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#tour continues tomorrow

chlodoll · 1 year

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tom and zendaya were a little wild for looking at each other like this after getting the prompt: “... you know the meme, find someone who looks at you the way x looks at y...”

tom regretting everything when he says he wasn’t there for the mj fall stunt (but i love how he compliments her for falling backwards)

tom is asked to do an impression of benedict cucumber but turns the question to zendaya

the way he says.. in smol.. “go on then” ... i zendaya laugh each time too

they’re so adorable.. fuck y’all who think otherwise

#i officially can’t remember how to work my computer… so i’m stopping. that was like 50 videos tho #we’ll continue tomorrow #tomdaya #zendaya #them ♡#tom holland #pt:nwh #i need another press tour… please

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moonjxsung · 6 months

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Lost in Translation

Pairing: Lee Minho x fem reader

W/c: 26.5k

Warnings: accidental nudity, hospital visit, mention of masturbation, use of pet names, breast/nipple play, clitoral stimulation, unprotected sex, bulge kink, sexual asphyxiation, breeding kink, creampie, oral sex (male receiving), brief mention of pregnancy

Synopsis: The older brother of the boy you babysit is an enigma, in every sense of the word- and you’re determined to figure him out.

[this work was based off a request by @antoniorhinothethird - thank you for requesting!]

18+. Mdni!

•

The idea of babysitting isn’t some brilliant proposal you conjured up in a day- but it’s not exactly a choice, either. The idea isn’t even yours, in fact, the advertisements you published on the colorful inquiry site at your mother’s behest. But “college courses are virtual these days” and “you’ll be a mother at some point in your life,” according to her. So two months into the semester, you’ll now spend the majority of your time in a new place you’ll call home, just 30 minutes out at the Lee Household.

The Lee household is considerably larger than you’d originally anticipated it to be, spanning a sizable amount of grassland and standing nobly tall at 2 stories high. The exterior of the flashy home is surrounded by paved gravel driveways, lining the neat rows of bushels and vines that surround the off-white architectural build. Giant glass windows reflect sunlight in nearly every room of the house, with the exception of the dimly-lit library on the second floor, which flaunts colossal cherry wooden bookshelves that line the walls and cover most of the smaller windows.

“Joon is usually very mellow in the daytime,” Mrs. Lee tells you as she walks you through a tour of the garden. “You’ll only have to worry about his feeding schedules, which I’ve already written and posted on the refrigerator.”

She pivots in front of you, stopping for a moment and gesturing to the stone fountain by the rose bushes. “Do you like it? It was a gift from my husband. When he’s not running the furniture business, he works in restoration a lot. This was his first project.”

“Wow,” you say, your lips parted at the sight of the koi fish and the cascading waterfall from its lips. “It’s very beautiful.”

Mrs. Lee smiles at you in response, turning on her heel and continuing to the iron gates in the front.

“Do you have any other questions?” She asks, clasping her hands together and shooting you a saccharine smile. She’s intimating, not because of her personality, which you quickly clock as rather warm and inviting. But rather, because she’s so elegant, her navy silk dress perfectly complementing the chunky pearl earrings she wears, making her look like a character from an old film. You’re not sure you’ve ever crossed paths with such an interesting woman before.

“I think that covers everything,” you say finally, giving her a small bow. “I’ll be sure to provide updates throughout the day.”

“Oh, no need,” she says quickly. “Unless it’s an emergency, l know you’ll have your hands full doing your work while watching Joon. Feel free to just give us a little summary when we’re home for the evening.”

She shoots you a little wink when she finishes speaking, clasping her hands together again and smiling down at you.

“We’ll see you tomorrow for your first day!” She exclaims warmly, opening gate doors as you make your exit out of the garden. When you begin down the paved road, Mrs. Lee suddenly gasps, calling out to you again in a frantic manner.

“Oh! Y/n, wait please!” She calls, pulling the skirt of her dress up to her ankles to jog over to where you’re standing.

“My other son will be home from school in the afternoon tomorrow. Don’t be alarmed if you hear him moving about the house. He’ll just keep to himself.”

You ponder the words for a moment, a little frustrated when you realize there will be two kids in the household instead of one, like she’d previously mentioned. But you just nod and smile at her, seeing yourself out of the driveway once again and beginning the journey back home to prepare for your first day here tomorrow.

This castle-at-end-of-the-road is eerily quiet when no one’s home, a once lively sight of rose bushes and marble statues appearing like something out of a horror movie when you’re by yourself. At every corner you turn, your brain runs rampant with paranoia, placing shadowy figures and silhouettes of people where there are none- except for when you’re in the presence of Joon.

At just a year old, Joon is considered one of the cutest ages, only being able to babble incoherent noises and flail his little hands around when he wants something. His closet is full of matching neutral tones, per his mother’s styling, and his sparse black hair is combed neatly to one side.

Mrs. Lee is right about him- he doesn’t cry. Nor does he ever make a fuss, really. He simply sits quietly, in the comfort of his crib, or his high chair, and he curiously peers at the world around him. You’re certain he’s taken a liking to you already, judging at how he smiles when you spoon-feed him mashed carrots and mimic airplane noises. And he only cries briefly once in the day, stopping almost immediately when you put him down for his nap.

This may be an easier gig than you thought.

While Joon naps, you take the opportunity to get some work done in the library, settling comfortably on the velvet armchair in the corner and running through a few of your online class assignments for the week.

Although you’ll be babysitting here for the next few weeks, you’re also completing your final year at university this year, your last semester being completely remote. Which gives you time to take on the babysitting task as a side hustle, and hopefully save enough money to travel a bit after university like you’ve always dreamt of.

At half past noon, Joon is still peacefully asleep in his crib where you’ve left him, the ambient sound of waves echoing softly from his baby monitor as little snores emit from his curled lips. He looks like an angel when he sleeps, and you can’t help but feel your heart swell to twice its size at the sight of him.

The gentle breeze of the October wind travels through the open windows of the library, sending chills up your spine when you sit down to work again. You get up from where you’re sitting on the armchair to latch the windows shut, making sure to lock them, before turning around to take your seat again- quickly startled by the figure standing in the doorway.

“Jesus,” you yelp, one hand clutching your chest in fear as you nearly drop your laptop.

The figure- or man, rather, says nothing, scanning the room like he’s searching for something, before turning on his heel and exiting the room once again.

He’s tall, with a slim yet muscular build, honey tanned skin complementing his chocolate brown tresses. He’s also dressed rather casually in a pair of light-wash jeans and a black top, a black leather jacket thrown over his broad shoulders and left unzipped.

“Sorry, did you need something?” You call out, perplexed by his demeanor. You can’t remember if the Lees warned you of potential visitors, but you’re suddenly panicked for Joon, remembering you left his door open.

“Nope,” the man calls out over his shoulder, not turning around to face you. And then you see it- a black backpack, slung over one shoulder and seemingly filled to the brim with textbooks.

Their other son.

This must be the son Mrs. Lee warned you would be making appearances in the afternoon. But you had assumed him to be much younger, especially considering he’s definitely old enough to be watching over his own brother.

Before you can gather your thoughts to introduce yourself, he’s gone again, disappearing down the hall the same way he so mysteriously appeared. And you wonder, briefly, how he can be so much colder than his own mother.

The first day of your new job is a success. When Mrs. Lee returns home for the evening, she pays you in cash, true to her traditional style, and sends you home with a tin of shortbread cookies as another ‘thank you’, though she’s already voiced it a million times. But the second day is rougher than the first, reminding you of why babysitting isn’t always an easy task despite what it may seem.

Joon is particularly antsy today, flailing his arms around when you try to spoon feed him and whining relentlessly when you pick him up. He needs several diaper changes in just your first few hours of working, and when you finally do get him clean, he’s a crying, screaming mess.

Fortunately, he still goes down for his nap at noon, which means you have a narrow window of time to complete your work for the day and get freshened up. The windows in the library are propped wide open again, a cold breeze coming through as you settle in your new favorite spot and open your laptop.

There are a myriad of assignments to complete today, and you’re briefly panicked that you won’t be able to complete the necessary few pieces if Joon suddenly wakes again. But still, you try, skimming through textbooks and typing away as much as you can to make steady progress. And at the hour mark, Joon begins to cry. Rather he wails, loudly, from the other room, startling you when you’re already in deep concentration working through a practice quiz.

You make your way down the hallway and to the right, where Joon’s room is, approaching the crib and catching a glimpse of his anguished state. His face is a robust shade of red as he wails loudly, bubbles of saliva forming at his nostrils and his eyes squeezed shut. You guide him out of the crib and into the safety of your arms, shushing him gently and rocking him back and forth the way Mrs. Lee taught you. And Joon calms instantly, hiccuping through tears as he locks his gaze on yours and fists at strands of your hair.

“That’s okay,” you coo at him, grazing your finger along his chin and cleaning some of the drool that dribbles from the corners of his lips. “I’m here. Look at you! You’re okay,” you continue, giggling at him when his quivering lips pull into a small smile. He softens in your arms, smiling and babbling with hushed sounds, clutching tightly on strands of your hair as you balance him in your arms.

“You want to come do some work?” You ask, nodding your head as if to coax an answer out of him. “That’s a good baby, huh? Let’s go do some work.”

And you travel back to the library with Joon in your arms, giving him gentle pats on his back as you hoist him tighter into your embrace and balance your laptop with one arm.

When you’re starting on your last task of the evening, you’re interrupted again today by Mrs. Lee’s eldest son, who pokes his head in the doorway and observes as you coo down at Joon’s sleeping figure while working on your computer with one hand.

“Do you want me to take him?” You hear from the doorway, and you crane your neck to look where he’s standing, his hands shoved in his pockets and his backpack slung lazily over one arm.

“I’m okay,” you respond, typing out a word with one hand. He furrows his eyebrows at your failed attempt, approaching you and reaching out his arms to take Joon from your embrace.

“You can’t work like this,” he says, as he peacefully transfers Joon to his own arms. “He won’t wake up if I put him back, I promise.”

“Thanks,” you reply, taking note of his features now that he’s at a closer proximity to you for the first time. He has large round eyes, and long eyelashes that make even you jealous. His nose bridge is sharp and straight, and when he chuckles softly at Joon, you notice his skewed front teeth, ones that make his smile seem sweeter- softer.

As he begins out the doorway, you try to think of what to say to him, not wanting to have another awkward run-in with him like your last one. But nothing comes to mind that won’t be just as awkward as the encounter itself, and you settle on painful silence once again.

As you unlock your laptop, continuing on to your last assignment, you hear the faint noise of Mrs. Lee’s elder son putting Joon back to sleep.

Except he sounds different than he has during your two previous encounters. He’s laughing, babbling, even cooing at Joon as he puts him back to sleep. And though you really shouldn’t intrude, you make your way to the doorway again, where you peer down the hall to listen in on the endearing noises he makes.

“Are you sleepy?” He asks, his voice two octaves higher than usual. “Let’s sleep now, okay? No, you can’t have my shirt. That’s mine, remember? Let’s have good dreams now. I love you!”

You hear Joon giggling from the end of the corridor and you smile to yourself, wholly moved by the tender little moment he shares with his baby brother. He might not be his full-time caregiver, but he certainly knows what he’s doing. As you stay pondering his behavior for a moment, you don’t even notice when he exits the room again, turning to watch you standing around the doorway. Your ear is still leaned into the corridor, clearly having listened in on the private moment.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, straightening your posture, a wave of embarrassment quickly washing over you. “I was making sure Joon got to bed okay.”

He just nods once, looking you over briefly before meeting your gaze again.

“Minho,” he then practically mutters, averting your gaze as he waits for you to speak.

It’s his name, you realize, barely even having registered what he said to you. He’s telling you his name.

“Y/n,” you respond quickly, giving him a small bow and smiling nervously.

And Minho says nothing, pivoting on his heel to exit the corridor and disappear all over again.

For two weeks, your job runs smoothly, no glaring problems or hangups. Joon remains fond of you, obedient at mealtimes and when he’s put to bed. And the system of completing your college coursework goes smoothly, being able to get through several assignments a day while Joon takes his afternoon nap. If anything, you might be more productive than you were before this job, despite balancing it between university.

It’s an overcast Tuesday afternoon, and you’ve spent most of your day working in Joon’s nursery on the rocking chair next to his crib. He’s been a little fussy today, but you find that he calms down a little at the repetitive clicking noises of your laptop keyboard. Once you’ve confirmed he’s asleep, little snores emitting from his lips, you gather your belongings and sneak away to the library again. Only this time, it’s not vacant.

Minho sits in your usual spot today, his legs propped up on the footrest in front of him and a book in his lap. He doesn’t even notice you in the doorway, strands of hair hanging loosely in front of his face as he scans the page of his book. He also looks significantly more casual than other days you’ve seen him around, wearing a plain black t-shirt and gray sweats, a pair of round wireframe glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

He feels your gaze on him, shuffling about suddenly and closing his book.

“Sorry,” Minho says. “I was just… reading.”

He realizes how awkward he sounds, verbally conveying his actions to you like this, but he’s too caught off guard to form a more coherent string of words.

“It’s okay,” you say politely, setting your bag down on the floor and occupying the chair across from him.

“What book?” You ask, cocking your head at the small red novel he clutches in his lap.

“Hm? Oh, uh… it’s Love and Limerence. By Dorothy Tennov.”

You nod in response, studying the cherub painted on the cover, wielding a bow and arrow.

“Big romance fan?”

“No,” Minho says, chuckling at your words. “It’s a required read for my class.”

“How neat,” you reply. “What class requires romance novels these days?”

“My philosophy course,” Minho says, running the pads of his fingers over the raised text on the cover. “The psychology of emotion.”

“PHIL 105,” you say, knowing very well the course he speaks of.

“Yeah- you’ve taken it?”

“No, but I had a friend who did in freshman year. I’m in my last semester now- my remaining classes are virtual, though.”

“It’s my last semester, too,” Minho says with a little smile, fiddling with the lobe of his ear as he talks.

“Well best of luck to you in the final stretch,” you reply, shooting him a small smile back. “I hope it all goes smoothly.”

Minho gives a half nod, and then furrows his eyebrows together, like he’s just remembered something.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” he says suddenly, sitting up and gathering his belongings.

“Oh, I really don’t mind-”

“Catch you later,” He interrupts with a nervous tone, almost jogging out of the library and back down the corridor.

And just like the first day you met him, you maintain the same idea of him- he’s such an enigma. Appearing in and out of the household, not one to voice his thoughts or his opinions, no eagerness to know the stranger sitting in his house watching over his baby brother. But somehow, like the rest of the household, you can’t help but have a lingering curiosity for Minho, too.

“My husband and I might be late getting back today,” Mrs. Lee says one morning as you feed Joon his breakfast. His tongue dodges the plastic spoon, dribbling mashed food out from the corners of his lips and laughing when you go to dab his face clean with a napkin.

“That’s alright,” you reply, loading up the spoon with more food. “I can wait until you’ve arrived.”

“You will?” Mrs. Lee asks, a kind of sparkle in her eyes as she speaks. “That would mean the world to us. It’s just that my husband has an auction to attend today. And sometimes these events run longer than they’re meant to.”

“No problem at all,” you say, smiling at her as you turn your attention back to Joon. “Joon and I will just hang out a little longer today. Isn’t that right?”

He babbles something in response, a string of saliva trailing from his lips, and Mrs. Lee laughs at the sight.

“He’s really taken a liking to you!”

As she fixes Joon’s hair, Minho enters the kitchen, dressed for the day with his backpack already slung over his shoulder.

