. And then you have the fucking gall to tell me it’s not your fault? Nobody made you bring her here, nobody made you cheat on me!”, you spat.

“It’s not been going on that long. Now that you’ve finished uni you can come down here and we can work on us again, right?”, Harry asked, awkwardly reaching out to you.

You took a step back, making sure he couldn’t reach you. Anger swirled inside of you, demanding to bubble up and lash out at Harry, and at this point to were too tired to even attempt to rein it in. “Oh yeah, sure”, you snarled. “I’ll just uproot my life and move down to London to be with a man who’d rather cheat on me than ask if everything’s okay between us”. You looked at Harry, waiting for him to say something, but he kept his mouth shut, looking around awkwardly. “Is you telling me it’s not being going on for long supposed to make me feel better? Woohoo, you’ve only been cheating on me for a month or two, not our entire relationship. No, Harry. We’re over. Done. You can’t come back from this”, you told him bluntly.

You turned around to leave his bedroom, storming down into the living room, coming face to face with Cal. “What’s going on? The neighbours called to ask if everything was okay because they heard yelling, you weren’t answering your phone so I came over”, Cal said softly, taking in the tears running down your face and neck.

Harry scoffed behind you. “And I’m the cheat, yeah?”, he snarked. Cal’s eyes widened before his face filled with fury. You put your hand on his chest.

“Can you call Freya and Josh to come pick me up? From the kitchen? Please?”, you asked, instructed him, pointing him over to the kitchen. He nodded, glowering eyes not leaving Harry until they had to.

“I wouldn’t dare cheat on you”, you snapped at Harry. “Every time you left me here to go film, I had no one to talk to but Cal. If me having the audacity to not sit in silence on my own for hours on end when I come and see my boyfriend makes me the unfaithful one here, then sue me. But last time I checked, the only person I’ve gotten into bed with in the last 18 months is you. You can’t tell me the same thing”, your voice raised as you spoke, your words all but nailing Harry to the wall.

Cal came over slowly, “They’re on their way over now”, he told you.

You marched back up to Harry’s room, collecting up everything that belonged to you in your arms. “What are you doing?”, Harry asked you from the door, voice sounding more fit for an innocent 5 year old.

“Getting my stuff”, you replied bluntly.

“Why?”.

“What about this situation makes you think I ever want to see you again, Harry? I could never trust you, ever again. You’ve ruined us. What about ‘we’re over’ doesn't make sense to you?”, you asked him incredulously, slipping past him to walk back downstairs and put your stuff into a bag.

“But - We can fix it, right?”, he asked, voice small.

“You blamed me, Harry! You said it wasn’t your fault! You think I don’t already feel bad enough? I know things have been rough and I know I’ve been distant and God, I feel like shit about it. I’m exhausted, Harry. I’m trying my best and clearly that’s not good enough for you, but don’t you dare go blaming me for that girl being in your bed. That one is all on you”, you told him sternly.

A knock on the door interrupted whatever Harry was going to try and say. Cal walked over, letting Josh and Freya into the apartment. “Y/N?”, Freya asked softly from the entryway. You turned away from Harry, walking over to Freya and into her arms.

For the first time that night, you let yourself cry. Heaving sobs were released into Freya’s chest and she held on to you, held you together. Over yours and Freya’s shoulders, Josh glared at Harry. A glare filled with anger and disappointment that made Harry shrink into himself even more.

“Come on, you need something to eat and drink and some sleep, you look shattered”, Josh told you. As Freya ushered you out of the door and to the lift, Cal handed Josh your bag and coat and pointed out your suitcase to him.

“Tell her I’ll speak to her in a bit, yeah?”, he asked Josh, who only nodded and showed himself out of the apartment, following you and Freya to the lift.

Cal took one look at Harry, his dishevelled appearance and the lost look in his eye, scoffed, and picked up his phone. “What do I do?”, Harry asked as Cal started to walk away.

“I’m not gonna start giving you advice, Bog. You’re one of my best mates but, man, you fucked up. Y/N is good, she was good for you. She would have moved heaven and earth for you if you needed her to, would have done anything you asked without a second thought. The one time in the 18 months you’ve been together she needed to be selfish, you were too pathetic to take it on the chin and you went and pulled someone else into your bed”, he told Harry.

“You like her, don’t you?”, Harry accused, no heat behind his words but the attempt was there.

“Of course I do, I have since the day I met her. But she was your girlfriend, I was just the accommodating best friend and flat mate who kept her company and bought her pizza when you abandoned her for days at a time for shoots”.

“I’ve really fucked up”, Harry whispered. Cal made a snarky noise in agreement, before turning his back and walking off to his room before he did or said something to Harry that he would regret in the long run.

At Freya and Josh’s, you’d showered and changed into sweats and a hoodie and were wrapped up in a blanket between the two of them on the couch as you all but cried into a bowl of Chinese food.

“I don’t want to lose of all you guys”, you whimpered quietly.

“You won’t, you silly goose”, Freya tutted. “You really think me, Gee and Talia would let you get away that easily. Or Josh and the other guys? No way. Sure, things are gonna change a bit, but just because...”, she trailed off, not wanting to even say Harry’s name. “Just because circumstances change, doesn’t mean we don’t love you, Y/N”, she told you, reaching over to squeeze your hand.

You had a long road ahead, there was no doubt about that. But with the friends you’d made over the last 18 months, you knew that you would never be taking that road alone. Freya was right, you couldn’t leave her, Gee and Talia now, you’d become too close. The boys were like family as well, albeit it a very dysfunctional family.

But, like all families, you’d find a way to make it work.

#harry lewis imagine #wroetoshaw imagine #w2s imagine #harry lewis x reader #wroetoshaw x reader #w2s x reader #harry lewis #wroetoshaw #w2s #sidemen #sidemen imagine #sidemen oneshot #calfreezy #josh zerker #freya nightingale #uk youtube imagine #uk youtube

[quirklessidiot]

Title: coward :: brat Pairing: Y/N x Miya Atsumu  Genre: angst, romance, and very slow burn [ex to lovers au] Warnings: Cursing, alchohol, mentions of unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, and mentions of abortion

Synopsis: you finally see Miya Atsumu after six years, meanwhile, he feels pain when he realizes that you settled down with someone else that wasn’t him. notes: i um want to thank yall for supporting this story im- crying T-T I’m happy to inform everyone that i’ll be updating this twice a week every monday and saturday! yay!!! i was able to finish editing and im writing the last two chapters now. stay safe and big love to each and everyone of you <3

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“...Uh, Youta-Kun, Yuuto-kun, I thought you guys weren’t allowed to go.” Sugawara laughed nervously, knowing all too well where this would lead. He’s familiar with over-enthusiastic boys, in fact, one of those over-enthusiastic balls of sunshine was here right now entertaining them.

“K-Kaasan says it’s alright.” Yuuto lies but Sugawara quirked his brow, it was so obvious that he was lying.

“Yep, she did!” Youta grins, trying to help his twin but like him, he’s failing drastically.

“Then you won’t mind if I call your okaasa-”

“No!” Youta and Yuuto yell in unison. This made other people turn their way, Miya Atsumu watched the pair in amusement from afar. He noticed that they were late and that Sugawara had caught on to their scheme of joining in even without the parental consent, “We won’t join!” Youta proclaims, “Right, yu? W-We’ll pick up balls!”

Hinata feels his eyes glimmer at those words and decides to help them convince Sugawara but in the end, the twins were forced to be benched while the grey-haired teacher had to go back to the faculty to call you.

“It’s alright,” Hinata ruffles both their hairs, “We’ll try to come back next time and I’ll be sure to help convince your ‘kaasan.”

“Hey don’t plant false ideas in their head, Shoyou.” Atsumu grins, lazily jogging to their side. He directs his gaze to the twins that seem to oddly remind him of him and ‘samu when they were younger. The boy's gaze lingered a bit too long on him,unlike other kids who stared at him in awe, these ones were seething, “What are ya lookin’ at, kid?”

“Wow,you’re as mean as your brother.” Yuuto notes, eyeing him up and down. 

“Yeah.” Youta echoes.

Atsumu quirks a brow, this was quite the new reaction. Never in his life had a kid told him that he was mean as ‘Samu also how did they even know his twin brother?

“Now, now, don’t you think you should cut me some slack?” Atsumu tried to jokebut the twins remained unamused by the blonde’s antics, somehow Atsumu felt a sense of familiarity from their monotonous reactions.

“No thanks.” Yuuto crossed his arms, “The fake Atsumu made ‘kaasan cry and since you look like him, you might make ‘kaasan cry too.”

“What he said!” Youta agreed loudly, copying his older brother’s action.

Atsumu was just plain confused now, he admitted that Osamu had an attitude sometimes when he was annoyed but letting a mom cry in front of her kids? That’s definitely new and not-so ‘samu like (after all, he was apparently the nicer one between them)

“What’s the name of your okaasan-”

“Youta-Kun, Yuuto-kun, Your mom will be picking you up at the gate! Please go there now.” Sugawara cuts him off, Youta and Yuuto stand up and eye him for a bit.

“We’ll defeat you and your brother! Just wait and see, we’ll be as big as you and that other jiji!” Yuuto exclaims and before Atsumu could retaliate, they’re running off to the opposite direction. Hinata was laughing beside him, clutching his sides because apparently he was too petty while Sugawara looked at him with an apologetic expression.

“I wonder why L/N-san didn’t allow them to go, she’s usually very supportive of their hobbies, especially volleyball.” Sugawara frowns, suddenly voicing out his thoughts. Atsumu felt his shoulders stiffen at the sound of that familiar name. 

Osamu revealed he saw you last week then these kids suddenly confessed that his twin made their okaasan cry, he’s never seen you cry throughout your relationship (save for that night when you first me but you guys weren't together yet so that didn’t count). Maybe he was mistaken? it might be your relative or a common name.

After all, you were clear about not wanting a family.

“You know their mom well?” Hinata inquired,  Atsumu seems to be listening closely now, wanting to confirm if the person that Sugawara was talking about is you.

“Oh yeah, we're around the same age so I’m much closer to her than the other moms.” Sugawara blinks, “Those boys have to listen to their okaasan more. She’s raising them on her own since their dad died before he even got to know that L/N-san was pregnant. She seemed to be longing for him whenever he’s mentioned.”

A crease appeared on the blonde's forehead as he was suddenly in deep thought. It couldn’t be, right?

“Uh, Sugawara-san, may I know the name of the mom? Her last name sounds kind of familiar.” he questions, pretending to be nonchalant but inside, he feels like he had his heart on his throat.

If it was you, he’d feel those things that he desperately tried to hide behind his confident jokes and laughs. 

The pain.

The pain that you chose someone else and was open enough to the idea of starting a family. If that guy probably hadn’t died, you’d be together, happily raising those boys he had just met a while ago. Happily married, something that Atsumu tried to mention one fleeting moment while you were together back in college but you immediately shut the idea down and left him a month later.

The pain that you fell in love in a span of moments unlike Atsumu who relentlessly tried to gain your favour and follow you around like a lost puppy.

“Oh, her name’s Y/N L/N.”

Thankfully nothing unexpected happened after what the twins did, they ended up having to pick if they wanted their video game rights removed for a week or cancel their plans with their favorite ojisan who was coming by a few weeks from now, they chose the first one on that.

They had even mentioned that they met the real Miya Atsumu and although you felt like your heart lurched out of your chest and your shoulders stiffen at the mention of that man --- their father---  they simply had called him a rude jiji like his brother much to your relief.

“L/N-san, we seem to have a problem.” Aiko frowned, handing the papers to you, “The director of the advertisement department wants a bigger budget, do you mind running it through him again? You have to go to the studio though, I heard they’re doing some photo shoot now.”

You nodded in reply, taking the papers from your co-worker. The studio was a bit far so you ended up having to commute to get there, “What a nuisance.” You muttered, you needed to buy a second-hand car soon when you had enough money. It would definitely be easier for both you and the boys, “Uh excuse me? Is Nakamura-san here?” you asked the secretary on the front desk.

“And who are you?” the secretary snapped back, still typing away on her computer.

“Y/N L/N from the finance department, I have to run through the new budget liquidation with him.”

The secretary one-eyes you and the ID on your neck for a split second, “You better be quick, the boss wants only five minutes per guest since he’s personally handling the shoot today.” was all she replied, handing you the pass. You muttered a quick thank you and made your way up to the studio, whoever the model was today, they must’ve been big for Nakamura to handle them personally.

“Oh-ho, is that who I think it is?” a very, very familiar voice calls out.

“Inunaki-san.” You greeted, trying to maintain yourself, were these the big clients that Nakamura was handling? The black jackals? good fucking gracious, god must hate you.

“Wow,” he shakes his head, feigning amusement, “You’re still so calm and cool.”

You narrowed your eyes at the insult but you waved it off, “And you’re playing for a national team, congratulations.” you replied in a blank tone, your senior probably knew what happened between you and his fellow member. You wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he reacted the same way as Osamu did.

“We’re actually doing a shoot now, would you like me to call Atsu-”

“No.” your usual calm tone switched to a colder one, “I’m working now and so is Miya-san, please don’t bother yourself.”

“Gee,” he raised his hands, signalling defeat, “Just say you don’t want to see him. You don’t need to be so cold to me, my dear little kohai.”

“I have to go back to my job, I’m on the clock here.” You ignored his previous statement, “It was nice seeing you again Inunaki-san.”

Before you could give him a chance to reply, you headed towards the studio. You took a deep breath and mentally calculated to three.

one. 

It’s been six years, Miya Atsumu would ignore you. He wouldn’t care about the girl who left him out to dry in college. He’s got a girlfriend now, a model who has legs for days and looks ten times better than you and acts more like a girlfriend than you ever did.

two.

Yes, that’s right, he wouldn’t care.

three.

You entered the studio, you could feel the air tighten around you as soon as you heard that laughter. The one you used to hear everyday and never get tired of. For all the laughs you couldn’t do, he’d do it for you and boy, was he patient around you since you didn’t smile a lot back then (who were you kidding? until now you still had the same problem except when the kids were around)

You want to stop and stare, you want to admire him and his glory that you were very much proud of.

Yet your legs continue to carry you to your boss, the laughter seems to have ceased and you could hear someone asking him what was wrong.

“Oh, L/N-san?” Nakamura greeted you, “You’re here for the renewal of the budget?”

You nodded feverishly, your legs seem to be turning into jelly because you want to collapse from the nervousness and thank god that you wore some make-up before arriving here, otherwise, they would’ve noticed how pale you looked, “Everything seems to be in order,” He nods, scanning the sheets and handing them back to you, “Are you busy right now?”

You glanced at the wall clock, checking the time to see if you could extend your stay and Nakamura is quick to pick up on it, “Ah right, you’ve got kids to pick up. It’ll be quick, just help set up the blocks there and you’re free to leave.” he orders.

You nodded obediently and slowly turned to the side only to catch the very familiar chocolate brown eyes of the blonde. You feel your heart hammering in your chest and your feet turn cold, it had been six years since you last saw Miya Atsumu and he was still as winsome and exhilarating as he was back then.

You may have seen him a lot on television but seeing him, right here, a few feet away from you was different. Taking in a big gulp of air, you started working on the set-up as quickly as you could yet you could still feel his burning gaze remaining on you, “Tsum-tsum, lay off her will you.” came Inunaki Shion’s loud voice snaps him out of his daze.

Great, that little twat had to make an appearance.

“Y/N-san you should really say hi,” Inunaki teased as soon as you finish your set-up.

“Oh? You’re Y/N L/N?” the orange one gushed, quickly up on his feet, you recall him as Hinata Shoyou, Youta’s favorite orange-haired ninja, “Sugawara-san’s friend?” 

You hesitantly nodded, “Oh, you know her Sho-kun?” Shion asked, seemingly amused by it all.

“What are you all crowding here for, Hinata?” Another asked, peering in them closely. This one must’ve been Bokuto, another favorite of Yuuto.

“Sugawara-san’s friend! she’s the mother of those two boys in the training camp who had to go home early!” he suddenly turns to you and then grins, “Ne, ne, the boys really seem to want to attend one of those. Why don’t you allow them to join us-”

“Forget it, Hinata.” Atsumu suddenly speaks out, that warm voice that you were accustomed to seemed cold and menacing now, “She won’t allow it.”

Shion notices the tension between you two and when he’s about to usher the energetic duo away back to the dressing room along with the other members, you let out a quiet sigh and spoke out, “I was on my way to leave, please don’t bother yourselves.” You simply replied, you didn’t waver and stared at him dead in the eye, this could be the moment to end it all and cut ties with him officially, “I apologize for what I did back then, Miya-san. I should’ve told it to you in person. I offer my sincere congratulations to you for making it this far.”

The blonde clenched his jaw, it seemed like he wanted to say something to you yet when he realizes the usual calm and collected demeanor you're putting up, he decides against it and leaves you alone by storming away first.

Hinata and the guy named Bokuto looked at you --- completely puzzled and lost like a deer in the headlights --- before following the blonde, “You truly are in a whole ‘nuther level, Y/N.” Shion whistles, “Heard you’ve got two boys now though. Congrats, where's the poor bastard?”

You continue to watch the back of Atsumu Miya. Finally, it seemed like he’d left you alone and probably for good this time, “Gone, off to a better place.” was all you replied.

Inunaki notices the longing in your voice, a completely unfamiliar emotion he had never seen back then even when you and Atsumu were together. It seemed like you and Atsumu were both the poor bastards in the end.

Miya Atsumu sleeps alone that night.

He doesn’t call his girlfriend back despite the several missed calls, he doesn’t reply to the unanswered text of his brother and his teammates. All he feels is pain tonight, pain because of your very dry apology, pain because of your bland expression. Pain because you didn’t seem to care like that time six years ago.

He shuts his eyes tight and he feels as if he’s back in college, back to that winter night where he received that dreaded phone call from you after you disappeared from him. He remembered those days clearly, your apartment had been cleaned out and paid for, you weren’t answering him on social media, your phone line was also unresponsive and he couldn’t even call your family since you never mentioned anything about them at all.

You both may have been intimate for the past two years but when you disappeared, he had the frightening realization that he didn’t know you at all.

He didn’t want to push you out of your comfort zone, he wanted you to lead the relationship but right at that moment, he wished he pried just a bit since he was worried about you.

Then in the midst of his anxiety, it came, that phone call.

“Atsumu.” your usual calm voice filled his ears and he suddenly feels the weight of the world is removed from his shoulders, thank god you were okay.

“Y/N? Baby? Where are you?”

“Out.”

“Where outside exactly?” Miya Atsumu dryly asks, “It’s cold, you shouldn’t be out now and wandering about. Would you like me to pick you up-”

“I can’t do this anymore.” you suddenly cut him off and the line goes quiet. The blonde feels the world around him quiet down too when he hears those words that he wished he heard wrong.

“What’s, what’s wrong? Y/N, are you alright?” 

“I don’t know,” You mutter, “I’m just tired.”

“Tired of what exactly?”

“Of you, of us…”

“Y/N, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” 

“Yes.” Your voice remained dead calm as if you just hadn’t broken his heart in a million pieces that moment, “Let’s stop this here now, Atsumu. Let’s break-up.”

“That’s…” He tries to keep the mood light, praying that this is one of your dark jokes, “That’s not funny, Y/N.”

“It’s not supposed to be since it’s not a joke.”

Your response was curt as usual and he doesn’t know whats worse, the fact that you’re breaking up over the phone or the fact that your tone remains stable and the same.

“Y/N, don’t do this...Baby don’t do this over the phone.” His tone seemed desperate at this point, “I’m not stopping this until you tell me what's wrong between us, you have to give me something to work with Y/N. Is it something I did?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean ya don’t know?” Atsumu started to raise his tone when he notices how unaffected you seem at the other line.Frustration slowly started to bubble in him, the accent turning thicker as he got angrier, “Y/N ya can’t just disappear out of the blue and call me one day and tell me you want to break up! Do you think I’m some sort of fling? Some one-night stand or fuck buddies? We’ve been together for two years, Y/N. Two whole fucking years, What’s wrong? Do you not love me anymore?”

“Yes.”

The line went dead silent again and he hates it, he doesn’t know what to say as his face contorts in sadness and confusion. 

“I don’t…” He starts to feel a lump grow on his throat when he hears how easy it was for you to say, he knew he was in love with you more than you were with him. Many had pointed out how dangerous and how painful it would be on his side in the end, he couldn’t believe it would hurt him this much, “ I don’t fucking believe you, say it right at my face. Where the hell are ya? Let’s talk this one out in person.”

“Don’t bother, I just don’t want to see you again.”

“Y/N you can’t just-”

“I can and I will.” You cut him off, your voice was growing more and more detached and he feels like he’s back to that moment two years ago where you didn’t spare him a glance and treated him like a scrub, he hears a hefty sigh on your side and the next few words is another bullet to his heart, “I’m sorry it had to end this way, Atsumu.”

“You…” he shakily replied, trying to mask his grief with a painful chuckle. He wants to be mad at you, he wants to yell at you but for some odd reason, he couldn’t bring himself to,  “Jesus christ, you really are something, Y/N. You just broke my heart over the the fucking phone and all you could do is say sorry?”

“Sorry.” you say, like a broken-record on repeat and he hates it. He hates how he feels like this was nothing for you.

“Don’t you dare say that again when you don’t mean it-” He spat and before he could finish what he had to say, the phone line went dead. He tried to call again but it seemed like you had used a payphone. Out of complete vexation, he hurls his phone right across the room towards the blue photo frame with the both of you in it.

The sound of broken glass shards and ragged breathing is the only thing heard in the quiet apartment.

It’s not even the peak of winter that night yet he feels so numb and cold.

taglist [closed]

@fortheloveofiwaizumi​ ;  @svtbitch ; @ryaaaax ; @kiyoomile ; @lovedanii @juno-multifandom ; @gyubit17 ; @saeranoppa ; @nixxona ; @kyomihann @shorttstackk ; @itsmattsunshinehere ; @missingmystogan​ ; @Etherynaw ; @volleybloop​ ; @imcravingyou​ ;

#haikyu!! fanfics #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu imagine #atsumu imagines #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu angst #miya atsumu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #coward series

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Kindness & Kidnapping

A JSE Fanfic

I’ve written something that’s less than 6000 words for the first time in a year, whoo! I was planning to include more plot but after a while I realized there was too much to put into one chapter so I broke it into two. And now, this chapter is short, but it has some important and...interesting developments. Let’s just say, Anti makes his move. I don’t know what to say beyond that, so just read on ;)

You can find the other stories under the pw timeline tag!

It was a bright morning outside, but Chase didn’t know that. He was inside, sitting at a hastily-done computer setup inside his closet. It was cramped and dark and honestly kind of dusty. But he hadn’t wanted to keep this setup out in the open. Because this was the computer he’d been using to access Anti’s website, and if he kept it out in any other room of the house, he knew he’d keep glancing towards the windows and doors, waiting for something to happen.

Though...nothing had happened in the past week or so since he’d first found the website. He’d told the police about it, contacting that detective, Nix, who was in charge of the search for Jackie and JJ. Nix had been really appreciative, saying that this was a helpful clue and the police would be right on it, but he’d warned Chase to not go looking at any websites like this again. “These are dangerous,” he’d said. “And many of them use trackers to gather information or worse.”

Yet here he was. First thing in the morning. Staring at a creepy hitman website while sitting in his closet.

Part of his mind was yelling at him to stop. That even though he’d waited a few days before accessing the site again, that didn’t mean anything. This was dangerous. But...he couldn’t help it. This was the first time he felt like he was doing something, like he was actually helping the search for his friends. So, he stayed there.

His study of the website mostly consisted of scrolling through the anonymous reviews and trying to find ways to look at the source code. Chase...wasn’t that good with computers. Despite the fact that recording videos and putting them on the Internet was his job. He’d basically absorbed all his knowledge from Jack and his editor and only knew how to do things like editing because of that. Anything beyond what was required for YouTube was a mystery to him. But he was trying.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he gasped, then felt silly. It was just a text notification. Sighing at his own jumpiness, he took out his phone and looked at the message on the screen. It was from Marvin. Hey do you know any quick ways to get food? Other than ordering.

Oh? Chase responded. Are you out of bed this early? Thats a 1st. And he didn’t just mean because Marvin was having trouble getting out of bed recently. Marvin never woke up before ten, even before JJ disappeared, so this was strange.

Luna was yelling at me because i forgot to fill her bowl last night and i couldnt deal with it anymore so i got up and thought i might as well get breakfast.

Thats great bro. As for food I bought you some microwave mac n cheese and noodles.

Marvin instantly replied, I’m not eating fucking noodles for breakfast. That’s weird.

Chase laughed a bit. Sorry, Marv. I know your sense of order is a big thing for you, but sometimes you need exceptions.

This time, the reply was slow. The typing bubbles appeared and disappeared a couple times before finally: i just cant. maybe another time.

Ah. Of course, even if he was out of bed, Marvin was still struggling. Chase thought for a moment, then said, Alright, Marvin. No problem. How bout toast and butter? It takes five to ten minutes depending on how much you want it burnt. That was a frequent go-to for him. I know u have bread and butter, too.

Alright. Thanks.

No problem. Chase paused, then added, Hey I was gonna go visit Jack again later today. Do u think youd be up for coming with?

Another long pause. I dunno. Ask me again when it’s closer to time.

Got it. And with that, Chase set his phone down and returned his attention to the website.

About an hour later, he gave up. He couldn’t find any clues at all, and reading this was really starting to get to him. Carefully standing up, so as to not knock over the computer setup in the tiny closet, he turned off the monitor and CPU, then edged around to the closet door. He hesitated, feeling uneasy anxiety rolling in his stomach, then slowly opened the door.

Nobody was outside. Well, of course not. He took a deep breath, and stepped out into the hallway. It was time to get ready for the day.

But still, that anxiety followed him. And he couldn’t help but remember the notice that Anti had put at the top of the website. Something about business being closed until something was “taken care of.” That just...sounded very bad. And Chase couldn’t help but think about what might be happening to Jameson and Jackie.

—————— 

Nearly a month had passed since Anti had taken JJ. For nearly a month, Jameson had been stuck in this room with Jackie. And with no means of escape that he could see. He’d looked, of course. But even with Jackie’s help, they couldn’t find a way out of the room. The closest thing he could think of was somehow unscrewing the door hinges, and he’d actually spent about a week trying to do that, but without any tools, there was no way those hinges would budge.

The only opportunity that he could see was when Anti visited, which he did often. But even that would be difficult to pull off. Jameson and Jackie might have numbers on their side, but Jackie was pretty weak after almost a year of captivity, and JJ had never been that athletic. Still, he was starting to consider it. Maybe Anti wouldn’t be expecting it, if he could just convince Jackie that they could do it, and if they could find an opportunity...

But even if they were going to try, today would not be the day. Anti had come into the room for one of his visits, which were becoming worryingly frequent, and Jackie had decided to hide in the attached bathroom. Jameson refused to look at Anti, in the vain hope that he’d go away if he didn’t engage.

“Jamie.” Anti pulled a chair away from the table, and then indicated the one across from him. “Come s...sit down.”

Jameson shook his head. He folded his arms, and stayed where he was, standing next to the bunk bed.

Anti stared at him for a while, then sat down. It didn’t ease the tension at all. For some reason, Jameson still felt like he was looming over him. “Alright. F-fine.” He paused. Waiting. Watching him with his mismatched eyes. Today, the fake one was brown, not green. Odd, but it didn’t lessen the intensity of his gaze.

After a few silent moments, Jameson couldn’t take it anymore. He slowly walked over to the table and sat down. God damn it. Why was just the silence enough to get him to respond?

“Ah, there we are.” Anti smiled. “About time. You’re always so...so tense, Jamie, when you really shouldn’t be. I won’t h-hurt you.”

What do you want this time? Jameson signed stiffly.

“Why do you keep asking that? I don’t want...anything, I just want to...talk.” Anti leaned back in the chair. “I don’t understand th-this. You’re so...different. And I’m trying, you know. Know. You know—I know, by now, that this wasn’t the best starting point. But I’m trying to...to get everything back to the way it was. You want that, don’t you?” His voice was soft, like he was talking to an easily startled animal. Or a child.

No, I don’t. Jameson said firmly. I don’t want everything to go back to how it was, because back then, you were making me help you throw bodies in the river.

“That was a mistake, okay? Oka-ay?” Anti sighed. “I shouldn’t...should never have gotten you involved in all this. So, I’m not going to, ever again.”

Jameson laughed. You’re a bit late for that! Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you kidnapped me!

“That was another mistake, and I’m sorry that you f-f-feel I was out of line. I can see what you...what you mean. But you’d never talk to me otherwise, let alone go anywhere with me.” Anti’s fingers tapped an irregular rhythm on the table. “But I can pr-promise you, no more dead bodies. Ever. Ever again. You’ll be safe.”

He sounded genuine, and JJ had to admit that at least there was still a part of him that cared about—no! Jameson stiffened and pushed away that softening feeling. It didn’t change any of this. Anti still abducted him, and he was willing to bet that ‘safe’ to Anti wasn’t the same as ‘safe’ to him. It would be more of this, most likely. Trapped inside, unable to go anywhere, always under Anti’s watchful eye. Why was he even continuing this conversation? Jameson balled up his hands and shoved them under his arms, physically preventing him from saying anything more.

Anti’s expression shifted slightly. “You’re being so difficult, my god. We’ve been doing this for a-a-a month and gotten nowhere. If you would just li-listen, we could go—past—move past this.” The tapping rhythm increased slightly, nails on wood. “But alright—okay. Fine. Yes. I-I-I have a pro—” And then the tapping stopped. Anti’s eyes suddenly widened. “Oh. That’s it.”

Jameson leaned back a bit, waiting for something. Those last words sounded like a threat. But—

Out of nowhere, Anti slumped forward onto the table. JJ gasped and stood up. In an instant, he was moving automatically, rolling Anti’s head to the side and looking for anything dangerous nearby. There was nothing. Could he breathe? Was this a good position, or should he move him? He should’ve recognized it, Anti was having difficulty with his words, he knew that was a sign—Wait, the watch. The watch he was wearing around his neck, the chain it was on had tightened a bit. JJ grabbed the chain and adjusted it so it was more loose.

A few seconds later, Anti gasped, and pushed JJ away. He stepped back.

“I...fuck.” Anti blinked, eyes glancing around the room. For a moment, he was confused. JJ could see the recognition slowly fade back into his expression. “Thwshnnbad.”

JJ watched anxiously. For a moment, he glanced over towards the door. But...he just couldn’t. Not now. Maybe he was too nice, but it just felt cruel to try and leave after that.

Anti took a few deep breaths, then looked over at JJ. “You helped.”

Jameson hesitated, then nodded.

“Hmm.” Anti didn’t say anything, but there was a look on his face that made Jameson squirm a bit. Almost smug. Almost. There was a fair share of gratitude that prevented it from being fully self-satisfied. Anti reached for his pocket, and after a few tries, pulled out his phone. “That was...not that long?”

Just a few seconds. Maybe fifteen or so, JJ said. No twitching or jerking. 

Nodding, Anti tapped on his phone for a bit. “It’s...been a while,” he said quietly. “They’re not that bad anymore, you know.”

Unsure what to say, Jameson just nodded again.

A few moments later, Anti took a deep breath, and returned his phone to his pocket. “Anyway. As...I was saying. I have a proposal.”

Immediately, all Jameson’s sympathy was gone, replaced by cold fear. What is it? he asked warily.

Anti didn’t answer for a bit. Instead, he reached inside his jacket, and pulled out a small keycard. “Do you know what this is?”

A card? Like...for a hotel?

“No, not for a hotel.” Anti smiled a bit. “Though I guess...it’s sort of like it.” His eyes darted towards the bathroom door, slightly ajar. “He’s been telling you about what happened. With him and the doctor.” It wasn’t a question. So Jameson didn’t answer. But he didn’t have to. “Did you ever meet that doctor?”

Jameson started to shake his head, then reconsidered. Once, he said. He thought I was you.

“We do look similar. Even more so than all these...these doppelgangers do to each other.” Anti tried to twirl the keycard around his fingers, but failed. It fell to the table, and he quickly picked it up again. “So, you only met him once. Hmm...I expected you to interact with him more. You’re part of this...this friend group now. I thought, surely, they’d introduce you to each other. Well, I guess they tried. I’m assuming it didn’t go well.” He paused. “But still. You’re a good person, Jamie.”

What are you saying? Jameson almost didn’t want to ask.

“You wouldn’t want anything to happen to him, right?”

Anti fell silent, but Jameson didn’t dare to answer. He couldn’t. 

“This keycard happens to give me...access to the hospital where he’s staying,” Anti continued. “I’ve already been there. I know how to get him out.”

Don’t hurt him, Jameson said, all color gone from his face. Please.

“That depends on you. Well, and our friend in there.” Anti indicated the bathroom door again. “Originally, I was going to use him, but then I thought, that didn’t stop that doctor woman from leaving. But he might try to leave himself, especially with the two of you...here. Together. So I thought I’d use something that’ll affect both of you.”

He hasn’t done anything to you. Leave him alone.

“That doesn’t mean he’ll never do anything,” Anti suddenly snapped. “The cops know I exist now. It’s only a matter of time before they start to ask him questions.” The anger drained away. Now his face was still, unreadable. “Besides, that didn’t stop me before.”

Why did you even take him in the first place? Jameson asked. Why? It wasn't for your...work. All of this could’ve been avoided.

“I was...curious. He thought I was his friend Jack, you know. When I ran into him that night. And I thought to myself, this man is clearly delusional. But I figured it would be easier to play along. After he realized what happened, he explained his whole condition to me, and I wondered. I wondered how I could use that.” Anti’s smile was sharp. “It’s not every day an opportunity like that runs into you on the street.”

Jameson backed away, horrified. Too late, Anti noticed his reaction. And for a moment, he looked hurt. Then angry. Sad. And finally, determined. “Think about what I said.” He stood up, and headed towards the door. For a moment, Jameson considered following him. But he hesitated for a second too long, and Anti was gone, the door locked behind him.

The room was silent. Jameson stood there for what felt like forever. Then he moved, walking towards the bathroom. He slowly pushed open the door, peering inside. “Hmm?” he hummed.

“Down here.” Jackie was sitting on the tile floor, up against the shower in the corner of the room. The bathroom was sparse and small, containing only the necessities of a toilet, sink, and shower, along with a bonus medicine cabinet that was empty. There was nowhere to sit except the floor.

JJ stepped inside. Did you hear all of that?

Jackie nodded silently. His hands were covering his head, fingers digging into his scalp. Tears threatened to spill out of his eyes, and judging by the tracks, a few already had. “H-he can’t—Schneep is going to—he won’t be able to—”

It’s going to be fine, JJ said, kneeling next to him. We won’t let anything happen to him.

“The—the only way to make sure of that is—but you can’t—you could get away if you—but not if he’s—”

It’s going to be fine, Jameson repeated uncertainly. I’ll make sure that it’ll work out. Maybe I can get Anti to listen to me. We can find a way. The police would notice Henrik disappearing, they’ll find us.

Jackie choked on a sob. He pulled his knees up to his chest and folded his arms on top of them. “They haven’t,” he said quietly. “They’re...not going to.” And he buried his face in his arms, shoulders shaking. 

Jameson didn’t have anything to say to that. All he could do was stay close, and hold Jackie tight as he cried.

—————— 

It was a lovely day outside. For late-November-near-December, that is. Though the sun shone bright in a cloudless sky, there was still a chill to the air that forced people to wear jackets, or even coats. But Schneep didn’t mind. He hadn’t been outside in so long that anything would feel refreshing.

Silver Hills had itself a back garden where some patients could spend time. It was fenced in, for safety, but it was still quite large. Dr. Laurens had told him the news at the end of yesterday’s session: she’d gotten approval for some supervised time outside. Schneep had been hesitant at first. Some of his old paranoia and fear resurfacing. When he’d been with Anti, he hadn’t been allowed out without permission. And even when he had permission, Anti always found a way to keep an eye on him, either via cameras and GPS or by accompanying him himself. What if—what if this was another trick? A test? And if he failed the test—

No, of course not. Everything was alright here. There were other patients out and about, going on walks along the paths and stopping to look at flowers nearby. Schneep watched them from where he was sitting on one of the garden’s benches. He twirled his medical bracelet around his wrist. They’d also finally decided that he could wear clothes—besides the standard issue white shirt and pants—again. As long as they didn’t have any hard fastenings or dangly bits like strings, but that was understandable. So now the bracelet was the only sign that he was a patient here. Which was the same as everyone else. That...helped, actually. Somehow.

“Schneep? Is everything alright?”

“Hmm?” Schneep blinked, realizing he’d been gone for a while there. Oliver was nearby, as always. In this case, sitting at another bench nearby, far enough away to give Schneep his own space but close enough in case of an emergency. “Yes, I am fine. It is just a bit chilly.”

“Well...you’re not wrong there,” Oliver muttered. The orderly uniform was short-sleeved, and evidently, they weren’t allowed to wear anything over it.  His arms were covered in raised goosebumps. “Anything else?”

“No, I was just thinking.” Schneep looked down at his lap. Laurens had given him one of her notebooks and a box of markers. He’d said that he wanted to try drawing, like they’d done in one of their sessions, and she’d been encouraging. So now he was trying to draw the gardens. It was hard. He wasn’t particularly artistic, and he was pretty sure a twelve-year-old could do better than him. But it was...nice. Focusing. Grounding.

Oliver nodded, and went silent. Schneep returned to his paper. The markers were a bit annoying, since they couldn’t be erased. But it was fine. He worked around the mistakes.

Quite a bit of time passed before he was ready to go inside. A few clouds had appeared in the clear sky. Schneep stood up, closing the notebook. Oliver looked over at him again. “Ready to go?”

“Yes, I’m going back to my room.”

“Alright, then.” Oliver stood up as well. “Let’s go.”

They made their way inside, winding through the halls and then up the stairs. It was so good to have his old room back, from before that tiny, featureless room on the first floor. Apparently those rooms weren’t supposed to be lived in for that long, a fact that the lovely Dr. Newson had neglected to mention. But that was in the past. Now he had a window! And some battery-powered lamps, and a bathroom joined to the room, and more furniture than a bed and a single table. It was amazing.

“Alright, here we are.” They stopped outside Room 309 and Oliver unlocked it with a swipe of the key card. It was only ever unlocked when nobody was inside; another difference between this one and the tiny first-floor room. “You remember to push the button if you need anything?”

“Yes, yes.” There was a call button on the wall inside. Pressing it would bring an orderly to the room, hopefully within minutes. “I remember.”

“Great. I’ll be around.”

“Thank you.” Schneep opened the door, adjusting his grip on the notebook and box of markers before heading inside. “I will be seeing you, then.”

Oliver smiled a bit. “Of course. See you.” He waved a bit, then walked off, disappearing down the hallway. Schneep waved after him, pulling the room door closed shortly before he started to turn the corner.

By now, it was solidly in the afternoon, and the sun was shining its beams directly into the window. Schneep blinked in the sudden brightness, then once his eyes adjusted, he walked over to the table and put down the notebook and markers. He opened up to the page with the garden drawing and considered it. Not bad, really. For someone who wasn’t an artist. Jackie and Marvin would’ve done much better. Maybe they could have given him advice, if they were here.

It would be some time before dinner. A little over an hour, judging by the numbers on the digital clock on the table. In the meantime, he could get some reading done. The room had a shelf, and Laurens had been providing him with some books for it. He was just barely starting a new novel, but it had already sucked him in. Yes, that was a good idea. Get through a few chapters of that.

Schneep headed over to the shelf, running his fingers over the spines of the books until he reached the one he was looking for. He was just about to pull it off the shelf when there was a movement in his peripheral vision.

He stiffened instinctually. Even though he’d been seeing strange movement in his vision for years now, he’d only been uneasy about it ever since his time with Anti. But he wasn’t supposed to acknowledge it. It was better that way. Just ignore it, just ignore it, just ignore—

There were footsteps behind him. And he couldn’t help but turn around. The first thing he saw as he turned was the door to the adjoining bathroom. It was open. Hadn’t he left it closed? Could he have not closed it all the way? Then some sort of shift in the air could’ve opened it, causing the movement he saw?

No, that theory was disproved when he saw the second thing of note in the room: a man. Who hadn’t been there before. He was wearing the orderly uniform, but Schneep didn’t recognize him.

No.

No, he did recognize him.

His eyes were a different color, and his face wasn’t scarred, but there could be no mistaking him. Anti.

Schneep froze. No. No, it wasn’t real. He was just hallucinating. He’d done the same a few days ago, thought he’d seen Anti in the rec room. That couldn’t have been real. So this couldn’t be real. So it wasn’t. If he just ignored the hallucination, it couldn’t do anything to him. Slowly, he turned back around. He reached with trembling hands to take the book off the shelf.

More footstep sounds. He saw in the corner of his vision the image of Anti again. Anti was circling around him to his left, staring, watching, staring, watching—why is everyone always watching him?!—No, no, don’t let it get to him. It wasn’t real. He pulled the book off the shelf, and knocked down its two neighbors in the process, grabbing those as they fell. It was fine. Everything was fine.

He took a few deep breaths and turned away, taking the three books to an armchair near the window of the room. The image of Anti watched him, watched him with interest, curiosity. He always did that. He’d done it in the beginning, when he’d trapped Schneep in that house with him, always curious about how far he could push his limits.

“Es ist nicht real,” Schneep said to himself. Just a reminder. It couldn’t be real. How’d he get into the room? The front door hadn’t opened, and it was impossible for him to be inside beforehand. The room had been locked. Nobody could get in without unlocking it with a keycard. “Es ist nicht real. Es ist nicht real.” It was impossible.

Footstep sounds. Schneep could see the image of Anti approaching out of the corner of his vision. He didn’t turn his head, and focused on stacking the three books on the window sill. “Es ist nicht real, ist nicht real, ist nicht real, nicht real, nicht real,” he continued to whisper under his breath. “Nicht real, nicht real, nicht real.”

The image reached out and—

It grabbed his arm. 

He felt a sharp pain.

Panic flooded his system. Schneep screamed and spun around, picking up one of the books and throwing it at the man. The book connected solidly, hitting with enough force to snap the man’s head back and cause him to let go. He yelled out in pain.

No, someone was here. It wasn’t a hallucination. Someone was here and they weren’t supposed to be. Schneep ran across the room, heading for the door.

“You—!” The man recovered quickly, and ran to the door as well. He was faster, and Schneep skidded to a halt as the strange man who looked like Anti blocked the door. 

Okay, no door then. Schneep’s eyes scanned the room, and—the call button! Of course! He lunged to the side. The man saw where he was going, and pounced.

Schneep’s hand landed on the button for a split second before the man grabbed his wrist. He started to yell for help, but the man covered his mouth. “Shush,” his voice hissed as he wrapped his other arm around Schneep’s torso.

No! Schneep immediately started struggling, kicking his legs and trying to wriggle free. For a moment, his right arm pulled away, and he hit the strange man in the face. But the man was quick, and recaptured the escaped hand before it could do any damage. “Calm down, you’re going to be asleep in a few moments anyway,” the man said. “Don’t make this hard on yourself.”

That voice—it was—but it couldn’t be. It was impossible—how would he get inside? That—no. Schneep’s thoughts swirled in broken fragments, unable or unwilling to finish and come to the natural conclusion. He shook his head and continued to struggle. The man’s grip was firm. Unbreakable. It was...a familiar feeling.

There was something on his hand. Something powdery, chalky. Like...some sort of makeup. Like...something that could be used to hide blemishes. Or scars. It was on his right hand, the one he’d used to hit the man’s face.

Where Anti’s scars would be.

No...it wasn’t possible. This couldn’t be happening! It wouldn’t be—was it all a trick? All of it? Was he always planning to come back? Or maybe it was all in his head—no. He refused to believe that one.

Strangely, the longer he struggled, the slower his movement became. Sluggish...weak. And Schneep recognized these effects immediately. A sedative? But when...oh. Oh, that sharp pain he’d felt when he had grabbed him...that was a needle, wasn’t it? It was too late, wasn’t it?

Too late...yes, his vision was starting to waver. Schneep gave up on the weak escape attempts. They weren’t doing any good, anyway. Maybe he’d managed to hit the call button, and someone would be coming. Maybe...maybe they could...stop this...help him...please...please...

He looked up into the eyes of his captor and the world faded away.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #jacksepticeye au #chase brody #jameson jackson #antisepticeye #dr schneeplestein #brigid writes fanfiction #pwtimeline

[hoodharlow]

Se Esta Acercando el Final de Nuestro Amor

AN: Thank @fioridichernoby1 @frankies-fury and @littledrummeraussie​ for the beginning lmao. As always thank you to @d-oaks for editing. 

Reqquested:  Yes! by a lovely anon. “1 + 7, with Cal and the OC of your choice.”

Warnings: smut in the beginning, a lil angst, and mentions of sex

Word Count: 4.2 k words

Claudia's anthropology notes and flashcards were long forgotten. All she could concentrate on was her mounting orgasm rather than the exam she had later in the morning. She knew Calum had been up to no good when he told her to put on her vibrator, pero como mensa se lo puso.

Even before today, she knew she would regret buying that vibrator the minute she inserted her card on the chip reader at the store. Then she saw the mischievous glint in Calum's eye when she showed him that he could also control the vibrator through an app even if he was across the country. 

Everything was fine when they started the Skype call until Claudia joked that he should increase the speed for every definition she got wrong on her flashcards. She started to purposely get definitions wrong just so Calum could tease her, which pissed him off because the last thing he wanted to do was to get in the way of her studies.

Claudia closed her legs shut. 

"Keep them open." Calum demanded. He increased the speed on the vibrator, making her yelp. 

She reached for her pillow to keep quiet. Thankfully Calum slowed the speed, but it was still driving her insane. Claudia squirmed and wiggled her hips for some relief.

"C'mon pretty girl, one more. I know you have it in you." Calum's voice echoed through her Airpods. 

Claudia bit her pillow harder, keeping her moans and screams muted. Her hands pushed her face deeper into the pillow.

Through his computer screen, Calum watched her body tense and constrict. She was nearing her climax, so he increased the vibrations on his phone.  He watched as her hands tightly fisted the pillow, letting Calum know she was coming. Her legs shook at the intensity, and her grip on the pillow loosened.

Claudia pushed the pillow off to the side. 

"There's my pretty girl." Calum smiled once he saw her face.

"I hate you." She panted. 

"You shouldn't have been a smartass earlier. No one likes a smartass." Calum tisked. 

"No, but you like this ass." She sat on her knees and lifted his flannel just above her waist, showing off her glorious ass. 

What Calum would do to be right there with her. He hasn't been able to hold her in weeks. He briefly saw her for a few days before the tour began. Except he had to fly to New York for a last minute radio show, so they didn’t spend as much time as he wished. The good thing was that she’s finally going to come see him. 

She sorted her school schedule to visit him. Her and Dulce even pre-recorded their podcast to upload on Apple Music and Spotify later. At the end of the semester, the school shut them down for being too political, so now they do podcasts. Claudia still worked at the restaurant during the summer. It was a deal she made with her parents. What financial aid didn't cover, her parents would pay plus her rent. She knew they were making a huge sacrifice, so she worked at the restaurant to earn some money of her own, so she wouldn't ask them for any more spending money. 

Claudia reached down and removed the toy. She got up and picked her panties off the floor. Noticing their dampness, she tossed them to the laundry hamper and got a fresh pair. In the bathroom she cleaned the toy and placed it in the storage box; then into an empty tampon box.

She quickly fixed her hair and went back to bed. Claudia beamed at Calum. He looked a bit intimidating with his shaved head, but the second he smiled, he had a completely different demeanor. He looked so soft and cuddly.

"I like your face.” Claudia found herself saying out loud. She pulled her giant pillow closer to herself as she watched him get ready. She unconsciously licked her lips when he was in front of his suitcase. His glorious ass out on display as he put on his sweats. She squeezed her thighs together, hoping for some relief. After all those orgasms, she should not be thinking of how she would dig her nails in his ass when taking him in her mouth. Nor the way he would tightly grip her hair as he guides her mouth along his length.

Claudia sat up right and slid her hands inside her panties. She closed her eyes and imagined Calum's face in between her thighs. His teasing licks and kisses. Her other hand played with her breasts. Tweaking her nipples and squeezing them. After all that teasing, she inserted her ring and middle fingers inside of herself.

Calum was too busy getting dressed that he wasn't watching the screen, but the second he heard Claudia's soft moans, he stopped everything and looked over. 

"Calum," she said softly as she touched herself. 

"Fucking hell," he mumbled.

He checked the time; he had an hour before heading to the arena for sound check. He sat back down and pulled down his pajamas along with his boxers. His cock slapping against his stomach, already hard. He reached for his lotion and slowly stroked himself.

"What are you thinking about, pretty girl?" He asked her.

"Your tongue, miss it so much" She groaned. They told each other what they wanted the other to do to them. In a matter of minutes they both came. 

"How many was that?" Calum asked her.

"Like eleven? I don't know, my brain is mush." Claudia sighed. Her alarm belted out a piano cover of 'L$D'. She groaned and stretched over to the other side to turn it off. "Fuck, I gotta get ready to fail my exam."

"You better pass, or else." He warned.

"Or else what?" She sassed him.

"You don't get my tongue."

***

The exam is multiple choice and short answer, and in the class it's a given pass if you get at least 75% on the multiple choice. Claudia passed her exam. She doesn't like her professor, but the one good thing about her is that she's a fast grader. 

 Her flight was tonight, arriving in New York in the morning to meet up since he had a few days in between shows. Calum bought her her ticket, much to her dismay. . He knew she hated that he paid for her things because she wasn't a mantenida. Calum always reassured her that he's okay with paying for her things because he knows that college is expensive. He doesn't want her to worry about it when she's saying up for grad school. 

She pushed away those thoughts and went back to packing. When she got home, her Savage×Fenty package was at her doorstep. She was trying on the bra she ordered when Calum FaceTimed her.

"Hey!" She said, "This is cute right?" 

"I'm supposed to go on stage in a bit. Why do you torture me like this?"

"Fine, I'll take it off." she reached back and unclasped it. She threw it on her bed near her duffle bag. "Happy?"

"Please put on a shirt." He groaned. Claudia laughed at him, but went to go put on a shirt.

"What's up?" She asked, pulling out her hair from her shirt.

"Can you do me a favor? I need some jackets. When you stop by my place to get Duke, could you get some? I'll even let you take a hoodie for yourself." He replied. He had only packed one jacket that was useful for cold weather. The others were more for him performing.

"Like any hoodie? Even your green one?" 

"If you can find it, it's yours."

"Okay. I have a few hours before my flight. I'll text Roy that I'm driving over."

"Okay. Want me to send you some food over?"

"I made myself chilaquiles verdes." She lifted her bowl and showed him. 

Calum nodded. "Thank you. I appreciate it and I appreciate you." 

"Better show me how much you do when I get there."

"Oh, I plan on it."

They kept talking until Calum had to go on stage. Claudia was pulling up to Calum's house an hour later. She knocked on the door and waited. She looked back and didn't see Roy's car, but there was a car parked in the driveway. Maybe he got a new car, she thought to herself. She knocked again. 

A girl with purple hair opened the door. It took Claudia a second to realize she was Calum's ex. 

"Cal's not here." She said. She looked at Claudia up and down. 

"I'm aware. I need to get some things for him." Claudia replied, coldly. She nudged her way in. 

"Still can't believe you're together.  Let me give you some advice. As someone who dated him—"

"I didn't ask for advice." Claudia snapped at her. She surveyed the house. Her eyes landed on the living room. A blanket she left there was splayed over the couch and the tv had "The Good Place" paused. "Where's Duke?"

"Roy took him to get groomed." 

Claudia watched her lay back on the couch. She covered herself in the blanket and continued watching "The Good Place." Claudia sat on a chair in the kitchen. 

She pulled out her phone. Calum was already on stage. She texted him to call when he can. 

Roy came back half an hour later. Duke ignored Calum's ex and went straight to Claudia.

"Hey, babas." Claudia said. She pulled him to her arms and sponged kisses all over his face.

"Well, I should get going." The ex announced. She pulled Duke out of Claudia's arms and hugged him. He squirmed and tried to pull away from her. "Bye, my love. Be good."

She set him on the floor and he went back to Claudia. 

Roy bid her goodbye and led her to the door. There were muffled whispers between. Then Claudia heard the door slam.

"Sorry, I was gonna bathe him here, but we ran out of shampoo, and Cal is super anal about Duke's shampoo. He gets that expensive shit from Japan. And it gets here in a few days. So I just took him to get groomed. I didn't know she was gonna be here." Roy rambled.

"No worries." Claudia waved him off. "Cal needed some clothes."

"Right," he said. He pulled out his keys and handed her one. "This is the one to his room."

"Thank you." she said, taking it.

She went upstairs and quickly entered his room. She slammed the door shut and finally started processing what just happened.

‘She still has a key ro Calum's place. It's probably not the first time she's been at his place when no one's home. And lastly, she used my blanket.' Claudia thought to herself. She just can't comprehend that Calum still lets her come over like that. She sighed and went into his closet. 

***

Calum's stomach dropped and he saw the 'text me when you can, we need to talk' message Claudia sent him. He had about half an hour before going back on stage. He took a backstage pass and went to the tour bus. He paced around the bus waiting for Claudia to answer.

"Bueno?"

"Hey, just got off stage. What's up?" 

"Just trying to figure out why your ex was watching 'The Good Place' at your house. I find it weird. Like, the fact that she acts like it's her place just doesn't sit right with me." 

"She has a key? She always goes over to see Duke. We got him together, you know that. She gets him when I'm touring."

"And that makes it okay for her to act like that's her house? Why doesn't she take him back to her place? Where she has her own blankets." She mumbled the last part, but Calum managed to hear her.

"Claudia, please tell me you're not getting worked up over  a fucking blanket?"

"I could care less about the blanket! I just don’t like it that she's at your house. How would you feel if you came over and found Paco chilling in my house while I was out of town?"

"It's not the same thing! We have Duke! Plus it's not like I'm there with her."

Claudia was silent for a bit. Then she sighed. "I don't think I can go visit. I have midterms coming up and I can't distract myself with anything." 

"Fine." Calum said. He balled up his fist and rested his head against it. He saw Ashton hold his hand up, they were going back on stage in five minutes. Calum waved him off. "I gotta go. I have to get back on stage. I'll call—"

"Okay, I don't wanna keep you." she said softly. "Um, I'll call you later. Good luck."

Calum didn't respond. He hung up and went back to the arena. The guys noticed his whole demeanor change. 

"What?" he snapped at the guys.

"Everything alright?" Michael asked.

"Yeah." He said. He waited for their cue to go back into the stage.

It was the worst Calum has ever played. Even the people that went to go see them could tell he wasn't in the right headspace. In a blink of an eye, they performed and left.

. After the performance, he went back to the bus. 

His phone pinged. It was a venmo alert that Claudia sent him the money for the plane tickets. He sent the money back and texted her not to send him the money. He waited for her to reply, but she didn't. 

Michael came on the bus. "We're going to go get food before we hit the road. What time are you leaving for the airport?" He asked.

"That's not happening anymore." Calum sighed. 

"What do you mean? Is Claudia sick or something?"

"We got in a fight because she saw my ex at my house."

"Why does she still have your key? Don't you find it weird that she's always there when you're not?" 

"Because she sees Duke. What's not hard to understand about that?" Calum snapped at him. "Sorry… Claudia's just pissed for no reason. I never thought she'd get so worked up over a fucking blanket."

Michael stayed silent.

***

Calum thanked the Lyft driver and made his way up the steps to his house. He noticed her bright red car parked across his house. He trudded up the steps and unlocked the door. He stepped in and immediately frowned at the sleeping body on the couch. ‘That’s Claudia’s blanket,’ he thought to himself. 

“Get up.” He said sternly. He shook her shoulder, waking her up. 

“Shit,” his ex said looking up at him confused. “How long was I out?”

“Where’s Duke?” Calum asked, dismissing her. Duke, no matter where in the house he is, always meets him by the door when he gets home.

“Hmm?” She yawned and scratched her hair. She pushed off the blanket and stretched. 

Calum scoffed and went to go look for him. He went upstairs to check his room. Empty. Behind the fireplace where he stored all the chewed up shoes. Nope. Calum went to the yard; he chanted and whistled for him, but Duke didn’t appear. 

He came back to the house. He heard soft whines and moans. Calum quietly walked near where he heard the sound. He ducked down under the table and saw Duke. There was a pint of ‘Chocolate Therapy’ next to him.

Calum's heart raced.

"Oh, you found him!" He heard her say from behind.

"Get out." Calum's voice rose in panic. He scooped up Duke and took him to the nearest bathroom. "It's gonna be okay, old man." He rubbed his stomach and kissed his head.

He ran back to the kitchen and rummaged around looking for measuring spoons. He opted for a turkey baster and went back to Duke.

He filled it with enough hydrogen peroxide and forced it down Duke's throat. After two minutes, he vomited. Calum waited another fifteen minutes to make sure nothing else happened.

"You feel better, old man?" Calum asked him. He set Duke on the couch and went back to the bathroom to clean up. 

When he came back, he found Duke sniffing Claudia's blanket. He growled at it and laid down on the opposite side of the couch. Calum went to get the blanket and frowned. It didn’t smell like Claudia. 

Calum needed to call her and apologize. He wondered if he should go over or just call her. 

He missed Claudia, plain and simple. He wanted to hear her laugh. He needed her there with him, reassuring him that Duke was going to be fine. He just wants her there with him.

***

Claudia checked her phone for the millionth time, but nothing. She wasn't in the wrong, she thought. He's the one that doesn't have set boundaries, and his ex was the one fucking this up. 

She went to the fridge for some rosé. She was going to sip some wine and color to keep her mind off things. 

Her phone rang, so she ran from the opposite end to answer.

"Bueno?"

"Mi'ja, why haven't you called? You said you were calling when you landed." It was her dad.

"Um, something came up?... Yeah, my profe dropped an assignment last minute and I wanted to work on it. It's due the day before my—"

"¿Porque mientes?"

"I'm not… I'm not…"

"Claudia, te conosco. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just…" Her voice cracked. She couldn't finish what she was saying. She slid down against her desk and sighed. "I'm just stressed with school. Like I graduate next semester and I have to do good because I have to apply for grad school next semester too. I just wanna do good. Don't want to let you and mami down."

"Claudia, we're proud of you no matter what. You can drop out and go to pastry school, and we'd still be proud and support you. If you think it's too much, you can take a semester off before starting grad school."

"Thanks, dad." She felt guilty for lying to him, but she hates putting out her  business like that. Knowing her dad, he'd joke about potentially killing Calum, but he'd wish them the best and tell her some dicho her grandmother would say to him. 

"Te dejo. I was just checking in. If you need anything me hablas. Te quiero."

"Yo tambien."

They bid goodbye and hung up. 

Claudia sighed. She heard her stomach grumble. She hasn't eaten anything since last night. 

She tugged the sleeves of Calum's green hoodie. She found it last night when she was getting his jackets and Duke. It felt like she was getting a hug from him. 

She quietly walked in the kitchen where the others were and grabbed some noodles from the freezer. While they cooked in the microwave, she went back to her room for the rosé and her coloring supplies. 

Dulce and Sara looked at each other and then back to Claudia. They had both seen the airport pictures of Calum. They weren't sure if Claudia had, so they decided not to say anything until she brought them up. They saw how upset she was when she got home last night. The last time they saw her that upset was when her ex broke up with her last year.

Claudia sat on their island and spread out her things. When the microwave beeped, she pulled out her noodles and added some leftover bistec. She poured her rosé into her mug and got coloring.

Her left hand alternated between feeding herself and having a sip. Her  '💔💔💔' playlist was blasting through her air pods. After a few hours,she got up to get the charging case.

"... she's a little sensitive right now. Us telling her that he's in L.A. is probably not—" Dulce quieted down. Sara and Ale looked behind them. Claudia was standing behind them.

"He's here, and he didn't even bother to tell me." Claudia wiped a tear off her cheek. She hugged herself. "He's probably here to break up with me. Of course he is! He's fucking Calum Hood. I'm just some college student. He can do so much better, and he will."

"You burn all of his shit." Dulce piped up. "Starting with the hoodie."

"Dulce!" Ale and Sara said at the same time. She signaled them to wait for Claudia's response.

"Maybe something happened, right? It's probably all a misunderstanding and he's gonna show up and tell me. 'Hey, sorry for being MIA the past few hours.'" Claudia said. She sat down on the couch only to stand up three seconds later. "But if he's not? What if this is his way of breaking up with me? I'm going to go listen to Christian Nodal full blast."

"This is all a misunderstanding, like you said. We'll order some pizza and wait for him with you." Ale said.

Claudia nodded and went back to the kitchen to finish coloring. She sipped some more rosé. Then the doorbell rang, and she bolted to open the front door. She looked at herself in the mirror and pulled up her hair into a messy bun. She plastered a smile and opened the door. Her smile faltered when she saw it was James, the pizza delivery guy who's also in Claudia's anthropology class. He used to give them free pepperoni knots but stopped when he found out Claudia was dating Calum.

"You're not Cal." She said softly. Claudia teared up and slammed the door. Shortly after, she opened the door and took their order. The girls came over and found her stuffing herself with pepperoni knots. She hugged her knees and sighed. "How do you think this ends?"

***

Calum rolled off his couch. After he gave Duke the hydrogen peroxide, he took him to the vet. They stayed there for a few hours until Duke was cleared. He was going to call Claudia, but he left his phone on the bathroom sink. When he got home, he called his ex. They argued for a bit, but they agreed that she should return his key and that she should call Roy whenever she wants to see Duke. 

He decided to take a quick nap before going over. He wrapped himself in Claudia's blanket after he washed it with the detergent and fabric softener she uses and sprayed it with her perfume that he stole because it reminded him of home.

Now it's almost midnight. 

"Fuck," he mumbled. He rubbed his neck and stretched. 

His phone pinged. He tripped over his feet to get his phone. It was from Claudia. 'Hope you had a safe flight.' He cursed. He grabbed his keys and phone. Duke followed him. Instead of convincing him to stay, Calum lifted him onto the car and drove to Claudia's. 

He gave himself a quick pep talk before working up the courage to knock on her door. Her bedroom light was on. He could hear her singing.

"Se está acercando el final de nuestro amor…" he overheard her sing. He wasn't sure what she sang, but he knew it was a sad song. 

He took a deep breath and knocked. The music stopped. Seconds later the door opened. Tears pooled around Claudia's eyes.

"You couldn't wait until the morning to break up with me?" She asked quietly. 

"What? Break up with you? I came to apologize. You—"

"What happened to you, babas?" She lifted Duke and inspected the tag on his paw. She moved off to the side to let him in. She looked up at Calum, her eyes filled with worry. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah. When I came home I found him covered in chocolate ice cream. Gave him some hydrogen peroxide and then took him to the vet to make sure he's okay." He explained. He followed her to the kitchen. She sat on a stool and Calum took the one opposite of her. "Claudia, I'm sorry. I—"

"I should be the one apologizing. It's not my place to tell you how to take care of Duke. You know what's best for him, and I should respect that." Claudia said. She softly rubbed Duke's tummy and kissed his head.

"But you were right about setting boundaries. I didn't realize how you must've felt until I saw her in your blanket. It just didn't feel right."

"Cal, please tell me you're not getting worked up over a blanket?" She joked. 