“Minho,” his mother says in a scolding tone. “No gum for breakfast. Have a fruit.”

“Can’t,” he replies curtly. “My philosophy exam is today.”

“What does that have to do with depriving yourself of food?”

“It’s bad luck to eat before an exam,” Minho retorts, coming around the granite island to kiss her on the cheek. “Besides,” Minho continues. “I’m ditching my second class, so I’ll be home a little earlier.”

When he turns around, his gaze meets yours, and he instantly stiffens.

His gaze turns cold again, his hands shoving in his jacket pockets as he says nothing to you. He just bows, once, and then turns to exit like he’s suddenly in some rush.

“Bye,” he calls out, and you’re not even sure who he’s addressing it to at this point.

“I should get going, too,” Mrs. Lee says to you. “I’ll call you when we leave the event tonight. And please, feel free to make yourself comfortable after Joon gets put to bed. There’s cash on the table if you want to order something for dinner, and extra blankets are in the upstairs closet if you get sleepy.”

“Thank you,” you say to Mrs. Lee as she gathers her car keys and handbag. And the house is quiet again when you’re all alone, with the exception of Joon’s heavy breathing as he stares at you curiously.

“It’s like a mansion here,” you say to your best friend as you balance Joon in your arms and crane your neck on your shoulder to hold the phone against your ear. “Mrs. Lee is so nice. I thought she’d be stuck up or something, but she’s like a second mother.”

“You hit the jackpot,” your friend voices on the other end of the line. “Any idea how long they need you around?”

“Not sure,” you reply, wiping the granite counter with a rag as you finish up the dishes. “Probably until their son is done with the semester.”

“Son?” She says excitedly. “Is he cute?”

“Please,” you echo, rolling your eyes. “His looks mean nothing considering he doesn’t say a word.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly that. He just doesn’t talk. We go to the same university and it’s like pulling teeth trying to figure out something as simple as what his major is. I think he despises having me around.”

“I mean, to be fair, I wouldn’t love someone in my space 24/7. It’s probably a territorial thing.”

“He’s not a cat,” you respond, laughing lightly. “He’s a grown man. I just get the feeling he doesn’t like me.”

“Well I highly doubt that,” she says, and you can hear her shuffling about on her end of the line.

“Hey, I have to go,” she chimes in. “But I’ll talk to you later. Good luck with baby Joon and the cat man.”

“Thanks,” you reply, chuckling to yourself.

As you hang up the phone, you turn around to gather the last of the dishes, stopping in your tracks when you’re met with Minho himself.

He’s standing in the kitchen, popping a bubble of gum with his teeth, his gaze locked coldly on yours as he observes the place.

That’s right- he did say he would be home a bit earlier after his exam today. Was he standing there for the entirety of your conversation? You can’t recall how long the phone call lasted, or even the specifics of what you said. But you do know it certainly wasn’t good.

“Hi,” you say nervously, scanning his expression for a hint of what he’s thinking. But he provides you none, kicking off his boots and making his way up the stairs again.

The guilt is still eating away at you two hours later- Minho hasn’t descended the staircase once since the incident, and you can hardly focus on your school work at the thought of what he’s thinking of you.

Here you are, complaining about him seeming “cold” or “off”- the whole time you’re the one talking about him behind his back and stirring up drama. If he hated you before, he definitely despises you now. And if he's as close with his mother as he seemed this morning, you could be out of a job by tomorrow.

In reluctant steps, you ascend the wooden staircase, clutching a small mug of coffee and a stack of buttered toast. You remember Minho saying he’d have breakfast after his exam, a task he wasn’t able to complete due to your impolite conversation earlier. And while you’re not even sure he’s going to give you the time of day anymore, it’s worth a shot to try.

At the top of the staircase, you realize you’re unsure of which room even belongs to Minho. There are rows of doors down the corridor, which you peer into, looking for any sign of him.

A closet, another closet, the laundry room… it feels like a futile task at this point- not to mention, the sinking feeling that you’re intruding, poking into every room in the house like this.

But at the end of the hallway, just across the staircase from Joon’s room, lies one more closed door you haven’t tried yet, and you’re sure this one has to be his.

With a deep breath, you balance the mug of coffee on the plate you’re carrying, bringing your free hand up to knock, just once.

No answer.

You pause for a moment, debating whether to just leave and drop the idea of an apology altogether. But you don’t, instead forcing yourself to knock once more this time, a little harder than the first.

And after muffled sounds of shuffling about, the door finally opens again, Minho standing with a confused expression on his face. He has a pair of earphones in, one side pulled out to hear you, his glasses sat on his face and a number of textbooks on the bed behind him.

“Is Joon okay?” He asks, looking down the hall in panic as you meet his gaze.

“What? Oh! Yes, he’s fine. He’s sleeping.”

“Oh. What are you…”

“I… made you some breakfast. I know you didn’t have any before your exam this morning. And no, gum isn’t a breakfast food.” You chuckle lightly as you hold the items out to him, and Minho looks down at them, blinking a few times before speaking.

“Oh. Uh, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem. Should I leave them with you?”

“Oh, you can put them on the desk over there,” Minho replies, and it’s then that you notice his hands are full with papers. He steps aside to let you in, gesturing to the desk with a piece of paper, and you oblige, clearing the space of a few scattered items and setting down his breakfast.

When you turn around to look at the place, your lips part in awe at the sight of the grandiosity of it. Minho’s room has bigger windows than any of the others you’ve seen, concave around a crescent-shaped seating area that boasts tall ceilings and large glass windows. There are books lining the floors, the desk space and even the window sills, many of them left bookmarked or lying open where they sit.

His giant wooden bed frame is almost hidden behind a hanging curtain, and his desk is nearly inhabitable at the amount of university paraphernalia that lives on its surface.

“Wow,” you say, craning your neck to look around the room. “It’s really nice in here.”

“Thanks,” Minho says awkwardly, toying with a loose hem on his pants.

“You really like reading,” you comment, taking note of the books he has lying around. When you say this, Minho seems to stiffen a bit, shutting some of the books and lining them on their spines along his shelves.

“Yeah,” he mutters, dropping a few books and kicking them away from him.

You nod at him, pursing your lips, well aware that you’re in the midst of yet another awkward interaction with him, but wanting to fulfill the reason you came up here all the same.

“Listen,” you begin. “I wanted to apologize. I don’t know how much you heard of that, but I assume it was enough to be hurt by it. And you’re justified in being hurt. It was totally uncalled for of me to say those things- and sure, you might be a quiet person. But that doesn’t make it okay for me to go around airing it out like it’s my business. In fact I shouldn’t even be on my phone on the job. I’m here to watch your brother, and I get paid for that service, and it’s completely unprofessional-”

“It’s cool,” Minho says, an unchanging expression on his face.

“Oh, um… I mean, if you want to fire me I totally understand.”

Minho chuckles softly, and then shakes his head. “I’m not going to fire you. I am quiet. It’s cool. Really.”

“I mean, I totally get that-”

“Unless you want to be fired?” He inquires with a half-smile, and you chuckle softly in response.

“I really don’t. I love watching your brother.”

“Good,” he replies. “Then we’re all good.”

And although you want to say something else to him, you don’t, feeling as though you should be satisfied with the state of the conversation. You apologized, he forgave you, and you haven’t lost your job. And he’s still quiet, but that’s just who he is.

When Joon wakes from his afternoon nap, it’s nearly 3pm. He’s a crying mess when he’s up again, flailing his arms around to beg for a bottle, which you promptly prepare for him after a diaper change.

With Joon in your arms, you get some chores around the house finished, including vacuuming the rugs, dusting off the furniture and tidying Joon’s toys that are usually scattered about his nursery.

Doing chores wasn’t an agreement between you and Mrs. Lee- in fact, she usually urges you to focus on your schoolwork and take breaks when you’re not caring for Joon. But you want to, feeling compelled to take care of the space as much as you care for Joon. Although tensions are still somewhat present between you and Minho, the Lee household feels comfortable to you by this point, almost like a second home now.

After chores, the library calls out to you again, evening beginning to fall over the neighborhood and painting the sky with vibrant hues of an autumnal sunset.

The windows are still rolled open from earlier, and your velvet couch looks particularly inviting at this hour, beams of sunset setting it aglow and luring you to choose a book from the cherry wood shelves around you.

So you do, selecting a children’s book about animals, comfortably sprawling out on the chair with Joon in your arms. He eyes the book curiously, spreading his short, chubby fingers over the cover and tapping repeatedly, as if asking you to read to him.

And you do, setting the book on your knee to angle the pages toward him, as you begin to vocalize the choppy sentences to him.

“A is for apple, hanging from a tree,” you say, caressing his stubby fingers as he pouts in focus. “B is for buzzing bumblebee.”

Joon’s lips curl into a smile, making his best attempt to clap as you point out the colorful images to him.

“C is for crab, walking in the sand… D is for dolphin, swimming toward the land!”

Joon laughs hysterically now, clapping his little hands and rocking back and forth in your lap. You laugh, too, at his darling reaction, and give him a little kiss on the head as he fiddles with the cover of the book.

It’s moments like this that reaffirm the notion for you that this job was the right idea, after all. You’re inexplicably happy alongside him like this, seeing the world through his eyes and rediscovering things you would otherwise take for granted, like silly picture books or doing chores with him in your arms. You feel so protective of him, eager to make his mom proud and provide a safe, nurturing environment for him as his babysitter- not because you’re paid to do it, but because he now holds a special place in your heart.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles you from the doorway, and you look up to find Minho standing there, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

“Did you… want something to eat? I was going to order takeout, unless you wanted something else.”

“Sure,” you reply, propping Joon up a little closer to your chest. “Anything’s fine with me.”

“I’ll get Chinese, then,” Minho says nodding. He averts your gaze a little, but you can tell he’s just a little awkward when he’s face-to-face with you like this. And perhaps your best friend is right- perhaps it’s not unusual of him to feel territorial over his household. After all, you are here almost every hour of the day, making yourself comfortable in almost every room, tending to the chores here and eating food from their kitchen. You suppose you would be irritated at the thought of it, too.

As Minho leaves to place an order, you take Joon back to the nursery, where you gently put him to sleep for the evening and program his baby monitor to play calm ocean noises again. It’s like clockwork- he’s out like a light, and the minute he leaves your arms, you’re exhausted, too. The stress of watching over him while balancing your school work might finally be getting to you now- you’re undoubtedly tired, your limbs aching from sauntering about this big house all day with Joon in your arms. And although you’re on a good track, you can hardly remember which assignment pertains to each of your classes these days.

When Minho returns almost an hour later, he holds a thin plastic bag in hand, his other one clutching a fistful of cutlery and two plates. He gives you a small nod when he enters the library, and you put away your laptop to join him on the floor in front of the coffee table.

For a moment, he says nothing as he prepares a plate for you, sliding a cup of wonton soup toward you and dividing portions of chow mein and tofu with wooden chopsticks.

You watch as he breaks a spring roll in half, holding both sides up and comparing to make sure they’re even.

“You’re very precise,” you say with a soft laugh, and a breathy chuckle emits from his lips, too.

“I’m trying to make sure it’s even.”

“However you cut it is fine,” you respond, pleasantly surprised at how polite he is.

When he’s finished dividing your portions, he slides a plate to you, setting a plastic fork down on the napkin beside you and ushering to the food.

“Enjoy,” he says, shooting you a small smile.

And the two of you eat in silence, the room quiet, aside from the sounds of slurping soup present between you two. Although it’s quiet, it feels comfortable, having him keep you company like this. It’s a change of pace from your usual days babysitting in the Lee household.

“How is your school work?” Minho interrupts your thoughts, and you’re momentarily taken aback by him initiating the conversation first.

“It’s good,” you respond, poking at the vegetables on your plate with a chopstick. “It’s on my own time, so I mostly just have to make sure I’m staying on track. But I’m finding it easy to get through despite watching Joon in the daytime.”

Minho nods in response, keeping his gaze set on the bowl of soup in front of him.

“How did your exam go?” you ask, and Minho cocks his head a little. “I got full marks,” he responds after a moment of silence.

“That’s great! I guess you were right about skipping breakfast having something to do with your academic success, then.”

And Minho laughs for the first time- not a chuckle or a giggle, but a laugh, holding one hand up to his mouth as he does. His laugh is gentle and melodic, filling the room around him with its sound, and you can’t help but laugh, too.

“I suppose,” he responds. “I also go nowhere without those philosophy books, so I have them memorized like the back of my hand.”

“Philosophy major?” you voice back, and Minho nods.

“So Love and Limerence is like second nature to you at this point.”

Minho gets a little awkward at this, his smile fading a little as he pokes around his chow mein. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “You could say that.”

And fearing you’ve somehow offended him, you change the subject again.

“Well I’m a business major,” you chime in. “So we don’t get interesting reads at all. And I’m not lugging around a six-pound textbook about returns on investments in my backpack.”

He laughs again, and you feel satisfied at the motion. Making him laugh feels like an exciting feat, like you’ve succeeded at something after trying so hard to. And considering how hard you’ve been trying to break down his walls these days, maybe it is an exciting feat, getting to know the stranger you’ve been sharing a home with for one month now.

“Business is a great field,” Minho says, slurping down the remainder of his soup. “Your parents must be really proud of the direction you’re headed.”

You shrug in response. “They’re indifferent. I don’t have a great relationship with them. They mostly just want me out of their hair once I graduate.”

“You have any post-college plans?” Minho inquires.

“I finished an internship before this whole babysitting gig, actually. I want to travel a bit after graduation, and then I’ll really settle down for the whole 9-5 working life.”

“Where are you hoping to travel to?”

There’s a glint in Minho’s eyes as he presses you for answers, like he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. It makes you feel all warm inside- not many people usually care what you’re up to these days, your family trying their hardest to send you away to work another job and your most of your friends having drifted apart when you began university. Even the friends you do have are more distant these days, considering their classes are still in person, and you don’t have a need to be back on campus anymore. It’s a bit of a lonely life you lead, so being here beside Minho feels different, but pleasant.

“I’m not sure,” you say with a smile. “I’m not really sure where I belong yet.”

“Hey, I don’t know where I belong, either,” Minho echoes. “So that makes two of us.”

When the two of you are finished with dinner, Minho takes your plates downstairs, despite you offering, and you’re briefly left alone in the library. It’s much later than usual now, nearing 9:00, when you’re usually home by 7. The house also has a different vibe to it this hour, many of the rooms feeling much dimmer despite the same lamps being on, and the corridors feeling much quieter and more haunting. You feel a wave of sleepiness wash over you, and though you don’t want to be asleep when Mrs. Lee arrives, you can’t help but shut your eyes for a few minutes. You can still make out the shape of the bookshelves behind your heavy eyelashes, trying your best not to close your eyes completely, but your mind has already wandered off to slumber, and inevitably, your body follows shortly after.

You’re somewhere between sleep and consciousness when you feel Minho enter the room once again, looming over you like he wants to ask you something. But he says nothing- instead, he unfolds a knit blanket above you, sprawling it out over your legs and pulling it up to your torso. And you hadn’t realized how cold you were before he did, because you’re almost instantly with a wave of warmth and comfort over your listless body.

It feels almost uncharacteristic or Minho to carry out an action this polite- but as he takes his seat across from you, watching as you doze off peacefully, you think he may finally be coming around to you.

“I’m ditching my second class again today,” Minho announces the next morning at breakfast. He doesn’t eat much, you notice, as he bites into a single apple and hoists his backpack further up his shoulders.

“I’ll be home a bit earlier,” he then continues, eyeing you a little, and you give him a little nod.