She set Duke on the floor. They heard him pad over to her room. Claudia wrapped her arms around Calum. He sighed and kissed her hair. They stayed quiet in each other's arms. Calum's stomach ruined their moment.

"You hungry? There's pizza."  Claudia offered.

"Did you pass your exam?" He asked her, dismissing her pizza offer. He wanted to eat something that he was craving for the past few weeks.

"Yeah, but what does that have to do with pizza?"

"I want my dessert first if that's okay with you, pretty girl." He picked her up and sat her on the counter. He got down on his knees and placed her legs over his shoulders. He ran his hands over her thighs. 

"I suppose. You did help me study."

Taglist: 

@calumscalm​

@cherryxwildflower​

@myloverboyash​

@idontneedanyone​

@findingliam-o​ 

@sexgodashton​

@calumhoodaf​

@5-secondsofcolor 

@sunshinebabycal 

@another-lonely-heart

#el novio #El Novio series #calum hood imagine #calum hood imagines #calum hood smut #calum hood fanfic #calum hood one shot #calum hood one sh #calum hood series

[pixiegrl]

I’m Back in My Body

Luke has a conversation with KayKay that pushes him to re-consider his own gender identity.

Hello all. This was born out of @daydadahlias and I chatting about KayKay in their latest fic and Jess reminded me of part of this series, where I had KayKay come out as non-binary and in turn, it helped Luke come out as non-binary. KayKay uses she/they pronouns and Luke uses he/they pronouns. So thank Jess for pushing me to finish this part of the series. I’ve been thinking about Luke’s gender in this series for a while and Jess gave me the push i needed to explore it. 

Big thanks to @tigerteeff for many things: the original push to write this series, to keep going with this series, for the encouragement of having Luke and KayKay be non-binary. Heath has inspired many parts of this series and I love them for it. Also thanks to @lifewasradical, for the help on this doc and the constant love and support I really wouldn't be half the writer I am without you I love you thanks for putting up with me. And to Mandie, Molly, Brooke and Meg for reminding me to do what I love and listening to me while I ranted about writing. Love you guys.

on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29793279

As far as days go, it’s a pretty average Tuesday. Ashton’s out doing some music things with his friend Matt and Michael and Calum are doing their own weird MikeyandCal things that had sounded vaguely close to sexual. Luke had pouted about being left until Ashton had kissed him and told him it was healthy to spend time apart. Luke doubts it, but it also gives him some free time to go hang out with (harass) Sierra and KayKay at the store. 

Luke shows up close to noon, blowing through the door in a floral sundress and heeled gold boots. It had been one of those mornings, when Luke had looked at all of his pants and felt uncomfortable at the thought of anything masculine. The weather’s nice enough for sundresses now, a relief to Luke’s scratchy brain when he’d put it on. It’s a dress Sierra recommended once, all soft pinks and bright flowers and he wants Sierra to see it. 

Sierra’s standing at the counter, clicking around on her laptop. She grins when she spots Luke, waving him over.

“Luke! Just the person I was hoping to see. I’m putting the final touches on those photos you wanted for Ashton’s gift. Come look!” She waves him over. Luke grins, crossing the store to lean over the counter and look at her computer. 

Luke looks good in them, propped up and posed on the couch they’d used, in his bed (which had taken some convincing to get Ashton out of the house long enough without him suspecting what was going on). Luke looks soft and delicate, pink lips and soft curls and wrapped in lace and bows.

“They look so good, Si. How’d you manage to make me look so good?” 

“Thank KayKay. Without them taking the photos, they wouldn’t look so good. I can only do so much in editing. You’re easy to photograph and KayKay took such good photos of you.”

“I’m not a particularly good model. KayKay’s just really good.”

“Give yourself some credit Luke,” Sierra says, smacking Luke on the arm. He blushes. 

“Where is KayKay anyway?”

“In the back. Why don’t you go see them?” Sierra says, going back to the laptop. Luke nods, rounding the counter and going behind the curtain. KayKay’s sitting at the table in the back on a computer. KayKay glances up at Luke and that’s when he notices the name badge. It has KayKay’s name on it, but under that is listed they/them. Luke stops.

“Hey Luke,” they say smiling, holding their hand out to Luke. Luke sits down next to them, looking down at the name badge.

“Hey KayKay. Sierra was just showing me the photos. Are the pronouns new?” Luke blurts out, questions running through his mind. 

“No. Some days are just more they days and today is one of them, so I put my pronouns on my nametag. No confusion that way.”

“What do you mean they days?” 

“I’m non-binary Luke. Sometimes I have days where I feel comfortable being a woman and some days I don’t feel gender connected at all.”

“I...I didn’t know about that,” Luke says, quietly. The words stick with him, something about the feeling about them sitting heavy in his chest. He can’t place what it is about what KayKay’s said that’s sticking with him, but he’s just on the edge of it as he stares at their face.

“Did you really not know I was non-binary?” 

“I guess I just never paid attention to some of the cues or the pronouns you two used or whatever. I feel so stupid now.” 

“If you had misgendered me, I would have said something.” 

“What does it mean?” 

“What does what mean?” 

“Being non-binary. What does it mean for you?” 

KayKay shrugs, pushing a strand of hair behind their ear. Luke tracks the movement, trying to focus on it, to stop the panic in his own chest that he can’t place. 

“I just don’t always feel right in my own body. Sometimes I wake up and I feel okay. I feel like this is who I am. That I’m a woman and it’s okay. That that’s how I want to present myself and be seen by the world as on those days. Some days I wake up and I know it’s not one of those days. I know it’s not going to be a day where I feel right with myself. I feel a disconnect from the person I am. Sometimes feeling right with myself means I don’t feel like a woman. I just feel like me, no gender attached. It changes how I present myself, how I want the world to see me. Sometimes I don’t want to be seen at all. I just want to exist without anyone labeling me or who I am. Some days I don’t mind the labels. Some days I’m indifferent. Some days it feels like I can’t handle it if someone gives me a gendered label and I have to correct them. Everyone’s different but that’s how I feel,” they say, smiling over at Luke, soft and slow. Luke swallows, feels his chest tighten a little bit. 

“Oh,” Luke whispers, wrinkling up his nose. A lot of what they’re saying feels a little too close to home for Luke. The feeling of unrest in their body, of not feeling connected to the image they’re putting on. How the idea of how other people’s perception was wrong to how they were feeling. It all feels too close to how Luke feels. The sense of unease on some days when interviewers would call them all boys. The fact that the lingerie and dresses blur the lines of who Luke is. That no matter how nice it is, seeing the look of want and desire on Ashton’s face when he sees what Luke’s wearing, it was never about that. It was always about Luke’s ability to breathe, the warmth in his chest, the feeling of security he got whenever he put it all on. It was always about how he felt like it was coming home, getting to see himself in the mirrors, see the delicate lines and soft angles, crying the illusion of softness and femininity to his body, the tightness easing when he sees himself in the mirrors. Luke thinks he might be crying, feels the pressure at the back of his eyes.

“Luke, have you really never thought about this before?” KayKay asks, voice soft. Luke turns to face them, sees the look of concern on their face. Luke just shakes his head, pressing his face into his crossed arms. He’s trying so hard not to cry, doesn’t want KayKay to see him like this, even if they’re his friend. He hates when anyone who isn’t Ashton sees him at his lowest. 

“I guess I didn’t want to. I had one teenage panic about my sexuality. I already had the crisis about wearing lingerie and the dresses and everything else. I have had so many fucking crisises. I’m supposed to be happy now, why can’t I just be happy with who I am,” Luke mumbles. He sniffs, trying to stop the tears from flowing. KayKay sighs, scooting closer till they’re pressed against Luke’s side. They wrap their arms around him in a pseudo hug, resting their head on top of his. 

“Luke, honey, describe to me again how you feel when you wear everything?”

“Happy. I feel so happy. I put the first pair of panties on and it just felt right. I haven’t fit right in my own body since I had my growth spurt when I got all broad and tall. I used to hate looking at myself because I felt too big and masculine and I just miss feeling delicate and it did that. It made me feel delicate and lovely and I felt like I could breath. And I have some days where just wearing them underneath my shirts and trousers are enough, where I feel masculine and that’s okay. But I have some days, where I have to wear it all. I have to put on the dress and the heels and I go out in all of it, where I want to deck myself out, I want to be as feminine as possible. I had someone call me Miss in the store once,” Luke says. KayKay hums. 

“How did you feel?” 

“About?” 

“Her perception of you.” 

Luke pauses, considering it. He hasn’t thought about the incident in months. It was one of the few days where he’s gotten dressed up and gone out in public without any of the guys and without going to Sierra and KayKay’s store. He’d woken up feeling itchy in his own skin, kept pulling on layers, the bra and panties not doing anything on their own. He’d had to put on a whole thing, long flowing summer dress and wedges, makeup to match, until he’d felt comfortable enough to look in the mirror. He’d gone to Ulta and ended up poking around the makeup until a sales associate had come over, called him Miss, asked if he needed anything. She’d asked for his name and without thinking he’d said Liz. He doesn’t know what made him say it, knows that even if he had said Luke no one would have cared, but something in the moment made him want to be feminine. He’s never told anyone this before, took the memory home with him. He never even told Ashton about it, the way the feeling of it had settled in his chest, having someone look at him and see feminine.

“It felt okay. Having someone see me and see feminine it just felt so good. I have to be Stage Luke all the time, that it just felt nice to have someone see me and not wonder. But I don’t feel female enough either, ” Luke says. 

“Maybe that’s what it means for you. For me, being non-binary means I have some days where I feel like a woman, like that’s who I am and some days where I just feel like I’m not, where I don’t feel connected to my gender at all. For you, maybe it means some days you feel more masculine and comfortable being a man and sometimes you don’t feel that way at all. Maybe some days you feel more feminine.” 

“Is that allowed?” 

“Luke sweetie, it’s you. It’s all about how you perceive yourself, what you think of yourself as. There’s no right way or wrong way to be non-binary. That’s the beauty of it. It’s all up to you,” Kaykay says. Luke rolls the words around in his head, thinking about them. Thinks about what it means to have a word to describe how he’s feeling, the sense of who he is. Luke’s never felt all the way “female” exactly, but he does have days where that feels closer to who he is than “male” does. 

“Is it?”

“It is. It’s all a personal experience. That’s the wonderful thing about personal gender experiences. They’re unique to each person,” KayKay says, smiling at Luke, squeezing his arm. Luke smiles at them, pressing his face into their shoulder. 

“I think today is one of those days for me. I woke up and I thought about what I wanted to wear today and the idea of anything masculine made me feel uncomfortable. I didn’t feel comfortable until I went through my whole routine.”

“So maybe today is a they day,” KayKay says softly. Luke rolls the words around in his head.

“I think maybe it is. I think today I want to try it,” Luke says softly. KayKay nods. It’s different to think about, trying to wrap their head around it, but it feels good. Thinking about themselves like that, removing the idea of being one or the other and just existing. 

“I’m proud of you Lu. I’m here if you need anything,” KayKay says, kissing them on the temple. Luke smiles, turning to face KayKay.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime. Now, I heard there were photos to show you. Come on, let’s gush about how pretty you are,” KayKay says, pulling Luke to their feet. Luke grins. It feels right, something about it just feels right.

***

When Luke gets home, Ashton’s car is already in the driveway. Luke sits in the car for a bit, tapping their fingers against the steering wheel. They’ve been thinking about the conversation since talking to KayKay, how to talk to Ashton about it. Luke doesn’t know if it’s too soon or whatever to talk to Ashton about how they’re feeling, but Luke wants Ashton to know. They want Ashton to know they’re exploring themselves and what it means to Luke. Luke’s nervous about how Ashton’s going to respond to it, but it’s Ashton. Luke’s pretty sure there’s nothing they could really do to upset Ashton at this point, easy-going, loving Ashton.

Luke turns off the car engine, leaving the car and heading up the steps to their front door.

“Hey Ash,” Luke calls, coming through the front door. They hear the sounds of Petunia’s nails on the floor, rushing to the door to demand attention from Luke. Luke gladly gives it to her, dropping to their knees and cooing at her.

“In the kitchen darling,” Ashton calls. Luke scoops up Petunia, making their way through the house, finding Ashton at the kitchen table. He’s clicking around on his laptop, frowning.

“What’s up Ash?”

“Looking for tickets to Australia. Fucking complicated to find anything on short notice.”

“Not expensive?”

“We’re rockstars baby,” Ashton teases, looking up at Luke. He’s wearing his glasses, smiling enough that his dimples are showing. Luke giggles, setting Petunia down so that they can climb into Ash’s lap, press a kiss to his lips. Ashton returns the kiss happily, squeezing Luke’s hips, letting Luke sling their arms around Ashton’s shoulders.

“You look nice,” Ashton says.

“Thanks. Felt like a good day for it. Went to see Sierra and KayKay.”

“How was it?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Luke says, figuring it’s better to get it over with. Ashton furrows his brow, letting Luke settle into his lap before turning away from his computer to face him.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?”

“KayKay was talking to me about how they’re non-binary and I think I might be too. They were describing it and I just...I felt so connected to that. I don’t always feel right in my body. Sometimes I feel like Luke, like I’m okay in my own body, and sometimes I just don’t. I don’t feel quite female, but sometimes I just feel more feminine and that’s how I want the world to see me. I’m not sure what it all means, but I want to explore it.” 

“Oh Luke sweetie, of course you can. Whatever you need darling, I’m right here for you. Is today one of those days?”

“Yeah. I think it is. It just feels like it,” Luke says. Ashton nods, face open and understanding. Luke doesn’t have the words to keep describing how they’re feeling over and over again today, but Ashton’s easy acceptance and love feels good. It reminds Luke that they don’t have to figure everything out today, that they have time. They have time and they have the words to describe how they’re feeling and they have Ashton. Everything else will fall into place after that.

***

Luke waits a couple weeks before sitting down with Michael and Calum to talk about it. Luke spends the time between their revelation and sitting down to talk to the guys. It gives Luke some time to explore what their gender means for them, wrap their head around the words. KayKay is sweet about it, giving Luke answers and resources where they fail to have the answer. Between KayKay’s support and Ashton’s easy acceptance, it’s helped Luke figure out what they want to do. Luke’s still not sure how to come out to their family or even to their fans, but Luke knows that the only way to do that is to talk to Michael and Calum. Luke hasn’t come out to anyone except for Ashton yet. It feels right though, taking the first leap and telling the guys. Luke’s hoping that telling their closest friends will ease some of the tension and uncertainty of having to tell everyone else.

Ashton and Luke set up lunch with Michael and Calum, invited them over. It felt better, doing it in their own home, in a place of comfort. Luke’s nervous though, has been since they got up that morning, got dressed. Luke’s put on another sundress for the day, opting to blur their gender lines again, on a day where it feels the most appropriate. 

Michael and Calum showed up about an hour again, bringing some fruit salad with them to lunch. Luke’s been trying to work up the courage throughout all of lunch, find a way to work it naturally into the conversation. There hasn’t been a time yet and the longer Luke waits, the more nervous they get. Ashton’s been wonderful, pressed close to Luke and squeezing their thigh to comfort them. It’s just about the end of lunch when Luke finally finds a natural place in the conversation to finally bring it up.

“I have something to tell you guys,” Luke says when the conversation dies down.

“You’re leaving Ashton for Troye Sivan,” Michael says, tone teasing.

“I’m not...what is that the first person you think of?” Luke asks. Michael shrugs.

“You’ve decided to leave the band to become a mime,” Calum chimes in, grinning.

“Okay, I’m never letting either of you guess ever again,” Luke says, swatting at Ashton as he continues to laugh with Michael and Calum.

“Alright, alright what did you want to tell us?” Michael asks, when he finally stops. Luke frowns, lump in their throat. Ashton reaches over, squeezing their hand. 

“I’m non-binary. Everyone’s gender expression for identifying is different, but for me it means that someday I feel masculine and comfortable being Luke and being male. Somedays, I feel more feminine. I don’t want to be a woman necessarily, but I want to be seen as more feminine. I want to be less gendered,” Luke says, swallowing, chest tight. Michael reaches across the table, holding his hand out palm up, signaling for Luke to take his hand. Luke reaches out, letting Michael grab their hand and squeeze.

“What can we do for you?” Calum asks.

“Some days I want to use he/him pronouns and some days I want to use they/them pronouns. I’ll start telling you guys in the morning how I feel, especially if we’re doing interviews or public appearances, so I don’t get misgendered or have anyone refer to me with gendered words. I don’t want to change my name, I like Luke. I just want to adjust how the world perceives me. And I don’t know how to come out online or what to say to our management,” Luke says. 

“Fuck management. You gotta do what’s important for you. Say whatever you want online, we’ll back you up,” Michael says, all determination and indignation. 

“But what about our fans? Or the online response? I still have to worry about that,” Luke points out.

“Fuck them if they don’t want to respect you. I don’t need those fans,” Calum says. Luke swallows trying to blink back their tears. Michael and Calum leave their seats, wrapping Luke up in a hug and pressing soft kisses to their head. Luke knows it’s not that simple, can’t just say fuck it to what management will think or how their fanbase will respond. Luke knows it can’t be simple, coming out, expressing their gender publicly. Maybe the first step is for Luke to change their pronouns on their twitter and instagram bios, letting the world find out as they check their page. Getting to see the fan reaction that way would be incredible, pouring out support for them and letting them know how valid they are without having to make a big declaration about it. Luke knows it’s going to be interviews and explanations, trying to talk to people about who they are, but it’s nice. The easy love and acceptance from their friends, knowing that no matter what, they have Ashton and Michael and Calum on their side. The world’s a little brighter for Luke, getting to be themselves, getting to be happy, getting to do it all with their friends. Right here, wrapped up in the guys and their hug, the world feels brighter and full of love and possibilities. 

#5 seconds of summer #lashton #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #kaykay blaisdell #non-binary character #nb kaykay #non binary luke #its just gender exploration and soft love #both platonic and romantic #luke deserves to be loved wholly and completely and have people accept them #my writing

[sleepingpatterns]

“Should I use InDesign to lay out my books?” - A Passionate Guide

Ok, if you are like me, you recently stumbled upon @armoredsuperheavy​‘s brilliant blog about bookbinding and fanfiction, and now you are excited to throw yourself head-first into bookbinding.

This also means that you are about to invest a fair amount of time into figuring out how exactly to lay out books. What you end up getting comfortable with will most likely be what you end up using long term, so it is worthwhile giving it some thought. The question really comes down to this: who's name will you be cursing for the foreseeable future? Adobe? Or Microsoft?

Full disclosure: I only started using InDesign because I was forced to. I worked as an editor at a newspaper, and that was what we used. The beginning was hell. I won’t sugar coat it, it sucks. In the end it was worth it. Once you figure it out, InDesign’s potential far outstrips Microsoft Word (in my opinion).

That encouragement means very little when you open this treacherous program for the first time and see THIS:

“What?! I will literally give you $100 if you guess what all the buttons on the left are for. How the fuck do I make the margins disappear!?”

So, if using InDesign means figuring out what at least one third of the tools on the left are for, lets talk pros and cons.

Let’s get the cons out of the way.

It is expensive. Adobe is not fucking around. This puppy costs 20 bucks a month (Canadian) to RENT. If this is out of your price range, do you still have options? Yes. Do they range in legality? Also yes. I think I could potentially get in trouble for telling you to find your friendly neighborhood torrenting site and steal this software. I will say, outright, that no one should steal software ever. Got it? I would be very upset if someone were to message me for specifics. As you naturally wish to be law-abiding, there is also the quasi-legal option of repeating the 14-day free trial. My friend works at a professional print studio in Russia, and this is the tactic they use: every 14 days they uninstall all of the software from all of the computers, and reinstall it with a new trial. Every 14 days! At a professional operation! My friend hates working there.

It is not initially intuitive. I’ve covered this, but it bears repeating because it is a serious hurdle. Keep in mind, that with time, InDesign becomes more helpful than other software. Now when I use Word I find myself reaching for keyboard shortcuts automatically, and feeling bereft at the lack of my favorite tools. Nonetheless, expect a time commitment up front learning how to harness this glorious and confusing computer program.

It can run kinda slowly, depending on your computer. Up until two months ago, I had the world’s most precarious laptop. I bought it for $200 in 2015. It once took half an hour to restart. Inexplicably, when it got stressed, it would switch to Spanish. It was literally and figuratively falling apart. And yet, it ran InDesign. Granted, it worked slowly. If I asked it to process too many images at once it would panic (again with the Spanish), but for the most part, it worked. If you have a slow computer and are patient, then InDesign will probably work fine on your computer. If you are not willing to suffer, stick to Word.

You will also need Photoshop (sometimes). Part of what makes InDesign glorious is that it is professional software that is designed specifically to work with print and anything text-heavy. I love that about it. It even manages to do some handy things with images! But, inevitably, you will need to learn some Photoshop to punch up your graphics. I have, admittedly, only learned the bare minimum Photoshop in order to feed my InDesign addiction. It was a pain in the butt. For example, inexplicably, Adobe has not standardized keyboard shortcuts across the suite. As with InDesign, now that I’ve learned the tricks, I adore it. But you should go into this knowing that with Adobe, the fun never ends.

Printing signatures is the WORST. Adobe, please explain to me, in front of God and everyone, why the hell you would make this software specifically for laying out books etc. and not include a method of printing signatures?! I’m livid. This is absolutely where Word wins the day. It is almost worth using Word just to print the signatures so nicely and easily. I’m not kidding. Me—a person who has used InDesign professionally—almost wanted to switch software entirely just because of this. Hands down, InDesign’s biggest goof. Despite this crime against bookbinders everywhere, you have options. You can export your design to a PDF and literally print each signature separately (I am fucking livid) or you can complain enough to your friends that they offer to buy you a lovely program called BookletCreator for your birthday. It costs $20 bucks USD and it was worth every penny. However, Adobe, FOR THE AMOUNT THAT YOU CHARGE FOR YOUR PROGRAM, I SHOULD NOT HAVE TO PURCHASE ANY ADDITIONAL SOFTWARE IN ORDER TO PRINT MY BOOK. Did I mention that I am livid?!

But InDesign must be worth something, right?! Otherwise why would I be writing a long post encouraging people to use it? Let’s talk pros:

The horsepower on this baby will blow your mind. Forget what I just said about printing signatures; imagine using software that was literally made for this. You wanna do a thing? InDesign has got you. Are you a perfectionist? This software was designed by people as pedantic and obsessive as yourself. It gets you. Dream it, google how to do it, and InDesign will deliver. This is really the main reason to use InDesign; it is the professional standard for a reason.

There are so SO many resources available to help you learn. Almost everything I’ve learned about InDesign I learned from Google or YouTube. Honestly, if you have a question, I promise that other people have already asked and answered it. The advantage is that because this software is specifically for laying out books, there is lots of information available specifically about how to do what you want to do. (This may also be true for Word, but I’ll be honest, I only used Word for a book layout once, so I can’t say for certain either way.)

Once you figure it out, InDesign will give you back hours of your life. Things like master page spreads, clipping paths, tint, the eyedropper tool, and the one-hundred-percent adjustable text are just... lifesavers. My experience with Word is limited, so my frustration using it was probably due to my own ineptitude, but honestly, when putting together my thesis, the tears I cried trying to get page numbers to format correctly were some of the most bitter text-related tears I have ever shed. I can take care of the whole operation in InDesign in a matter of minutes. Hours. Of. My. Life. Saved.

This is an actual marketable skill. Ok, bear with me here. I have used InDesign for every single job I have had since I worked at the newspaper. That includes working as a bookkeeper and a kindergarten teacher. Hell, I even made my resume to get those jobs in InDesign. There is no job that I forsee in my future that doesn’t include some form of text-based design. Even when my work has absolutely nothing to do with layout (see: kindergarten teacher) I still found some way to use it. My previous boss was actually so thrilled about my InDesign skills that she had me run a 101 seminar for the other employees. (Did any of them end up using it? I suspect not. Did they look at me strangely for being so enthusiastic about design software? Absolutely.) I’ve even managed to use InDesign to branch out from freelance editing to take on design projects as well. In short: if you learn how to use InDesign, put in on your resume. You will be surprised at how much mileage you get out of it.

With Adobe, the fun never ends. I know I joked about it before, but really, I love seeing what this program has in store for me next. For example, thanks to bookbinding, I discovered that InDesign will do a lot of things that I had previously assumed were the domain of Word, such as spell check. I literally stumbled onto a measuring tool today that I wish existed irl to help me glue my covers together. Part of the beauty of this software being so intricate is that there is always something new you can do. I love learning how to harness a new feature, and then watch my design improve over time. Using this program you really get the feeling that the sky is the limit. Look, just the fact that I’ve now resorted to saccharine platitudes about computer software tells you that InDesign is remarkable. Considering that this program has made me suffer so significantly, I have either seen the face of God, or I have Stockholm syndrome. Take your pick.

TL;DR, at long last:

How complicated would you like to go? Either way, for bookbinding you’ve got to learn to use software in a new way.

Do you just want to get your book laid out reliably with little fuss? Word is for you! Are you interested in delving into the details? Do you have the patience of a saint? Try InDesign!

Both work. Both are good. But you can pry InDesign from my cold dead hands because I adore it.

#Honestly #No shame towards Word or anyone that uses it seriously #Like I said I have little experience actually using it for laying out books #But InDesign is very good. #Bookbinding #fic #fic binding #If people want I can start putting together tutorials about how to do all of this stuff #And all of y'all can learn from my mistakes and hopefully learn faster than I did. #Аня есть что нибудь здесь про тебя #заметишь? #InDesign

[13atoms]

Deep Focus: Chapter 2 [Tom Hiddleston x Reader]

Summary: Tom is a successful porn director with a romantic streak which proves very popular with his female audience. His resident porn actress and business partner has been with him through thick and thin, the two of them growing completely inseparable, even as her own career starts taking off.

But working in such close proximity is intense, and burgeoning feelings threaten to complicate their professional relationship.

Mature, smut, porn director!AU, ethical porn production discussion, porn-star-and-coworker!reader. Friends to lovers, slow-ish burn.

This chapter: [6.4k] Ao3 link

For the first time in forever, you were at the studio before Tom.

You couldn’t remember a day he’d been later than you, and you finally started to work alone as the clock ticked past midday. As punishment you sat at his desk, booting up your computer where his usually sat and ignoring the quiet fear that something was wrong.

The studio was too quiet. The kettle was cold. There were no props strewn about the place, no piles of scripts left on every free surface. There wasn’t a random actor there to audition, or tape marking out marks for a future shoot. As you stared out of the office doorway, absorbing the clean, lifeless space, you kind of hated it.

The camera was back where it belonged, the corner you’d shot in yesterday was empty. The lights were all packed away and the space seemed huge again. Like it had yesterday. If you closed your eyes, you could still see the cosy bed in that corner, the place on the floor Tom had sat as he watched you, the heavy black lens that couldn’t distract you from his bright eyes watching you.

Had you done something wrong?

You tapped nervously at your keyboard, opening your inbox just for something to do.

And there was that job offer: staring you in the face. You hadn’t replied yet, still undecided. It was a huge pay check. A one-off gig with a studio you knew Tom didn’t really like. They were… cutthroat. Rough. More traditional in their… treatment of their stars. You knew they were professionals, but the content they produced wasn’t exactly morally what Tom approved of.

The film they wanted you for was brutal. It would be safe, but it would be intense. Probably demeaning. Against the principles Tom stood for. You closed the email again.

The two of you had never thought to discuss exclusivity, and you wondered if it was implied in the working relationship you had. If he just… expected it. You needed to bring it up with him soon. You’d been avoiding the email for long enough.

“What else?” you sighed to yourself, half-expecting one of Tom’s usual snarky replies as you talked to yourself.

The office was silent. Your inbox was boring. You only had one more unopened email. As usual, it was from Tom, though one email was better than the usual half-dozen he sent you every night. It was titled: Approval?

That was the usual process, you approved the videos before they went live. But what was he planning on posting? There wasn’t anything for this week.

Unlisted on his site, you immediately recognised the set from today. The timestamp said forty minutes. For a moment you were gobsmacked, wondering how late Tom had worked to have that footage exported and edited already. Wondering why he’d uploaded it already. And how forty minutes had slipped through your fingers, watched silently.

It was a startlingly quick turnaround. He had to have a reason, he usually did. Yet your hand still shook as you hit play.

You winced at hearing your own voice, seeing yourself so out of control like that. But it all looked good. Scrubbing quickly through the timeline, there was one edit you were looking for. One clumsy edit that would look like a jump-cut, and you feared might ruin the film.

You didn’t see it. Instead, the whole video was uncut, even the moment you were sure he would remove. You looked debauched, ruined, hair messy and your body thoroughly overworked. But you could only look at your face. At the vulnerability, as you looked past the camera, staring at Tom.

Why did he leave that in?

In the moment you hadn’t realised how long you were looking at him, searching for what to do next, desperate for something from him. It was no longer your voice coming from the laptop’s tinny speakers, it was a deeper one. A comforting, soft tone.

“You’re doing amazing,” he said, clear as day. And then, “another one?”

You paused the clip, grimacing at the contorted look of desperation on your own static face, and let your face fall into your hands. Tom was never clumsy. He was a perfectionist. He was never in his own films.

So why had he left that in? You’d have to talk to him about it.

Then you’d have to save this copy of the clip.

Fuck.

The door finally opened, the jingle of Tom’s keys announcing him before he arrived. You didn’t bother to hide your screen.

“Morning,” he greeted, cheery as ever.

“Afternoon,” you returned.

That was his usual joke at your expense. Except he was late for once. He gave you a short laugh, so short you barely recognised it.

“Yeah, I know,” he conceded.

You offered an olive branch; neither of you really cared if the other was late.

“Up all-night editing?”

He hummed approval, barely acknowledging your comments. He’d already glanced over your shoulder as he reached for a folder, not acknowledging that you’d stolen his desk, wordlessly settling in opposite you.

Instead his short nails tapped against the folder, his feet settling against the outer side of the desk, as he seemed to look for the words to say to you.

You’d never noticed how much higher his chair was than your usual one, letting you peer down at him a little. You liked it. And wondered if it was intentional.

“I was surprised you got yesterday’s shoot polished off so quick,” you commented.

He had the nerve to look a little embarrassed.

“It was a good one, I, uh, I thought we could post it today.”

You raised an eyebrow, he kept talking.

“It didn’t even really need editing I mean you were… it was amazing. I think it’ll do really well and –”

He trailed off. You took the chance to interrupt him.

“I think you forgot to edit yourself out. Twenty-eight minute mark.”

You expected him to pull the video up. He just sat there, watching his hands as they tapped across that fucking file.

“You can hear your voice, Tom.”

He finally blinked up at you, and you suddenly realised you hated this. This switched power dynamic. You wanted to give him his big serious job back. Be the annoying, less-serious one who relished in kicking at his desk and winding him up.

This wasn’t fun.

“Is that a problem?” he offered, finally.

Your mouth opened in surprise.

“I mean, it’s your choice. You’ve just never done that before.”

“Hm?”

“I mean, your name’s always there but… you’ve never been in the films before.”

“It’s just my voice,” he brushed it off.

But both of you knew that was a lie.

Because that made him your costar. The person you were… performing to. It made him part of the fantasy itself. You closed the video in front of you. You didn’t need to watch any more. Couldn’t watch any more in front of him.

“Well if that’s all good… then yeah. Send it.”

You couldn’t hide the flatness of your voice, and you caught Tom’s concerned glance. You scooped up your computer before he could say something serious.

“I’ll, uh, give you your desk back,” you smiled, standing to swap seats, “your fancy chiropractic chair is hurting my spine.”

He huffed, but stood to swap places with a good-natured smile. You tried to conceal your jolt of surprise as he brushed past a bit too close. You’d opened your laptop back up again, ready to take on some bullshit task, when Tom reached across to gently close the lid.

“I wanted to talk.”

You set the computer aside, lacing your fingers together instead, your throat closing as you wondered what on earth about. Could he fire you? The seriousness on his face was enough to make you worried.

“What about?”

Your words sounded so flimsy, so much hollower than his rich, clean baritone that you wanted to say them again. Without sounding like a coward.

“Just… yesterday.”

You glanced up once to meet his eyes, but you couldn’t take it. Your focused on the shallow marks your nails left against the back of your hand.

“You seemed unhappy,” he continued, “and although the shoot was great, I just wanted to check in. I ask a lot of you, and I just wondered if it was too much.”

You blinked in surprise, and felt that hot shame rising in your chest. You had a horrible feeling you knew why you’d been so strange. And you couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I’m fine. Sorry, it was an off-day.”

“I’m just worried,” Tom placated, but you only heard concern.

“I can do the job,” you told him firmly. You were close to snapping at him, and you hated yourself for the dismay on his face. “I’ll be back to usual by the next shoot. I think everything being so… quiet… freaked me out.”

Tom closed his eyes, sighing heavily. You were surprised to look up and see his head resting on his knuckles, an unusual agitation in the fidgeting of his body language.

The moment passed in silence, and you watched him in concern. Wondering if you ought to be worried too.

“That was unprofessional. Yesterday. I crossed a line.”

He sounded sombre, so sombre it was jarring. You shook your head, surprised by how seriously he was taking this. How much it seemed to really, really nag at him. You wondered if ‘make it real’ was the nicest direction anyone had ever been given in the entire porn industry.

“You were just directing. We saved a lot of money on production,” you offered, “even if the video’s no good, it was free to make.”

He looked at you seriously, piercingly, and you felt pinned to the chair by the way he appeared to look through you.

“It was the best video we’ve ever made.”

You brushed off the comment. He said that all the time.

“I’m sure it’ll do well –”

“No, it… while I was editing, I just kept thinking… It was good.”

You’d seen his crouch yesterday, the speed he’d sent you off to shower. The memory had accompanied you late into the night. He’d definitely liked the shoot.

You wondered if that meant anything. Maybe not.

When you looked across at Tom, he was beet red.

“If you insist,” you shrugged, keen to move on from the moment.

Tom refused.

“That’s why I’m worried. That was your best work but… I feel like you were upset. Freaked out. If I ever cross a boundary like that you need to tell me. I refuse to be some industry creep, if you want someone else there while we film, or –”

“Who would I have, Tom? There’s no one I trust more than you.”

And suddenly his head was in his hands again, a dismayed groan quiet in his throat, and you wondered if he’d lost sleep over yesterday.

You wondered if he’d lost sleep for the same reasons you had.

“Tell me,” he insisted, words firm. “You have to tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable again.”

“I will,” you promised, “but you didn’t make me uncomfortable yesterday. It’s fine, really. I think I was just – ”

Overwhelmed by you.

“Spaced out.”

He didn’t buy it, but the conversation was going nowhere. You stared out the window behind him. There was nothing out there but a car park, but it was better than trying to work out what was happening in the office.

Tom cleared his throat. You tapped your fingers against your laptop.

That email at the top of your inbox was nagging at you.

“Do you think we need a break?” you offered, and Tom’s head shot up, lines appearing between his eyebrows as he searched your expression.

“What do you mean?”

“The studio. We should shut down for a week. I don’t know, pre-record something. You could book a holiday.”

The wry smile on Tom’s lips told you nothing was further from his mind.

“It could be nice,” he conceded, “only if you promise to take a break too.”

Caught.

“I’ve… I’ve been offered another job.”

Tom took his work seriously. It was his passion. He never accepted the industry for what it was – he dedicated every waking hour to making his work the best. It was the reason his kind, overly-sincere, oversized heart beat.

And in the quiet of the office, you could hear his heart breaking.

“Oh.”

“For one shoot! Not – Jesus – not actually another job. Triple Tricks want me to do a shoot. It’ll be like, one day. And I might need some time off afterwards so we could take the week off.”

Tom had blanched at the mention of Triple Tricks. He had winced at the mention of time off. You studied his face, trying to work out which emotion was seizing hold of him now.

It certainly wasn’t joy.

“Tom?”

He stayed quiet. You hated this schtick. He hated the other studio.

“We don’t have an exclusivity clause, do we? I did try and check.”

“What kind of shoot is it?”

He knew. If you needed time off afterwards, he knew. He was making you say it anyway.

“BDSM.”

You’d be bruised. That much was evident. You’d Googled them, heard of them through peers. But fuck the money was good. It would be zero-preparation. The concept was kind of hot, you thought you could sell it. It wasn’t scripted, you just had to… be a body. This wasn’t what Tom made. But you could still be good at it.

“You know I don’t like it,” he sighed, and you shrugged.

“A pay check is a pay check.”

And that was where you and Tom differed. This was more than money to him.

“Sorry,” you added, the word falling flat as you heard it.

“I can’t stop you, and you’re not exclusive to us, I just…”

“Don’t make it weird, Tom.”

“I do all this, we have this amazing shoot day, and you’re planning on working with ‘Tricks?”

He was being stern. You realised it abruptly, realised it from his growl and his carefully controlled volume, and the white of his knuckles as he clasped them together.

“The money is too good,” you retort, trying to match his firmness, and just feeling cold. The words are an apology.

“I’ve offered you more! If you need it, I can lend you – ”

“You don’t need to ‘lend’ me money, Tom! I earn it. Just like you. And now I can earn more. Wouldn’t you do the same? Name one other actress who only works for one studio.”

“I just want you to be safe.”

You frowned.

“Not as your… director. Or business partner. We’re friends, and they’re bastards over there. I just want you safe.”

“They won’t actually hurt me,” you promise, trying to push away the clips you’d seen online. Not really, you reasoned.

Tom’s expression told you he didn’t believe a word of it. And that he wasn’t just worried about physical pain.

“When’s the shoot?”

“I haven’t said yes yet.”

He sighed.

“You wanted to ask me?”

You nodded, and as soon as you saw his face in his hands, you knew your mind was made up. Tom remained quiet, and you wished you could see the inside of his mind.

“If you’re that against it, I won’t do it.”

The expression of relief on his face as so powerful, you weren’t sure you’d ever forget it. He just nodded, offered you a weak smile, and turned to his computer.

*

You weren’t sure how long you stared at the email you’d written, waiting blankly, as if you could send it telekinetically by staring long enough. It was short, polite, and you really hoped they didn’t test your resolve with a higher counteroffer. But it was done. You couldn’t betray Tom’s morals. Not for less than a very nice car, at least.

Tom had posted the video, you only knew because of your notifications, he’d tagged your work accounts social media accounts in everything to promote it. When you looked up at him, he was waiting to speak to you, hair tousled in the way it was when he absentmindedly tugged at it while he worked.

You could see his apology before you heard it.

“I’m sorry for being harsh. I just – I can’t tell you what to do, but please not them. If it’s another ethical studio you’ve got my blessing, but… not that. I can’t see you like that.”

You knew he couldn’t bear it. You were surprised by the relief you felt, hitting send.

A few minutes later he had made tea, settled in for a day of planning out future videos and not much else. These were your favourite days, just fucking around and dreaming up plots with Tom.

A hand settled on your shoulder as he set your mug in front of you, rubbing a little across the fabric of your shirt. You wanted to lean into his touch.

“You’re getting all of it. The money from that video, I mean. You deserve it.”

You frowned. That wasn’t the deal.

“Halves on everything, remember?”

He didn’t respond, but his hand just stayed there, a comforting weight as he stood over you. You could see his reflection in the window glass, the unusually solemn expression on his face.

“Call it an apology. For you turning down a good pay check.”

You smiled tightly, covering his hand with yours. That seemed to shake him out of his own head, giving your shoulder one last squeeze before he walked away from you.

“You did the edit! It’s your studio,” you protested.

“It’s our studio. And the edit… was a privilege. You made it easy.”

Tom closed the door after he left, busy fussing around with the props cupboard or something. You stared blankly down at your keyboard, wondering what the hell was going on inside his head.

*

As they days passed the incident was forgotten, as your easy friendship with Tom returned. You didn’t hesitate a moment turning down Triple Tricks’ second higher offer, too busy enjoying yourself with Tom. It was just the two of you, preparing for a shoot the next day, sharing the familiar space of the office.

“You’ve seen it a hundred times before!” you laughed, watching as Tom covered his eyes with his palm, his other arm reached out as if to warn you away. Your shirt was already off, bra following as you worked out how to get into the medieval princess costume Tom had ‘invested’ in.

“Not in our office! The bloody windows are open! Anyone could see!”

“Oh no! My modesty!” you mocked, ignoring him as you tried on the outfit, laughing at the tackiness of it.

It certainly was a ‘princess’ outfit, all gauze and corset – definitely not historically accurate – and you wondered where the hell Tom had bought this. You usually sourced costumes, but he’d been insisting on doing more recently. You tried to just appreciate the reduced workload, and ignore the nagging worry that you knew the reasons behind it.

“Help me with the corset?”

Groaning and dramatically uncovering his eyes, Tom circled around the desk to you, already eagerly kicking your jeans off. You’d been ecstatic when Tom told you it arrived, eager to just play dress-up, before the damn thing got ruined.

His fingers traced the edge of the fabric, making sure everything laid comfortably against your skin, and you impatiently waited for him to tighten the back of the bodice. Pointedly ignoring his soft, warm fingertips as they traced the material.

When he tentatively pulled the laces tighter you were pleasantly surprised with his costume choices. It fit like a glove. Rushing to a mirror, you ignored the rush of fondness you felt for the man as he eagerly followed.

“My tits look great!”

He fidgeted, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, and you tried not to relish in the blush painting his cheeks. He did that a lot recently: blushing. It was delightful, to see it reflected in the mirror.

“I, um, yeah.”

Turning to face him, he finally broke into a laugh, hands finding your elbows in that casual way he liked to touch you.

“What’s the end game here? I get fucked by a bunch of knights?”

He snorted, still fussing with the lacing behind you, and you bit your lip as his fingers tested the give of the fabric to make sure you weren’t being crushed.

“You make it sound so romantic. Haven’t you read the script?”

“Not yet. Sorry, Tommy.”

He tugged on the laces suddenly, making you jerk back an inch, grumbling as he laughed. The tightness of the fabric against your torso when he did that didn’t feel half bad. You filed that away for another day.

“What’s your plot then?” you teased, turning to face him.

You hadn’t realised you were practically in his arms, and you saw his gaze shift down from your face for a second before he spoke.

“A competition? For your hand in marriage?”

He crouched teasingly, lifting your hand, and for a split second you wondered if he was actually planning on kissing your knuckles. Nope.

A glance through the open door reminded you why you were here.

“That’s a common fantasy, right?” he faltered, the teasing edge of his voice dulled just a little with questioning.

“Yeah, yeah. For sure. I’m not sure about in porn though.”

He pursed his lips, thinking, as you finally got the hips of the dress situated and stepped into the studio to find a mirror.

He followed you as you examined how your body looked in the costume, and you caught the quirk of his lip as you spun, not hiding your excitement.

“You haven’t asked me what kind of competition,” he taunted. You took the bait.

“What kind?”

“Who can make you cum first?”

For just a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The outfit took on a whole new meaning as you imagined the shoot, where you would be in twenty-four hours’ time.

“You do know the way to a woman’s heart,” you hummed, not quite realising the implication to your words until you’ve said them. “I mean, what makes them tick. That’s hot.”

He chuckled.

“Glad you approve.”

There was a reupholstered chaise in the studio that he’d bought for the shoot, and you’d been enjoying lounging on it. Tomorrow you wondered if you’ve be enjoying it more, or cursing Tom.

Depended on the guys, you supposed.

“Who’ve you got?”

“Three guys, and a girl. Two of the guys are twins, it’s their whole thing. Seems as bit weird, but whatever.”

You frowned. Was that in the budget?

“That’s expensive, and… I don’t know them?”

He looked away from you in the reflection.

“I put it all on the spreadsheets. I didn’t’ want to bother you – ”

God. If he’d fucked up those cashflow statements, you were going to throttle him. He knew it, too. The corset just made you angrier as it restricted your ability to inhale and shout at him.

“They’re going to be inside me, Tom. I’d prefer if you bothered me.”

He winced, and you immediately regretted being so snappy, seeing the tightening of his broad shoulders as he stood beside you in the mirror.

“I… that’s fair. Sorry,”

You let the argument pass, a silent acceptance of his apology as you fidgeted with the costume again. He was trying. You trusted him.

The two of you definitely needed to talk.

“If I’m gonna be a princess I should have a tiara,” you teased lightly, eager to nitpick anything, just for Tom to be wrong.

Instead he smiled, smarmy bastard, disappearing into his office and returning with a tacky jewellery box.

“Your highness,” he held it out to you, and you rolled your eyes, frustrated by how quickly his stupid antics could win you back.

Flipping open the lid of the box, he revealed a surprisingly nice tiara. Certainly more a bit nicer than the plastic prop jewellery you’d expected, though certainly nothing outrageous. He set it delicately on your hair, wary of damaging it. You laughed at it immediately fell half-way out, sitting crooked an inch above your forehead.

“Absolutely majestic,” Tom teased lightly, but you sensed the underlying tension in his voice. An olive branch.

“Good choice,” you approved, reaching up to properly fix the piece in your hair.

In the mirror, you caught Tom beam.

*

The shoot ran perfectly. Like clockwork. Everyone was lovely to you, nothing chaffed, and you wondered if Tom’s guilt was the solution to finally having a problem-free shoot day. Well, aside from that other problem-free shoot day. But the two of you didn’t talk about that, even as the video had exploded in popularity. You were enjoying a healthy income stream from it.

You had no doubt this video would do well too. It had been hot, at least from what you’d seen in the monitor. It was more like Tom’s usual productions, full of reshoots and dialogue and an entire storyline which culminated in you reclined on the chaise, corset shoved below your bust and skirts pushed up.

For a whole afternoon you had just followed Tom’s commands on how much you were supposed to be enjoying the various different fingers, cocks and mouths of your costars. It didn’t escape your notice that he hadn’t written you anything remotely difficult for weeks.

“Lay back and look pretty,” he’d winked to you between conversations with the rest of the cast and crew, and you had smirked from your chaise.

Inwardly, you wondered what the hell was going on.

The tiara had pressed against your scalp as you’d been fucked, and the reminder of Tom’s sweetness made it difficult to keep your gaze on your costars. There was a tall figure behind the cameras seemingly begging for your attention. You realised you had forgotten to react for a few seconds, so distracted by your own thoughts, faking a moan as one of the men shoved just a little too deep into you.

“Wait!”

Fuck.

Tom must have seen you wince. The man – Michael, you forced yourself to remember – nodded to you apologetically, stroking more lube onto himself at Tom’s behest. He was the last of the actors to have a turn at pleasing you, and frankly you were exhausted.

“We can redo that with a close up, then we’ll move on,” Tom was declaring, but your mind was elsewhere, your body in that strange state of physical pleasure and emotional detachment. Your mind was elsewhere.

The chill of the room was getting to you, and you caught yourself shivering as the cameras were moved.

“Okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, blinking in surprise at the feeling of Tom’s hand cupping your jaw, refusing to meet his eyes. He’d see right through you if you made eye contact. Satisfied, he moved on, behind the cameras again barking the politest orders to prepare for a few close up shots.

Oh, god. Time to go again.

Michael muttered an apology as his hands found your bare breast again, pinching at your nipple to make it harden again, and in that moment of tenderness you saw something familiar in his blue eyes.

“You are beautiful, you know.”

If you closed your eyes, that voice could belong to someone else.

You smiled, surprised by a more genuine sense of arousal settling deep in your stomach. As Michael gently probed a couple of fingers inside of you, testing you were wet enough to take him again, you had to bite back a moan.

He noticed. Of course he did. With a near-clinical curiosity he sought out your g-spot, gently pressing against it, and you felt yourself clench at the light chuckle he made.

“This could be fun,” he whispered to you, and you bit your lip, melting ever so slightly more into the chaise as he withdrew his fingers with a final stretch, rubbing a few hard circles on your clit as he left.

When Tom called action, you barely heard. You were too busy thinking about how much you actually wanted what was about to happen next. This wasn’t just fun, or pleasure. You needed it.

All the shot called for was Michael fucking you. He had to be ‘the best’ as Tom’s script had dictated. You weren’t aware he would be quite such a good fit for the role. He teased you with few shallow thrusts before doing what the shot demanded, his thick cock spearing into you in a way that made you gasp for air and clench at the sheer size of him.

He was grunting, saying something which fitted Tom’s storyline, but all you could do was take him. You were focusing on breathing, on reacting, you had no memory of what the script had said. You could barely remember his name. His fingers on your clit were giving you plenty of reason to forget everything, surprisingly dexterous as he fucked into you with the same pace as those tight little circles which were driving you closer and closer to forgetting you were on camera.

“Go on, sweetheart.”

That wasn’t in the script. It wasn’t even for the microphones. As he fucked you into the chaise, one hand bracing and the other working your clit like it was actually part of his job, Michael whispered only to you. And fuck, you could have sworn that ‘sweetheart’ sounded identical to how Tom said it.

You tried. You tried to be professional, to wait for instruction to fake an orgasm, but damn it Michael was good. He was pounding into you and pleasuring your clit and talking like that, and before you knew it he was pausing slammed inside of you so you could moan through an orgasm. With your eyes screwed shut and your senses overwhelmed, you clung to him, desperate for him not to stop with those damn circles on your clit, damn whatever the script called for.

In your most impressive acting to date, you remembered to moan the character’s name as your pussy continued to clench and spasm, Michael pulling out to finish messily on your stomach as you remained in a daze.

When the crew finally called cut you barely had the energy to sit upright.

And through it all, you wondered if Tom liked the shoot.

There was a typical shuffle as the crew packed up, as Tom paid the actors and bid them goodbye, typical chatter and panting and offers of water and showers which everyone declined. It took less than quarter of an hour for everyone to leave, and you barely moved from the chaise. In a robe, clutching an unopened water bottle, you were left in a silent room. The locking of the door, Tom’s footsteps. The dull ache inside you and the numbness that seemed to overcome you during every shoot lately.

Ever since that one damn solo video –

“Can I join you?”

“Of course.”

You moved your robe to let Tom side beside you, wincing for his nice trousers as he sat beside you on the sweat-stained burgundy velvet. You knew you should talk, say something lighthearted, move to face him, something.Your mind felt a million miles away as the cushion beneath you shifted with Tom’s weight, his solid body faintly comforting beside you.

“This needs cleaning,” he mused, no real urgency in his tone.

He was testing the waters.

Reply, you mind screamed. Your face fell to your hands, a deep sigh leaving your lungs. Tom fidgeted, fingers on the velvet between you, not quite ready to reach out.

“Are you okay, love?”

“Tired.”

One strong arm wrapped around you, making your robe shift against your warm skin, and you leant into Tom without a second though.

“What’s wrong?”

His voice dropped to a murmur, and you wanted to cry. And you weren’t sure why. Fuck.

“I’m really not sure,” you admitted, “I don’t know, Tom.”

Your voice caught as you spoke, tears threatening your eyes, and you could practically feel the change in Tom as realised how upset you were. His whole body shifted, pulling you against him, leaning back on the chaise and holding you to his side. You turned your face against the plane of his chest, makeup no-doubt ruining his white shirt, leaning your entire upper body on him.

And to your horror, you realised you were crying.

Tom said nothing. He just held you while you ruined his shirt with slow, quiet tears.

Then it was over. Out of your system. And Tom was still there, warm and strong and underneath you. You cleared your throat, pushing off him until you were just leaning against him, sitting under your own strength.

For the brief second you could looked to his face, you saw open worry on his features. You looked away again quickly, guilt filling you at the distress you were causing him. You wiped at your eyes, embarrassed. It had been minutes, but you had sobbed on him, still reeking of sex, barely covered by a robe. You tried to be subtle as you hid your face from him.

“How is this my life,” you muttered, pleasantly surprised as Tom broke out into a nervous laugh.

He stopped as you glanced at him, but you shot him a smile, careful to try and rebuild your sense of stability as he watched you. And not be an emotional wreck. You winced as you shuffled in your seat, twisting so you could talk.

“Overwhelming?”

You nodded.

“That’s an understatement.”

“You did brilliantly today,” he told you earnestly, “I’m sorry it was such a long shoot. One of those overproduced ones today, you know. Too many moving parts.”

You smiled, trying to conceal your amusement.

“I am well aware.”

“Right.”

You loved the pink dusting his cheeks as he looked down to his lap, a self-depreciating laugh on his lips.

“Sorry,” he murmured, “if it makes you feel any better, I think I’m going to be editing this for the rest of my life. We’ve almost run out of SD cards, there was so much footage.”

You snorted.

“It’ll be, like, three hours editing max.”

“It’ll be forever,” he whined, “I’m going to die editing.”

He was being a drama queen, one hand on his face and the other wrapped around your shoulder as he acted up. Trying to make you laugh. Just the sweetness of the gesture was enough to make you feel better.

“We can do it together, grab some takeaway, make a day of it,” you offered.

Tom looked ready to argue, to give you more time off, but instead his shoulders softened and he nodded.

“That sounds great, love.”

For a second the two of you looked around the studio, the empty space and the dents in the floor which had accumulated over the years, the white walls and the scattered equipment. The strange space which had started to feel like a second home, after all the time you’d spent here together.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

His words were quiet, laced with concern that he tried to dress in a light-hearted cadence, lips near the crown of your head as he asked.

“Overwhelmed,” you reassured him, “just tired. I just got a bit emotional. I’ll be fine, though. Just needed a cry, I think.”

“I can understand that.”

You wondered if he could. If he’d let you be there for him, comfort him like he’d comforted you. You hoped he would. The smudge of your makeup on his shirt was barely noticeable, and he batted you away as you tried to rub at it.

“It’ll come out.”

“It won’t,” you promised, and Tom rolled his eyes.

“It can go to the costume department then.”

“’Department’,” you snorted, gesturing to the tiny props room.

Tom’s hand on your shoulder tightened playfully, a more pleasant quiet settling over the two of you this time, both of you lost in thought. He interrupted your daydreaming suddenly, with an awkward clearing of his throat and a roll of his shoulders before he spoke.

“Can you be honest with me? It won’t affect how incredibly highly I think of your skill.”

You knew the question Tom was about to ask, and frankly you were surprised he had brought it up at all. But you sighed, nodded against him. Your pussy still ached.

“Yes?”

“Did Michael make you… orgasm? At the end there?”

You nodded, lips pressed tightly together, and waited for Tom’s reaction. It was understated. He pulled his arm a little tighter around your shoulder.

“Wow.”

His response made you laugh, and he joined you, astounded.

“Good for Michael.”

“I know, right? I hope you paid him a bonus.”

Tom huffed.

“For distracting my lead? I don’t think so.”

“’Distracting?’” you teased, “I think you mean ‘helping’. You know I’m not that good at acting.”

“Nonsense,” he chided.

You shoved your shoulder against his slightly, and he exhaled dramatically in complaint, though you were sure he’d barely felt it. His thumb snaked further across your shoulder, kneading into the tense muscle of your neck. He was being serious again, and you felt yourself stiffening even under the touch of his hand.

“I, um, I owe you an apology. I should have consulted you more on the script. Checked what you were okay with, let you choose actors. And the budget… it’s over. I think it’s worth it but I –”

His hand had stilled on your neck, and you found it hard to distract yourself from the feeling of it against your robe.

“Tom it’s fine. Just… don’t do it again, you know?”

“Of course.”

He really meant it. You loved that about Tom. He always really meant it. That made it more fun to tease him, too.

“Although I do enjoy you going so easy on me recently,” you teased, knee bumping his.

You felt his chuckle as clearly as you heard it, tinged with awkwardness at being caught.

“You’re getting famous these days, can’t have you running off to someone else because I didn’t treat you well enough.”

“Tom…”

“I’m serious!” he protested, and you realised suddenly that he was really worried.

Worried you would leave him. Professionally, of course.

“Besides,” he continued, “why would I make you do anything worse than you have to?”

He wasn’t just talking about the books. Those emails from the BDSM studio had shaken him more than you’d realised. He’d read the second offer, raising his eyebrows at the number after you left your phone flat on the desk, and you wished he hadn’t seen it.

You half expected him to start forcing cash into your hands before you left, he was so desperate to compete. But you didn’t work with him for the money.

“This is my job, Tom. I’ll do whatever I have to.”

He sighed.

“I know, and you’re amazing at it, don’t get me wrong. But you shouldn’t have to do more than you want. Your numbers are great, but that doesn’t mean you have to keep going. We can get more people on board, you can work less – “

You frowned, and he picked up on your worry immediately.

“I’m not firing you! I just think, you’re so good off camera too, and we make so much…”

Fidgeting on the chaise until you could speak face to face, you found his forehead lined with worry, and insecurity painting his face which didn’t suit him in the slightest.

“I’ll tell you if I’m unhappy,” you promised, “but I don’t need to be wrapped in cotton wool, I’m fine.”

He didn’t believe you. You didn’t believe you. As his thumb started to smooth across your shoulder soothingly, you tried not to think too much about why.

“I don’t want you being uncomfortable – or worse – when you don’t have to be.”

You cleared your throat, coughing as you swallowed awkwardly, and winced at the immediate distress on Tom’s face.

You knew both of you were reminded of the same moment, of Tom rushing into a shot, of the actor who’d accidentally gone too far, not noticing he was ramming his cock into your throat too hard until you gagged and coughed and coughed. You’d been watery-eyed and coughing an hour later, long after Tom had called the shoot off and wrapped you in a robe, and then into his arms. He’d pulled you close on the couch in his office, muttering apologies into your hair until you hadn’t wanted to hear the word sorry ever again, your voice hoarse as you promised and promised it wasn’t his fault.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but both of you had almost quit that day.

Your throat had hurt for weeks. Tom had been angry for longer, blaming himself as though something a thousand times worse had happened. On the chaise, he was holding you like that again.

Like you needed his comfort. His protection.

You often wondered if it was the other way around. Like he needed to feel like he was protecting you.

“We don’t have to do that anymore,” he soothed, “we can just let you enjoy shoots. I know they’re work but –

One word stuck like shrapnel into your chest.

We.

On the chaise, Tom was reaching for your water bottle, opening it for you and silently imploring you to drink. If only for his sanity.

Between gulps you insisted: “I’m fine.”

He didn’t believe you.

“Go and shower, love. I’ll drive you home.”

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x ofc #13atoms #fic #this tom is such a sweetheart #im writing weird atm but it's all good

[bigcat-hanson]

Down In Flames [Part Two] | Arin Hanson X Reader

After your apartment complex burned down, you had nowhere to go, but you would never put that burden onto anyone, especially not your friends. How long can you hide it?

Word count: 1,313

     “Hey, (Y/N), you up for lunch?”

     The voice behind you snapped you out of your thoughts, causing you to jump a bit out of your seat. You turned around to see who had posed the question to you, only to be greeted by Arin’s concerned expression.

     “You ok?”

     “Uh, yea, sorry. I, um, I was just zoning out a bit,” you lied, desperately hoping he wouldn’t suspect anything further than that. 

     “Sounds about right. So, do you wanna go to lunch? Jory and I were thinking of grabbing some sushi.” Thank god, he didn’t seem to notice. It took just about every ounce of energy you had to contain the newfound urge to cry until you passed out.

     “Sure, yea. Let me just, um, let me just grab my stuff real quick, just a sec,” you stuttered out, quickly shutting off your computer screen and fishing your wallet and car keys out of the drawer of your desk before following Arin out to the parking lot, where Jory had been waiting for the both of you in his car. You were willing to take any distraction that came your way, and getting lunch seemed like a pretty good one.

     Then Jory drove past the apartments.

     He slowed a bit as you went by, but somehow everything seemed to go much slower than they already were. Every detail of the scene hit you like a truck. The swarms of aid cars, news vans, fire trucks, and police cars surrounding the building, or at least what was left of it. Even though the flames were out, smoke still poured out from the charred remains of what you once called your home. There was no going back there. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure.

     “Holy Jesus fuck, what happened there?” Arin exclaimed, leaning towards the scene as you passed. 

     “It’s all over the news, man. They think someone burned it down on purpose. I think like, 6 or 7 people were killed, too. It’s messed up,” Jory replied. The lump in your throat felt like it grew bigger and bigger the more you were faced with your inevitable future. 

     “God, that sucks ass. Hopefully the rest of them’ll be able to find places to stay.” Arin’s comment just about broke you. Had you not been sitting in the back seat, they both would’ve caught the few tears that managed to escape your eyes. You wiped them away as quickly as possible in a desperate attempt to mask your emotions.

     The sushi place that Jory chose was almost packed, with one table clearly open. As the boys decided amongst themselves whether they wanted to sit down or take out, you tried to focus your attention on the menu. As you scanned over every item listed, you realized that none of it sounded appealing. You were almost nauseated by the thought of eating just about anything right now. 

     The more you stared at the board, the less sounds you registered around you. Everything became muffled, as if you were staring at the rest of the world from the inside of a glass jar. You saw flames in the chalk writing, smelled the smoke as if you were standing right in the middle of it. The sound of the sirens rang through your ears and-

     Jory clapped his hand on your shoulder, shaking you a bit. For a split second, you had completely forgotten where you were.

“Are you ok? You look really distracted.”

     “Uh, yea. Yea, I’m fine. I just remembered the last time I had sushi wasn’t exactly a fun experience.”

     “Oh, crap. I remember that. This probably wasn’t the best idea for lunch then.”

     “No, you’re fine. I’ll just, um, I’ll just get something else later. No big deal.”