“Then help with lunch,” Mrs. Lee says, gathering her own briefcase for work. “Y/n shouldn’t do it all by herself when you’re here.”

“Oh, it’s no worry at all,” you quickly chime in, not wanting to be the reason Minho refutes his mother’s words. “It’s what I’m here to do, after all.”

“No worries,” Minho says back to you. “I’ll be home around noon and we can prepare something together.”

For some reason, your heart flutters a little at the implication of doing something alongside Minho- something so planned and seemingly intimate. You normally just take the days as they come, so having a commitment hanging over your head like this is a little nerve-racking. And in all your worrying, you don’t respond to Minho, realizing only as he’s exiting the house with his apple in hand.

“I might be late again today,” Mrs. Lee turns to you, snapping you out of your trance. “But Minho can stay for the remainder of the time. I’ll still pay you the full amount like I did yesterday-”

“I’m happy to stay again,” you reply to her. “Like I said, it’s what I’m here to do.”

She smiles in return, clasping her hands and gesturing to the food on the table.

“I can’t get Minho to eat for the life of me, but help yourself to whatever you’d like. And thank you again, for staying.”

You’re reading to Joon in the living room when Minho arrives home from school. He kicks off his shoes dramatically, tossing his bag on the floor and breathing out a heavy sigh while you thumb through the pages of a new picture book.

“Hi,” Minho says first, his expression remaining stoic and unchanging.

“Hey,” you reply, hoisting Joon a little further up in your arms. “How was school?”

“Terrible,” he responds, making his way around the granite island to collect another apple.

“Why’s that?”

“Professor Kim,” he says curtly, polishing the apple on his button down shirt before taking a generous bite. “A three hour lecture on a Friday really wasn’t a smart choice. ”

You chuckle a little to yourself, adjusting your position on the floor and trying to balance Joon in your embrace. Minho takes notice of your struggle, abandoning his apple on the counter to come take Joon from your arms.

“Thanks,” you say, dusting off your legs as you stand again. “I’m going to get started on something for Joon to eat if you want to wait around. Unless you’re sticking to this exclusively-apple diet.”

Minho chuckles to himself and shakes his head. “I’ll help. We don’t have much prepared right now and I really need to go grocery shopping.” He secures Joon in his high chair, cocking his head toward the fridge.

“Could you just grab his orange juice? It should be the blue bottle on the right.”

And you comply with his request, promptly locating the blue sippy cup and handing it to Minho.

“Thank you,” he says, setting it down on the white tray in front of Joon and twisting it open. “This should be enough to hold him off until we can whip something up with the few ingredients we have. I want to do something with those sweet potatoes, they’re reaching the end of their time.”

Joon is a little fussy as he reaches for his sippy cup, flailing his arms around and sliding the cup across the tray to the edge. The cap seems to loosen as he does, tilting dangerously to one side.

“I got it,” you say to Minho, as you approach Joon. You retrieve the cup from the edge of the tray, twisting off the cap again to secure it properly. And as you do, Joon lets out a particularly loud yelp, knocking his hand toward you and letting the bottle fall off the tray entirely.

As you realize what’s happening, you bring two hands up to push it away from you, but you’re too late- the entirety of the bottle’s contents are spilt onto your shirt, completely soaking you and dripping onto the floor with loud, wet noises.

Minho doesn’t see what happened, but he turns around at the sound of your loud gasp, his eyes widening at the sight of you. Even your hair’s gotten wet, stringy pieces falling into your face, damp with the tangy scent of orange juice and dripping down your shirt. His mind races with guilty thoughts, feeling as though he should have stayed watching Joon, being the one to have been caught in the crossfire of his tantrum instead. Joon’s always fussy before meals- he knows this very well. As his mind races with the urgency to grab a towel, a rag- something, his eyes graze to your t-shirt, and he practically freezes.

Your thin white t-shirt is soaked like the rest of you, painting a clear outline of your black bra as the cold contents drip down your chest and torso. The see-through fabric sticks to your body like a cellophane wrapping, outlining every inch of you, every curve and every raised goosebump as you shudder at the sensation. Minho’s eyes remain locked on your dampened breasts for an embarrassing amount of time, taking careful note of the way your hardened nipples practically protrude through the thin white fabric, almost appearing increasingly noticeable with every passing second. The delicate curves of your stomach are accentuated with your skin-tight shirt, even your navel now visible.

A shake of your hands finally snaps him out of his trance, and you wrap your arms around yourself in a futile effort to cover yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you utter to him, at a loss for words at the notion of being so exposed to him. And Minho is quick to shake his head, now scrambling for a towel.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, pulling a towel off the oven handle and sliding it to you. “Here, use this and I’ll go get a larger towel from upstairs and a change of clothes.”

You want to deny the offer, feeling shameful for having already intruded this much on the Lee household and still needing more from them. But as you look down at your t-shirt, you know you don’t have a choice, the fabric now feeling cold and uncomfortable as it sticks to your flesh.

“Thanks,” you say to him, giving a small nod and not moving your hands from your chest.

And Minho retreats upstairs quickly, trying his best to avert his gaze as you remain in the kitchen.

As Joon babbles incoherently next to you, you can’t help but feel stupid, a sense of shame and embarrassment replacing the excitement you had to be preparing lunch alongside Minho for the afternoon. You��re in disbelief he’s practically seen you half naked like this, and you feel inadequate at not being able to stop Joon from committing the incident in the first place. As you run your hands up and down the raised goosebumps on your arms, you do your best to hold back tears, hoping Minho won’t think less of you for being caught in such a humiliating accident.

Minho is gone for a little while, and you blot at the wet patches on your shirt as you wait, Joon now laughing at your messy state. You can’t help but laugh a little, too, admittedly amused at what a disaster the afternoon has been- and you haven’t even begun the cooking part of it yet.

When he returns, he tosses you a large white bath towel and a gray t-shirt, still keeping his gaze on the floor instead of on yours.

“Here,” he says simply, his veiny arm scratching the back of his head. “I can also get a sweater if you’re cold.”

As you observe the t-shirt, you realize it’s one of his, not one of Mrs. Lee’s. For some reason, you’d assumed Minho would opt for a woman’s clothes as your change, but the t-shirt has clearly been pulled from his closet, and you blush a little at the idea of wearing his clothes.

“This is fine,” you reply, wrapping the bath towel around your body and excusing yourself to the bathroom.

You peel the sticky clothes off your body, crumpling them into a pile and changing into Minho’s t-shirt. It’s a bit large on you, but it’s much more comfortable, hanging loosely off your body and covering every bit of you that was previously exposed. His shirt smells like him, too, a pleasant scent of laundry detergent and his musky cologne.

When you exit the bathroom, you gesture to the change of clothes, your wet crumpled clothes balled in your hand. “I kinda look like you now,” you say, and Minho chuckles.

“You can keep it,” he responds, giving you another once-over and nodding shyly. “It looks better on you, anyway.”

He holds his hand out to you for the wet clothes, which he kindly takes from you to put in the wash. As he does, you go to the fridge to retrieve more orange juice for Joon- except there is none. You desperately search for milk, orange juice- any form of a snack that will keep him busy until his mealtime. But the kitchen is void of anything he can consume, and you begin to panic a little, knowing Joon hasn’t eaten in a good while now.

“That was the last of his orange juice,” you say to Minho when he returns. “And there’s not much else for him to snack on.”

Minho searches the kitchen too, digging through cabinets and moving around jars in the fridge to check for expiration dates. But he quickly realizes you’re right- the fridge is even more sparse than he’d assumed it to be.

“I guess we’ll have to make a trip to the store, then. How do you feel about strapping him into a car seat?”

“I’ve never done it,” you reply nervously.

“I can show you,” Minho says, grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter and spinning them around his index finger. “We can do it together.”

The nearest grocery store is just 20 minutes out from the Lee household. Minho drives a fancy black SUV, and he guides you through how to strap Joon into his car seat, which you carry out with no issues. He drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting casually on the center console as you chat with him about your university courses. For the first time, you notice how Minho seems much more comfortable around you now, cracking jokes occasionally and smiling at your stories about your afternoons alone with Joon. When Joon chimes in from the back seat with his excited babbling, you and Minho babble equally in response, sharing laughter at the ridiculous exchanges among the three of you.

You opt to carry Joon inside the grocery store while Minho walks alongside you, checking off a list he routinely uses to stock up on all of Joon’s favorite foods. And the atmosphere around you is homely, instilling the same sense of comfort in you as your afternoons alone with Joon. One that reminds you why you’re doing this job in the first place- you feel respected here, like your efforts don’t go unnoticed, and like you belong. It fills the lonely void inside of you with the sounds of Joon’s laughter, Minho’s tales of his classes and the trivial tasks of grocery store runs and learning to maneuver a baby car seat.

“I think that’s it,” Minho says as he checks the list one last time. “Milk, juice, bread…” he reads the items one by one again, and then nods affirmatively when he’s ensured they’re in the basket.

“That’s it,” he repeats, shooting you a small smile. “Let’s go pay.”

An older cashier gestures you to her lane at the registers, beginning to scan your items as Minho places them down on the conveyor belt. And then she gives a little wave to Joon, who curiously stares back at her.

“What a beautiful baby,” she says, pausing from scanning with a jar of mashed carrots in her hand.

Joon smiles in response, a trickle of drool escaping his lips.

“And what a beautiful family,” she continues, looking back and forth between you and Minho. “It’s not easy being young parents, but I can tell the two of you are doing a fine job at it.”

“Oh,” you say, chuckling lightly. “We’re not-”

“Thank you,” Minho interrupts, placing an arm around your waist and pulling you a little closer to him.

“We don’t get told that very often.”

You almost freeze at the contact, butterflies erupting in your stomach as he keeps his hand on the small of your back. This woman thinks the two of you are a couple- and worse, Minho is playing along with it. You can’t figure out why he’d entertain such a blatant lie, but you don’t interrupt him either, curious to see where he’s taking this little bit.

“People can be so unfair,” the cashier replies, shaking her head. “As long as the child is cared for, your status shouldn’t matter.”

“Exactly,” Minho replies, throwing his hand in the air like she’s making a point that pertains to him. “You know, when we got married, everyone told us it would never work. And now look at us- our child just turned 1 and we’re already making plans for a second honeymoon.”

“That’s amazing!” The woman says, clasping her hand over her heart like she’s touched by the bogus story.

“It is, isn’t it honey?” Minho says, turning to you.

Thoughts swirl your mind about this performance he’s putting on, but you’re undoubtedly entertained by the whole thing, stifling laughter as you nod in response.

“It is amazing,” you say finally. “We eloped and had a shotgun wedding- booked it to Italy right after and now we’re thinking of taking the little one to Paris for a real ceremony.”

The older woman removes her glasses now, wiping her eyes and shaking her head in disbelief. You can’t help but feel bad for her, seeing how easily she’s falling for your blatant lies, but Minho shows no remorse, grinning ear to ear and keeping his hand on the small of your back.

“Well I’ll tell you what,” the woman says, putting her glasses back on and shifting her eyes around the store.

“Since you guys just made my day, I’m going to provide you with our senior discount. It’s not everyday I see a young couple so beautiful raising such a darling little child.”

“Oh, you really don’t-” you start to say, and Minho interrupts you before you can finish.

“That would mean the world to us,” he says in an exaggerated voice, giving the cashier a little bow. “It would help us out a ton.”

You want to protest, to slap Minho in his pretty little face and ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing lying for a discount like this, but you’re afraid the cashier will see right through your whole stunt and reprimand both of you. So you just nod and let Minho take the lead again.

“Thank you,” you echo back to her,” holding Joon’s stubby little fingers as the woman types a lengthy code into the computer.

And Minho smiles at you, shooting you a little wink as he gathers boxes of cereal and jars of food in his arms.

“What was that?” You practically yell as you exit the store, balancing Joon in one arm and a bag of groceries in another. “You totally lied to her.”

“I didn’t lie,” Minho says. “I told her a different reality.”

“That is literally what a lie is,” you echo back to him, securing Joon in his car seat and lining grocery bags on the floor. Minho slides into the driver's seat again, putting his keys in the ignition but not yet starting the car as he waits for you to get in, too.

“I mean, that was like a 10% discount,” you continue, huffing frustratedly as you wait for him to speak. “How is that worth telling someone a whole list of lies?”

“You know, there’s this really cool theory called the anthropic principle,” Minho begins, looking straight ahead through the windshield. “Suggests the existence of a multitude of universes.”

“What?”

“So,” he continues. “Philosophically speaking, maybe in one of those we're married, and we have a child, and our honeymoon was in Italy.”

You stay quiet for a moment, pondering his words, completely unsure of if he’s flirting with you or teasing you right now.

“And maybe,” he chimes in again. “In one of them, we robbed the store and killed the cashier. And in another, we don’t even know each other.”

“What are you getting at?” You say, narrowing your eyes in confusion.

“It’s not lying,” Minho says with a smile as he finally starts up the car. “We just told her about a different reality.”

“So it’s lying,” you say with a smile, unable to hold back the giggle that escapes your lips.

“A little,” he finally says. “But it was fun, right?”

And you start to say no, but you can’t get the words out, aware you’ll be lying twice today if you do.

Minho takes your silence as confirmation, a grin plastered on his face as he rests one arm behind your headrest to pull out of the parking lot. And you can’t help but smile, too, the spontaneous thrill of lying to the cashier admittedly being some of the most fun you’ve had all week. And the conclusion stands- Minho’s a little odd. But he’s great company.

Mrs. Lee is late again tonight, the second hand on the clock ticking in slow intervals as it nears 10pm. You yawn for the umpteenth time tonight, exhausted from having done so much today, wanting nothing more than to sleep in the comfort of your own bed at home and mentally recharge for another day of this tomorrow. But you’ve promised to wait for her, always eager to wait it out until the last second, because Mrs. Lee always expresses her sincerest gratitude when you wait for her.

“Sorry, she’s really late today,” Minho says as he lowers the volume on the television. You completed a few more chores around the house after dinner while Minho powered through his schoolwork, putting Joon to bed before settling on the sofa and watching old cartoon reruns. Now you’ve been in and out of sleep for the better part of an hour, Minho remaining close by watching infomercials again, peering at your tired figure and feeling guilty that you’ve been here so long.

“It’s okay,” you reply quietly, letting out another yawn. You cross your arms over yourself, still dressed comfortably in Minho’s t-shirt, and do your best to keep your gaze on the television.

Tonight Minho is stuck on an infomercial for artificial plants, the dull narration lulling you to sleep even further as he checks the time on his watch and glances nervously at the front door.

Minho cranes his neck at your figure again, not missing the way gray bags hang heavy below your eyes, your lashes half-lidded as you feign sleep and force your gaze onto the infomercial.

“Don’t you have an early exam tomorrow?” You say to Minho, another yawn escaping your lips as you speak. “Don’t wait up on my account. You should get some sleep.”

Minho shuts off the television, standing up from where he’s sitting and dusting off his pants.

“I’ll take you home,” he announces, fishing around on the table for his car keys.

“It’s okay,” you reply, not wanting to inconvenience him anymore than you already have today. “I can walk to the bus stop.”

“You’re not walking,” Minho retorts, scoffing as you sit up and rub your tired eyes with the back of your hand. “It’s pitch black outside.”

“It’s fine,” you say, gathering your book bag and rushing to put your shoes on. It’s a race between the two of you now, Minho scrambling to locate his car keys while you get ready to leave for the evening.

“It’s really not a problem- where are my keys?” Minho mutters to himself, patting the pockets on his jacket and rearranging stacks of papers on the coffee table.

“I’m fine, really.”

“No, I’ll drive you,” Minho says, still tossing aside the mess he’s made to locate his keys.

“I’ll walk,” you reiterate again, and Minho finally exhales frustratedly.

“Then I’ll walk with you,” he finally announces, ditching the car keys altogether and stopping to look at you. He looks tired, too, evident bags under his eyes and his hair tousled from running his hands through it frustratedly.

“Minho, I really don’t want to burden you-”

“It’s not a burden.”

As he speaks, you hear Joon’s baby monitor alerting you that he’s awake for the evening, wailing loudly when he realizes that he’s alone. It’s perfect timing, too, Minho already having planned to wake him up so he can walk you back.

“Wait here,” Minho says to you as he begins toward the stairs. “I’ll get his harness.”

The dim street lights illuminate the dark paved roads, a crisp chill in the air as you walk alongside Minho with your hands in your pockets.

Joon sits comfortably in his harness against Minho’s chest, curiously taking in the atmosphere around him as you walk in silence to your bus stop. It’s not a long walk, only 20 minutes from Minho’s, but you feel admittedly much safer with Minho by your side, his and Joon’s presence feeling homely even at this hour. For nearly the entirety of the walk, the two of you say nothing, too tired to engage in conversation, but still comfortable in the presence of each other, and not needing to say anything. Joon babbles saliva every now and then, Minho bringing a finger up to wipe his chin, and the only other sounds are that of crickets and the gentle sway of the trees.

“This is me,” you say to Minho when you reach the familiar blue bench of your stop.

You sit on one side of the bench, slinging your book bag over beside you and crossing your legs. And to your surprise, Minho occupies the other side, one hand resting gently on the back of Joon’s head while the other pats his back gently.

“You don’t have to wait,” you tell Minho quickly, and he just shakes his head silently in response.

The silence between you remains, Joon toying with the collar of Minho’s shirt as you wait for the bus. There’s so much you want to ask Minho, so much you still want to find out from him. You’re well aware that you haven’t quite figured him out yet, but you’re undoubtedly sure that he is a nice guy, after all. From lending you his t-shirt, waiting up for you on late nights, even walking you to your bus stop and waiting for the bus with you. You think briefly back to his little joke at the grocery store, smiling to yourself when you remember he’d chosen to pretend you were a married couple for no other reason than to make you laugh after having had such a rough day. And his innate fascination with looking at everything through a philosophical lens, the passion for his favorite subject so robustly present wherever he goes.

“What’s that theory again?” You ask Minho as your thoughts verbalize amidst the silence.

“Hm?”

“The one about the universe.”

“The anthropic principle?” He questions, and you hum in response.

“Yeah, that one. Do you think there are like, a million versions of us right now, just…sitting here?”

“Sure,” Minho replies. “But the conditions would have to be just right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the theory states that conditions have to be just right for us to coexist in the universe we’re in right now. It’s sort of like a coincidence that this one evolved so that we could thrive in it. So there might be other versions of us, just not as definitive. We might be rocks, or bugs. Or maybe there’s a more advanced version, where we’re still on our honeymoon in Italy.”

“Or the one where we killed that cashier,” you chime in.

“Exactly,” Minho replies, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You ponder his words for a moment.

“Do they all follow the same timeline?” You ask him.

“What do you mean?”

“Do they all last forever? What if we got divorced? Would we part ways in every universe?”

Minho stays quiet for a moment, thinking back to the philosophical theories tucked in the back of his mind.

“I don’t know,” he finally replies. “I’d like to think some versions have a happy ending, but maybe some of them don’t.”

As silence falls over you again, your bus finally turns the corner, making its way down the street toward your stop.

“That’s me,” you say, getting up and gathering your belongings again.

Minho stands up, too, saying nothing as the bus finally halts in front of you, the brakes screeching to a stop with the loud exhaust of the doors as they open.

“Thanks,” you say to Minho before getting on. “For walking me.”

“It’s no problem,” he replies, shooting you a tired smile.

Minho watches as you board the bus, taking your seat toward the back. He scans the aisles momentarily, making sure you’re sat somewhere safe, away from anyone he might deem sketchy at this hour. And when he feels confident you’ll make it home okay, he brings Joon’s hand up in front of him, giving you a little wave as he watches you smile back through the tinted windows, sending him off with a wave back.

From then on, things shift between the two of you. Minho is a constant, always offering to walk you home on late nights to engage in discussions about your university work or his favorite theories. When he’s home early from his classes, the two of you enjoy cooking for Joon together, making trips to the grocery store where the cashiers are now fully convinced you’re a married couple. On late nights, the two of you often engage in lighthearted philosophical debates while you wait for Mrs. Lee to get home for the evening. When he’s walking you home for the night, doing homework alongside you or just passing by, Minho indulges you in all his favorite philosophical questions, and you entertain them, using the opportunity to get a better glimpse into his mind and how he thinks.

It’s exactly this that tears down Minho’s walls, you find- he, in all his philosophically-educated glory, sharing his perspective while you poke holes in his arguments and reach a conclusion together. Sometimes you’ll reach a stalemate, the argument fizzling out with no clear answer. And sometimes he can change your mind almost instantly, the arguments leaving his lips like second nature, always quick to persuade you in the opposite direction and provide clear reasoning. He’s very skilled at his work, and you quickly realize why he’s so passionate about philosophy in the first place.

It’s not something Minho’s used to yet- having a companion like this, one who actually cares about anything he has to say. Someone to come home to, somebody to bask in the simplicities of life with and affirm that he’s not completely incapable of making real human connections. And admittedly, maybe he loves playing house with you, coming home to your home-cooked meals and caring for the baby together.

Maybe this version of the universe deems you a babysitter, and he, just an outcast. But sometimes Minho swears he can see different versions where you’re so much more than that to each other.

In late November, you take your first week off, leaving on a small family trip to a city just a few hours out to go see extended family.

You tell Minho of your little excursion the week prior, and he pretends to be disheartened, but you know deep down he must be relieved to have some space to himself again. Of course you’re not able to watch Joon, and Mrs. Lee has a friend watch him in your absence, but you’re surprised at how much you miss the Lee household when you’re not there. The trip to the city is filled with repetitive questions from family about your major, your internship, your potential salary in an entry-level position and general university questions. And yet all you catch yourself thinking about is Joon, and Mrs. Lee and especially Minho.

You wonder what he’s doing in the comfort of his grand room all by himself, surrounded by books and tall windows. Minho once told you that he can go a whole day without talking when he’s not having philosophical debates with you over coffee. You wonder if he’s talked today, or if he attended his classes or how his exam on Tuesday went. Thoughts of him plague your mind every waking second- whether Minho would like a certain food, if Minho would agree with this statement, even what the people around you would think if you dragged him along and played house with him like you do back home. In this version of the universe, maybe he’s reading a book or watching a movie, but in another, he could be right here, telling his string of lies to your extended family.

On the last day of your family vacation, you find yourself in an old bookstore, and all you can think about is Minho. He’d love it here, you think, grazing your fingertips along the old cracked spines and yellowing pages. And as you scan through the philosophy section, several of the books already piquing your interest, you spot it.

The small familiar crimson book, just barely larger than your hand, delicate to the touch and painted with the same Cupid depiction as the one you know so well. A first edition copy of Dorothy Tennov’s Love and Limerence. You can’t help but smile to yourself, scanning the book’s contents briefly before closing it again and bringing it up to the counter. It’s not like you’re trying to worsen this little developing crush you have on Minho, but he seems to be everywhere you go- and candidly, you just want to have him figured out.

When you return to the Lee household from your vacation, the atmosphere is calm, sunbeams shining through the large glass windows and illuminating the house with a romantic glow. Joon eats his breakfast well, downing his orange juice and causing you little trouble throughout the day. And Minho arrives just after 3, his backpack slung over his shoulder and a book in hand.

Your heart beats erratically to see him again, trying your best to avert his gaze as he enters through the front door and kicks off his shoes. When he makes his way through the kitchen, you attempt to look busy, wiping down the counters with a kitchen rag and balancing Joon in your arms.

“Hi,” Minho says, a little shyly as you keep your eyesight on the granite counter below you.

“Hey,” you respond, pretending like you hadn’t noticed him enter the room, when in reality, you’ve been well aware of his arrival since he parked his car out front.

“How was your trip?” Minho asks, setting down his backpack and loosening the collar of his sweater.

He’s dressed for the chilly weather outside, a simple black knit sweater paired with blue jeans.

“It was good,” you reply, folding the rag with one hand and setting it aside. “I kinda missed it here.”

Minho smiles at you nervously, toying with the hem of his sweater as he hears you speak.

“It was pretty quiet without you here. I think Joon missed you.”

“Did he?” You question excitedly, poking at Joon with your finger and cooing at him. “Is that right? You missed me?” And Joon giggles excitedly, smiling between the two of you.

When the room falls quiet again, Minho clears his throat like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t, instead keeping his gaze fixed on yours. The room is teeming with awkward tension between the two of you, two hearts clouded in desire to act on this conflicting emotion of fleeting lust and a mutual understanding of each other, but neither one of you say anything, letting it die with your silence and circle your minds aimlessly again.

“I got you something,” you say suddenly, and Minho’s heart quickens a little.

“Me?” He questions, pointing to himself as if you need clarity of who he speaks of.

“Yes, you. It’s in my bag upstairs.”

And you begin your ascent to the staircase, motioning for Minho to follow you as you bring Joon with you.

“Close your eyes,” you tell Minho when you‘ve entered the library again.

“Should I be scared?” He asks, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“Close them!” You exclaim, and he finally puts his hands out in front of him, shutting his eyes, a big grin plastered on his face. You place the book in Minho’s palms gently, making sure to position it so that the cover is facing him properly.

“Now open.”

When Minho opens his eyes again, he doesn’t even need to read the words before knowing what it is. He’s immediately familiar with the first edition of Dorothy Tennov’s Love and Limerence he holds in his hands, uniquely characterized by the contrasting art style to his, and the much older, yellowing pages.

“My book,” Minho says, biting his lip as he holds back a bigger smile, one that will most definitely point to the incriminating fact that he’s smitten.

“Your book,” you echo, leaning on the wall across from him. “It’s a first edition. The bookkeeper said they’re pretty rare to come by.”

“You didn’t have to-”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, fixing Joon’s hair and averting Minho’s gaze. You’re afraid if you make eye contact with him, this whole nonchalant front will crumble down in front of you, because you’re embarrassingly smitten with him, too.

“Thank you,” Minho says, thumbing the raised gold-foiled cover outline of Cupid. “I’ll go put it with the rest of them.”

And he disappears down the corridor, his book tucked in the endeared clutch of his hands.

While Minho adds his book to the rest of his collection, you put Joon down for his nap, gently placing him on the soft blanket in his crib and adjusting the baby monitor. He blinks up at you a few times, his lips pulling into a shaky smile as his lashes finally flutter shut and a wave of sleepiness washes over him. You exit the room quietly, closing the door just halfway like you always do, and then make your way down the corridor to Minho’s room. The door is left ajar, but you hear him shuffling about, and you enter after giving a gentle knock.

Minho seems startled at this, jumping up from where he’s standing, in front of his bookshelf with Love and Limerence held open in the palms of his hands. He shuts it quickly, shoving it on the top with another stack of books, and then almost shields his bookshelf as he turns to face you.

“I didn't hear you come in,” he says, nervously shifting his eyes to more stacks of books on his window sill and nightstand.

“I put Joon down for his nap,” you reply, cocking an eyebrow as he stands there awkwardly. “Is… everything okay?”

“Yes,” he says quickly, blinking nervously when he sees you peer over his torso at the bookshelf.

“Where’d you put it?”

“Can’t remember,” Minho says, a breathy chuckle emitting from his lips as he tries his best to avoid talking about it. But you catch on- and you’re certainly not going to let him evade the subject.

“What are you hiding?” You finally ask, eyeing him with a small smile. Minho’s face drops a little, sighing once as he steps aside and grants you full visibility of his bookshelf. There’s nothing out of the ordinary- books of all colors and sizes lined neatly on the shelves, some of them left open or bookmarked. A good amount of them appear to be philosophy books, which doesn’t come as a surprise to you.

“It’s just your books,” you say flatly, and Minho scratches the back of his head before he speaks again.

“Love and Limerence isn’t a required read for university.” He says in a low voice.

“Oh,” you reply, unsure of why it should really matter to you.

“None of them are,” he continues. “It’s just my personal… collection. Of romance novels.”

And then you finally understand.

Minho- the stoic, otherwise quiet being, in all his philosophical studiousness and awkwardness, is a sucker for romance. Once the cogs begin turning in your head, they don’t stop, everything about him now making a little more sense to you. Why he stays locked up in his little tower all day reading book after book, why he’s so hopeful when he speaks of the human condition and of love, why he loves taking care of people so much. He’s just a big softie underneath it all.

“There’s nothing weird about that,” you chime in. “In fact, it’s really cool.”

“Yeah right,” he retorts.

“I’m dead serious. I’ve never met someone with so many copies of Thorns and Roses before.”

Minho shakes his head, moving to sit on his bed with his palms tucked under his legs. His gaze remains locked on the floor, an expression of shame still visible on his face. And when you see him exhale deeply, like he’s been nervously holding his breath all this time, you feel bad for him. If there’s anything you’ve learned about him since meeting him, it’s that he’s really a bit of a dork. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him look so vulnerable before.

“Which one’s your favorite?” You ask, skimming your finger along the neat row of spines.

He shrugs. “Pride and Prejudice, maybe. But these days it’s Love and Limerence.”

Minho’s voice is trembling, just above a whisper as he reads off his list of favorite novels to you. And you chuckle softly in reply, pulling the little red book out of its respective home on the shelf and tossing it to him.

“Read me your favorite passage.”

He furrows his brows a little, like he thinks you might be making fun of him. But when you take a seat next to him on the bed, wide-eyed and gesturing to the book in his hands, he realizes you’re genuinely asking him to.

“Go on,” you say, gesturing to the book once more.

Minho opens the book to the middle, flipping through yellowing pages with small font. Most of the pages are littered generously with blue sticky notes, Minho’s messy handwriting annotating all his favorite passages. When he finds the page he’s searching for, he eyes you cautiously, as if waiting for permission to begin reading. And with a deep breath, he begins, his voice shaking a little as he finds his footing.

“Now by these presents let me assure you that you are not only in my heart, but my veins, this morning. I turn from you half abashed--yet you haunt me, and some look, word or touch thrills through my whole frame--yes, at the very moment when I am labouring to think of something, if not somebody else.”

At the last words, his gaze meets yours again, eyelashes trembling as he waits for your reaction. He waits for you to laugh, or to dismiss the words, or leave altogether. But you just stare back at him, your heart beating erratically at the poetry he utters, completely in awe with him.

He feels otherworldly at this distance, this intricate fascination with love and human connection. The way his brown tresses fall loosely in front of his big eyes as he speaks, his plump lips pulling into a nervous smile to reveal the row of skewed teeth you find a home in every time. He’s like the passage reads- thrilling your whole frame, consuming you whole and filling your mind with thoughts of him, and his poetry and his kind demeanor. You find yourself a little closer to him, your eyes darting to his lips and then back to his curious eyes, fantasies of him running rampant in your mind.

And Minho keeps his gaze locked on yours, too, leaning in a little closer to you, the book closing on its own as his hand slips away from holding it open and onto the bed beside you. The implications are there, the atmosphere around you heavy with desire and uncertainty, and just as you wield the courage to bring your lips a little closer to his, you’re promptly interrupted.