     “Alright. We’ll stop wherever on the way out of here so you can grab something that doesn’t make you sick.” Was that even possible?

~~~~~~

     Time seemed to have no meaning anymore. It had somehow been both the shortest and longest four days of your life. Everything blended together in a haze of exhaustion, anxiety, and the back pain that came from sleeping in your car. Nobody knew that at this point, you were technically homeless, and you weren’t about to let it slip to any of them. Finding a new place to live was hard enough without people constantly interrupting your work to ask questions.

     The soft light of your computer screen reflected off of your dull eyes as you fought to keep awake long enough to finish editing the last sixty seconds of the video you were working on. Your arms and eyelids felt heavier and heavier as the seconds ticked by. The most excruciating minute of your life was finally over after what felt like half an hour. 

     “Ready to head out?” Arin stood next to your desk, jacket slung over his shoulder. Fuck. The promise you had made him earlier that morning completely slipped your mind. His car battery had died before he came into work, and when Vernon said that he could only bring him to work and not take him home at the end of the day, you blindly offered to help. Pre-coffee decisions weren’t exactly your strong suit.

     “Yea, uh… let me just save this, then we can head out.” The closer you got to your car, you realized just how compromising the inside probably looked. Given it was after dark, you were banking on him not being able to see the makeshift bed in your back seat.

     “Thanks for driving me, by the way. First thing tomorrow, I’m getting a new battery,” Arin stated. You looked at him and gave him a half smile before walking around to the driver’s side door, mentally crossing your fingers.

     “Okay, where to?” You clicked your seatbelt and started the engine as Arin rattled off his address. Thankfully, you had a pretty good idea of where he lived. You didn’t want to use up any more of your phone’s battery power than you needed to. 

     The ride was filled with conversation, mostly about the most ridiculous food combinations that both of you had ever heard of. It was nice to get completely lost in a conversation with someone, even if the topic was a little ridiculous. 

     “And here we are,” Arin announced as you pulled into his driveway. Your foot pressed down on the brakes, and the car was put in park to let him get out and say his goodbyes for the night. “I’ll probably be in late tomorrow because of the whole battery thing, so let Tucker know I’m sorry if I delay any recordings or anything.”

     “Will do. Good luck with that. Anyways, um, goodnight, Arin.”

     “See you tomorrow, (Y/N). Get home safe, ok?” With those words, he smiled, shut the car door, and disappeared into his house.

     Maybe it was the thought of having to sleep in your cold car another night, or the fact that he said ‘home’, as if you had one anymore, but the wall that you forced yourself to build finally came crashing down. The second he was out of sight, all of your emotions hit you at once, and you started crying. Waves of tears poured down your face and into your hands and lap. Sobs  overcame you. You couldn’t breathe. Every bad feeling that you were trying to avoid was suddenly engulfing you in misery. You couldn’t drive like this. All you could do now was take a few minutes to let it out, and hope that you would calm down enough to drive away soon.

     It took several minutes of attempting about a thousand different breathing techniques before you could even remotely see anything clearly. Shaky hands reached up and wiped the tears out of your eyes, and you attempted to get your bearings. There was a knock at your window.

     Shit. 

#arin hanson #arin hanson x reader #game grumps #down in flames #this is angst right?

[kpoptrashibnida]

Enough Pt. 13

A/N: Sorry for being a filthy liar you guys! I said I was going to post two days ago and I didn’t. I just needed to edit a couple scenes I wasn’t 100% happy with and that set me back. But thanks for your patience and support! You all know I love/appreciate feedback, so don’t be shy! Any way, here is the update and happy reading!

“So have you answered him yet?” Jaehyun asked, fingers caressing your arm as you cuddled on your couch. 

Once you woke up, you texted Jaehyun and told him you made it home okay and apologized for forgetting to message him. At the office, he was very attentive and apologized for being distant for the past few days. He admitted that he was worried because of the phone call you got from Namjoon and he thought that creating a little distance was going to make him feel a little better. Of course he realized it was a mistake and possibly the stupidest thing he could have ever done. He asked if he could come over to your place and stay the night. You agreed of course, happy that your boyfriend was going to spend some time with you and that the awkwardness was gone. After work you both came to your apartment, had dinner together and were now cuddling on the couch as you watched a movie. You were in a little bubble of bliss and nothing could ruin that. Not even the inevitable question of what answer you were going to give to Namjoon.

“I am going to tell him that I am not going to leave early.” You say with conviction in your voice. 

He sat up straight and looked at you perplexed. He knew how much you loved your job and you were amazing at it, so saying no to Namjoon was a big deal.

“Are you serious?” He asked, wanting to make sure he heard you correctly.

“Yes. There are plenty of people in Seoul who can take care of the projects he has lined up. But if he really feels like he needs me to oversee these projects, then I can do them from here via teleconference. My workload will significantly reduce now that all the final details are done. I just don’t want to be away from you.” You explain, looking into Jaehyun’s eyes.

“I am very happy to hear that. I just hope you’re doing this because you really want to and not because of me.” He says, giving you a soft kiss.

“I really want to. And I also want to be with you.” You say, leaning in to kiss him on the lips.

He deepens the kiss as he hovers over you, making you lay down on the couch, slightly opening your legs to accommodate his frame.

His fingers are quick to lift your shirt, rough pads skimming the soft skin of your stomach. You arched into him, the contact sending electric shocks through your body. You wrap your legs around his hips bringing him closer to you, wanting to feel him pressed up against you. Your fingers work fast to unbutton his shirt, slipping it off his frame and skimming his skin with your fingertips. He helped you pull your shirt off and discarded it on the floor, lips attaching to your neck, lightly biting the soft skin. You moaned as Jaehyun stained your skin, hands reaching behind you to unclasp your bra, kneading your breasts and slowly grinding into you. Your hands are quick to reach for his jeans, undoing his button and tried to pull his pants down. He pulled away from you to remove both his jeans and boxers, helping you remove your skirt and panties too. You gulped at the sight of his hard length and you could not handle it anymore. You pushed him so he was sitting upright and you straddled his hips, teasing his length with your wet folds.

“Don’t tease baby.” Jaeyun groaned, gripping your hips tight in an attempt to regain control.

“Patience baby.” You whisper, enjoying the strain in his voice. 

You decided to end his torture and aligned his length with your entrance. You sat down all the way and you both groaned at the feeling of your tight walls engulfing his length. You waited a few seconds to adjust before you started to undulate your hips, walls tightening around his length.

“Oh fuck.” Jaehyun moaned, throwing his head back against the couch.

You took advantage and bit his neck making him moan louder, which turned you on even more.

 You sped the movement of your hips, breath catching in your throat at the pleasure that coursed through your body. 

“Ah, yes.” You moaned, Jaehyun’s hands guiding your hips, increasing the friction against your clit. That sent electrical jolts through your body, a strong shiver shaking you. You grind your hips faster against Jaehyun’s, the angle hitting deep inside you and aided in the stimulation of your clit. Jaehyun popped a nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly as his other hand kneaded your other breast. The added sensations were all it took for you to reach your end. You moaned Jaehyuns name like a mantra, hips bucking wildly against his. The tightening of your walls was all it took for him to reach his end, a low moan leaving his lips as he filled you with his cum. 

Your hips slowed to a stop, hands still clutching Jaehyun’s sticky body against yours. His breath slowly turned to normal and it tickled the slick skin of your neck. He attached his lips to yours in a slow and sensual kiss, a warm feeling melting in your chest and spreading to the rest of your body. Your brain felt hazy and in that moment a single word came into your mind: Chanyeol. 

You pulled away from Jaehyun’s hips and wandering hands, receiving a confused look from his gorgeous face. 

“You okay?” He asks concerned, hands planted on your hips.

“Yeah. I just feel super sticky. I am going to head to the shower.” You say, hating yourself for lying to him and for thinking about Chanyeol in your post-coitus bliss. “Care to join me?” You say, a mischievous glint in your eye.

He chuckled and nodded his head, completely unaware of the stuff going on in your brain. God were you an asshole.

“Yes babe, I’ll be right in.” He says as he watched you get us from his lap, his soft member falling out of your entrance and his cum trailing down your thighs. The sight alone was enough to turn him on.

“Okay, don’t take too long.” You say in a sing-song voice as you quickly make your way to your bathroom, not wanting to make a mess on the floor.

Jaehyun was wiping himself when he noticed your phone was blinking, indicating that you had messages. He didn’t think anything of it but at that moment your phone vibrated again, illuminating the screen with a notification. Curiosity got the best of him and he looked at your screen, chuckling when he saw a Snapchat notification from Mark. He asked Mark why he had made you get the app and the young boy told him it was easier to send you funny videos and memes through there. You and Mark had a brother/sister relationship and Jaehyun thought it was cute. His smile slowly disappeared when he saw that you had three text messages from Chanyeol.

Chanyeol: I really appreciate it

Was what the preview message said in your Notification Center. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bothered at the fact that Chanyeol was messaging you, but the message wasn’t incriminating. He was probably just talking about the great wok you did with the press release of him and Ara for the opening gala. Besides, Jaehyun trusted you and he felt a little guilty for even looking at your phone screen. He knew you had nothing to hide. He shook the weird feeling away and made his way to the bathroom where you and your hot wet body were waiting for him. 

___________________

You were typing away replying to emails when you were distracted by a soft knock on your door.

“Come in.” You mumble, not looking away from your computer screen.

“Hey.” The deep voice says as the person enters the office.

“Chanyeol?” You say confused, recognizing the voice right away.

“Sorry to barge in, I just wanted to stop by and say hi.” He says with a cheesy smile on his face.

You raise your eyebrow at him, a small chuckle leaving your lips.

“Well hi then.” You reply, making him shake his head.

“You’re so mean.” He whined playfully, sitting on the chair across from you.

“Yes please make yourself at home.” You say sarcastically, looking back to your screen to hit the send button for your last email.

“So, what brings you here?” You ask, finally looking at him.

“Well I was here meeting Wendy for some last minute details and arrangements for Ara’s travels.” He explains, leaning back in your chair.

“Hmm, and you decided to stop by?” You question, thinking how ridiculous that sounded.

“Yes, don’t make it weird.” He joked, leaning forward on your desk.

You eye him wearily and decide he probably was being sincere.

“So when do you go back to Korea?” You ask, deciding to be civil.

“Tomorrow morning.” He pouted, which made you chuckle.

“Well, safe travels then.” You said with a cheeky grin, making Chanyeol laugh.

“Really? Why are you being so cold?” He playfully whines, splaying his upper body on top of your desk.

“Okay, okay…” You relented. “I hope that your plane doesn’t crash.” You gave him a sarcastic smile, making him laugh and causing your desk to shake. 

“You are so rude.” He mumbles, reaching out in front of you and poking your hand with his index finger.

“I’m joking. But I do wish you safe travels, that’s not a mean thing to say.” You mention, not pulling your hand away for whatever reason.

 “I know. I don’t know, i was just expecting something else…” He trailed off, his whole hand splayed on top of yours.

The warmth of his hand was oddly comforting, but it also felt a little wrong.

“I’m not sure what else you were expecting, Chanyeol.” You say, nervously pulling your hand away from under his embrace.

He stared into your eyes, not breaking eye contact. 

“Hey babe ready to go?” Jaehyun says as he enters your office, stopping abruptly once he sees who is sitting at your desk.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” Jaehyun asks, hoping Chanyeol’s presence is strictly business related.

“No, Mr. Park was just leaving.” You smile, giving Chanyeol a pointed look, indicating that he should leave.

“Yes, I was just leaving. Once again, thank you for our time and hard work team captain.” Chanyeol said, giving you a small smile before exiting your office.

You walk up to Jaehyun and wrap your arms around his waist, embracing him in a tight hug and enjoying his warmth. You look up at him and smile, enjoying the sight of his beautiful face.

“Ready?” You ask, giving him a small peck on the lips.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” He agrees, holding your hand and heading to the elevator. 

Jaehyun feels a bit uneasy and he is not one hundred percent sure as to why. He knows that unfortunately Chanyeol has to be around because of work but that did not mean he was not weary of the man and the situation. He did not want to come off as insecure and jealous, he trusts you. It's Chanyeol he doesn’t trust and for some reason he feels that Chanyeol’s involvement in this project is more than just good exposure for him. 

 He doesn’t want to be that guy, but he is more than sure that Chanyeol is trying to get close to you. Jaehyun looks over at your face and smiles; he felt like a winner because you were next to him, holding his hand. 

______________

“Thanks for cooking dinner babe, it was delicious.” Jaehyun complimented while he helped take the dishes to the sink.

“No problem babe. Anything for you.” You wink, smacking his butt as you walk back to the table to wipe it down. 

He gasps in mock offense, claiming he wasn’t a piece of meat.

“I’ll wash the dishes babe.” He offered, being the gentleman he always is.

“Thanks babe, I’m going to wash up.” You say, excusing yourself and running into the shower. You were in desperate need for a hot shower to relax your muscles. 

You unknowingly left your phone on the kitchen counter and you got a text message at that moment. Jaehyun looked over and saw that it was a message from Chanyeol. Furrowing his eyebrows he debated whether or not he should let you know about your message. He ignored it and went back to the task at hand, scrubbing the dishes with unnecessary force. He was trying really hard not to lose his temper, but the fact that Chanyeol was texting you yet again was starting to annoy him. It was almost nine in the evening and he doubted that there were any business related issues that needed your attention at this moment. Your phone vibrated two more times and Jaehyun felt like he was going to go crazy. Before he could do something irrational, he grabbed your phone and headed to your bedroom. He needed the device away from him so he could concentrate on not chucking it out the window. 

“Oh, hey.” You say surprised as Jaehyun walks into your room with your phone in hand. You had just gotten out of the shower and you only had your towel wrapped around your body. Normally, that would turn Jaehyun on, but right now he couldn’t even focus on that.

“Here.” He says, dropping your phone on the bed. “It was vibrating a lot, so I decided to bring it to the room.” He explains, hoping his tone didn’t sound bothered. He did not want you to know he knew who was texting you. 

“Oh. Okay, thanks.” You say with a smile before Jaehyun walked out of the bedroom and back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up.

Later that night, Jaehyun lay awake in bed not being able to fall asleep. He stared at your peaceful sleeping face, admiring how cute you look. He finally found his comfortable spot on his side, facing you and he closed his eyes, ready for sleep to take over. It seems like you forgot to put your phone on silent mode because a text notification is what made Jaehyun open up his eyes again.  He could not believe someone was texting you this late, but it could be an emergency. Jaehyun carefully leans over you to grab your phone from your night stand. He knows your password so he types it in and checks your messages. He scrunches his nose when he sees it’s yet another text from Chanyeol.

Chanyeol: Have a good night. Sweet dreams ;)

‘What the fuck.’ Jaehyun mutters under his breath, now thoroughly annoyed at the fact that Chanyeol was sending you good night texts. Against his better judgement, he looks at your text chain from earlier when Chanyeol was blowing up your phone.

Chanyeol: Do you remember this night? That was fun!

                 [Image.jpg]

Me: when we were on a double date with Suho and Mina. yeah I remember.

Chanyeol: I had a lot of fun that day. Did you?

Me: Yeah it was alright.

Chanyeol: :( why are you being so cold?

Chanyeol: Helloooooo????

Chanyeol: Fine, I get it. I won’t message you xp

Chanyeol: Have a good night. Sweet dreams ;)

Jaehyun was furious after reading the messages. How dare Chanyeol show up out of nowhere and think this is okay? He looks over to your sleeping form once again, eyeing you suspiciously. You didn’t seem interested in engaging conversation with Chanyeol, but you were also not putting a stop to his advances. 

‘Stop it Jaehyun. You trust her.’ He thought, shaking his head and feeling bad for doubting you for even one second. Clearly the problem here was Chanyeol and Jaehuyn was going to make it clear to him that he needs to stay away from you. 

______________

Much to Jaehyun’s dismay, he did not see Chanyeol at the office that day. He had some business to attend to all day and he was stuck in his office all day with conference call after conference call. He was upset because he was going to need to stay at the office late and he was looking forward to having dinner with you and cuddling. Your guys dynamic was finally where it used to be and he was happy. He knew he had been a bit distant for a while after you broke the news about Namjoon’s call. But he was thrown off because he had some big plans that had to be put on hold for now. He just needed some time to regroup and execute them another time. He was still bothered about the text messages from Chanyeol but he decided to forget about it and concentrate on his work. He trusted you completely so he knew he had nothing to worry about. 

“Hey handsome.” You say as you knock on Jaehyun’s office door, observing his tired eyes. Poor guy has been working non-stop all day. He was barely able to get 15 minutes in for lunch and he had to basically scarf it down.

“Hey babe. I still have a lot more to do. You should probably head home and I’ll catch up later.” He said with a sigh, rubbing his eyes.

“Aww okay baby. Don’t overdo it, okay?” You say, giving Jaehyun a parting kiss. 

You were sad to leave him behind because he looked so tired but you knew what he was working on was very important and he had to finish it before he was able to go home. You decided you were going to make him a nice meal for when he got home, that way he could have a full belly and be well-rested. You walked to the nearby market that was a short walking distance from work and bought some necessary ingredients and then took an Uber home. You were not about to use public transportation while carrying grocery bags. Once you got home, you started working right away. You made him some spicy kimchi stew and a few side dishes you knew were his favorite. You had sent him a text message to see if he knew when he would get home but he had not answered yet. You hoped you had enough time for a quick shower before he got home. You wanted to wear a very cute night gown to let him know he had options as to how he wanted the night to end. Wrapping your silk robe around your frame, you walk back to your kitchen and make sure the food is still warm and not overdone. You were startled by your doorbell ringing, knowing that Jaehyun had a key to your apartment and would never have to ring. You were confused as to who would visit you at this hour since it was close to ten pm. You cautiously make your way to your door and look through the peephole, even more confused with who is on the other side of the door.

“Chanyeol? What are you doing here?” You asked incredulously, not being able to think of a reason as to why he is at your home at this hour of the night. “I thought your flight left already?”

“I changed it for tomorrow. Can I come on?” He asked, looking around the hallway. You didn’t really want to invite him in, but you also did not want to stand in your doorway with flimsy clothing on for all your neighbors to see.

“Sure I guess.” You concede, moving out of the way and closing the door behind Chanyeol. 

“Thanks. It smells good in here.” He said, sniffing the air.

“Chanyeol why are you here? These are not necessarily regular visiting hours.” You say, crossing your arms across your chest. Chanyeol tried not to look at your cleavage but it was hard since you looked great in that robe.

“Look, I know I have no right being here, but I am leaving and I just want to say that I am sorry for all the trouble I gave you.” He said, looking right at you.

“I think you already had this conversation with me Chanyeol. You can’t be here for too long.” You say, needing him to leave your apartment as soon as possible.

“I know. I just want to say it again and I hope you can forgive me for all the crap I did. I don’t want to interfere anymore in your life. But I just want you to know that if you ever want me back in your life, as friends! I would really like that.” He said, giving you a small smile that made you relax a little.

“Thanks Chanyeol. Look, I don’t hate you or anything. And I am genuinely happy that you are now doing what you love and I hope you keep being successful in it. I think friendship could be a possibility….. In the relative future.” You say with a giggle, making Chanyeol laugh.

“Fair enough.” He said, looking at his watch. “I better get going, I need to be on my way. I should get at least a few hours of sleep before I head to the airport.” He says, standing awkwardly in the middle of your living room. 

“Have a safe trip.” You say, not knowing what else to say.

“Okay this is plenty awkward. I’m going to head out now. Is it okay if I get a hug?” He asked, awkwardly holding his arms out.

“Sure I guess.” You agree with an eye roll. 

You go in for the hug and hold your breath, nervous for whatever reason. You were just saying bye to an acquaintance/ sort of friend and old lover. You were not doing anything wrong. Chanyeol wrapped his arms tightly around you, missing the feeling of your body in his embrace. He sniffed your hair, commiting the scent to memory. He wished he could have appreciated you when he had you and it was now too late for him. Hopefully not completely late.

“What’s going on here?” Jaehyun asks, making you and Chanyeol break away from each other. You did not hear him open the door.

“Jaehyun!” You say breathless, your heart was hammering in your chest and you felt like you got caught doing something wrong. 

Jaehyun was silent as he looked between the two of you, not knowing what to make of the situation. 

“I was just leaving man. I just came by to say goodbye. Nothing else.” Chanyeol said defensively, not expecting Jaehyun to show up. But that did explain your attire.

“Well then I guess you better go.” Jaehyun said cooly, flexing his fingers in an attempt to calm himself and not punch Chanyeol. 

“Okay.” Chanyeol said with a parting glance at you and a cold stare to Jaehyun. 

The room was uncomfortably silent, a heavy feeling settling over the room. Jaehyun wasn’t looking at you, his back facing you and you could see his shoulders moving up and down with every breath he was taking.

“Jaehyun.” You say softly, trying to get him to look at you. 

He finally looked over after a few seconds that felt like an eternity. 

You sucked in a gasp at the cold, hard look in his eyes; something he never had before. Not with you anyway.

“Care to explain?” He asks, voice low.

“I know it might look bad, but I swear it was nothing. He stopped by to say goodbye because he goes back to Korea tomorrow morning. Nothing else.” You explain, taking a tentative towards him. 

He takes a deep breath and looks at you before speaking again.

“Do you still have feelings for him?” He asks.

“What?” You ask, not knowing where this was coming from. 

“Do you or do you not have feelings for him?” Jaehyun asked again, getting agitated and his voice raising slightly.

You stared at him, wide-eyed and not knowing what to say. Of course you did not have any feelings for Chanyeol. So why the fuck could you not say that out loud?

Jaehyun scoffed and shook his head, not really believing what was happening right now. 

“Jaehyun, I don’t have any feelings for him.” You explain, placing your hand on his arm.

“Then why did you hesitate to answer?” He questions, moving away from your touch.

“I was just taken by surprise! Nothing else.” You say, chest heaving with anxiety. 

“Really? Is that why you’ve been messaging with him? Why he’s been stopping by your office? Why you’ve been kind of jumpy and dodgy?” He pressed, trying not to get agitated.

You were stunned to silence, not knowing he had been aware of the messages from Chanyeol. You knew that you’ve been a little distant because of the guilt you had felt because of these mixed feelings ever since Chanyeol has been bombarding you in your workplace.

“Right.” He says after your long pause of silence. Jaehyun let out a sigh and wiped his hands down his face. “I’m going to get my stuff.” Jaehyun says, going into your bedroom to get his belongings. 

You stood there in silence as you heard Jaehyun packing his things, your heart felt like it was breaking and you did not know how to stop him. He seemed so upset and you do not know how this evening took a turn for the worse. 

Jaehyun came out of your room holding a duffle filled with his clothes, stopping right in front of you before he left.

“If we are going to be together, I want you to be one hundred percent sure. No room for doubt. It looks like you might be confused right now, so I think it's better if we put an end to this.” He says, looking right into your eyes. You sucked in a breath, not expecting this to be happening right now. This relationship that you cherish so much, this person that you love, how could you be losing this? Jaehyun took your lack of answer as a silent agreement and headed for the door.

‘Say something! Stop him from leaving. Tell him you have no doubts!’ Your brain screamed. It seems like your mouth and feet were not receiving the signals, because you just stood there in silence as you watched the man you love walk out of your life.

“Oh, and one more thing.” Jaehyun says as he pauses in your door frame, looking back at your bewildered face. “You know that offer Namjoon gave you? I think it would be a good idea if you accept it.” He says, finally walking out of your home and closing the door behind him.

You stood in the middle of your living room for a few more minutes until your body finally caught up with your brain and with everything that just happened. You dropped to your knees and let out the sob that was stuck there since this night went to shit. An excruciating pain you had not felt before hit your chest and you crumpled inwards, hitting your chest repeatedly to ebb the pain away. Your screams and sobs were muffled by the rub beneath you, burying your face into it because you could not bear the pain in your chest. Your cries carried through your apartment, the emptiness in it bringing a new wave of cries, tears and sadness. You stood up and shaky legs and made your way to your bedroom, crumpling on your bed once you saw the absence of Jaehyun’s belongings. He was really gone. He did not leave anything behind. You lay your head on his pillow and inhale his scent that still lingered, the smell bringing a wave of fresh tears to your eyes and the pain in your chest intensified.

You could not sleep that night. You laid awake, blankly staring at the clock on your night stand. Every time you would drift off you jolted awake, thinking that what happened was all a bad dream. But once you realized it was all real, you broke down again. Your sobs echoing in your room and ricocheting from the emptiness in your heart. You glance at the clock and see that it is two am, which meant it was three pm in Korea. Namjoon did not leave the office until five, so you knew you could find him in his office. You cleared your throat and grabbed your phone to dial his number.

“Hey! I did not expect to hear from you at this hour. Isn’t it like two am over there?” Namjoon greets, happy to hear from you.

“Hey. I can’t sleep.” You pause, trying to hold your tears. “Um, I’m actually calling because I changed my mind. I’m not going to stay the full year in New York, I want to come back to Seoul and work on those projects you have for me.” You say, forcing a smile onto your face so you could fake sounding happy.

“Oh! Really? That’s great! What changed your mind?” He asks, curious as to why you want to come back but happy nonetheless.

“I just figured that there really is no reason to stay if everything I’m responsible for is done. Besides, my best friend is pregnant and I want to be there for her. And also because I miss you and I want to work on those projects you told me about.” Maybe faking your happiness won’t be so hard from here on out. 

“That’s awesome! I’m so happy to hear that you’re coming back. When can you come back to Seoul so I can book your ticket.” He asks, browser already up on the airline’s website.

“Everything I need to do is done. Book me whatever flight is available for tomorrow.” You say, not seeing the point in dragging this out. 

“Oh! So soon, okay. Give me a minute so I can see what is available.” Namjoon informs you. You can hear the fast clacking of the keys as he looked for a flight. “Okay. there is a flight at five pm. Does that work?” He asks.

“Yes, that’s fine.” You say, the reality of it all hitting you.

“Okay, I’ll email you the details.” He says before hanging up. 

You sigh a shaky breath, the tears dry but the pain in your heart is still very much present. You get up from your bed and with shaky knees you make your way to your closet to start packing. You knew you were not going to be able to sleep so you might as well do something productive. 

The sun was rising as you finished packing your belongings, having accumulated a few more things than what you arrived with. You were showered and packed, sitting at your kitchen table, cold cup of coffee in front of you. Your phone vibrated and you saw that it was Mina. You gulped and coughed before you answered, hoping your voice didn’t sound hoarse.

“Hey, I heard you were coming back to Seoul. What happened?” She asks. You were not aware that news traveled that fast.

“Mina…” You say, your voice breaking at the last letter of her naame.

“What? What's wrong? Are you crying?” She asks worried, not sure as to why you’re crying.

“Mina…” You say again, voice breaking into sobs. 

She tried to placate you enough so she could understand what you were saying but it was no use. Your heart was broken and all you could do was sob into your phone, wishing this was all a nightmare.

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#jaehyun #jaehyun angst #jaehyun smut #jaehyun and you #chanyeol angst #chanyeol #chanyeol and you #jaehyun x you #jaehyun x reader #chanyeol x you #chanyeol x reader #multiAU #multi au #nct 127 #jaehyun series #nct smut #nct angst #exo angst

[whittakerjodie]

The Pocky Game ( 13th Doctor X Reader )

Prompt: Yaz, your wingman, has a list of ideas to get you together with the Doctor. The Doctor stumbles upon it and is quite eager to try a certain one Requested by: my own gay self 

A/N Surprise I’m not dead i’ve just got TWO multichapters going and this hit me out of no where. Shoutout to the ‘Thirsting for 13′ GC for helping me with ideas. 

Words: 1.6k

   It was an abnormally quiet day in the TARDIS. The companions had been sent home so the Doctor and you could do some much-needed repairs- “The doctor and you” meaning she was doing the repairs and you were handing her tools and talking into thin air. She was on her back, digging upwards into the console with her tongue between her lips. You were rambling about what might happen if a Silence and a weeping angel were in the same room together, but your attention was all dedicated to her. 

   You were far from ashamed to admit how hot her current look was. Even the dorky steampunk goggles that hid her stunning eyes from view seemed like a gift from the gods to you personally. Briefly, you wondered what would happen if you leaned over and kissed her senseless right then and there. Would she push you away? Or would she pull you in for more, forgetting about everything else she was doing? God. 

   Your phone pinged. You only ever used it to contact the companions, so you were 33% sure who it was. Yaz’s name flashed across the screen along with the text: 

How’s it going?

    It ended with at least five winking emojis, and you shook your head, chuckling. Yaz was more than aware of your crush on your fellow timelord, a result of many impromptu rants. Since the first time you’d freaked out and accidentally let slip how much you adored the way her face scrunched up and you really wished she’d stop for your sanity's sake, Yaz had become your wing-man. 

It’s going, You texted back. She’s messing with the TARDIS, not doing much else. 

Boring 

Trust me, I know. 

I’ve got some ideas i’ve put together

DON’T LAUGH very serious business going on here. 

  A few minutes later your phone pinged again and you opened the link she’d sent you. It was a google document of all things, and you raised a brow when you saw that all three companions were currently editing it. They must’ve realized you had arrived, because Ryan and Graham quickly logged off. The document contained three separate lists, all ideas for getting you and the Doctor together. 

“What're you smiling at?” 

   You yelped and jumped back, hitting your head on the console with a loud thud. You dropped your phone so you could rub at your head, groaning in pain. The Doctor tsked and cupped your head, grabbing your phone for you. 

“It’s just-” you hissed again, trying to think of an excuse. “It's.. a list of fun games?” 

“OOOO!” She cried. She flung her goggles off her head and her face scrunched up excitedly. She turned your phone over, scrolling through the document. Heart pounding, you lunged forward to rip it out of her hands. She looked offended, eyebrows raised in confusion. “What’s the ‘Pocky Game’, then?” 

   You shrugged, trying to pretend like everything was normal. Inside, however, your nerves were on fire and you needed to get away from her to offset the urge to give her the biggest smooch in the universe. 

“Not sure… I’m off to take a shower, see you soon!” Clutching your phone to your chest like she’d rediscover the companions plans, you scampered down the hall. Behind you, the Doctor curiously stood up off the floor and brought up a computer screen to begin her research. 

_______________

   When you were calmed down, you made your way to the library for some light reading. You weren’t surprised to see the Doctor on one of the couch, but your curiosity peaked when you saw that there was no book in her hand. She was sitting criss-cross, a red box in her lap. 

“Doctor?” You asked softly. She turned and your heart soared at the excited look in her eyes. Someone call the shadow proclamation, you thought to yourself I’m pretty sure it’s illegal for her to be this cute. 

   She patted the couch beside her, opening the box in your lap. The label read ‘pocky’ the foodstuff Yaz had mentioned in the document. You plopped down on the cushion, folding your hands in your lap. 

“I’ve done some research” She whispered excitedly. She opened the inner package and pulled out one of the “Pockys” . It was a long wafer stick, the majority of which was covered in chocolate. “Seems fun.” 

“The Pocky game? What do you do” 

“You get a friend, you being my friend” You hoped your wince wasn’t obvious. “And one person holds the Pocky in their mouth at the end, and the other holds on to the other end with their mouth” 

You froze. She… she wanted you to hold that in your mouth? While she held the other end of it?

“Here lets try '' She placed the chocolate end in between her lips, and your breath hitched as she cupped your face, bringing you towards it. You hesitantly took the other end into your mouth, facing warming at the closeness. You could feel her breath on your skin, soft and warm. It sent your mind into a whirlwind You didn’t want to talk with food in your mouth. Apparently the Doctor didn’t mind. 

“Both of us bite down, until it's almost gone, and whoever pulls away first loses” To showcase her point, she bit down on the snack, bringing her face significantly close to yours. You gasped in surprise, and she watched you expectantly. 

   Slowly, you took your bite, heart beating out of your chest as the two of you grew closer still. You took your turns rather quickly and you were overwhelmed by how fast you were approaching her lips. Two more bites and you could easily press your own against them, fulfilling a dream that plagued your mind for far too long. You took a bite. 

Millimeters away. She waited a moment before swiftly taking her bite, and for a moment you thought she really was going to snog you senseless. Then, your end of the pocky fell out of your mouth and she jumped back, arms shooting into the air. 

“YES! I won!” She cheered. You stared at her in disbelief, your lips still in position for a kiss. How- How could she do all that and not kiss me? 

“Rematch” You demanded. 

“Oh, I don’t know Y/N” She teased, waving another pocky in the air. “I think I’ve just begun a winning streak” 