“Minho-ah!” A voice calls from downstairs. You quickly clock it as Mrs. Lee’s, who must be home early from work.

“I’m home early!” She calls again, confirming your theory, her footsteps getting louder as she makes her way up the stairs.

You sit up promptly, smoothing down your shirt and standing to bow when Mrs. Lee pokes her head in the doorway. Minho stands up too, making the whole situation look unbearably obvious, and you pray she can’t tell what’s going on between the two of you.

“Y/n,” she says with a warm smile. “I’m sorry I forgot to tell you I would be home a little earlier today. Joon has a doctor’s appointment.”

“No worries at all!” You voice back, bowing again as she smiles. “I was actually going to leave early today. I have a bit of a headache.”

“Oh, do you want a cup of tea?” She asks, heavy concern present in her voice.

“No thanks, I think I just need some sleep.”

You turn to Minho, who’s standing with his hands in his pockets, looking a little disappointed as you give him a small bow.

“Take care,” you say to him, pivoting to head back to the library and gather your things.

Minho hears his mom see you out of the front door, chatting briefly with you about your trip and sending you off with a little wave.

He shuts his bedroom door and locks it, sprawling out on the duvet of his bed and running his hands over the book still beside him.

He’s not sure what happened- whether you were about to kiss him, or whether it was just wishful thinking. But every way he interprets the encounter, Minho swears he can feel your yearning for him, too. Is he crazy to think you might feel the same? Maybe he, too, finds it laboring to think of something- if not, someone else, besides you.

Joon is a particularly picky eater in afternoons, making a big fuss of foods he usually devours in the mornings and evenings. He skillfully dodges every spoon, every bite and feigns his interest in even his favorite snacks and desserts. And while you’re usually patient with him, today you’re frustrated, having mentally scolded yourself several times since yesterday’s events.

A part of you wants to ditch all of this, reminding yourself that you’re here to work a job, not lust after the son of the person who hired you. But the other part of you can’t help but imagine how things would be different if you just let yourself fall gracefully into him- he’s so much more than a fleeting thought to you. You want to understand him, having challenged yourself to figuring him out from the moment you came across him. But maybe you want him to understand you, too. You want him to understand that you feel at home whenever he’s around, his philosophical discussions and this game of house you play making you feel like you belong here. You want him to understand that although you know he feels like an outcast, none of his odd quirks matter to you when he’s reading his favorite love stories across from you in the library, catching glimpses of you when he thinks you’re not looking. And that maybe this universe conditioned itself just right so that you took up this job and crossed paths- and that has to mean something bigger.

There’s nothing different about the afternoon following yesterday’s, except for you spending a considerable amount of time on your hair and makeup, the anticipation bubbling inside you at the idea of seeing Minho again. You have no definitive plan, no script of how it’s going to go when he arrives from school. But you also know there’s something in your throat that wants so desperately to get out, and you won’t let it. As Joon toys with the cereal in his bowl, he looks up at you with big, curious eyes, and you wonder what he’s thinking, if anything. He doesn't know anything beyond the simple tasks of eating and sleeping, living with the comfortable knowledge that he’s being cared for. And although it seems much easier, you can’t help but sympathize. What a gift it is to feel- what a gift it is to carry emotions so deeply they eat away at you like this.

You’re infatuated with Minho- that fact stands true. And whether or not it benefits you to do anything about it, you’re determined to do something with all of this feeling, lest it slips through your fingers like he almost did.

You don’t hear Minho come home when he does, busy in the garden tending to Mrs. Lee’s plants when the usual alert of his car pulling into the driveway passes you by. So when he wanders the corridors searching everywhere for you, you don’t take notice.

Minho’s desperate, hoping to ask you to stay just a little bit longer tonight, having also had the epiphany that he’s completely fallen for you, too. And what he hopes to do with it, he’s unsure- but he does know that every romance novel on his shelf would refute the idea of letting this feeling dissipate. Kiss her, tell her, do something. Anything.

He strides down the halls with purpose and vigor, a nervous smile pulling at his face at the thought of seeing you again. It’s all he’s thought about today, having had just two hours of sleep as he sorted out what to say to you. And while he’s not well-versed in the practice of confessing his love, he feels his whole life has been devoted to the very purpose of being here and finding you. The debates you share, midnight walks to the bus stop, the book- he’d be a fool not to reciprocate what you yearn for. And when he doesn’t find you, Minho feels the familiar pit of worry form in his stomach. He’s not accounted for a change of plans, or even what might happen if you reject his admission. He wants to believe so badly that the answer is yes, risking everything just to say something.

20 minutes after he’s been home, Minho receives a phone call, answering in a rush while he checks the upstairs rooms for you.

“Hello?”

“It’s Sujin from class,” the phone at the other end says plainly. “I’m here for our project.”

And Minho freezes, remembering very well that he has a project due very soon, and his partner is here tonight to work on it with him. He sighs heavily into the line at the change in plans, knowing he’ll have to bottle his emotions another day and act on them tomorrow when he can get you alone.

“Oh, right,” Minho responds, making his way to the stairs and jogging down them. “The door should be unlocked.”

He stuffs his phone in his back pocket, making his way to the door to meet Sujin, and as he passes the sliding door to the backyard, he finally sees you. Knelt on the ground in a white sundress, your hands tainted with soil as you tend to the tomato plants and hum to yourself. Minho smiles at the sight of you, the urge to tell you right now stronger than ever. But before he can call out to you, Sujin’s already made her way inside, peering curiously around the place and clutching her purse in hand.

“Wow,” she says, chuckling lightly. “You didn’t tell me you were rich.”

Minho scratches the back of his head awkwardly as she grazes a marble sculpture with her fingers. His eyes remain on you through the glass door, transfixed by the way you tuck your hair behind your ears and pat your dress as you stand up again. Sujin takes note of Minho’s evident distraction, briefly glancing out the window and back to him.

“Where are we working?” She asks, pursing her lips together.

“We can work upstairs,” Minho explains, as you finally make your way inside.

At first you’re confused at the sight, Minho looming over a girl much prettier than you, her long hair styled neatly over one shoulder and a matching formal two-piece hugging her curves beautifully. And then as you see her begin up the stairs in the direction of Minho’s room, you finally understand.

Of course there’s another woman.

Of course there was a catch to all of this, because why else would things condition themselves so perfectly that you’d win him over?

And suddenly everything feels pointless- confessing to him, feeling any ounce of emotion regarding all of this, even working this job. He has a girlfriend, and she’s much prettier than you are. And he's trailing behind her after giving you a shy nod, likely embarrassed at the fact that you’ll be here tending to his household while he fucks her in his upstairs bedroom.

You can’t help but think that perhaps something got lost in translation, because Minho evidently never liked you, and unless this version of the universe magically conditions to work in your favor just once, it’s going to remain that way.

When the tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes, they don’t stop. You can’t feed Joon without hiccuping through a hot rush of tears that fall from your cheeks onto his tray below him. Joon seems to sense something is wrong, pausing the task of dodging his food to observe the way your face contorts as you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. And when you do stop to look at him, all you can see is Minho, his eyes and lips resembling exactly that of his elder brother’s.

The chores feel like a futile task now, and you let them sit there for the remainder of the evening you’re working for. In fact, the only thing you do complete is the task of getting Joon to bed when the sun begins to set, marching carefully upstairs to not interrupt Minho’s time with his girlfriend. And the word makes you sick, to think that he’s been stringing you along all while having a girlfriend- a fact he so conveniently left out.

Joon goes down without a fuss, and when he’s finally asleep, you escape the confines of the second story to lock yourself in the downstairs living room and complete your school work. How much of that is spent crying instead, you can’t quite remember.

It’s just after 9 when Sujin leaves for the evening, but you’re not awake to take notice when she does. You wake to the familiar sound of infomercials playing quietly on the television in front of you, Minho sitting on the floor in front of the sofa you occupy. His head hangs as he holds a book in his lap, probably some cheesy romance he projects onto him and his girlfriend, and his thin wireframe glasses rest on the bridge of his nose.

The dull narration on the television advertises jewelry tonight, and you let out a sigh as you feel your swollen eyes adjust to the bright screen in front of you. At this, Minho turns around, giving you a sheepish smile as you try to shut your eyes again. But it’s too late- he’s already seen you awake for the evening.

“Hi,” Minho says for the first time today, bookmarking his page and lowering the volume on the television. “She’s late again today, but I saved you some takeout.”

“I’m not hungry,” you reply quickly, sitting up and reaching for your bag. “In fact, I need to go home.”

“Oh, sure,” Minho replies, a little hurt at your rushed tone. “I can walk you-”

“No need,” you say to him, pulling on your sneakers and doing everything in your power to avert his gaze. He furrows his brows a little, knowing you never reject his offers to walk you home.

“Is everything-”

“Fine. I just need to get home,” you reiterate, finally sitting down and smoothing down your wrinkled dress.

Every part of him is annoying you right now, your mind teeming with the reminder that you’ve been wasting your time trying to know him better while he’s been entertaining a whole girlfriend these past few months.

“Y/n, wait,” Minho calls, still intent on telling you tonight, while the feelings remain stronger than ever. But you’ve already crossed the room to the front door, where you avert his gaze so he won’t see you begin to cry again.

“Bye,” you call to him, not even looking back before you’re turning the knob and seeing yourself out. “Tell Mrs. Lee it was an emergency.”

And he wants to ask if it was, but he can’t, staring at your rushed figure jogging down the street as you distance yourself from him before he can string you along any further.

Thus begins the game of avoidance.

It starts through keeping your conversations with Minho as short as possible, not engaging him when he tells you about theories he’s studied this week or what his days on campus were like. When he asks about your day, you give him one-word responses, muttering a simple “fine” before turning your attention to Joon again.

When Minho asks to go to the grocery store, you pretend you have a headache- for three days straight. So he makes the trips solo, balancing bags on one arm and telling you about how the cashiers have begun to ask where his pretend wife’s been. You give him no reaction, nodding as you feed Joon his dinner and glance at the clock for the umpteeth time, desperate to get away from him.

And the mystery woman remains, marching into the Lee household in afternoons like she owns the place, already having memorized the path to Minho’s room as she makes her way up the stairs and doesn’t acknowledge you. She’s beautiful everyday that she’s here, short skirts and long ponytails you can’t seem to look away from. And she’s even more hypnotic when she’s in the presence of Minho, the two of them as a couple certainly a sight for sore eyes. If they were a married couple, you’d reckon they'd be much more distinguished than you and Minho would.

“Do you want a coffee?” Minho peers into the library one night to ask you. You keep your gaze locked on the computer in front of you, trying your best to keep your guard up as he waits for a response.

“No, thank you,” you say coldly, continuing to work on your essay.

When he realizes you’re not going to say anything else, Minho enters the room reluctantly, his hands shoved in his pockets as he leans against the doorframe and gives you a once-over. You say nothing, still, holding back your emotions so as not to cause a scene. And Minho can tell something’s wrong in the way that you shift your eyes to him briefly and shake your head as if scolding yourself for doing so.

“Did I do something?” Minho finally asks, his voice a little shaky.

“No,” you say quickly, skimming the same sentence on your laptop screen over and over again.

“Are you… sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

He fiddles with a loose thread in the pocket of his pants, keeping his gaze on the floor and thinking about your differing behavior toward him the past week.

“We just haven’t talked much. And you never really leave here anymore. I wanted to make sure I didn’t overstep any boundaries-”

“Overstep?” You interrupt, scanning your eyes over the screen of your computer. “There’s nothing to overstep. I get paid to watch your brother, not hang out with you.”

You feel guilty the minute the words leave your mouth, but you feel even worse knowing he’s just been stringing you along with a girlfriend this whole time. The atmosphere feels akin to when you first met him, awkward and cold, and with tensions high like this, you don’t feel at home in the Lee household anymore.

“Sorry,” Minho says, nodding. “You’re right. I guess I’m overstepping by asking.”

You only look up at him when he leaves, his shoulders sagging as he leaves you alone once again- only this time, you have a feeling he’s going to stop making an attempt to rekindle things anymore.

And you’re right- Minho stops trying entirely. There are no more offers to walk you home, no philosophical debates over coffee or grocery store trips where you act as a married couple. You’re still covered in knit blankets when you fall asleep accidentally on the couch, but Minho doesn’t stick around watching his infomercials to wait up for you anymore. And he still saves you his takeout when he orders, but he leaves it neatly packaged for you in the fridge instead of bringing it up to you like he used to.

You’ve gone from a mutual infatuation for each other to complete strangers once again. The house feels lonely and cold like it once did, your only real human interaction occurring in the few minutes you have with Mrs. Lee at the start and end of the day.

Minho doesn’t talk to you at all, locking himself away in his room like he did when you first started caring for Joon. And when you see him in passing at late hours of the night, he looks indifferent, sagging his shoulders as he averts your gaze with a book in hand and disappears down the corridors again. At some point, you begin to see his girlfriend less- in fact, his stoic composure makes you wonder if something’s happened between them. But as time goes on, you start to realize this is less about his girlfriend- and more about you.

What a gift it is to feel- but also what a curse. To let something consume you so entirely you can barely breathe without it. It’s laboring to think of anything else, of anyone else besides Minho and what he means to you. And as you replay your last interaction in your head for the nth time this evening, you think back to the day you started here. You knew the fundamentals of caring for a baby, having trained just enough to land a job doing it. All you wanted was to be liked by Mrs. Lee, and by baby Joon- and by extension, Minho. This household quickly became someplace you felt like you actually belonged in. But your purpose here has completely diverted from its original path, having prioritized Minho’s complexities and his feelings toward you above what you were hired here to do. You’ve experienced a roller coaster of emotions trying to understand him, and just when you thought you’d cracked him, you realized his heart belongs to someone else. So with the comfortable knowledge in mind that perhaps the universe isn’t, in fact, conditioned for you to mean anything more to him than just a babysitter, you understand it’s time to stop forcing any other version of it.

There’s nothing particularly out of the ordinary two weeks into your avoidance of Minho.

You still haven’t talked, he still keeps his distance and you get paid to perform the job you’re here to do. But one afternoon before Minho’s even home from school, Joon refuses to eat. It starts with a tantrum he throws at breakfast time, which you consider typical as he knocks his cereal onto the floor and waves his hands around restlessly. You can only spoon feed him a couple spoons of yogurt before he’s put down for his afternoon nap. And when you wake him for his post-nap meal, he’s just as fussy. He seems to be bothered by something, crying loudly as you offer him different snacks and try your best to calm him down. But nothing seems to work, and when he begins refusing his bottles late into the afternoon, you start to panic.

Mrs. Lee isn’t home for a few hours, you’re unsure of when Minho gets home and you don’t have any way of getting to a hospital right now. The guilt and the fear eat away at you as Joon cries loudly, his face turning a bright shade of red as snot dribbles from his nose onto his shirt. He must be hungry, and clearly uncomfortable by something, only you’re entirely unsure what. His pacifier doesn’t calm him, nor does his favorite stuffed animal or his favorite television program. When his crying reaches the 10-minute mark, you feel hopeless, well prepared to drag him onto the bus to the nearest hospital yourself, fully convinced you’re going to lose your job. And as you begin to cry, too, the front door opens, Minho walking in with his backpack clutched casually in one hand and his car keys in the other. His girlfriend is with him this time, her head hanging as she uses her phone, completely oblivious to the atmosphere around her.

“Minho,” you call helplessly from the kitchen, and his head snaps instantly to look at you. Your eyes are nearly bloodshot from crying, your sleeves drenched in tears from wiping your eyes and your voice shaky as you speak. It’s the first time you’ve said his name in weeks, you realize, feeling your heart race as you call for him.

“What happened?” Minho asks when he turns the corner, throwing off his backpack and approaching a very fussy Joon.

“He won’t eat,” you reply through hiccups, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your sweater again. “I’ve tried everything. He won’t stop crying.”

Minho takes Joon in his arms, rocking him gently back and forth, to no avail; Joon starts crying even harder now, dribbling snot onto Minho’s sweatshirt and hitting his chest repeatedly.

“I’ll have to take him to the clinic,” Minho says in a rushed tone, fishing his car keys out of his pocket and making his way toward the door.

His girlfriend finally turns the corner into the kitchen, putting down her cellphone and huffing frustratedly.

“What’s going on?”

“Sorry,” Minho replies, shoving past her with Joon in his arms. “I have to go. We can work on our project another time.”

Your heart drops at the words- project. Project, as in a project for his university. With a classmate.

You want to cry more now, for being so stupidly angry with him over nothing, but you still have to help Minho take Joon to the clinic. Sujin doesn’t protest, quick to exit without so much as a goodbye as Minho scrambles to fetch Joon’s car seat.

“I’ll get him in the car seat,” you say, pulling your sneakers on as he balances Joon in his arms.

“You’re coming?”

“Of course I’m coming,” you scoff, already taking Joon from his arms and ushering him outside. “Go start the car.”

“Lee?” A nurse calls, holding a clipboard close to her chest as she scans the waiting room.

You and Minho both stand up, Minho balancing Joon in his arms as the nurse gestures you to the door.

“Please, follow me.”

Both of you walk side-by-side down the corridor as she double-checks papers on her clipboard, making a sharp right and leading you into a private room.

Minho sets Joon down on the examination table, holding his arms to steady him, and you stand beside him as you wait for the doctor.

“She’s just reviewing the results,” the nurse says, referring to the x-rays Joon took earlier. “She’ll be in shortly to discuss them.”

Minho nods silently as the nurse leaves the room, leaving the two of you alone once again. You say nothing, unsure of how to break the awkward silence as Minho wipes a string of drool from Joon’s mouth and avoids eye contact with you.

You feel awkward, embarrassed and so, so stupid, for having treated Minho like absolute scum because you assumed the worst of him. It breaks you to see him avert your gaze like this, treating you the same way he did when you first crossed paths. He has his guard completely up again, and you’re not sure he’s ever going to let it down around you. As you lose yourself in doubtful thoughts, the door opens, Joon’s doctor sauntering inside and wiping her hands with the strong scent of hand sanitizer.

“Hi there,” she says cheerfully, giving you both a warm smile. “Are we here for baby Joon today?”

“Yes,” you both say in unison, and she laughs a little.

“You two are very synced. They say it happens in the first year of marriage.”

“We’re not married,” Minho chimes in quickly, and you turn to look at him, feeling a pit in your stomach all over again.

“No?” She questions. “My apologies. Is mom here today?”

“I’m just his babysitter,” you say quietly. “This is his brother.”

“I see,” the doctor says, eyeing you both. “Well you may notice I’m fairly calm, and that’s because there’s no terrible news I have to share. Baby Joon is just suffering from a little mucus buildup. He’s probably feeling the impaction, and the discomfort has caused a loss of appetite.”

You feel a weight off your shoulders instantly, relieved that this isn’t a more serious matter. He’s going to be fine, you think to yourself. He’s going to be his normal self as soon as this is over.

“… Just be sure to use a syringe to drain the mucus a couple times per day, and make sure he gets plenty of sleep.”

As the doctor writes Joon a prescription for his saline syringe, you catch Minho’s gaze briefly, shooting him a relieved look. He gives you a small nod in response, as if to say he’s glad you came along. And he is, he just can’t say it out loud.

“I think he’s finally sleeping,” Minho says, patting Joon’s back gently as he stands up from his chair. The two of you have been sat in the library for nearly two hours since getting back home, in complete silence as you read your books and wait for Joon to fall asleep. You take breaks every now and then to drain Joon’s mucus, alternating roles between holding his face still and using the syringe on him. And when he’s finally comfortable again, he dozes back off to sleep, little snores escaping his lips.

Minho leaves the room to put Joon to bed, and while he’s gone, you take the opportunity to pack your stuff and prepare to leave for the night. You feel guilty, not having said much to Minho this evening, especially with the newfound knowledge that this mystery woman was just a partner for his project. But you’re not sure what to say, well aware that he’s probably already decided you hate him, and there’s not much else you can do to fix things.

“He’s down,” Minho says as he re-enters the library.

“That’s good,” you reply with a solemn smile, packing your laptop in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“I should get going.”

“Do you… need me to walk you?” Minho asks a little shyly, and although the offer is tempting, you shake your head no.

“I’ll be fine. It’s really not as unsafe as you’d think.”

Minho just nods, understanding that you still don’t want to be close to him. And he gives you a little bow, before he exits the room and makes his way up the stairs to his own.

As you begin to leave, an object left on the chair across from you catches your eye.

It’s Minho’s book- the first edition copy of Love and Limerence you gifted him. You take the small book in your hands, scanning its contents briefly and examining the pages. He’s already annotated several of them, despite having read the book numerous times now, and you can’t help but smile at his scribbled notes circling all his favorite quotes and underlining them twice. You know it’s valuable to him, despite coming from somebody he probably despises right now, but you decide to take it up to him anyway, not wanting him to lose it.

When you’re outside his door, you give a small knock as it’s left ajar, and Minho hums in response.

You enter quietly, holding the book out to him and shooting him a small smile.

“You left this downstairs,” you say, and Minho reaches for it quickly, embarrassed you might’ve seen some of his annotations.

“Thanks,” he replies, setting it back on his bookshelf of romance novels.

He takes a seat on the edge of his bed, patting the spot next to him, and you join him at a comfortable distance as he keeps his gaze on the hardwood floor.

For a moment, no one says anything. And then he sighs deeply, before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry. If I made you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” you’re quick to reply.

“I clearly did,” Minho retorts. “And I know I’m quiet, and I kind of shut myself off from the rest of the world. But I never meant for it to affect you.”

“It didn’t affect me,” you reiterate.

He scoffs lightly in response.

“Why won’t you just say it? You haven’t talked to me in weeks. You don’t even look at me. I clearly did something to push you away.”

You don’t reply immediately, pondering what to say. And ultimately, you let your emotions speak for themselves.

“I was jealous.”

“Of what?”

“Of the girl. The one who’s been here almost every night.”

“Sujin?”

“Look, I don’t know, okay? I don’t know who she is or what she is to you-”

“My project partner,” Minho interrupts. “One who hates my guts.”

“Project partner,” you continue. “It doesn’t matter who she is- I like you, Minho,” you finally emphasize, turning to meet his gaze. His lips are parted in shock, his eyebrows furrowed as he hears you speak.

“I’m fucking infatuated with you, and it drives me crazy. I can’t go on vacation without seeing you in the books at the stores, I can’t sleep at night without your stupid theories replaying in my head. And I jump to the worst possible conclusions when you’re even near another girl. I’m going crazy trying to be liked by you- trying to look at everything through the lens of your romance theories or your book quotes, or whatever. But it’s so scary to like someone this much.”

Minho says nothing for a minute, collecting his thoughts as you let go of the breath you’ve been holding. He’s not used to people liking him- let alone being this intrigued by him. And especially when it’s in the form of reciprocation, from the one person he’s infatuated with, too.

“Why is it scary?” Minho questions, facing you now, his eyes darting briefly over your lips and then back up to your worried gaze.

“Because I’m here for a job. I’m not supposed to be feeling all this. You’re not supposed to be part of this.”

“How do you know that?” Minho retorts, leaning in a little closer to you now.

“I just…”

“You’re allowed to feel, y/n. You’re allowed to want this.”

And before you can protest his words, his lips are on yours, kissing you passionately like he’s pacifying the arguments before they can come to fruition. Your heart beats erratically in your chest, your mind racing with a million thoughts about what you’re doing, and what this whole thing even implies, but you shut them out with the rest of your concerns, pressing your thighs together as he brings two hands to your face and cups your chin gently. His lips work against yours so beautifully, so effortlessly, like the two of you have done this several times before. And maybe you have, in all his alternate universe theories- on your honeymoon, on the run from the police- right here in the comfort of his grand bedroom, his hands snaking up to pull off your cardigan as you tug desperately at the fabric of his t-shirt. Minho says nothing between passionate kisses, afraid if he talks you might realize what’s happening and leave. But you won’t leave, especially not when you’ve been dreaming of this, too.

When your cardigan is off, Minho moves a little closer to you on the bed, letting one hand guide itself onto your waist and trace the gentle curve of your body there. He’s delicate with his movements, careful not to startle you with his touches, but he’s also admittedly thought about this for weeks. The thought of you confessing was never something that crossed his mind- he was so sure he’d driven you away after that night. Never in his wildest fantasies had Minho considered the possibility that you were this smitten with him, too. But he did have thoughts of your lips on his, thoughts of your hands intertwined with his and ungodly visions of you under him, right here in his bed. Visions of his mouth on your breasts after you’d accidentally exposed yourself to him in the kitchen and he was forced to give attention to the massive erection that grew in his pants. And after you’d gifted him his favorite book, attentive to the details he’d indulged you in which he never otherwise shared with people, visions of making love to you ran rampant in his mind, filling you up over and over again with remnants of him as a form of saying I’m infatuated with you, too.

Minho’s kisses become needier as your words replay in his head, darting his tongue out to dance against yours with the sounds of exchanging saliva present between your plump, eager lips. He pushes you back gently so that you’re now lying on his pillow, the angle so intimate, the view of his room from here like something you’re not supposed to see. The ceilings appear even larger when you’re flat against his bed, the curtains that drape over his bedpost seemingly miles high.

Minho’s kisses trail down to your neck now, eagerly peppering your flesh in wet kisses as your hands reach up to tangle in his hair, holding him closer to you and letting him graze his lips wherever he desires. You can’t help but feel guilty having him all over you like this when you remember how you’ve treated him these past couple months- criticizing his tendencies to be quiet, intruding on his space and pushing him away because of a girl you’d assumed to be his girlfriend. But you also know most of it has been because you want him to mean more to you- perhaps you’ve just been trying to change things so that in this version of the universe, he’s not just an enigma to you. You want all of this- his lips on yours, his body pressed into you and to give yourself completely to him.

“Just so we’re clear,” Minho says suddenly, pulling away from you to hold eye contact with you. “I’m crazy about you, too. I really like you.”

And you can’t help but smile back in response, pulling him in again to press his lips on yours. He smiles into the kiss, too, satisfied you’re both on the same page. And although your now eager movements imply something more is about to happen, you don’t have to verbalize anything, his fingers snaking up your shirt serving as answer enough.

“Is this okay?” Minho asks, grazing your flesh with his big hands as he toys with the hem of your shirt.

You nod in response, sitting up a little and completing the task of pulling it off over your head and discarding it beside you. You waste no time on your bra, either, reaching around to unclasp it and rid yourself of the fabric without him having to ask. His eyes widen again at the sight, having remembered every curve of your body since that incident in the kitchen. But now in front of him again, he feels his cock swell in his pants, desperate to act on the urge. In nimble movements, his hand cups the mound of your breast, kneading it gently and sighing at the sensation of your soft skin against his. His mouth finds yours again, indulging you in a slow, passionate kiss, and then he trails down until he meets his hand at the mound of your breast, pressing a chaste kiss to your flesh before finally latching his lips around your nipple.

He starts with gentle kisses while your nipple rests between his lips, a string of saliva dribbling down to coat your hardened bud. And then he takes it between his lips with more force, beginning a gentle sucking motion as he gives your other nipple attention with his free hand, circling the tip with his thumb in tender movements.

You sigh beneath him, the sensation sending a shiver up your core, your nipples hardening even more in his touch, now eager for him to give your soaking core some attention. But he takes his time stimulating you, moving to your other breast to take your nipple in his mouth and leave a trail of saliva. Your body shivers when the cool air grazes your wet nipples as he pulls away, and he meets your lips again to kiss you passionately.

While he kisses you, your hands now toy with the hem of his shirt too, signifying for him to take it off. And Minho reciprocates with a little nod, finally pulling his shirt over his head and revealing his bare chest to you. It’s a marvelous sight to see more of his honey-tanned skin, his toned muscles and his broad pectorals practically begging for you to touch them. And just above his stomach, a horizontal pale pink scar, one that he eyes momentarily and then gives you a shy shrug.

You run your fingers along the scar briefly, tracing it in its entirety and bringing your hand up to caress his face.

“I didn’t think I could be any more attracted to you,” you say to him sheepishly, tracing the scar again. “You look like the poetry you’re so obsessed with.”

Minho feels an involuntary smile pulling at his face as he leans in to kiss you again, this time intent on giving himself fully to you the way you deserve.

Your kisses both grow hungrier, needier, as your bodies tangle into each other, and Minho loops a finger into the hem of your panties, tugging them down so that he has access to your sopping cunt. As your hands tangle further into his soft brown hair, his finger traces down the length of your stomach, dipping into every curve and over every inch of flesh he only got a brief sight of. And when he finds your mound, you arch up into him, parting your legs slightly to give him access. Minho doesn’t waste another second, attaching the pads of his fingers to your clit and working you in circular motions as he kisses you. Little gasps escape your mouth as he does, breathing heavily into his kisses and grinding your core closer to him as he quickens his pace, smearing your arousal around your aching clit and circling two fingers around to massage you gently. His cock is now fully erect against his abdomen, prodding into your upper thigh as he trails his kisses down your neck again, but he’s patient, forgiving with his movements, eager to pleasure you first.

As his kisses graze your neck, you tug his boxers over his cock, pulling them down so you’re equal parts undressed. Minho winces a little at the sensation, a bead of precum already dripping down the head of his cock, and you feel yourself clench around nothing at just the sight of him hard for you.

When he takes note of your anticipation, he glances down at his own erection, locking his gaze with yours again as if to confirm again that this is okay. You nod in response, reaching your hands around to loop them behind his neck and pull him a little closer. And then your gaze falls to his cock again, waiting for him to make the next move.

The two of you say nothing as Minho’s hand finds the base of his cock, pumping himself gently before leaning in to kiss you. He lets himself hover closer over you, until his cock is kissing your entrance in the same gentle, wet movements as your lips. You lift your leg up slightly to grant him access, and then in gentle movements as your eyes remain shut, you feel him push his tip inside of you, stretching you out around his girth and causing you to gasp. He’s bigger than you anticipated, even the dripping arousal of your cunt having trouble taking him wholly. But he brings his fingers down to your clit again, massaging you slowly to ease the pain. And it works, your body relaxing around him as he pulls back a little and thrusts in again, this time pushing further until he’s completely bottomed out inside of you. You let out a fervent moan at the sensation, his cock pulsating inside of you as he holds it there, feeling every inch of you clench around him and take him so well now. And then with a gentle kiss to your lips, he begins to move, his hips pulling back slowly to thrust back inside of you.

You feel so full of him, having him exactly as you’d always imagined him- circling your thoughts, hovering over you and finally inside of you, his cock brushing against your cervix so delicately with every thrust. Your labored breaths become one as you pant into each other’s mouths with overwhelming pleasure. Minho steadies himself with one hand on the mattress beside you, quickening his pace a little as he feels his cock twitch inside of you in response to a particularly pornographic moan of yours.