   You groaned and pulled her hand towards you, shoving the end of the wafer into your mouth to begin the second game. No way was she getting away this time. Unfortunately for you, she’d been right in claiming that her winning streak was just beginning. She won the second game, then the third, then the fourth, and so on until you were nearly steaming from the ears. You could swear she was tugging on the pocky to make you lose. 

   The last pocky was pulled out of the package, and you were determined to seal the deal. Your bites weren’t slow anymore. The two of you quickly sawed through it. You nearly lunged forward with each bite, lips tingling as if they were magnetically attracted to hers. You needed them, badly. 

   Just when you were about to claim them, she tugged. She honest-to-god tugged. You groaned in frustration, pulling back and flopping back into the couch with your head in your  hands. She was laughing, celebrating her win. 

    You felt like punching the couch beneath you. How was she that cute and oblivious? She seemed to notice your frustration and sat closer to you. 

“Y/N?” She asked. She pried your hands from your face, peering down at you with soft eyes. “I can get another box, if you want to try again.” 

   You looked at her hands, which were still holding yours. She really was ridiculous, wasn’t she? Fuck it. 

  You used your joined hands to pull her downward, smashing your lips against hers. She grunted in surprise and for a moment she was so tense you almost cut the kiss off to apologize. But then she was towering over you, leaning in with all her weight. 

   The position was a little awkward, but being able to finally kiss her like you’d always wanted to made up for anything and everything that had ever inconvenienced you. Your lips met again and again as if every second they were separated was a second wasted. 

“Damn your competitiveness” You whispered against her lips. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?” 

She blushed and you fiddled with the sleeves of her shirt. 

“That list of games… Yaz created it so I could finally get together with you.” 

“Yeah?” She whispered excitedly. You grinned; she looked like a kid that had just opened a Christmas present. “We don’t need games for that… you can kiss me anytime you’d like” 

You blinked at her tone. It was like she was pointing out something obvious that only you didn’t know. Part of you felt irritated; she was always acting so oblivious and goofy and here she was, telling you that you could’ve been kissing on her all this time? 

“Doctor.” You grumbled. She nodded, leaning in closer. “I’d like to kiss you now.” 

Her lips were back on yours before you’d even finished the sentence.

#13th doctor x reader #13th doctor imagine #jodie whittaker #doctor who #13th doctor #doctor who imagine #wlw imagine #thirteeth doctor x reader

[auriel187]

10 Things I Hate About You (Sam Winchester edition)

A/N: This is just an exert of what I have written so far...there will be more. Also, not specifically set in the 90’s or 2020’s.

Sam (POV)

“Well, Mr. Winchester. I see we’re making our visits a weekly matter.” The Guidance Counselor said with a snide smile. She spoke almost bitterly, causing the young brunette to roll his colour shifting eyes in reply. He honestly couldn’t be bothered by her at this point. “Only so we can have these moments together.” He bit back with a forced smile. He stole a glance at her open computer. It was a widely known fact amongst the seniors that Ms.Perky spent most of her time writing her “romance” novel instead of, well... doing her actual job. “Should we get down to it, or should I turn off the lights?” He asked snarkily, adjusting his hold on his backpack. The shorter woman sent a glare his way as she reached for his discipline sheet from her desk. “Very funny, cowboy. It says here that you exposed yourself in the cafeteria.” He then huffed humorlessly. Did he even need to explain himself, it’s not like he’d get into trouble, he’s been living alone for the past four months. “I was joking with the lunch lady. It was a bratwurst.” He said not really ashamed at his actions but weirded out. It seemed more like something his brother would do.

“Well, a bratwurst. Aren’t we the optimist.” She quipped, with her eyes leveled to his crotch through his baggy blue jeans. ‘Gross’ he thought as his face contorted in disgust. She was still looking, even after a few seconds of awkward and impenetrable silence. “Next time, stick to the saddle, Texas. Scoot!” I left the room with an eye roll, I could have corrected her, told her I was from Kansas but I kinda had a feeling she didn’t give a shit and honestly, neither did I.

I walked down the hallway, towards my English class. Nice class if I was in the mood to listen, sadly that was rarely the case. Too many things distracting me about that class. Mostly that fuck boy model making some off handed comment that would get his ass flattened if people actually had the balls to stand up to him. As I made my way to class one thing I noticed is the fact that everyone is either blatantly staring or flatly avoiding looking at me. I caught the eyes of some of my schoolmates standing outside the Ms. Perky’s office, watching as they all began whispering the rumors that somehow spread at the sound of my name. I turned to glare at one of the guys staring at me. Another trust fund kid who wore their cardigan as a necktie. Those idiots who think they’re brilliant just because their dads donate to the school and they can’t pass a class no matter how simple the shit we’re learning is.

I seriously despise his school.

y/n (POV)

As much as I loved English class, I really would rather shove pins into my eyes rather than sit here with these flaming imbeciles. Being one of the six girls in the class of almost thirty didn’t help. Our teacher walked in with a look on his face that told me he was already done with all our crap. It was honestly quite funny. I take my seat in the middle of the class, Mr. Morgan chose to separate the girls from one another. It mainly had to do with the fact that they were vapid slow witted brats who didn’t read anything without a steamy sex scene and a muscle bound long haired Adonis on the cover. It was stuff like that that made me glad I was nothing like them. All these girls sitting around with their ‘I’m-not-like-other-girls’ crap just to drop their pants at the first guy to give them attention. And then there’s me, avidly avoiding contact with most people or completely annihilating the rest, what does it say about me that I’d rather have everyone hate my guts rather than change everything about myself to have friends who’d just talk shit about me when my back was turned?

“Okay class. What did y’all think of ‘The Sun Also Rises’?” Mr. Morgan began the second the bell rang. I saw one of the girls raise her hand with a fanciful flare and flick of her hair. I promise I’m not gonna internally barf if she ever does that shit again. “Oh, I loved it. He’s so romantic.” She melted at the thought, what an idiot. “Romantic, Hemingway? He was an abusive, alcoholic misogynist who squandered his inheritance following Picasso trying to nail his leftovers.” I mumbled aloud as I knocked lightly on my desk. I really needed to stop doing that. I could almost feel the eyerolls of my classmates. This’ll be good. “As opposed to a bitter, self righteous hag who has no friends?” Joey chastised me from his seat a few desks away from mine. “Pipe down, Chachi!” Mr. Morgan bit back, in my defence. I knew it was just because Joey pissed him off as much as he did myself. I slouched in my seat as I practically growled “I guess in this society being male and an asshole makes you worthy of our time.” I heard so chuckles from my classmates. Mr. Morgan just looked at me. “Can’t we read something different? What about Angie Thomas or Charlotte Bronte? Sylvia Plath?”

“What about them?” A voice echoed through the class, everyone turned their attention to the door, where two guys stood. The first one walked in and took a seat next to Joey, the other stood filling the doorway. “What did I miss?” He asked, taking a seat in the back of the class. He was wearing around four layers right now and all I could think of was how the hell has he not melted? “The whitewashed patriarchal values that dictate our education.” I said quickly, noticing the slight head tilt and small smile before I turned back around.

“Mr. Morgan, do you think it’s possible to get y/n to take her midol before she comes to class.” Joey and her douche brigade all laugh like that was the funniest shit on the planet. Mr. Morgan just deadpanned, looking Joey dead in the eye and saying “One day you’re gonna get bitch slapped, and I’m not gonna do a thing to stop it.” The class erupted in laughter and I just sunk in my seat knowing exactly what was coming. “And y/n, I wanted to thank you for your opinion. I must be tough growing up with the struggles of upper middle class suburban oppression. It must be tough. But before you storm the PTA for better...lunch meat or whatever you well off girls fuss about, ask why they can’t get books written by a black man.” He finished his rant, staring at me. Waiting for a rebuttal possibly, so I gave him one.

“Angie Thomas is a black woman. And I ask for curriculum adjustments for more diversity in the books we read. I’ll be sure to specify my wishes next time. Anything else?” I had a few chuckles at my reply, most likely due to my overabundance of sarcasm and smartass clap backs. I wanted to know who it was but before I could, Mr. Morgan kicked me out. “Yeah, go to the office. You’re pissing me off.” I groaned, grabbing my bag and heading to the door. As I walked, I felt a pinch on my ass. Before I could really think about it, my textbook was connected to the culprit’s face. I lost all sympathy when I saw Joey rubbing the side of his face and glaring at me from the ground. Mr. Morgan was laughing hysterically in the front of the class while some of my classmates were gasping for air in their seats.

@thinkinghardhardlythinking

[jamaisjoons]

heart haunting | myg

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 you’re in love with min yoongi. you are sure of this. so why does your past lover still haunt your memories? 〞established relationship au

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: yoongi x reader; slight seokjin x reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst (god, so much angst) ⋆ fluff ⋆ smut

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 17k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: yoongi being an absolute sweetheart, reader with lots of guilt and lowkey self-hatred, general sadness, emotional cheating? is that a thing?, swearing because it’s me, smut but this one is tame bois, blowjob, fingering (f. receiving), ass play (this is as kinky as it gets), slight dirty talk, cum swallowing, penetration, multiple orgasms, creampie

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: WHAT IS UP DEMONS!!!! a bitch is finally off her exam induced writing hiatus and we start with a SAD BANG and the first instalment of the mixtape series, this took so much out of me and i went through so many emotions but i hope you enjoy it!!!!

⇥ part of the mixtape series

⏤ unedited

It’s a late Tuesday night when you find yourself on your back on Yoongi’s desk in his recording studio, so aptly named the ‘Genius Lab’. Yoongi is hovering over you, his long dexterous fingers flitting over your waist as you squeal and cry out underneath him. Your melon flavoured ice-cream has long since been abandoned, melting away on the opposite corner of Yoongi’s desk as you gasp out under his small but lean figure. Briefly, you wonder how you’d gotten yourself into this situation. Just five minutes ago, Yoongi had been hunched over his desk, large headphones covering his small ears as his slender digits played with the buttons on his various music recording and producing paraphernalia.

“Oh my god, Yoongi stop! I’m going to pee” You squeal as Yoongi continues tickling your sides, his facial features above you twisted in a gummy smile as he laughs. You place your palms on his chest and attempt to push him away, slightly kicking your legs to try and get him away from you before you truly pee yourself.

“Not until you take back what you said” Yoongi says, his fingers moving even faster and you let out a choked gasp as he forcefully draws out more squeals of laughter from you.

“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry for saying Namjoon is a better rapper than you are, now please let me go. I can’t breathe” You shriek as you finally cave in. Yoongi’s hands still, but they stay where they are, rested just above your hip bones. You gasp in deeply for air as you try to catch your breath before sending him a tender smile. Yoongi responds with his own gummy one before he leans down and steals your breath once again, except this time with a soft kiss. He continues peppering kisses all over your face, dropping light pecks on your cheeks before repeatedly kissing your forehead.

“I love you” Yoongi whispers and you nod before you lean up and kiss him again.

“Mmmm, same” You reply and Yoongi presses a kiss just on the corner of your lips before pulling himself off of you. You sit up and begin fixing your clothing as Yoongi takes his seat back on his swivelling chair, his headphones now perched around his neck.

“So, what are you working on?” You ask curiously and Yoongi sends you a small smile before beckoning you closer. You hop off of his desk and walk over to him, Yoongi adjusting himself so you can sit on his lap. Once you’re seated and in a comfortable position, he places the headphones around your ears and clicks play. You hear the slow, mellow beat begin; bopping your head to the rhythm. It has the feel of an old school RnB track and you look at him in surprise causing him to shrug.

“I was taking a break from the new album and decided to play around with new beats… or I guess experiment with old school beats” Yoongi says and you nod, taking the headphones off.

“It’s good! Do you have the lyrics for it yet?” You ask curiously and he shrugs once again.

“Not sure, nothing I have right now matches the rhythm so I’ll probably play around with it more before adding lyrics or even showing it to Namjoon and Hoseok” Yoongi informs and you nod once again. Your eyes briefly glance at the clock, widening slightly.

“Fuck, how is it already half past midnight? You wanna come home with me? It’s been a while since you’ve been over” You ask as you begin clearing away the takeout you’d both had for dinner. Yoongi continues playing around with the various buttons on his piece of tech before humming noncommittally.

“I was going to stay and work for a bit longer. You know I’m dropping my new album soon” Yoongi replies and you let out a sigh. That was one of the only downsides dating a famous and award-winning solo rapper and producer. Yoongi loved his fans and he loved making music even more. You knew how important this was to him, making his music and being a rapper had always been his dream and you were respectful of that. But most likely he hadn’t been home in days, and it had been even longer since you slept in the same bed. You missed the feel of him next to you, his strong arms wrapped around you, your body close to his own. Besides… if Yoongi wasn’t next to you, you didn’t sleep very well. And if you were faced with another sleepless night, haunted by your dreams, you were sure you’d lose the final shred of your sanity.

“Yoongi, you haven’t been home in days. And those bags under your eyes tell me that you’ve barely slept too. You’ve got all the tracks ready and you’re just editing the final touches, you can come home with me” You try and argue but Yoongi shakes his head.

“I know! But it’s dropping in less than two weeks and it needs to be perfect” Yoongi retorts and your heart pounds nervously at the thought of another night without him by your sight.

“Yoongi, I miss you. I miss sleeping with you. Please, just come home” You reply, your voice small and Yoongi turns to you. He detects the slight nervousness in your voice and observes the skittish way you move about, your eyes not really reaching him as they dart around the room. He notes the uneasiness in your movements, the slightly wringing of your hands as your feet shuffle anxiously. Finally, it dawns on him exactly why you want him to come home and his face eases into a gentle expression.

“Alright, let’s go home” Yoongi says quietly, his voice laced with understanding and the slightest hint of anguish; and you nod, not meeting his eyes. You recognise the tone of his voice, it’s the tone he always uses when you get like this and you hate yourself for it. Hate yourself for using him like this, you hate that he knows you’re using him. Hate the way it makes him feel. Hate the way he’s so understanding about it. But you know it’s beyond your control. There’s nothing you can do when it gets like this.

“Thank you” You mutter and you can see him nod from the corner of your eyes, but the sympathy in them only serves to make you feel worse. You gather all your things as you wait for Yoongi to save his projects before shutting down his computer. Once he’s done, he grabs his jackets before ushering you out the door, one of his hands on the small of your back.

The two of you walk towards his car and you move over to the passenger side, getting in before buckling yourself up. The entire ride is silent and you don’t know whether it’s just your imagination, but the atmosphere is tense and sullen and it makes you feel all the worse for it. Before long, the two of you are back at your shared apartment. You quietly place your things where they’re supposed to go before getting ready for bed.

A short while later and after your extensive bed time routine, you find yourself nestled in Yoongi’s arms for the first time in almost a week. Your chest currently faces his t-shirt covered one. One of his arms is loosely wrapped around your waist, the other cradling your head; his fingers are loosely entwined in your hair, digits combing through the hair at the nape of your neck. You let out a little sigh and snuggle further into his shoulder, letting his clean cotton scent slowly lull you to sleep.

The soft amber light of dawn streams through the bedroom window you shared with your boyfriend. Scrunching your face, you let out a quiet moan of annoyance, not wanting to leave the comfort of your bed. As you begin shifting, you hear a deep groan next to you, the arm around your waist curling and pulling you tighter; flush into the broad and hard body of said boyfriend; namely one Kim Seokjin. You let out a whine of content, instinctively melting into his warm embrace. You slowly turned around so you could face him, a sleepy smile on your face as you took in the sight of your beautiful boyfriend.

His slightly tanned face was perfectly clear and you couldn’t help but pout at how effortlessly beautiful he truly was. You lift a hand and trace his features, brushing his contrastingly dark hair out of his eyes before trailing your finger down his adorable nose and over his plump, luscious lips. You continue tracing your fingers over his face, as soft as you could so you didn’t disturb him, stopping after your fingers traced the hardened defined length of his jaw.

These were your favourite moments.

The early, quiet mornings. When the sun kissed his face, making him glow as if he were an ethereal being. When he was something so otherworldly that you had to touch him, breathe him, feel him. Lest you believe this was all a dream and he wasn’t really in front of you. Lazy mornings like this filled you with peace; you loved being held in his strong, lean arms. But you loved it more when he was awake. When his hands softly trailed over your curves, his fingertips softly flitting across your skin as he peppered lazy, gentle kisses all over your shoulders and neck.

You looked at the clock behind him, a soft groan escaping you as you realised you had to be up. You’d been admiring your boyfriend for almost fifteen minutes. You lifted his strong arm off of you, fighting away from his grip. Eventually you won, Seokjin letting out a groan of protest at the loss of your warmth before flipping onto his stomach. You let out a quiet giggle at how adorable he was before dragging yourself into the bathroom. Another fifteen minutes later you found yourself in the kitchen, searching the cupboards for ingredients.

This would probably end badly.

You were an awful cook but Seokjin was still asleep and you were hungry. Besides, it wasn’t fair to continuously rely on your boyfriend for food, no matter how good he was at cooking and how much you loved his food. On the plus side, if it turned out good, it would be a wonderful surprise breakfast for your beloved other half. As you began prepping your ingredients, the first disaster struck in the form of you cutting your thumb while you were trying to slice the tofu. You let out a yelp, followed by a hiss at the pain, sticking the appendage into your mouth instinctively. Once the pain dulled to a numb throb, you wrapped it in a Band-Aid.

Your next disaster struck when you placed the rice in a pot. Sadly, you had forgotten to add the water to the vessel and a couple minutes later, the rice had caught on fire. You swore out loud as you began fanning the area, trying to get rid of the smoke. You quickly shoved the pot under the water, the pot sizzling and steaming in your attempts at putting out the fire before opening the window to air out the smoke.

“Jagiya? What’s happening?” You heard your boyfriend call from the doorway of your bedroom once the situation was under control. You turned around, your cheeks flushed in embarrassment at your boyfriend watching you in amusement.

“Don’t laugh! I tried making breakfast and well… it didn’t end well” You replied sheepishly. Seokjin simply shook his head before walking up to you, wrapping his arms around you and placing a tender kiss onto your forehead.

“Aish Jagiya, sit down, I’ll make breakfast” Seokjin said fondly, slowly pushing you towards a seat.

“How could I refuse my perfect boyfriend’s delicious cooking?” You tease, taking a seat at the kitchen island, your elbow on the counter, face in hand as you watched him work, admiring the view.

He was always beautiful, but even more so when he was like this. Completely relaxed, a smile on his face as he expertly navigated through the kitchen, chopping vegetables masterfully as he shook the pan, flipping its contents. Half an hour later, Seokjin took a seat beside you, two bowls of hot steaming rice in front of you accompanied by soy sauce seasoned tofu, vegetable omelette, radish kimchi and Korean coleslaw.

“This looks wonderful Seokjinnie” You said sweetly, smiling brightly at him as you started eating, blowing on the rice before putting them into your mouth followed by some omelette and kimchi. You let out a soft moan, the flavours dancing along your tongue, making your taste buds water.

“Is it good Jagiya?” Seokjin asked, smiling fondly at you. You nodded enthusiastically as you continued eating, moaning at the taste.

“Jagiya stop that, only I should be making you make those noises” Seokjin said with a pout and you stuck your tongue out at him, both of you finished with your meals.

“Your cooking is the new love of my life” You teased and Seokjin let out a mock yell of anger, mockingly standing up in rage.

“I will teach you who’s the love of your life” Seokjin said, advancing on you. You choked slightly before immediately standing up and darting out of his grasp, running around the living room.

Seokjin chased after you, the two of you running in circles, around the coffee table and over the couch and into your bedroom, where he finally caught you. His arms circled around your waist, pushing you onto the bed as he fell on top of you. His hands quickly made their way to your sides, fingers wriggling as he tickled you until you were crying with tears.

“Jinnie! Seokjin! Please stop, I-I-I can’t” You stuttered, squealing with laughter until he finally gave up, his arms on either side of your head, holding his body up.

“Who’s the love of your life?” Seokjin asked and you let out a grin, arms wrapping around his shoulders, your head raising to place a soft kiss on his lips.

“You are. Of course, it’s you. Only ever you” You said in between kisses, Seokjin smiling into your lips. He placed another chaste kiss on your lips before trailing his lips down your jaw and to your collarbone, pressing a soft kiss against the tender flesh.

“I love you. But you’re not mine anymore” Seokjin says cryptically and then he disappears.

“Seokjin!” You whimper, jolting awake. The rapid thumping of your heart is loud in the quiet of the night and your pyjamas stick to your sweat-soaked skin. Your skin is flushed and throat dry as you gasp for air, breathing heavy. You blink blearily, mind racing until the fog of the dream clears and you recognise your dark bedroom. You run a hand through your slightly dampened locks, looking over to the alarm you read ‘3:14am’ through blurry, tear-filled eyes.

Scenes from your dream flash through your head and your shoulders begin shaking; a snivel slips past your lips and you quickly cover your mouth, trying to stifle the broken sobs. You briefly glance over at Yoongi. He’s on his back, mouth slightly open and soft snores escaping him. He’s completely at peace and absolutely beautiful but you find no comfort in him because your heart breaks even more, knowing that despite Yoongi being beside you, you still dreamt about your ex-boyfriend. You curl back into the sheets, body arranged in the foetal position, the sheets pulled up close to your face as you quietly cry to yourself.

The dream had felt real. All too real. It was as if you could still feel Seokjin’s touch lingering on your skin despite him being a figment of your imagination. You close your eyes, imagining his beautiful face, soft delicate features and luscious pink lips pulled into a bright smile and another low sob escapes your mouth. You silently cry into the still night, body wracking with sobs as you allow the memories to simply wash over you.

You don’t know how long you’re crying for but suddenly you feel the bed shift and Yoongi’s arms wrap around you, his body moving closer to yours until your chest is pressed against his back. Yoongi’s arm tightens around your waist; but he doesn’t say anything, instead simply allowing you to cry while he repeatedly presses light kisses against your shoulder blade. The two of you stay in that position for a long while in complete silence. He doesn’t speak the entire time. He doesn’t need to. The both of you know exactly why you’re crying and you’re ashamed to say this occurrence is more common than not.

The dreams usually stay at bay when Yoongi is sleeping beside you. But it had been so long since you’ve had him by your side that you’d been dreaming about Seokjin more and more often. You’d hoped Yoongi’s presence beside you once again would quell the heart-breaking dreams. Sadly, you were too hopeful. Dreams of your past love still plagued your sleep. But despite it all, you’re glad he’s here. Nights without Yoongi were the worst, his presence and embrace calmed you down more than you thought possible. It was a selfish need. Putting him through this and yet you couldn’t help it, no matter how much you know it’s hurting him.

Yoongi holds you until your cries settle, anguished sobs steadying into soft sniffles every now and then. Once you’ve finally managed to stifle your cries, the weight of your feelings overcomes you; your eyes heavy with fatigue as you drift off into a hopefully dreamless sleep.

The next day, you awake feeling both emotionally drained and physically exhausted. Your eyelids feel strained and your eyes prickly, as if you’d rubbed gravel in them. You let out a small groan and sit up in your bed, trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes. You still, muscles locking when you remember exactly why you were so tired. Your eyes blur with tears once again but you shake your head, blinking the tears out of eyes as you throw the duvet off of you. Your feet hit the cold wooden floors and while you normally curse the sudden coolness, today you welcome it. It feels good to have the distraction, even if it was miniscule.

You enter the adjourning bathroom, leaning over the sink and inspecting your puffy, red eyes and slightly swollen face. The dark bags under your eyes seem worse but nothing is as bad as the complete defeat and emptiness that lingers in your eyes. You swallow thickly before bending over and turning the faucet, allowing cool water to gush out. You quickly splash your face with the ice-cold water, letting it wake you up and hopefully erase some of the swelling around your face, before you begin brushing your teeth.

When you’re finally done with your morning routine, you drag yourself out of the bathroom only to find your bed empty. Your eyebrows furrow and you meander through your bedroom and into your open plan living room, where Yoongi is already at the coffee pot, brewing himself his morning coffee. You stare at his fully dressed back with guilt, last night’s memories once again flashing across the back of your mind.

“Morning” Yoongi greets gruffly, voice still heavy with sleep. Next to him, on the hob, is a frying pan full of scrambled eggs and just as you take a seat at the kitchen island, the toaster pops up with fresh toast. You inadvertently compare Yoongi’s breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast to Seokjin’s feast from your dreaming, feeling worse when you miss your ex-boyfriend even more. You watch Yoongi plate up your breakfast before placing it in front of you. He takes a seat opposite you, sipping his coffee as he scrolls through his phone, undoubtedly checking his schedule for the day.

“Morning” You mutter back quietly, picking at the eggs on your plate. If you were being honest, you weren’t exactly hungry at the moment. But you know you need the food and so you begin scooping small morsels into your mouth, swallowing it down as if it’s the hardest task in the world.

“I have to be back at the studio today. I’ll probably be gone until late,” Yoongi says, locking his phone and looking at you with soft eyes.

“Um… that’s okay. I’m probably gonna stay and work from home” You reply, trying to avoid his eyes. The guilt burns at the back of your head and you simply cannot bring yourself to look at his understanding, completely empathetic eyes. It’s more than you deserve right now.

“That’s alright. Do… do you need me to come home early tonight?” Yoongi plainly asks and you wince slightly at how brazen he’s being. You quickly shake your head. Honestly, you would rather have him home earlier. You’d rather him stay at home while you both curl around each other, letting his presence put any thoughts of your ex-boyfriend far in the back of your mind. But the remorse and shame from putting him through everything weighs too heavily on your shoulders and you know if he returns earlier, your own guiltiness will drive you insane.

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asks and you nod, more certainly this time, “alright, if you’re sure. I have to go in a few minutes” Yoongi says as he finished the last of his coffee. You watch him get up and wander around your apartment, grabbing his keys and shoes before pulling his jacket off of the hook.

“I think that’s everything. I’m going to head off” Yoongi says, walking up to you and pressing his lips against your temple in a soft kiss. A small part of you melts into the action but the bigger part of you reaches out to grab him just as he’s about to pull away.

“Yoongi… I’m sorry about last night” You whisper quietly, voice low as your fist tightens around his shirt. Yoongi sighs from beside you, his much larger palm untangling your hand from his shirt, only to entwine his fingers with yours. He pulls your hand up to his lips and presses a soft kiss against the tips of your fingers.

“Don’t be. I love you” Yoongi says and your eyes clench at the utterly sympathetic tone, his words simply fanning your guilt.

“I… same” You respond, voice just barely audible. He presses another kiss to the top of your head before exiting your apartment, leaving you completely alone.

Some days are better than others.

On these days, Seokjin barely enters your mind. In fact, he’s so far out that you don’t even remember your first love and consequently your first heartbreak. On the good days you barely remember what it was like to be with Seokjin or how much his absence in your life leaves you completely heartbroken and empty. These are the days when you’re consumed by Yoongi. When he is all that is on your mind. With his paler skin, small lean frame, small pretty features and gummy smile. These days are filled with his deep voice, sarcastic comments sprinkled with words of affection and his tell-tale clean cotton scent. These are some of your favourite days because these are the days when you live in the present, focused more on your future with your boyfriend rather than dwelling on your past memories of lost love.

Today is one of those good days. Yoongi had released his new album a month ago and had been met with nothing but positive reviews. He had topped the charts and beaten the record for most number 1s previously set by Namjoon with the latter’s latest album ‘mono’. Yoongi was slowly riding out the records, collecting award after award for the masterpiece that was ‘Agust D 2’. However, that also meant that Yoongi was now on a break before he undoubtedly went back to producing, and thus you were able to spend more time with your boyfriend.

Hence, you and Yoongi find yourselves sitting on the grass in a small park in Seoul, overlooking a group of kids, who looked no older than nine, playing baseball under the supervision of their parents and guardians. Granted, the two of you weren’t the only onlookers. Small groups of both adults and children, all of who had decided to take advantage of the good weather, were watching the children run around chasing the ball. You and Yoongi sat just slightly to the side, having an unobstructed, front row view of the game. You watched as a little girl ran in front of the pitcher, a helmet a little too big for her situated on her head.

“Gods, as much as I’m enjoying the show, this is giving me flashbacks to phys. ed. in high school” You groaned, shuddering slightly at the memory. Yoongi laughed from beside you as he snacked on some dried squid. You watched the girl swing her bat, the both of your joining the cheers of the onlookers when she hit the ball.

“It couldn’t have been that bad” Yoongi says and you turn to him, snorting in response. You grabbed the box of Pepero from his side before shoving a chocolate covered biscuit stick into your mouth.

“No, it wasn’t bad. It was god awful. They once tried to make me play basketball and you know what happened? Within two minutes I’d somehow managed to sprain my fingers and couldn’t write properly for the next week” You retort, Yoongi chuckling at you.

“I can imagine you doing that. I wasn’t all that into phys. ed. either but if there was one sport I loved playing it was basketball. In fact, I was on the team, I played shooting guard” Yoongi says proudly and you stare at him in mock surprise.

“Really? I had no idea. It’s not like your stage name Suga comes from that position or anything” You reply back sarcastically, Yoongi lets out a little pout before poking your side causing you to yelp in surprise.

“There’s no need for unnecessary sarcasm” Yoongi replies and you gape at him before letting out a bemused cackle.

“This coming from the king of sarcastic comments? Real rich babe” You snicker causing Yoongi to shrug, an easy smile on his face as he watched the children run around as they continued their baseball game.

“Why does it seem like you want to go join them?” You ask, tilting your head to the side, a small smile on your face at the easiness in your boyfriend’s posture.

“I don’t” Yoongi says suddenly, a small blush on his face as he ducks his head. Your eyes widen slightly in disbelief before you let out a little guffaw. He did want to join the children. You suddenly paused, an image of an older Yoongi popping in your head, surrounded by two children, who looked like a suspicious blend of the two of you, playing basketball. You quickly shook your head, a light blush dusting your cheeks.

“Oh, but you do! I can’t tell Yoongles. You wanna go play baseball with the little kids. That’s so cute” You gush and Yoongi very easily hears the slight teasing inclination to your voice. He lets out a little huff, cocking his head to the side, small lips pulling into a pout.

“Don’t call me Yoongles” Yoongi huffs making you giggle at his childlike actions. You shift closer towards him, until your sides are almost touching. Resting your head on his shoulder, you look up at him with a small smile before pressing a soft kiss to his lower jaw. Yoongi’s shoulders relax slightly, his hand automatically wrapping around your waist.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute” Yoongi mumbles before leaning over, taking your lips between his. You smile into his kiss, your lips moving slowly, softly over each other’s in a gentle kiss.

“Ew!” Comes a random high-pitched voice and you laugh into the kiss before pulling away.

“Stupid cockblocking kids” Yoongi grumbles under his breath with a small tut. You raise your eyebrow in amusement at your boyfriend, wondering how he shifts from pouty child to ornery old man in the space of two seconds.

“We are in public and there are kids are around us babe” You reply, Yoongi tutting once again.

Suddenly, Yoongi rocks back until he’s completely laying on the picnic blanket. He pulls you down with him, a startled yelp escaping you. You look up at him from your position, your head is laying in the crook between his shoulder and arm, Yoongi’s chest directly in your line of sight. He’s got one arm wrapped around your shoulder loosely, the other cushioning his head. You bite your lip as Yoongi closes his eyes, drawing your body closer to him.

“Well if we can’t kiss, then we may as well take a nap yes?” Yoongi suggests and you glance around nervously.

“Yoongi, what if someone tries to rob us?” You ask and Yoongi sighs.

“We only have our phones, unless they want to steal snacks. In which case they can go for it. But we can put our phones between our bodies,” Yoongi says, slipping both his and your phones between the two of you, “happy?” Yoongi asks and you nod with a sigh.

“I can’t believe you want to take a nap, it’s like 4pm” You tut making Yoongi scoff.

“There is no specific time to nap you know. You can take a nap whenever you want. There’s no law to stop you” Yoongi replies smartly, causing you to huff.

“I don’t know why I even bother. Alright old man, let’s nap” You tease, snuggling in closer to him. Yoongi’s hand moves towards your lower back and all of a sudden, he pinches, causing you to jerk away.

“Ow! What was that for?” You hiss in indignation. Yoongi cracks one eye open, eyebrow raising in a fashion that denotes ‘are you really asking that?’.

“If I wasn’t so sleepy, I’d take us both home and show you exactly who you’re calling old. But, I’ll settle for showing you later tonight” Yoongi says, voice gruff. Your face heats up immediately, your face burying into his chest to hide your embarrassment.

“God, I hate you sometimes” You reply, voice muffled by his chest, but there’s no real venom in your tone, only fond exasperation, causing Yoongi to reply with a noncommittal hum.

You realise that’s the last response you’re going to get from your boyfriend. You move your head slightly, allowing yourself to look up at his face from your position on his shoulder. His eyes are closed, small eyelashes resting on his cheeks. His lips are slightly pouty and while small, look incredibly delicate and soft; you have the sudden urge to lean over and kiss him. Instead, you shift again, laying your head more onto his chest as you try to get comfortable, moulding yourself into his side.

Closing your eyes, you absentmindedly doodle on his chest, the light breeze wafting against you every now and then as his calming scent of clean cotton fills your sense. You close your eyes with a smile, relishing in the calmness of the atmosphere, even with the sounds of children playing, people wandering about and dogs barking.

Everything is good.

These are the days you love the most. The good days. The better days. When you are at peace, with the boyfriend you love so much napping by your side. With the stillness of the breeze and the feel of the warm sunshine on your skin. When thoughts of your ex-boyfriend are so far out of your mind, you don’t even remember that he had broken your heart or that you were scarred very deeply by the loss of your first love.

“Yoongi, oh my gosh, how much further?” You whine childishly, a small pout on your face as you stare at the back of your boyfriend’s figure.

“It’s just a little further” Yoongi huffs, more than likely getting tired of your whining. You scrunch your nose and stick your tongue out to the back of his head. Another few minutes later, you and Yoongi arrive at an almost secluded pier.

The sun is low in the day but still bright enough, highlighting the beautiful blue hues of the ocean, the sun rays causing the water to sparkle with every small wave. You look around, spotting people looking almost as small as ants further down the beach. There’re only a few people around the pier, most sitting in solitude either looking out at the sea or with fishing rods. Your eyes narrow slightly, the place looks somewhat familiar to you, but you aren’t entirely sure why. You shrug it off, most beaches look the same and that was probably where you were getting your déjà vu from.

“I like to come fishing here. It’s more secluded, people leave you alone and I don’t need to worry about fans coming up to me because the only people who come here are older men that want to fish in peace” Yoongi explains and you nod, placing your stuff down at one end of the large pier. Yoongi begins pulling out his fishing rod and starts setting up as you help him.

You breathe in deeply, smiling softly at the sea salted breeze. It’s a refreshing get away and as the sun warms your skin, you let out a wide smile. It’s been so long since you’ve been to the beach that you’d forgotten just how much you’d loved it. You watch Yoongi set himself up before sitting down at the pier. You look over the wooden boards, eyes lighting up with excitement as you spot small movements under the clear water. You turn back to your boyfriend who looks more than ready to fish. He’s dressed in a long sleeve black t-shirt with matching black jeans and a cute beige woven sun hat resting upon his head. He’s wearing nothing that looks like beach wear and a small part of you wonders how he’s not overheating.

“Gods you’re such an old man” You jeer taking in the adorable, excited look on his face as he throws his line into the water. Yoongi’s head snaps towards you, slightly tilted up so he can see you tower above him. His eyes are slightly scrunched, avoiding the bright sunlight and you have to fight the urge to gush over how adorably cute he looks.

“Stop calling me old! You’re like two years younger than me” Yoongi grunts out before returning to fishing. You let out a tinkling laugh, before shrugging and taking a seat beside him, legs dangling over the edge.

“Maybe, but I’m not the one who acts like a grumpy old grandpa” You tease, Yoongi nudging you slightly with your shoulder in response, causing you to let out another giggle.

You playfully dangle your legs over the side, more than happy to simply take in the sights while Yoongi fishes, the two of you sitting in easy silence, speaking every now and then. That was the beauty of Yoongi. You didn’t have to always speak when on dates; the both of you were more than happy to just sit in silence and enjoy each other’s presence. There was no awkward small talk or forced conversations. You more than enjoyed days like this, just sitting under the sun and basking in each other’s presence.

You spot a seagull flying overhead and tilt your head, following the bird with an easy smile. You watch as it flies off, disappearing somewhere behind you. Just as you’re about to turn back to Yoongi however, you spot a flash of a familiar figure from the corner of your eye. Your blood freezes, eyes wide and heart thumping. You quickly turn around, and catch the back of his wide shoulders and narrow back before he vanishes into thin air. You take in a shaky breath of air, eyes drooping slightly. Your heart quickens and your palms become sweaty and all of a sudden you can remember exactly why this place feels familiar.

You’ve been here.

More specifically, you used to come here with Seokjin. You’re at the secluded pier in Daecheon Beach, which consequently was also Seokjin’s favourite fishing spot. Suddenly, he’s all you can think about. You turn back, facing the water once again as you try to shake the thought of him out of your mind. You shuffle slightly away from Yoongi, your body trembling as the force of your feelings return. Your fists clench, nails pressing into your palms as you try and bring yourself back under control. You cannot do this. Not now, not when you and Yoongi were enjoying yourselves.

Yoongi.

You turn to him, watching the way he sits relaxed as he continues to fish. The silence between the two of you that had once been calming and even appreciated was now tainted. Because now, without Yoongi’s voice to distract you, you can feel yourself slowly receding into your memory. Now everything feels different. And you hate yourself for it, but you can’t help but compare Yoongi to Seokjin. It’s not fair. You know it’s not.

But now all you can think about is how Seokjin used to bring you here, and how you’d sit side by side as he’d crack jokes or make awful puns that resulted in his squeaky windshield wiper laugh and consequently your own laugh from how happy and infectious his laugh was. Suddenly, all you can think about is how different Yoongi and Seokjin are. Yoongi, with his small build and pretty gummy smile compared to Seokjin’s tall, wide shouldered build and toothy smile. Yoongi, who likes to sit in silence and fish, enjoying each other’s presence compared to Seokjin who hated the silence and preferred filling it up with his trademark dad jokes. And it’s not fair. It’s not fair that you have an amazing, next to perfect boyfriend and yet all you can do is think about the boyfriend who is no longer yours. Who could never be yours again.

“____? You okay?” Yoongi asks and you snap your head towards him. Yoongi frowns at you, taking in your quivering lip and glazed over eyes.

“I’m fine” You reply, but your voice is quiet and croaky. Yoongi’s eyes narrow, wondering just what could have happened in the space of a few minutes while he was more focused on fishing. He can’t think of a single reason for you to have been set off. Well, he can. But as far as he’s aware, there’s no reason for you to have been set off. Nothing here could possibly have reminded you of him.

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asks wearily and you nod quickly, once again trying to shake thoughts of Seokjin out of your mind.

“Alright- oh! Oh, I caught something. Do you want to help reel it in?” Yoongi asks and you nod once again, hoping it will take your mind off of things. But as he moves to let you grab the rod, you hesitate.

Suddenly, you remember the way you and Seokjin would reel in any fish caught together. You remember the way he’d call you ‘Jagi’ and whine if you lost the fish or the way he’d get excited and kiss you every time you successfully caught something. You don’t mean to compare them, but you simply can’t help it because the situation is all too familiar to you. You don’t say anything, you don’t even bring up Seokjin’s name. But Yoongi senses the shift in your mood; he can feel it in the way you hesitate. He knows.

You can see it in the way his eyes drop and his gaze shifts, the blank expression of stoicism once again on his face. But his eyes. His eyes betray him and once again you can see the inkling of torment in his eyes, masked by the look of recognition and sympathy. Once again, the guilt washes over you and you hate yourself. Hate yourself for being unable to move on, hate yourself for putting Yoongi through this, hate yourself for needing him and loving him despite your heart and mind aching for someone else.

“Something’s wrong. Tell me” Yoongi says, voice plain and nonchalant but his eyes continue to betray him. Your throat feels dry, almost as if you’d stood in the Sahara desert with your mouth wide open, allowing the hot sun rays to completely dry out your throat. You swallow thickly and look away. Yoongi waits for you to answer, and a part of you wants to sit in silence and refuse to answer him. Because admitting it out loud means that he knows, knows without any shadow of a doubt, that while you were beside him, you were thinking of someone else. That you were emotionally betraying him. But Yoongi waits, he sits in stoic silence and simply waits for you to say something and you know you have no choice but to say the words out loud.

“I- We used to come here together. Me and him. This was his favourite fishing spot” You finally say, voice quiet and full of anguish because you know that your words are going to hurt him and you can’t bear the thought of hurting Yoongi; sweet innocent Yoongi who never asked for this. Who knows that despite how much you love him, you yearn for someone else, someone you can’t have. The same Yoongi who has shown you nothing but love and understand. And you hate yourself even more. Hate how you hurt him, break his heart over and over again and yet need him, for he’s the last bit of solace you have in this world.

You watch Yoongi grit his teeth, his jaw clenching as he stares off into the distant ocean. His rod is placed beside him, the fish he had caught long since gone. You bite your lip, willing him to say something, anything. But he simply sits there, fist clenched with grit teeth, jaw twitching every now and then and you can’t help but want to reach out and hold him, try and placate him somehow. But you don’t have the right. You know you don’t. Any other time, yes. But not right now, not when you’re hurting him like this. A couple moments pass and then he relaxes, breathing out heavily.

“Do you want to leave?” Yoongi asks and once again you hesitate. Yes. Of course, you want to leave. This place, when you had first entered, had been fun and light and you’d enjoyed every single moment with Yoongi. But now, now it was tainted and you hated yourself and your brain for ruining this day. Today was supposed to be fun. You and Yoongi were supposed to sit and enjoy a few hours of fishing before eating the picnic the two of you had packed. But now everything is tainted, painted red with your memories of Seokjin and you want to leave.

But that’s exactly why you hesitate. You can see how hurt Yoongi is. You can see the slight defeat in his body language. See the slight slump of his shoulder. You wonder what’s going through that enigmatic mind of his. Whether he’s wondering if you’ll ever be rid of the ghost of your ex-boyfriend, wondering if you’ll ever be able to simply just be with him. These are the reasons you hesitate because you know you can’t keep doing this. You know you can’t keep betraying him like this. You can’t keep the past from haunting your future.

“Uh- no. No. let’s stay. I want to stay. That was all in the past. You’re the one I’m with now. You’re the one I want to be here with” You reply, swallowing thickly. Yoongi’s face lightens up slightly, his body perking up as he looks at you in perplexity. You hate that. Hate his sudden disbelief and surprise. As if choosing him over Seokjin was completely new to him, completely surprising and unthinkable. You hate that you did that to him.

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asks, voice quiet, as if expecting you to change your mind.

“I’m sure. I want to be here. With you. Just you” You reply and Yoongi nods, a small smile on his face. You scooch closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder as he continues to fish.

The two of you sit like that for what feels like hours. Realistically it’s only been an hour, maybe less. But the tension is thick and it only aides in making the time pass by slowly. The two of you sit in silence once again. Every now and then you open your mouth to say something, but you don’t know what to say. There’s nothing really you can say. You want to apologise but really, what do the words means when your actions speak much louder. There’s so much at the tip of your tongue but it’s all meaningless because you know what you’ve done, you know how you’ve made him feel. And suddenly, nothing is enough. There aren’t enough words in any language to make things better. It’s getting later in the day, the time passing slowly as the silence mocks the two of you and soon the sun will begin setting. You finally bring up the courage to touch Yoongi on the shoulder, pushing his rod to the side.

“The sun’s going to set soon, do you wanna watch it with me?” You ask nervously. Your eyes are slightly downcast and you pull your lip between your teeth, worrying it. You can feel Yoongi’s calculating gaze on you and briefly wonder whether he’s going to reject it. Reject you. You wouldn’t fault him if he does.

He doesn’t.

Yoongi puts down his rod, placing it beside him before nodding. You scooch closer towards him, practically pressing your side against him as you once again rest your head on his shoulder. Yoongi turns his head and kisses your temple before pulling your hand into his, entwining your finger’s together. He places your hand in his lap before leaning his head on top of yours. The two of you sit in silence once again, Yoongi absentmindedly playing with your fingers. This time, the silence isn’t as tense, but back to being easy and companionable.

Briefly, you think you see the same figure walk past again but this time, you ignore it. This time, you curl further into Yoongi’s embrace, turning your head and placing a light kiss on his neck. The time, you choose to enjoy the sunset with Yoongi. Choose to enjoy the way he feels against your body, the way he smells, the way he plays with your small fingers with his larger, slender ones. This time, you choose Yoongi.

Today, you think, is a wonderful day. Lately, Yoongi has been busy, he’s an award-winning solo rapper and music producer after all. One of the best producers in his company. Hence despite his latest album just being released two months ago, he’s already busy helping other artists in the company produce their albums. As a result, his work load has almost tripled and it means you haven’t been able to spend as much time with your boyfriend. But today, is one of his very few day offs. Consequently, today is also a day you both go out on a date.

Yoongi has managed to rent out a small music shop in an even smaller street just on the outskirts of Seoul. He’s currently sat beside you, expert fingers dancing across the keys of the piano. You’re leaning against the polished wood of the instrument, watching the way he loses himself in the sound and rhythm of the song. It’s a song you know well, one full of emotion. He doesn’t need to rap the lyrics, you know the song, ‘First Love’, like the back of your hand. But the way he plays, the deep sounds of the piano and hauntingly chilling and less upbeat without the extra background instruments and music.

Somehow, you fall in love with him all over again. The way he closes his eyes and plays, the way his body is relaxed, the way he loves music. It all resonates deep within your heart and just as Yoongi loses himself in his music, you lose yourself in Yoongi. You love him. You more in love with him than you’ve ever been before. You know this, know it as well as you know the back of your hand.

You continue staring at him, just watching the way he plays. For the briefest moment, you remember a similar memory, locked far away in your head. A memory of Seokjin playing the guitar for you, the way he’d strum the strings and sing in that beautiful voice of his. But just as quickly as the memory enters your mind, it fades away. You’re too lost in Yoongi, too fixated on the man you’re currently in love with. In fact, you barely even register the memory as painful, instead remembering it with fondness before once again focusing on the piano player in front of you.

The two of you spend another hour or so in the record shop, letting Yoongi attempt to teach you how to play. It doesn’t work very well, you’ve never been good with instruments and that wouldn’t change in one single day. You do applaud Yoongi’s patience with you throughout the entire day however. Sadly, Yoongi has to go back to the studio and with a long kiss, the two of you part.

You practically skip the entire way home; your smile so wide people probably assume you’re a bit crazy. But you don’t care. You love Yoongi. You’re in love with Min Yoongi and you’d willingly shout it to the world at this point. A small, very minuscule part of you feels guilty. Guilty that you’re forgetting Seokjin and moving on. But the larger part of you doesn’t care. The larger part of you is ready to move on because that very same part is madly, head over heels in love with Yoongi.

However, it all comes crashing down the minute you enter your apartment.

Some days are good.

Some days are worse.

Today simply happens to be the worst of the worst.

Because for some reason Seokjin is standing in front of you. It’s impossible, you know it is. But there he is, looking as handsome as he did the day he disappeared from your life once and for all. Your eyes are impossibly wide, gaze trailing over him with disbelief. It’s impossible. You’re going crazy. Perhaps this is all because you feel guilty, but there he is. Your keys drop to the floor and your body quivers; you can feel yourself on the cusp of breaking down, large tears threatening to spill.

“H-how? What are you doing here? How, how are you here? You can’t be here” You stammer out, but he just looks at you from his position by the living room window, sending you a furtive glance.

“You know exactly how I’m here” Seokjin says cryptically and his voice sounds foreign to you, it’s his but it’s not. It’s been so long since you’ve heard it.

“I don’t… I don’t understand” You reply and Seokjin shrugs, a small secretive smile on his face. He glances at the keys on the floor and you quickly bend over, picking them up.

“You never changed the locks, did you? Not that you really needed to. I’m the one that left after all. Disappeared from your life in a flash” Seokjin chuckles, his tone is completely brazen and it’s like you’re reliving it all over again. The way he was in your life one minute and then gone the next.

“I thought you’d have moved out. The place looks nice, different but nice I guess” He comments as he looks around and you want to go up to him, touch him. But you can’t, and you know exactly why you can’t. So instead, you stand frozen in the entry of your doorway, gaping at him with tear filled eyes.

“I almost did” you confess, “move out that is. But there are too many memories here, both good and bad” You breathe out. This was the same apartment you and Seokjin had moved into back when the two of you had started university. The two of you had always talked about moving out once you graduated. Alas, that had never happened. You were still here. In the same small apartment from when you and Seokjin were still together. It was almost like a symbol, just how you were stuck in this apartment, your heart and mind were stuck in the past, lost between Seokjin and Yoongi.

“Yeah. I know. Do you love him? You know, the new guy” Seokjin asks, his head cocking to the side slightly.

“I do. A lot” You reply tersely and Seokjin laughs, you heart griping at the familiar squeaky laugh. But it’s not the same. It’s somewhat distorted. You remember it. But not very well. It’s been so long.

“More than you loved me?” Seokjin asks, eyes sparkling with mirth, a small smirk on his face. You hate him. Hate him for driving you this crazy.

“No” it’s a simple answer, you don’t even need to hesitate or think it through, “I could never love someone the way I loved you. But I do love him. Different to the way I loved you, but just as much” You follow up, voice shaky. Seokjin laughs once again and before he levels his gaze at you, a dark smirk on his face.

“Do you fuck him in our bed?” He asks and a shiver runs up your spine. You close your eyes and shake your head.

“I got rid of the bed. I… I couldn’t keep it any longer” You reply, unsure why you did. This is just your mind taunting you. Your guilt manifesting as your deepest, darkest fears. You feel like you’re forgetting him. You don’t want to.

“Hmm. I wouldn’t blame you if you did. You moved on, what? A year and a half after I left? And now you’re slowly forgetting me” Seokjin says simply, his tone slightly accusatory.

“No! No. I could never forget you” You reply earnestly, arguing more with yourself than anything but Seokjin shakes his head.

“You forgot me today. And that day when you went fishing. You’re slowly getting over me. Slowly forgetting me. What happens then? Will I cease to exist in your memory? Will you ever remember me? Or will I become a faceless person in your past?” Seokjin asks, head cocked to the side and his words cause your heart to ache, your bones to tremor and the tears to finally spill.

“I’ll remember. I’ll always remember. I could never forget. I remember the smell of your cologne. I remember the way you used to sing in the shower and the way you’d bring me breakfast in the morning. I remember your birthday and your brother’s favourite song. I remember the way you’d hold me at night and the sound of your breathing the nights I’d lay awake next to you, watching you sleep. I remember. I remember everything. I remember you. More than I want to. I could never forget you but I can’t keep loving you. I can’t keep living in the past. So please… just let me move on” You cry, voice trembling. Seokjin approaches you slowly and you shake your head, letting the tears roll down your cheeks.

“I need you to leave. Please just leave. I can’t do this anymore. You can’t be here” You gasp out, breath in staggered shudders as you slowly find it harder and harder to breathe. He’s so close now. Close enough to touch. Close enough to reach out to. But you don’t. Instead, he just walks past you before disappearing. As soon as he vanishes you let out a small wail, dropping to your knees before sobbing, crying out for everything you loved and lost. You cry for the unfairness of it all. You cry for Yoongi, who doesn’t deserve any of this. You cry for Seokjin because you miss him, more and more each day. But most importantly, you cry for yourself; because no matter what you know his memory will always haunt you. You cry because you know no matter what, you’ll always love him.

It’s been almost two weeks since the debacle that you were now calling The Incident™. You haven’t told Yoongi anything, you absolutely refuse to. Things were slowly getting better and you didn’t want the slight setback to ruin anything. You and Yoongi were doing good and he was much happier now. He no longer looked at you sadly every now and then, he no longer gave you the knowing look. Which was exactly why instead of speaking to him about The Incident™ you hide it for him, instead bottling up all your emotions.

So, you pretend everything is fine. Pretend that everything is good and that you’ve been coping better. You pretend that your emotions aren’t eating you alive inside. You pretend that you don’t miss Seokjin and pretend that there aren’t times when you wish Yoongi was Seokjin. You pretend that you don’t sometimes imagine Seokjin holding you at night instead of Yoongi or that it isn’t Yoongi you’re sleeping next to but Seokjin. You pretend and pretend and pretend. It’s awful and you know it is. Which is why you pretend that your guilt isn’t slowly consuming you from the inside out. It’s a vicious cycle.

Of course, there are good days and bad days. But lately, it seems like it’s all bad. There are brief moments you forget about Seokjin and don’t have to pretend. But those moments are few and far between. Lately all you can think about is Seokjin and your emotions are slowly killing you, breaking you apart. Some days it’s easier because Yoongi is working and you can go days without seeing him and you can live in your memories of Seokjin. Others, Yoongi is beside you and you have to pretend.

Today is another day you’re pretending.

Today is one of the few days Yoongi has off and as a result, the two of you find yourself nestled in bed, your laptop between the two of you as you sit and watch films on Netflix. Your head is currently laying on Yoongi’s chest, his hand rested on your back as it slowly traces up and down your body. You squirm against him, the movement of his fingers only serving to turn you on.

It’s been just over a good two weeks since you slept with Yoongi. Your body was craving sex at this point, but with how much you’d been pretending lately, you didn’t want to take any chances and so you’d shied away from Yoongi’s advances. Thankfully, for one week, you had been on your period. But now you had no excuses other than not wanting to. Which was a lie. You wanted sex. Your body craved it. But again, you didn’t want to take any chances.

But as Yoongi’s hand move up and down your back, your eyes flutter shut and you breathe in deeply, heat pooling in your belly. Your resolve is slowly vanishing with each passing second. Yoongi’s hand dips into the waistband of your panties, large palm resting on your ass. The cold of his hand against the heat of your ass has you throwing all caution to the wind. You shift from your position on his chest, stretching over and drawing his lips in for a kiss.

Yoongi quickly sits up, pulling you closer to him by your neck as he licks your lips, deepening the kiss. You moan into his mouth, your tongues lashing against each other. Yoongi’s hands slip into your hair from the nape of your neck, fingers clutching your locks and tugging you deeper into the kiss. You gasp slightly at the pain before Yoongi breaks the kiss. He tugs at your hair once again, this time pulling your head back and exposing your neck. He runs his nose along the flesh, pressing bruising kisses along the column of your throat.

Yoongi pulls away from his mission to litter the supple skin of your neck with hickeys, his hands moving to the hem of your t-shirt before pulling it off and leaving you in nothing but your panties. Similarly, you reach over and pull his t-shirt off of him, revealing pale smooth skin. You push Yoongi over, crawling on top of him so that you’re straddling his body. His hands move to your hips, fingers digging into the skin as you trail your lips down his neck and to his nipples. Your tongue slides out to swirl around his dark hardened bud, drawing out a small whine from your boyfriend.

Soon you reach the waistband of his boxers, kissing the band before slowly peeling them off of his skin, leaving him completely naked. You lick your lips at the sight, his cock standing completely erect, twitching every now and then. Small black hairs are neatly trimmed and his balls are round and so full. You reach over, a small hand wrapping around the slight curve of his shaft. You’d forgotten how long and veiny he was, with a pretty mushroom cockhead. You slowly pump him up and down, in slight awe of how hard he is.

Yoongi moves so that he’s kneeling, hands tangling into your hair as you stay bent over on all fours. You kiss the tip of his erect cock, slowly opening your mouth to suck at the tip of his dick. Your lips wrap around his head, slowly suckling the tip into your mouth as precum drips out and coats your tongue in the slightly salty substance. Yoongi lets out a little moan, thrusting into your mouth slightly as he urges you to take him deeper into your mouth. You willingly swallow more of him, tongue swirling around the engorged head, groaning at the taste of his precum.

You began bobbing your head, taking more and more of his hard length into your mouth. Yoongi began thrusting his hips gradually, forcing more and more of his cock into your mouth until you took in his whole shaft, your nose pressed against his pelvic bone. He watched with rapt fascination as you stared at him through half lidded eyes, his fists tightening around your head and pulling your head down harder, your tongue circling around the bell of his penis before licking the underside. Yoongi let out a small whine at the action and you smile from under him, enjoying the pleasure you wrought on his body. Yoongi thrusts harder into your mouth, losing himself in the feel of your lips wrapped tightly around his shaft, letting out a small groan whenever you flick your tongue against his slit, licking the precum.

“Fuck it’s been so long since I’ve had your mouth on me sweetheart. Do you like this? Do you like the way I taste?” Yoongi asks and you nod from under him. Yoongi was salty, slightly bitter and deliciously thick. A combination that drove you wild. You loved to taste him, loved when he came in your mouth so you could swallow him down. He tastes different to Seokjin, who was sharper and sweeter. You metaphorically bite your tongue, hating that even now you were still thinking about Seokjin.

You try to focus more on sucking Yoongi’s cock, licking at the underside before swirling around his cock as you bob up and down. You’re slowly coating his cock in your saliva, the mixture of your spit and his precum turning him into a sticky mess. While you continue sucking Yoongi off, his hand moves down your back to the flesh globes of your ass, hands brushing against your soft skin before trailing to your dripping panty covered slit. He pushes your underwear to the side before tracing a finger up and down your wet folds, making your eyes roll back into your skull at the sudden simulation.

Yoongi smirks from above you, slowly sliding a digit into your wet, slick heat until it is knuckle deep. You mewl around his dick, shaking your ass slightly as you silently beg for more, the vibrations around his cock driving him wilder and causing him to increase the speed of his thrusting hips as he begins fucking your mouth. Yoongi slips another finger into your honeyed hole, pumping both his digits in and out, twisting and curling them. You let out a chorus of mewls as he brushes against that soft spot inside your pussy, cunt pulsing around his fingers as you continue gushing your arousal around his hand.

Your teeth graze against the base of his shaft, his cockhead nestled down your throat as you try not to gag and choke. Tingles of pleasure run along your spine and down to your toes as Yoongi continues his ministrations. You move one of your hands to his balls, palming and squeezing the sensitive organs. Yoongi snarls at the action, snapping his hip and forcing himself further down your throat. You struggle to swallow around him, instead gagging and coating his dick in another layer of spit. Yoongi pulls out one of his fingers from your cunt, moving it up to your asshole before tracing the puckered rim. You gasp against his dick as he slowly pushes the slick covered digit into your ass, hips squirming at the somewhat foreign feeling.

You stiffen as he slowly thrusts one finger into your ass, the other buried deep into your pussy, wiggling slowly against your sweet spot. You slump slightly against Yoongi, making him increase the pace of his fingers and the speed of his thrusts. You suck at him harder, bucking and trashing your hips against his fingers as you feel the coil in your abdomen heat up and clench. You’re almost at the cusp of your orgasm, dangling just of the edge. You feel Yoongi’s balls tighten in the palm of your hand, rolling and massaging them in your hands as you try to make him cum quicker, your own end nearing.

"Oh, oh fuck, I'm cumming" Yoongi groans, gritting his teeth as he continued pumping his fingers into you. Suddenly, he removes his finger from your pussy, instead pushing it into your ass, stretching out the tight passage. You whimper at the slight stinging of the stretch, arching your back as you’re suddenly pushed over the edge. Your pussy clamps almost painfully around nothing, clenching and unclenching as you gush, moaning and mewling against his throbbing cock while you cum. The feeling of your wet mouth and vibration of your groans pushes Yoongi off of the edge; he thrusts his hip as hard as he can, forcing himself down your thrust before cumming. You feel his cum shoot down the back of your throat, swallowing the warm liquid eagerly and making sure you don’t waste a single drop.

“Fuck. I love you” Yoongi muttered, pulling you off of his dick before kissing you, tasting himself.

You kiss him back fervently, your fingers burying into his thick locks as you tug him closer. Yoongi flips the two of you over before pushing you down onto the bed. He pulls your underwear down your hips and off of your legs before brushing his hands up your long limbs, until they were resting on your thighs. He slowly moves his palms until his fingers are spread over the soft inner flesh of your thighs before slowly spreading you open. He watches the way your dripping petals slowly open up for him, moaning as he stares at your soaked cunt. Yoongi slowly leans over, pressing a kiss against your clit. You whine, shaking your head before pulling him up until he’s hovering over you.

“I need you in me” You breathe out. One of Yoongi’s hands moves to cup your pussy, thumb brushing against your clit. You shudder under him, throwing your head to the side as he bends over, kissing your neck.

“I want to eat you out” Yoongi whines and you shake your head, fingers digging into his shoulders.

“I need you in me. Please” You practically beg. Yoongi groans at the neediness in your voice before nodding. He shifts above you, moving so his hands cage you between both his arms. His hips move slightly and you buck when the tip of his cock brushes against your pulsing cunt. You lean up, drawing him in for a kiss as he slowly slides his cock into your waiting pussy. You moan as he slowly enters you, his girth stretching your pussy out. Yoongi breaks off your kiss with a hiss, burying his face into the crook of your neck at the feel of your cunt walls clamping around his cockhead. He continues pushing more and more into you, your thighs spreading, knees bending as you accept more and more of him into you.

Finally, when he’s completely embedded deep into your pussy, his cockhead kissing your cervix, he stills. You look up at him through hazy, half lidded eyes, completely lost in the way he opens you up. Yoongi stills for a couple moments, allowing you to get used to his size before pulling out and thrusting in once again, this time in one smooth glide. You let out a choked-out moan, your legs kicking until they were wrapped around his waist, using his hips as leverage to push into his slow but hard thrusts.

Yoongi moved his head from your neck, trailing his lips across your collarbone as he pressed soft kisses against your delicate skin. He adjusted his angle, thrusting in once again, head brushing against your g-spot. You stilled, your body heating up as you felt inexplicable pleasure. Your nerve endings caught on fire, as if being constantly shocked every time Yoongi thrust into you. Yoongi moaned from above you when he felt your pussy gush around him, your cunt spasming against his cock. You let out a small whine when Yoongi thrusts harder into you, impaling you over and over again with harsh thrusts. The intensity of his cock plunging into you has your body shuddering and quivering. You feel every vein and ridge of his dick dragging against your pussy walls as he penetrates you, your velvety cunt gripping him tightly.

“Fuck… I’m cumming” You mewl, slowly losing yourself in all the pleasure. Yoongi grins against your skin, biting your collarbone before lapping at the skin. He trails kisses down to the valley of your breasts, pressing a kiss against your sternum before taking a nipple into his mouth, suckling harshly. Suddenly, Yoongi bites your nipple and your back arches in pleasure, your hips and body writhing on his dick with reckless abandon as your nerves prickle with hot waves of euphoria. One of Yoongi’s hands moves to play with your clit, thumb rolling against the hardened bundle of nerves. Your feel your womb tighten as your orgasm nears, the intensity of his ministrations searing along every fibre of your being as you’re set afire with pleasure.

“Fuck, please. Can’t, please” You babble, unable to form coherent thoughts as you’re drowned in the pleasure wrought on your body. You faintly acknowledge Yoongi grinning against your breast, the hand that’s not preoccupied with playing with your clit entwining with yours as you hold hands. You can feel him pour out all his love into each and every action as he drives into you over and over again, impaling you roughly on his cock.

“You’re so beautiful. I love you” Yoongi whispers, but you don’t hear it. You’re too lost in the haze of pleasure, pussy rippling. All of a sudden you cum, the slowly building coil unravelling all at once into fiery white-hot pleasure. Yoongi grunts at the feel of your cunt clamping down tightly; he pushes your hips down into the bed, pounding violently into you, fucking you into the bed. He hammers into your cunt one final time, burrowing as deep into your core as he could get before letting out a piercing groan, his body shaking in overwhelming lust and euphoria as he emptied himself into your pussy, spurt after spurt of his cum pouring into your wet heat as he came.

“Seokjin!” You scream, your pussy gushing against Yoongi’s cock. All of a sudden Yoongi freezes above you. But you don’t care, you’re still riding the aftershocks of your orgasm, too consumed by rapture to notice Yoongi’s sudden stillness. You slowly come down from your high, body shuddering and gasping for air. You slowly come to, registering Yoongi’s frozen form but still hard dick inside you. You whine slightly, bucking as you try to remove him from your sensitised pussy, but Yoongi is unresponsive.

“Yoongi?” You ask, looking at him in perplexity. He’s staring down at you, a mixture of shock, anger but most importantly distress.

“Yoongi, what’s wrong?”You repeat, but suddenly he’s getting off of you, staring at you in both betrayal and repulsion.

“It’s Yoongi” He says, voice quiet.

“I know it’s you, why are you suddenly bringing this up?” You question, but with the way he’s currently standing, completely naked and fists clenched, a small inkling of doubt and worry crawls under your skin. What did you do? Suddenly, Yoongi starts chuckling, shaking his head as he laughs in incredulity.

“You don’t even know. You don’t even realise. You said his name. You screamed Seokjin’s name instead of mine” Yoongi says, face immediately turning stony as he levels his gaze at you. You stare at him, blood running cold. No. There’s no way. You wouldn’t. Because if you had, that would make you the biggest dick on this planet.