“Fuck,” he breathes, shutting his eyes as he continues to slip in and out of your soaking cunt. “You’re so full of me, aren’t you?”

He brings his lips to your neck again, nibbling the flesh between his teeth and letting it bruise as you moan beneath him.

“I’ve thought about you everyday,” you respond, angling his lips to yours again as he fucks you. “I’ve thought about this so many times.”

“Yeah?” Minho says with a satisfied smile, working circles back onto your clit.

“Yes,” you breathe back, toying with his hair as your arms wrap around his neck. “I wanted you to fuck me like the characters in your romance novels.”

Minho feels his cock twitch again, wincing and slowing his pace so as not to finish just yet.

“I can’t help it,” you whimper underneath him. “I think about you all the time. I think about you fucking me all the time.”

Minho intertwines his hand with yours, pressing it down on your abdomen and letting yourself feel when his bulge fills you up at every thrust, the motion visible beneath your palms.

“Feel that, baby?” He asks between kisses to your drooly lips. “Feel how good I fuck you? Is this what you imagined?”

You gasp at the sensation once you feel it, the bulge of his cock protruding against your palm with every pump inside of you. You nod breathlessly, almost unable to reply to his words now.

“I imagined it, too,” he says, picking up his pace now. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to bend you over the couch and fuck you right there the moment I met you.”

He groans a little as you clench around him and moan in response.

“Minho,” you say breathlessly, not missing the way his cock twitches inside of you once again. “Will you finish inside of me?”

He pauses for a moment, scanning your expression for a sign of whether or not you’re being serious.

“Please,” you beg, as if reading his thoughts. “I’m on birth control. Just want to feel your seed inside of me.”

He shuts his eyes briefly as you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in a little closer.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Minho asks, locking his gaze on yours again. “I want to, but I want you to be sure about it.”

“I’m sure,” you say quickly, the last syllable hitching in the back of your throat as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. “Please, just wanna feel you fill me up.”

He thrusts harder into you now, the room teeming with the squelching noises of your pussy taking him so effortlessly.

“You like it when we play house like this, huh?” He says, wrapping a hand gently around your throat. “You like imagining me as your husband, don’t you? Fucking you like we’re married?”

And it doesn’t take you more than a second to think before you’re nodding desperately at his words. You do love it, this sense of belonging when you’re in the Lee household. But you also get aroused at this second life you lead alongside him, caring for the baby like it’s one of yours and being fucked by Minho when no one else is around to hear your lewd moans.

“Yes,” you reply, your response muffled by his grasp on your throat. “You make such a good dad.”

“We’d make such good parents,” he emphasizes, kissing you breathlessly. “What do you say I fuck a baby into you and we find out for real?”

You feel yourself contract around his girth at the words, not having considered it seriously, but turned on at the idea of carrying a child just for him.

“Is that what you want?” Minho asks, nearing his orgasm as he thrusts even faster into you now, panting into your mouth above you.

“Yes,” you reply with a whimper. “Want you to fill me up so bad.”

“Yeah?” He cuts you off, pressing your abdomen harder with his hand. “I’m gonna cum, baby. Want you to feel it.”

Your senses hone in on the feeling of your palm over his bulge, pulsating rhythmically as he nears his orgasm.

“I’m cumming, fuck, I’m gonna finish,” Minho says, shutting his eyes in pleasure as he moves at his fastest pace now, his grip around your throat holding you steady as you lose yourself underneath him. He’s never finished inside someone before, but he has no intention of pulling out now, the conversation of impregnating you sending him over the edge as he reaches the cusp of his release.

You contract around his breathlessly now, eager to take his load, never having taken someone’s either, but desperate for Minho to be your first.

And with a few more harsh thrusts, Minho’s cock twitches once inside of you, finally letting out a generous load of his cum inside of you, the gush of his release filling you up so fully, the warm sensation of his milky white release thrusting deep inside of your pussy as he fucks the rest into you.

He feels his head spin, his eyes shutting instinctively at the sensation as he lets go fully inside of you, no urgency to pull out or stave off his release like he usually has to. And it takes a while before he’s begun to soften again, the knowledge of giving you his cum almost rousing him again and lengthening the period of his release inside of you. Minho already knows he’s going to be addicted to finishing inside of you from here on out- and he doesn’t want it any other way.

The warm feeling is all it takes for you to finish in mere seconds, contracting around him as he fucks you through his orgasm, your release mixing with his and dribbling down the side of your thighs as he begins to slow down. Minho doesn’t pull out immediately, instead caressing your face to gauge your reaction as he softens inside of you.

“Was it okay?” Minho queries, tucking sweaty strands of hair behind your ears and loosening his grasp on your throat.

“It was more than okay,” you say breathlessly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he smiles down at you. “I feel so full of you.”

Minho kisses you sweetly, rubbing his thumb along your hand soothingly as he pulls out of you, a string of his cum connecting to you still and dribbling onto the sheets as he rolls over to lay on his side.

For a moment, the two of you say nothing, your chests rising and falling as you catch your breath and ponder the day’s events. It’s not what you expected was going to happen when you saw yourself up to his room again, but it is what you’d hoped would happen eventually. And the atmosphere feels much lighter around you now, completely void of the lingering sexual and emotional tension that’s plagued you for so long.

“Minho?” you say quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Philosophically speaking, how many versions of us do you think are lying next to each other like this, right now?”

Minho thinks over your words for a moment, and then he chuckles lightly.

“Well if the universe was conditioned right, I’d hope for an infinite amount. But considering how long it took us to get here in this version, I’d say just one.”

And he sits up, leaning in for another kiss as two fingers tuck his arousal further into you, holding his release inside of your still-sensitive body.

“Have some bacon, honey,” Mrs. Lee says to you as she scrambles to get her things together for the day. “I made a lot, so help yourself.”

“Thanks,” you reply, strapping Joon into his high chair and smoothing down your skirt.

Ever since that evening, you and Minho have been inseparable. The two of you wait until Mrs. Lee is gone for the morning, desperately grabbing at each other and giggling between kisses until Minho has to leave for his classes. And when he returns, it’s much of the same, the two of you helping put Joon down for his afternoon nap before escaping up to his bedroom and making love until Joon wakes again.

Minho is completely and utterly obsessed with you, the same way you are with him, but you both know this game of house you play can’t go on forever. Mostly because you feel the guilt eating away at you day by day, every waking minute you’re tending to your duties as a babysitter or conversing with Mrs. Lee. It’s hard to be in the same room as Minho when she’s around, the urge to just confess even more present when she attempts to facilitate conversation between the two of you and you’re forced to act like he’s still a mystery.

But you have him more figured out than you ever have before, memorizing the freckles on his body like the back of your hand, reciting his favorite quotes like prayers and replaying the melodic giggles that escape his lips. You don’t want to be apart from him, but the point still stands- it’s scary to like someone this much. He consumes you more than he ever has before, filling every waking second of your life with remnants of him. You love when he reads romantic philosophical theories to you, or when he cooks you and Joon dinner after a long day. But you feel guilty when you’re alone with Joon again, hoping he can’t somehow tell that you’re only thinking of his brother when you’re preparing his bottles or feeding him. You hope Mrs. Lee doesn’t notice when your hair is a little too tousled to have just been from a nap, or the time you had to cross your legs to keep Minho’s release inside of you when the two of you had finished just in time for her to make it home. It’s selfish, and it’s unfair. And with no sign of this fling stopping anytime soon, you don’t see any other option to be fit.

“I’m leaving,” Mrs. Lee finally says, grabbing her car keys off the kitchen table and pulling her heels on. “Make sure to get Joon his medicine!”

The two of you watch as she shuts the front door behind her, and then you wait until her car starts, holding your breath as she pulls out of the driveway and begins down the street in what feels like an agonizing amount of time.

The minute she’s gone, Minho turns to you again, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you lean back against the counter.

“Morning,” he says with a shy smile. He wastes no time leaning in for a romantic kiss, which you reciprocate, wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling into him.

When he pulls away, the two of you say nothing, holding each other in a comfortable embrace as he rubs little circles into the small of your back.

“I guess it’s just mom and dad home right now,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your neck. “I’ll ditch class right now if you want me to fill you up again.”

And his offer is tempting as he presses his erection into you, working more kisses down the nape of your neck and trailing his hands up your skirt.

“No,” you finally say, pushing him away and collecting your thoughts. “You need to get to class. I have a lot of stuff to do. I’m working, in case you forgot.”

“Okay, okay,” Minho says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I digress.”

He pulls back to caress your face with a visible smirk as your eyes graze his thighs, so beautifully sculpted under the fabric of his jeans. You’re not sure you’ve ever been so sinfully tempted by somebody before, like Eve to the apple, like a moth to a flame- he’s intoxicating, but you know you shouldn’t be indulging this while you’re here to fulfill your role as a babysitter.

“You should go,” you say to him, swallowing nervously as his hands trace the outline of your lips.

“Yeah,” Minho replies, a hint of disappointment present in his voice.

And without another word, he gathers his car keys off the table, sending you off with a little wave as he disappears for the day.

You may have Minho mostly figured out now- his fascination with romance and philosophy, his soft interior under the stoic exterior he presents everyone else with, his astounding levels of emotional intelligence and unwavering kindness for the people he loves. But now that things have become a little more complicated between the two of you, you fear all of this will come to an end as fortuitously as it all began.

The reality is, this isn’t one of Minho’s romance novels- you’re both real people, with emotions and convictions and reservations. And though you want this fleeting thing to last forever, you’re well aware that things don’t work that way, especially when you’re just a babysitter at the end of it all. Sure, Minho sees you as much more than that- but you were hired to be here in the Lee household, paid to fulfill your role here, and once this comes to an end, your relationship with Minho likely will, too.

… and thus, the decision to quit your job isn’t one you take lightly. It succeeds hours of thinking, weighing your options and planning out exactly what you’re going to tell Mrs. Lee when she asks why you’re leaving so suddenly. You want to do another internship, you decide on telling her, hoping she doesn’t poke enough holes to get the truth out of you- “I think far too much about your eldest son and it’s eating me alive.”

All day long, you try your best to shut Minho out of your thoughts, focusing on your online courses and caring for Joon like you used to. But it feels futile, this task of pretending things are the way they used to be. They’re not- you’re sneaking behind Mrs. Lee’s back and hooking up with her eldest son. When all’s said and done, you’ll be right back in your own home, with your parents desperate to send you elsewhere once again, and your own life to tend to. This double life you romanticize isn’t real, nor is it attainable anymore.

Your phone call with Mrs. Lee to announce your decision doesn’t set anything in stone yet, her words urging you to speak with her later this week when she has some free time. But you know once you do speak with her, you’ll only have a few evenings left with Minho until this is all over. And you don’t have the heart to tell him just yet, but if things go anything the way they did when you first brought it up to him, you know he’s going to be heartbroken.

When Minho arrives home that evening, he can already sense something is wrong. You’re sat in the garden, where you typically don’t go, your legs crossed neatly over one of the sunlounger chairs as you let your thoughts consume you. Mrs. Lee’s koi fish fountain stands nobly in front of you, a robust stream of water trickling from its lips and into the concrete bowl below. You’re mesmerized by it as you always are, the steady sound of water coupled with the birds chirping in the sunny greenery around you as peaceful as ever.

“Hey,” Minho says, sliding open the screen door and stepping outside to meet you.

“Hi,” you reply, holding a hand up over you to shield your eyes from the sun. You’d forgotten how divine he looked today, his white button up now folded up at the sleeves and exposing his veiny forearms to you.

“How was your day?” Minho asks, pressing a small kiss to your temple as he occupies the spot beside you and stares at the fountain.

“Okay,” you respond, though you’re lying through your teeth. “Joon went down about an hour ago.”

Minho nods, and then he furrows his brows together as he speaks again.

“Why are you out here?”

You shrug in response, keeping short with your words as he pushes you for answers. And you want to tell him it’s because you made the most painful decision to call Mrs. Lee and forfeit all of this, but you know it’ll only hurt more, so you divert from the truth.

“It was stuffy inside,” you voice back, shooting him a small smile.

Minho seems to relax beside you, his shoulders sagging a little as he takes notice of your calm demeanor. He doesn’t have reason to believe anything’s wrong, judging by the way you converse so casually.

“You want me to cook you something?” Minho asks, placing his palm up next to you, and you let your hand intertwine with his.

“Will you read to me?” You ask, eager to indulge in your favorite activity alongside him.

“I can read to you,” Minho echoes back, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of your hand. “Which book?”

You’re both in the cozy atmosphere of the library later that evening, Minho sat on his favorite velvet armchair as you occupy a spot in his lap with his arms wrapped around you. The book is positioned in front of him so you can both see, his fingers holding open the thin pages as the poetry leaves his lips, pausing in between lines to press kisses to the crook of your neck when he’s reminded of you in his favorite characters.

And you hold back tears in the moment, wanting so badly to tell Minho that you’ll be letting go of all of this, running back to the monotony of your old life, one where Minho doesn’t exist and you don’t have to balance the complicated feelings of liking someone to this degree. But you bite back your words, careful not to ruin the intimate moment you share while he loves you in an ignorant state of bliss.

“The pleasures of love are always in proportion to the fear,” Minho begins a new chapter, grazing your neck with his lips.

He trails a bit lower to graze your shoulder now, pressing a small trail of kisses as he pauses his reading. You giggle softly in response, feeling his fingers find the strap of your tank top to pull it down your shoulder so he can pepper kisses there, too.

“Minho,” you say softly, writhing in his embrace as he tickles every inch of your skin with his kisses, now shutting the book and setting it on the arm of the chair.

“Can’t help it,” Minho responds, shutting his eyes as he snakes his hands up the back of your tank top. “You look so beautiful right now.”

As you adjust in his lap, you can feel he’s now rock-hard in his jeans below you, his thighs flexing underneath you as he wraps two hands around your waist and runs them up and down your sides. You take the hint, turning around in his lap to face him, and let your arms wrap around his neck to steady yourself.

“What are you thinking about?” Minho asks, bringing his lips to yours as he feels his hardened cock graze against the fabric of his jeans, eager to pleasure you.

You want to express your fears, your doubts, to tell him the truth about what you spoke about on the phone with Mrs. Lee earlier today. But you can’t, not when he looks so tantalizing in front of you like this, his bulge perfectly outlined in his tight jeans and his veiny arms flexing below the fabric of his collared button-up. You’ve been roused for him since he left in the morning, his offer swirling your mind coupled with his appearance, like something out of a wet dream.

“You,” you voice back, whimpering pathetically into another kiss and rocking your hips gently over him so that he’s practically whimpering for you, too.

Neither of you have to say much, knowing already where the evening is headed, as you unzip his pants and palm his erection through the fabric of his boxers. Minho watches as you slide off his lap, dropping to your knees in front of him and tugging the fabric of his jeans. He complies with your urges, pulling them down to his knees and freeing his erection from his boxers, exhaling deeply as the cool breeze of the room grazes his leaking tip.

Without a second to waste, you take him in your mouth, letting your saliva coat his shaft as you kiss his tip tenderly and then guide him down your throat, the base of his cock just barely meeting your lips as you struggle to take him fully. Minho groans at the contact, bucking his hips off the chair to guide himself further into you, feeling his cock twitch when you gag a little at the contact. You stay like that for a good while, bobbing your head in rhythmic motions up and down his hardened length, your saliva allowing you to graze his shaft with ease.