“I- I no. No, I didn’t. I couldn’t have” You try stuttering out but Yoongi simply shakes his head, turning away.

“But you did. I heard it. Is this what it’s come to? You’re thinking of him now?” Yoongi suddenly bursts out.

“No! Yoongi, no I wasn’t! I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t hurt you like that” You say desperately, trying to crawl over and reach out to him. Yoongi scoffs and pulls away and your heart breaks just a little more at his obvious rejection.

Yoongi wouldn’t make this up. And there was a very, very small chance that you could have said Seokjin’s name. Especially with how much you’ve been pretending lately. You don’t want to admit that out loud. You can already see how heartbroken and anguished Yoongi is. You’d could never admit that yes, sometimes you wished he was Seokjin. That sometimes you’d pretend it was Seokjin beside you and not him. You couldn’t do that. You couldn’t break Yoongi’s heart like that. Not anymore than you clearly already have.

“But you have. You didn’t want to hurt me and yet you already have. Is this how it’s always going to be? It’s been two and a half years since Seokjin. We met a year after him. Started dating a year and a half after him We’ve been together almost a year. So why are we still on this? Why do we always come back here? Is this how it’s always going to be? Am I always going to be your second choice? Because I can’t do it. I won’t do it,” Yoongi finally says, defeat lacing his voice.

“No! Yoongi I’m sorry! Please I’m sorry” You desperately call out to him but Yoongi simply scoffs.

���That’s all I get! Apologies. You keep saying sorry and things are okay for a little while but then we come back here. To this same place. We always come back here because you just can’t seem to let go of him. I love you but I don’t think I can do this anymore” Yoongi says and suddenly it feels like your entire world is crashing down. He can’t mean he’s breaking up with you? You love Yoongi. You’re in love with Yoongi.

“I- Yoongi no. I-“ You try to express the depths of your feelings for him, but the words just won’t come out. Your mouth is completely dry, as if cotton coats your throat and like you’d swallowed a mouthful of ash. The words are at the tip of your tongue and yet no matter what you do, you just can’t seem to utter them.

“Even now. I see that you’re trying to tell me you love me, but you can’t say the words, can you?” Yoongi asks in complete frustration and your face crumples in despair because he’s right. You both know he is.

“You know you’ve never told me you love me? You just smile, or say same. But you’ve never once said those words to me. Not a single time. And I know. I know it’s because the last person you said it to was him. It’s like you think that saying it to me, will completely remove it from him. That you’ll have nothing of him left. But I can’t do this anymore. I love you and I can’t be him. I’m not him” Yoongi exclaims and his words only causes guilt to wash over you. He doesn’t know you’ve been pretending he was Seokjin and yet it’s like he knows.

You’d once thought that you’d wish Yoongi would take out his frustration. Wish he’d yelled at you instead of being sympathetic. Wished that the two of you would somehow manage to talk it now. But now that it’s happening you hate it. You’d rather he be more understanding. Because he’s right. And his words hurt like a dull knife digging directly into your heart. Yoongi isn’t Seokjin. He could never be Seokjin. They were both night and day and yet in some aspects, just like dawn and dusk, they blend. Seokjin was playful and bright like the summer whereas Yoongi was calm and contemplative, like the winter. Your comparison of them wasn’t fair to either man. They were different human beings, different stories, different personalities. You used to love Seokjin. You would for the rest of your life. But it’s Yoongi that you’re in love with now and you want, want so desperately to express the notion to him. But you can’t.

“You know why I can’t say it. I do. I feel everything I felt for him and so much more towards you. But I can’t… I can’t say the words and you know why. So please, just for now, let it be enough. Can’t it be enough?” You ask, but it’s a futile effort and completely in vain. You can see the exhaustion in Yoongi’s figure. You can see that he’s at breaking point. And yet, you want to try and salvage this relationship. You want to hold on to Yoongi.

“I’m trying to be understanding _____. I really am. But after today… I need some time” Yoongi finally utters as he begins getting dressed. You can’t bring yourself to do anything but watch him. There are so many things you want to say but all you have are actions. And despite the notion that actions speak a thousand words, sometimes actions just aren’t enough. Sometimes you need words. Sometimes you need words of ‘I love you’ and words of affirmation. Because just actions aren’t enough.

They’re not. Not anymore at least. You know that. Yoongi knows that. And he wants to walk away but he sees you, sees the love you have for him in your eyes, in your actions. The way you kiss him and hold him at night. He sees it all. But after tonight, he’s left wondering whether you see him or if you see him. Wonders whether it’s all been a lie. Deep down, he knows. He knows you see him and not anyone else. And you may not be able to say the words but you feel it. But after tonight, feelings just aren’t enough and he needs the words. He needs you to tell him it’s him that you love, and it’s him that you want to be with. But with each passing minute, he knows you aren’t going to say it. No matter how much he hopes.

Time runs out when he’s finally dressed. He lets out a shaky sigh and runs a finger through his hair, pushing the locks out of his eyes. He closes his eyes and draws in every bit of strength and courage he can before turning back to look at you. There’s desperation in your eyes. You want him to stay, but he needs time. Yoongi slowly approaches you, and you perk up, a small inkling of hope in your eyes that maybe it’s okay. That maybe the two of you will somehow get through it.

“I love you. I’m sorry” Yoongi mutters, pressing a soft kiss against your temple. And then he walks away. And every bit of hope you have is gone. And then you’re left completely alone. In the dark of your room.

It’s been two weeks since Yoongi walked out of your apartment. Two whole weeks since you’ve seen your boyfriend. You’ve tried calling and texting him, but he’s ignoring you. Hell, you even tried turning up to his studio, but each time, he wasn’t in. You have no idea where you stand with Yoongi. Whether the two of you have broken up, whether the two of you are still together. You’re completely in the dark. A small part of you wonders if it’s for the best. That’s the same part that still misses and yearns for Seokjin. But the bigger part of you, the one that wants to move on. The one that is in love with Yoongi, wants to make up with him. Wants to kiss him and hold him and be with him forever.

You’ve had two whole weeks to contemplate your feelings. Two whole weeks to sort out exactly what you feel for both Seokjin and Yoongi. Granted, you spent the first few days crying in bed. But the more days that passed, the more you realised, you weren’t crying because of Seokjin. You were crying because you had lost Yoongi. Yoongi with his pretty features, odd sarcastic sense of humour and sleepy tendencies. The same Yoongi who appeared gruff and cold at first, but the more you got to know, the more turned out to be a soft and caring person. And for the first time in years, you’ve come up with a decision. You’ve decided to move on. Seokjin may have been your past, but Yoongi was your future and you’re so in love with him that you can’t imagine your life without him.

You know you have to make it up to him somehow. You need to prove that you love him and most importantly you need to say the words. You have no idea how to go about it however, especially with how much he’s avoiding you. You know Yoongi. He wants his space, but he also wants you to prove he means something to you. You lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling as you contemplate exactly how you’re going to make it up to him. Suddenly, an idea pops into you head. Yours and Yoongi’s first anniversary is coming up in less than a week. And you have just the idea of how to apologise and win him back.

You scramble out of bed, almost falling when your legs entangle with the covers. You reach over to your phone, messaging the two people you know will be able to help you sort out your predicament, help you plan your apology and make sure that Yoongi actually turns up rather than just avoiding you.

A couple days later, you find yourself in the lamb skewer shop in which you had first met Min Yoongi an entire year and a half ago. Luckily, the restaurant owner had a sweet spot for you from back when you worked here during university and had allowed you to rent out the entire place in order to apologise to Yoongi. You quickly ran around the shop, ensuring everything was perfectly in place and ready to welcome Yoongi. The old man who cooked at the restaurant had left the lamb skewers, rice and a couple other side dishes on the table, ready for the two of you to dine. Checking the time, you began smoothing out your dress and hair; nervously twiddling as you awaited Namjoon and Hoseok’s arrival with Yoongi.

You didn’t have to wait long. A couple moments later, the restaurant door opened and in walked Namjoon and Hoseok, followed by Yoongi. You quickly stood up straight, biting your lip nervously as you set eyes on Yoongi for the first time in almost three weeks. His hair has changed, you notice. Previously dark and natural, it’s now the lightest shade of bleached platinum blonde, falling freely into his eyes. It suits him. He looks radiant. He’s dressed in his usual black skinny jeans and black hoodie but and even though he’s dressed casually and you’ve dolled yourself up, he still somehow manages to look better than you do.

“Wha-What is going on?” Yoongi asks as he spots you. His eyes rove over your figure, the empty restaurant with only one table set up before landing on your face. You smile nervously at him, sending him a hopeful glance.

“We’re gonna go, leave you two to talk this out. Enjoy” Namjoon says with a reassuring smile before grabbing Hoseok and leaving the two of you alone.

“____ what’s going on?” Yoongi asks, still stood in the doorway. He looks around unassured and you feel your heart drop at his uncertainty of being with you. However, you steel yourself and smile at him, trying to suppress your nerves.

“Happy first anniversary!” You say nervously, your feet shifting every now and then.

“Do you think this makes up for everything?” Yoongi asks, his eyes narrowing. You shake your head quickly, gulping hesitantly.

“No. Of course not. I just… give me five minutes to explain?” You plead. Yoongi hesitates before nodding; he walks up to the table you’ve had set up before taking a seat. You quickly take the seat opposite him before you began serving him. Yoongi stares at the plate before turning to you, looking at you expectantly. You sigh, knowing he’s not going to start eating until you say your peace. You bite your lip nervously and take a deep breath before looking directly into his eyes.

“I’m sorry” You begin and Yoongi scoffs, opening his mouth to respond but you shake your head, “no please. Just let me speak?” You quickly cut him off. Yoongi huffs but nods, gesturing for you to continue.

“I’m sorry. I know those words basically mean nothing to you anymore but I need you to know that I am sorry. For everything I’ve put you through this past year. I have no excuses for what I did to you, for what I put you through but I am sorry. I know, I know it’s been two and a half years since him, but you have to understand that I was with him for six years. From high school all the way to the end of university. He’s not a simple part of my past that I can just erase and forget. I loved him and for the longest time, he was my entire world. I was sure we’d grow old and get married together. I’m not going to lie. There were times when I wished he was here, when I’d contemplate the what ifs. What if he was still here. What if he was in your place. What if… he was you. And that wasn’t fair to you. You’re not Seokjin. You’re your own person and I shouldn’t have compared the two of you. You’re right. It has been two and a half years… and he’s not coming back. No matter how much time passes. And it’s not fair to keep living in the past” You begin. Yoongi watches you, his expression stoic, eyes shielded from you, giving nothing away of his feelings.

“I’m sorry for the way I made you feel, that you were second best or that you had to compete with him. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I shouldn’t have made you feel like that. And you’re not. You’re not my second choice. You changed my entire world Yoongi. When we met, in this restaurant, a year and a half ago. I was a complete mess. I was still heartbroken and lost and drowning in my own memories. But you pulled me out. You made everything so much better. I didn’t think I could ever feel the way I felt for him again. But I did. I fell for you harder than I thought was possible. I had no idea that meeting you would change my life but it did” You continue, your voice cracking and eyes welling up with tears.

“Losing you for two weeks showed me that I can’t keep living in the past. I can’t… I can’t keep thinking about the what ifs or wondering about what my life would be like with Seokjin. Not when it means losing you. I can’t keep comparing you to him and I definitely can’t be imagining you as him. You were right. I felt guilty. I felt guilty about moving on and that was why I couldn���t say the words. I did feel like, if I said it, I would lose the very last piece of him that I had left and I wasn’t ready. But I’m ready now. I’m ready to move on, with you. I want to be with you Yoongi. Only you. For the rest of my life, if you’ll have me?” You finally finish, hope in your voice. Yoongi lets out a little sigh. He rubs the back of his neck nervously before looking at you hesitantly.

“I love you ____. But, I don’t know if I can do this. I need to know that you want to be with me. How do I know this isn’t the same as before? That you apologise now and everything is fine for a few weeks before you’re thinking about him again? I can’t keep fighting you for someone who isn’t here. I feel like I’ve had every piece of you, the good, the bad. But I don’t feel like I’ve had the best, because it feels like those pieces are reserved for him. It feels like there are times when you see me but then other times I’m sharing you with his memory. When you wake up in the middle of the night crying out for him and I have to hold you and piece you back together. I can’t keep doing that because it hurts. It hurts knowing you’re not fully mine. That you’re not fully committed to me I want to believe you. I love you and I want to be with you… but I’m not sure anymore” Yoongi finally responds and you shake your head. The tears threaten to seep from your eyes and you reach out for his hand, gripping it tightly within your own.

“It’s different this time. It’s different because I’m letting him go. I love you. I am so irrevocably and uncontrollably in love with you, Min Yoongi. I know I’ve never said it before but I am now. Because I do. I love you. I love you so much. Please. I love you so much” You cry, the tears now falling freely as you sob the words out over and over again. You feel Yoongi remove his hand from yours and you lose the last bit of hope you had, wondering if perhaps it was too late. If the damage was too deep and scarring to recover from.

But then, he places his hand on your cheek and you release another sob. You melt into his hand, nuzzling into the palm before opening your eyes. Yoongi’s own eyes are slightly watery, but you know him well enough to know that he won’t let them fall. You let out a shaky breath before smiling at him, his eyes soft and filled with love, just like you remember them. Yoongi stands up, pulling you to your feet before leaning across the table and kissing you. His soft lips press into yours, moulding against your own lips. The two of you kiss for what feels like forever, your heart soaring as the both of you pour out all the love you have for each other.

Eventually, the two of you break apart. You let out a hiccupping laugh, foreheads pressed against each other’s. Yoongi’s thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away the tears before placing another delicate kiss against your lips. You grin at him, the two of you taking a seat at the table again. The food has long since gone cold, but you don’t care. You feel giddy, staring at Yoongi with a semi-wobbly smile.

“That’s the first time you told me you love me” Yoongi says, failing to suppress a smile and your heart pounds at his trademark gummy smile.

“I love you. I’ll say it as much as you want me to. I love you. I love you. I love you” You repeat over and over, loving the way pink dusts Yoongi’s cheeks as he blushes. He lets out a little laugh, unable to control himself and you giggle at the childlike exuberance he displays.

“I love you too. I love you so much” Yoongi utters, bringing your hand between his and entwining your fingers together before pulling them up to his lips, pressing soft kisses into the pads of your fingertips.

The two of you begin tucking into the lamb skewers, Yoongi groaning at the taste before praising them for being the best thing he’s ever tasted. You shake your head, laughing at him as you pile some more onto his plate. Somehow you both fall into an easy conversation, Yoongi talking about his latest project. You simply watch and listen as he goes on and on, loving the slight sparkle in his eye. You love when he gets like this, love how passionate he is about music. He’s currently talking about Hoseok’s soon to come out album and the different tracks he’s helped produce on it. You sit back and take him in, feeling yourself fall in love with him all over again.

“Happy first anniversary” You suddenly say, breaking his train of thought. Yoongi stills for a minute, perplexity written all over him before his face softens. He smiles widely at you, bright pink gums on display.

“Happy first-anniversary, ____” Yoongi replies. And it does. Feel like a happy anniversary. Because for the first time in years, Seokjin is nowhere in your mind. You’re completely focused on the man in front of you, the love of your life.

“Hi. It’s been a while. Three years on this day to be exact. I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know how to face you, or have enough courage to come here. I miss you. I still miss you. Every day. More and more each day. I think I’ll miss you forever. I’m not going to lie. The day you left… the day you disappeared. I felt like a piece of me died. I loved you. For six years, I loved you. You said forever and I believed you. You promised you’d be here always. You were my everything. There are days when I smell someone wearing that stupid cologne you used to wear that I hated, or when your favourite cooking channel comes on and I miss you even more. I sometimes walk passed your gym and find myself just staring in, wondering if I’ll by chance see you working out there. Silly I know. You’d probably laugh at me if you could” You chuckle, taking in a deep breath as you think about what you want to say next.

“I’ll love you forever. I know I will but I think I have to let you go now. I think that’s what you’d want me to do. If you were still here and saw me the past few years, you’d probably yell at me in the way you used to and be like ‘yah! Life is for the living’ or something stupid like that and then you’d crack a stupid dad joke. I miss those stupid jokes. But yeah, I think you’d want me to move on. And I have. I’ve found someone else. His name is Min Yoongi, he’s a rapper and producer. I have a feeling that the two of you would have loved each other and would have gotten along really well. He’s a few months younger than you but I swear he’s grumpy old man. He loves fishing, just like you did. He actually took me to your favourite fishing spot one day. I missed you a lot that day. I swore I saw you then, but it’s probably my mind playing trick on me. I think if you were still around and you met Yoongi, he’d try to teach you the piano and you’d try to teach him the guitar. He doesn’t like working out though, but he does love basketball. You weren’t very good at basketball, even though you were so tall. Your shoulders and limbs were too long, you had no idea what to do with them. I’m just rambling now, sorry” You continue, tears rolling down your cheeks, a wistful smile on your face as you mindlessly play with the bouquet of blue flowers in your hand.

“I brought you your favourite flowers. The smeraldo ones you loved so much. Usually, people give white lilies but I looked up the meaning for these. ‘The sincerity that could not be delivered’, I think that’s very apt, don’t you? I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to come here, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t come here knowing I still wasn’t over you because I know that’s the last thing you’d have wanted. But I’m happy now. And in love with Min Yoongi. So desperately in love with him. Which is why I’m letting you go. It’s not fair that Yoongi has to compete with your ghost. I’ll never forget you. You were my first love. I love you. I always will. But I’m no longer in love with you” You sob out, furiously wiping the tears at your eyes.

You kneel over, crying softly as you place the bouquet of flowers down by Seokjin’s grave. You let out a little sob, reaching a hand out and brushing it against his name carved into the marble headstone before tracing the letters that spell out ‘beloved fiancé’. You pull your hand away, clenching it into a fist before covering your face with your hands, sobbing your entire heart out. You sit there for another five minutes; crying out every one of your feelings as you mourn the loss of you past lover. A few more moments pass and your sobs settle down into little sniffles. You wipe your face furiously before picking yourself up and off the ground. Taking in a few calming breaths, you steel yourself before looking down at his grave again.

“Until we meet again. Goodbye Seokjin” You finally utter, saying your final farewell. Then you turn around and walk away. You slowly stroll to the entrance of the cemetery, Yoongi standing by the gates, waiting for you. Yoongi smiles at you sadly but you shake your head. You hurriedly walk over to him, taking his hand into yours before smiling brightly at him.

“I love you” You smile, leaning on your tip toes before pressing a kiss on Yoongi’s cheek. Yoongi’s grip on your hand tightens, squeezing as he offers you comfort.

“I love you too,” Yoongi says, smiling back at you. Your eyes are lighter now, brighter. There’re no dark shadows hiding in them, or that small inkling of melancholy that used to be hidden deep within them. Yoongi squeezes your hand again. Finally, it feels like he has you all to himself.

Because for one, you’re looking at him and only him. And there are no ghosts of your ex-boyfriend haunting you.

a/n: not going to lie, i sobbed like a little bitch writing the final scene

Mixtape Series | Masterlist

#btssmutclub #hyunglinenetwork #kpopwonderlandtag #kwritersworldnet #bangtanarmynet #btsguild #mygsnet #BTS au #bts fic #bts imagine #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts suga x reader #yoongi angst #suga angst #bts suga au #yoongi au

[thebiasrekkers]

Star of Fate [Vampire!VIXX]

Plot: The longer you stare into darkness, the more you realize that something could be staring back. Even more so when that darkness doesn’t want to be brought into the light and will do anything to stay that way.

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Vampire!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff | Smut

Pairings: OT6 VIXX x OC(s)

Warnings: Graphic Violence (bloody violence), Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Additional Warnings: Office Microaggressions | Bullying | Toxic Work Environment

Previous Chapters: Prologue

Links: FAQ || VIXX Masterlist || Admin L’s AO3 || Admin L’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,682

AO3 | WP

Tag List: If you would like to be added to this list, just drop us an ask!

AN: So…I know we said this was coming soon and I’m very sorry that this got started so late! I hope to have this out every two weeks, maybe more depending on the future. So please give this a lot of love and we hope you enjoy the ride!

Chapter 2- The Ghost Woman and the Hunter

Calling on your sins you're here in my dreams a desert place I'm not alone Do you really want to be me?

Her eyes popped open, the realistic feeling of falling completely disorienting her as she shot up from her bed. It had felt so real to her that her body jerked itself awake. Light danced its way in through the blinds, chasing away all signs of shadow. Never had she been so glad that she hadn’t purchased black out curtains than in that moment. She needed to see the sun and all of its glory to help the dream fade away into existence. Well, at least certain parts of it. There was a wistful part of her that still wished that she could be on that dance floor again with the handsome and darker skinned man. 

“Oh my….FUCK!”

Lucky yelled as she looked over to her alarm clock, realizing that it was the source of the chimes that she heard in her dream. Throwing off her covers, she scrambled to get half-way put together so that way she wouldn’t be late to her job. She even called a cab to get her there faster which was unlike her normal routine. Unless there was inclement weather, of course. 

During the ride, she kept an eye on her phone--it lighting up every few seconds as she checked the time. She made it to her desk just in time to receive the stack of papers from some of the other people there. Normally she wasn’t such a space case, even showing up early to get whatever else she missed the previous day. Lucky was a hard worker, nobody could deny that but it was that fact others exploited hence the reason why the stack seemed to get larger and larger by the week. The world of office politics seemed to be much like high school but it paid well enough for her to put up with the majority of it. 

She straightened out her hair as best as she could with it being so long and settled down to start on her work. Most of it had been reports that she had to pencil push and correct, which was easy enough for her because all the information had been just sitting there inside of her head. However, the more difficult stuff came along when the Vice-President stuck his fingers into everything. She couldn’t help but groan when she looked at some of them, saving the majority of them for last so that way she could take extra time on them. 

“Job finally getting to you, Leonora?”

Lucky didn’t realize how long she had been working on them until the voice pulled her out of the zone she had settled into. Turning around, she saw another coworker standing right behind her with a slight smile on her face. No matter how many times she tried to be friendly to some of them, they insisted on resisting any attempts at professionalism and decorum. Well, unless someone higher up was around. Not to mention the fact that they also insisted on calling her by her government name instead of the nickname that she preferred. She gave the sweetest smile she could muster and stood up, green eyes twinkling. 

“Oh, there you are Nancy! I got so caught up in fixing your mistakes that I forgot to give you this folder back! Everything in there should be up to date now and I even took the liberty of sending off the final draft for you. It was the least I could do since I was the last one that had hands on it. You’re welcome.”

She gaped at Lucky for a moment and flipped open the folder to read what she had fixed. Nancy’s ears started to go red and her thin lips flattened as she pressed them together in anger. Lucky raised an eyebrow at her reaction, knowing that she saw what had been edited by her. It had only been a few mistakes but they were some that would have made their department look bad. Plus Lucky also added her name to the document as one of the contributing factors, more so because she went through the trouble of fixing everything. 

“I hope this teaches you to quit pushing your work off on me, Nancy. Have a good day.”

Lucky turned away from her and sat back down at her cubicle, leaving the sputtering woman there to be embarrassed. Even though she had her own computer there, they all had shared files that they could all access and she lived up to her nickname that she had the time to quickly edit everything before emailing it out. It had been one of the rare times that she was able to stick it to them and it honestly made her feel a sliver of satisfaction at the situation. 

Because she was just a little bit petty. 

The sudden ringing of her phone took her away from the moment, the voice of her boss calling for her. Lucky was a bit confused as she looked at the time as she wondered why he had reached out so early. It normally was after lunch that she would meet up with him to go over various things pertaining to her new position. Lucky had been promoted to be the Personal Assistant for the Vice President. Naturally, he had more than one that would work together with him being at such a high level but most of them had quit because of various rumors of his misogyny and unrealistic ideals. Hell, she was even friends with one of them when she found out that she no longer worked there. Rumors circulated with her leaving and even more when she was appointed in her stead. 

Now, Lucky was one of the very few left so that meant that she had been picking up a lot more work than normal. Not that she went out much anyways with the amount of work she had. 

She walked the halls to his office, only to be greeted by the desk clerk. The tiny lady handed her a folder and suggested she find something appropriate to wear. Confused, Lucky looked through the folder and saw that there were some instructions as well as some papers with details on the new VIP’s that they had recently joined with. 

“What the actual hell? Does he expect me to drop everything that I’m doing to go to this event with him? After hours, no less?”

The lady just shrugged and went back to her work. Lucky could feel her indignation rising but left before causing a scene. It was one thing if it was an actual work trip that she had to attend but that had been some sort of event to flaunt and rub elbows. There wasn’t a real reason why she needed to be there so why all the preparation? She returned to her desk and went through the folder in detail. The only promise that she would receive was an extra amount in pay if she went, something that actually interested her. She grumbled as she leafed through it but decided that it was just for one night and that if it happened again, she would put a stop to it. The bright side to it had been that she could take off early to prepare for the event. That was always something she could look forward to especially that day since she moved like hell to get there on time. 

The one person that she could freely talk to in the office came up to her with a grin on her face. She had originally been offered the position but declined it because of family reasons but she was nice to talk to regardless. 

“So Lucky.. I heard from a little bird that you’re going to the VIP event tonight with Mr. Randall.” She wiggled her eyebrows and elbow at her while Lucky just scoffed. 

“Yeah, I guess. I wonder how in the hell does crap go around here so fast? It’s like the freaking flu!” 

“You don’t sound so enthusiastic about it.”

“Ashleigh, I really don’t want to go but they’re promising extra pay this time if I do. I haven’t been sleeping well lately and now I gotta go to this… grandstandin’ event. I wish someone else could go.”

Her coworker leaned thoughtfully on the cubicle wall before leaning down to whisper. It was only times like that when they would get a bit of privacy. 

“You could always quit and get some more sleep? I heard that the other assistant quit as well. I thought, at first, that you had too when you didn’t arrive when you usually do. They’re saying that the abuse from the VP is to blame.”

“Yeah well, tell the handsome man in my dreams to quit bothering me so I can go by to my normal schedule and ignore some of these chickens.” Lucky’s hand motioned like a beak as they both had a laugh over that before returning back to work. However, Ashleigh’s words stuck with her. The VP hadn’t been shy about voicing his displeasure to her about various things, even requesting that she cut her hair but she respectfully declined his request. All she stated was that it was within the guidelines of the company and left it at that. Something that didn’t win her any favors. 

And if the other girl quit too, then the sinking feeling in her gut proved to be more of an ominous feeling. Either way, she would have to go and see how it played out. 

When time came for her to leave early, Lucky instead went shopping for appropriate attire for that night’s event. Even neatly braided her hair to keep it out of her face. Simple, neat and just a tad bit sexy in the red dress. Once satisfied with her result, she waited outside for the driver to come around and pick her up. Upon seeing the expensive car, Lucky suppressed a shudder when the door was opened to reveal Mr. Randall. It wasn’t necessarily seeing her boss after hours but more of a combination of the car and him. Small vehicles caused her a bit of stress since she was involved in an accident many years ago. Since then, normally she would either take the bus or bike when the weather was nice. 

Thankfully, her boss wasn’t too interested in making small talk with her once they got on the road. The city was left behind soon and various gas stations and trees zoomed by them. She didn’t put too much thought into it until the driver turned onto a long, paved road after a set of gates. The mansion that appeared made Lucky’s eyebrows shoot up, something picking at her brain. She couldn’t quite figure it out but it was as if she had seen that place before. She had to shake those thoughts from her head as she concentrated on remembering the information that was given to her earlier that day. 

Knowledge was power and she needed it to navigate that world if she didn’t want to embarrass or otherwise offend anyone. 

Upon exiting the car and entering the elaborate place, Lucky felt all the eyes in the world stare at them. Putting on a gracious face, she walked slightly behind her boss as they were greeted by some of the others there. A few moments chatting with some of them, she soon found herself alone in the area while the others mingled. She wasn’t anyone of importance and therefore not worthy of anyone’s time, for the moment. She would let her boss do all the talking. 

Lucky gravitated towards the hors d'oeuvres while everyone talked among themselves. Plucking a few to put on a plate, she watched the room for any sign that she would be needed. Several of the clients that were in the folder she received were there and they were laughing alongside everyone else. A couple even approached her, asking questions about the company and trying to get a little information from her about how to deal with her boss. She couldn’t honestly say anything to help in that situation because she usually just listened to him bark his orders before correcting anything she needed to. 

She was left alone for another time, only appearing at her boss’ side when needed as the night went on. Soon she felt herself grow tired of all the people and the politics of said beings. Lucky had several drinks before that point and was in the process of acquiring another when a voice nearly made her jump out of her skin. 

“They’re almost like vultures, are they not?”

She looked around and up at him as he was much taller than her, even in heels. The man knew he was handsome, smiling prettily at her as he held up his own glass of red wine in a toast. Lips full and round eyes, Lucky had to appreciate his looks before replying. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say that in particular.”

He gave a wide smile, eyes almost disappearing as they snickered at the rest of them. Lucky found herself talking more and more to the man who seemed just as bored as she was with the party. The more that she looked at him, the more that he seemed familiar to her and it dawned on her that he was one of the men from the folder. He had a nice voice, a bit higher than most of the men there but he didn’t hide it one bit. 

Lucky also noticed that the attention had been drawn to them just from them standing and talking to one another. He introduced himself as Jaehwan and they talked for another 15 minutes, slipping into easy conversation to keep themselves entertained. His jokes nearly had her spilling her drink, the folder not at all correct with the man before her. He was one of three men with his business, including one brother that rotated about in their company. 

Still, even with the jokes and the amicable banter between the both of them--her boss found that he had only missed the presence of Mr. Lee before her. 

“Ah. Leonora, I didn’t realize you had monopolized Mr. Lee’s time here tonight.” Her shorter framed boss then looked to Jaehwan with an apologetic look on his face, “Otherwise I would have saved you sooner!” Mr. Randall gave a laugh, expecting Jaehwan to laugh with him but didn’t. It surprised Lucky that her new friend didn’t go along with him on that but only sighed, looking to her in apology before speaking. 

“Leonora? And you said you were Lucky…” He grinned at her, ignoring her boss. She could see Randall’s face that he was growing annoyed, a face that showed up when things didn’t go his way. 

“Oh that’s just my assistant’s nickname that she tells everyone to call her even though we should be more professional. I’m her boss, Nicolas Randall. Vice-President of Nexus Assurance.” He held out his hand to shake but Jaehwan kept grinning at Lucky. His eyes suddenly were hyper focused on her, the doe eyed look that he did have--dissolved away. Almost like he had found something he really wanted.

“Uh well, I’ve been known to be lucky--hence the nickname.” She nervously laughed, highly aware that the tension was rising. Her eyes darted between Jaehwan as he continued to ignore her boss and the latter as he was getting more upset that the scene was even happening. That strange and ominous feeling was back, churning about the contents of her stomach. Jaehwan slowly turned from the friendly and open persona that he had while it was just the two of them, to something a bit more aggravated the longer her boss was there. There was a glint in his eyes that suggested something unfriendly was fighting its way out. 

Suddenly Jaehwan blinked rapidly before excusing himself but not before taking her hand and kissing it. Bewildered, Lucky watched him weave expertly through the crowd before taking a peek at her boss. 

And he was not pleased. 

#thekpopnetwork #kwritersworldnet #kwordsmiths #vixx #vampire!vixx #ot6 #thebiasrekkers presents #star of fate #Cha Hakyeon #jung taekwoon #lee jaehwan #Lee Hongbin #kim wonshik #San Sanghyuk