Minho’s thighs contract desperately below him, trying his best to stave off the orgasm he’s been longing for since the moment he saw you this morning. His hands find your hair, pulling your locks into a makeshift ponytail and gasping as you take him a bit deeper now, pulling back again to pepper the tip of his wettened cock in drooly kisses.

“Fuck,” Minho breathes out, clutching the arm of the chair so desperately. “Baby, stop, I don’t want to finish yet,”

And you release him with a gentle pop, knowing exactly what it is he wants so badly. You never deny it, sitting back up again to position yourself over his cock you intertwine his hands with yours. He uses one hand to tug your panties to the side, and then in one swift motion, you guide his cock inside of you, sliding down the slick of his length and bottoming out with ease. You take him so well now, always able to adjust to his girth instantly as your cunt is always dripping in anticipation when he’s near.

Minho’s hand moves to push your tank top up, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking harshly as you begin to bounce on him with gentle movements. The room fills with sounds of panting, sucking and desperate moans as his cock fills you fully with every thrust, brushing against your cervix as he moves to your other nipple and kneads your breast desperately.

“What was that quote again?” You ask in labored breaths as he comes back up to kiss your lips.

“The pleasures of love,” he begins, breathlessly working his lips against yours as you clench around his length. “Are always in proportion to the fear.”

Minho feels his cock twitch inside of you, always nearing his finish much faster when you make him recite all his favorite quotes and book excerpts to you.

Except this one speaks much louder to you, directly aligning with your present-day emotions, circling your mind relentlessly as he fills you. Maybe this is what his book speaks of- the pleasures of love, being filled so fully and lovingly by Minho, two pieces of one whole like you’re both made for this, to make love into the late hours of the night while he recites poetry to you.

And all of this in proportion to the fear- this constant fear that he’s just a fleeting entity, that you’re both naive to play house like this and pretend it’s anything more. The fear present while you’re sneaking behind Mrs. Lee’s back, letting him fuck you like he’s married to you and indulge you in all of his deepest secrets, as though you’re the only one allowed to know him this intimately.

The love and fear and indeed in proportion to one another- you love him as much as you’re afraid of loving him.

“I love you,” you say suddenly, bringing him in for another kiss before he can respond. But the way his kisses work against yours, hungry and passionate, there’s not a hint of reluctance in his response when he pulls away to speak again.

“I love you,” Minho breathes back, working his kisses against yours as his cock pulsates inside of you, desperate for release. “And I hope every version of the universe is conditioned for us to be right here.”

You smile into him, slowing your movements as you feel him contract inside of you, and then his thighs flex as he finally finishes inside of you, shooting hot white ropes of his cum into your still-clenching cunt, his release already beginning to dribble back down his length as he feels you slow down over him.

You bring a hand between the two of you, gathering his cum on the pads of your fingers to circle your clit in gentle movements, stimulating yourself to your release, too, as you contract desperately around him and breathe labored kisses back into his mouth. Your juices mix with his as you catch your breath, keeping him inside of you as your chest rises and falls with gentle movements. But the two of you say nothing, pressing your lips together to indulge in more passionate kisses for the few minutes you have left before Mrs. Lee makes it home for the evening.

The garden is particularly beautiful the next afternoon, teeming with the sounds of birds chirping and trees swaying in the gentle autumn breeze. Mrs. Lee let you know she’d be home a little earlier to have a chat about your decision to leave, and when Joon is put down for his afternoon nap, you receive the call that she’s in the garden waiting for you. You enter hesitantly, worried Minho might catch you and question what you’re doing out here. But he’s not home from school yet, you remind yourself, glancing around the tall grass and neat rows of potted plants for Mrs. Lee.

“Y/n!” A voice calls from one of the patio chairs. “Come, sit!”

Mrs. Lee sits with her back facing you, a large white sun hat atop her neatly styled hair and complementing her matching white jumpsuit. Her gaze remains locked on the koi fountain you’re always transfixed by, too.

“Hi Mrs. Lee,” you say, giving her a small bow as you take the seat next to her. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

She nods with a smile. “So good to see you when we have a little more time. I’m sorry I’m always such a mess in the mornings.”

You shake your head quickly, brushing off her words. “Not at all! It’s always nice to greet the family before I start my day.”

She just smiles in response, turning to nod at you, and then she turns back to the fountain.

“I was a little surprised when you called the other day. I hope things are going okay.”

“They are,” you interrupt quickly. “They absolutely are. Joon is so pleasant, and the job is great. I really love it here.”

“I hope everything at home is okay,” she moves on to say, and you quickly reassure her.

“Yes, everything is fine! Everyone is doing great.”

“I understand,” Mrs. Lee says, eyeing the ground before turning to face you now. “You’ve done so much for us, I’d be lying if I said I’m not going to miss having you around here in the mornings.”

You shoot her a sympathetic look, feeling a pit form in your stomach, too. You feel the same, probably tenfold, at the idea of leaving behind the household you’ve called home for so many days.

“I’m going to miss it here, too.”

“And I know Joon is going to be heartbroken,” Mrs. Lee says with a chuckle.

You chuckle too, giving her an understanding nod.

She pauses briefly, furrowing her brows together, before continuing her speech.

“You’re such a bright young woman, and I know you’re destined to do amazing things. If there’s a way I can help in this transition, please don’t hesitate to let me know, okay?”

You nod at her words, and watch as she smooths down her top before standing up. She seems to wait for a moment, as if hoping for you to say something, and when you don’t, she begins to make her way back inside.

“Well, I’ll let you go for the evening. Thank you again, for everything. And you have my phone number if-”

“Mrs. Lee?” You call out suddenly, catching her before she can get much further. She turns around at the worry present in your voice, her face shifting into that of concern.

Without having to voice anything else, Mrs. Lee sits down again, waiting for you to continue. But you can’t, your heart beating wildly in your chest at the thought of even bringing up the topic of Minho. I’m in love with your son, you want to say to her. I’m so in love with Minho and I hope you understand I don’t have a choice but to leave this all behind me.

“You know,” Mrs. Lee interrupts your thoughts, breaking the silence that fills the air. “This koi fountain was my first gift from Mr. Lee.”

You nod at her, remembering when she introduced it to you on your first day here.

“We weren’t married yet. It was his first restoration project, and my dad hated him. So he had a lot of trouble getting it over to me.”

You chuckle lightly, amused at her story which seems to calm you down a little.

“Luckily his parents adored me,” she continues. “And they offered to house it in their backyard until we married. For the 15 years we dated, my koi fish lived in their garden. And when we did marry, they rented a big truck to help haul it over. It was such a project! But it’s my favorite part of the garden.”

You shoot her a saccharine smile, well endeared at the way she speaks of Mr. Lee. You can tell she’s in love with him, even this many years later.

“Sometimes I wondered why they would do something so nice for me. But as I grew closer to them, I learned not to question what was meant for me. They loved me, as did Mr. Lee. And I wasn’t going to run from any of that, no matter what I felt I deserved.”

Your head snaps in her direction at her last words, realizing how they apply to you. But she doesn’t know about Minho- at least not to your knowledge, or Minho’s. She gives you a sheepish smile as you furrow your brows, and then she takes your hand in hers, giving it a little squeeze.

“I hope you won't run from what you deserve, either.”

You nod a little bit at her words, finally understanding the weight of them, and then you look back at her with a confused expression.

“Mrs. Lee, are you talking about…”

“Minho?” She finally says, with a warm smile. She takes your other hand in hers, too, tilting her face to yours so that she’s making proper eye contact as she speaks.

“I had wondered why he was so happy these days. Minho’s always been a bit of an outcast. But I haven’t seen this spark in him since he started his obsession with all those romance novels and philosophy studies of his.”

You chuckle lightly, a weight off your shoulders as she finally speaks of what circles your mind so heavily.

“But how did you…”

“I knew it when I saw it,” she says. “I knew it, because he had the same look in his eyes as when I met his father.”

You feel your heart swell in your chest, your shoulders relaxing as she continues to speak.

“He speaks of you like poetry,” she tells you. “And for that alone, I’m thankful for you. Now what you choose to do is your decision- but I hope you know you will always have a home here with us. Not just as a babysitter, but as family.”

When Mrs. Lee finishes her speech, she gives your hands a little squeeze, smiling at you and back at the koi fish fountain. It feels much more sentimental to you even now, the beautiful waterfall that cascades serving as a reminder of its permanent restoration rooted in the infatuation Mr. Lee had for Mrs. Lee. And watching it stand so beautifully like it did all those years ago, you’re reminded that love can be a lasting thing, no matter the circumstances. The universe can condition itself to make things last, affirming the philosophical notions Minho’s always told you. And that perhaps you do deserve this, a sense of belonging here in the Lee household, right here alongside Mrs. Lee and Minho, and even baby Joon.

As you watch the fountain together, the sound of the sliding door makes itself known behind you, and you turn around to find Minho entering the garden, baby Joon sitting comfortably in his arms as he makes his way over.

“Hi,” Minho says, coming around to give Mrs. Lee a kiss on her cheek. “What’s going on here?”

He looks visibly worried, his eyes darting back and forth between you and Mrs. Lee, as if to silently ask you what she’s told you.

But Mrs. Lee just smiles at him, as she gets up from where she’s sitting and smooths down her jumpsuit.

“We were just having a girl chat. I’ll leave you two alone.”

And she disappears behind the screen door again, shooting you a little wink as she does, her anecdote circling your mind, still.

“What happened?” Minho asks, settling down next to you and balancing baby Joon on his knee. Joon fists at the fabric of his shirt, babbling incoherently as you smile down at him.

“Nothing,” you say, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips. You refrain from saying anything about leaving, not wanting to interrupt the tender moment you share with Minho and Joon in the sunlight of the garden.

“You have a really cool mom,” you settle on saying, smiling at Minho as he chuckles softly in response.

The afternoon sun beams through the glass windows of the library as you lie comfortably in Minho’s lap, his book positioned in front of you as he presses a small kiss to the back of your hand before turning the page.

Outside, the birds chirp songs of early spring, the steady stream of Mrs. Lee’s koi fountain audible as you peer down at the garden.

Mr. and Mrs. Lee sit in the tall grass, fiddling with a box of tools as Mr. Lee repairs a new project for Mrs. Lee. This one’s a much larger fountain, one he’d told you would take several months, perhaps even years. But Mrs. Lee sits beside him, relishing in stories of his restoration process and laughing with him as he works. You can’t help but smile at the sight, her stories about him playing in your mind whenever you catch a glimpse of them together.

“Do you think they could be us in another universe?” You ask Minho, turning to face him as he peers out the window, too.

“I hope so,” he says with a smile.

You settle closer to him in his lap, pressing a small kiss to his hand as he continues reading.

“And think not that you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.”

At his words, you hear baby Joon cry out, having woken from his afternoon nap.

“I’ll get him,” Minho says, shutting the book and setting it aside to go tend to the baby.

And as you peer back out the window, the sound of Mr. and Mrs. Lee’s laughter filling your ears, baby Joon’s voice calling to you, Minho’s philosophy book perched on the chair beside you and the sun beams shining their light through the windows, you know that this is belonging, this is love.

#stray kids #skz smut #Lee Minho #Lee know #stray kids hard hours #Lee know smut #lee know scenarios #skz x reader #skz hard hours #stray kids x you #skz #fanfic #request #requests open #Spotify

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sturncrazy · 4 months

Text

New Camera 🔥

Matt Sturniolo x y/n (fem)

warnings: SMUUUUUTTT NSFW 18+ (umm lots. use of camera/recording, dom matt, degrading, slapping, language, daddy kink, slight choking, unprotected, creampie, j very rough)

authors note: so this won the vote for which y’all wanted first! ask and u shall receive! this one is FILTHY AND KINKY so if that’s not ur vibe, uve been warned…also side note, i feel like this goes without saying but, i write mostly unprotected… guys pls don’t actually do that. wrap it before u tap it🫶 ok luv u!! enjoy!!

summary: your boyfriend matt gets a new camera before going on tour and decides to experiment with it on you…

word count: 2,270 w

~you look good on camera baby let’s go make a film~

—————————————————————————

your phone buzzed on your desk.

“be over in 10 babe ❤️” read a message from matt. you went back to fixing your makeup in the mirror, wanting to look your best for your boyfriends last night home. Matt was about to leave to go on tour tomorrow and it would be a month and a half before you got to see him again. even though you were excited for him, you wanted to make sure it was extra hard for him to leave you. after swiping on some lip gloss, you rummaged through your closet and landed on a thin white tank and flannel shorts. comfy, but still cute and showed just the right amount of skin to hopefully get his attention. your doorbell rang and you ran to answer it.

“hi, beautiful” matt said, pulling you in for a kiss.

“hi” you said smiling at him, the chill from outside hitting your mostly bare skin. he closed the door and walked in. his eyes gave you a once over as he took off his coat.

“you look hot” he smirked

“oh yeah?” you replied coyly, turning to head back down the hall.

“yeah. some shorts” he chuckled out, blatantly checking out your ass.

“what these?” you teased, bending over slightly

“don’t start with me, y/n” matt came up behind you and slapped your ass, playfully but hard. the two of you walked to your room and you flopped on your bed, reaching for the remote to your tv. matt followed and unzipped his backpack, rummaging through it and pulling out a box.

“whatcha got there?”

“bought a new vlog camera for tour!” he answered, excitedly

“wanna see?” he sat down next to you, showing off the new device.

“oooo fancy” you knew nothing about cameras, but pretended to be impressed since matt was so enthusiastic. his fingers whizzed around the buttons.

“it’s got awesome quality and it’s so easy to use” he continued, the machine chirped as he hit the red button and pointed it at your face.

“matttt” you whined, covering your face with your hands.

“what are you being camera shy?” he snickered, standing above you continuing to point the lens at you.

“cmon show me that gorgeous face of yours baby” you huffed, dramatically and lowered your hands looking up at him.

“that’s my pretty girl” he cooed, making a smile toy at the corners of your mouth. you could never say no to him. his eyes flicked over you behind the camera and you tried to read what he was thinking. he licked his lips and backed up, silently, getting a wider view of you in frame. you stayed put on the bed.

“take your top off” he stated, flatly.

“matt-what—?” you nervously laughed out

“did i say it was a question? take your top off” something about the harshness of his tone was so out of character it made your heart race. you reached for the hem of your tank and began to lift it.

“damn, baby” matt growled out, lowering the camera to capture your exposed tits. you breathed heavily, unable to bring yourself to move from your perched position on the edge of your bed. your eyes followed as his hands lowered the camera even further to where you had your hands in your lap.

“now your shorts”

“but—matt—im not wearing any underwear” you stuttered.

“and?”

“well you’re filming i mean i—“

“if you’re gonna be a little slut and not wear your panties then i get to treat you like a little slut. strip.” he interrupted, gruffly. you couldn’t help but notice how insanely hot he sounded being so demanding, and hoped he wouldn’t be able to see your already obvious wetness. you reached for your waistband, standing, never taking your eyes off him as you began to lower your shorts to the floor. you stepped out of them and kicked them aside. nervousness spread goosebumps across your skin as you became aware of how completely exposed you were to matt and his camera. this was unlike anything you’d ever done before.

“good girl” matt praised, dryly.

“you wanna give me a better view of that pretty little ass of yours and bend over the bed for me?” you felt as vulnerable to matt’s commands as the machine in his hands. you slowly turned half way and rested your hands on your bed, lifting your ass into better view for him.

“fuck” he exhaled. you could feel him move closer behind you. he brought a hand sharply down against your flesh. you whimpered.

“so sexy” he growled.

“got me so hard just looking at you baby” you turned your head back to look at him. he laughed, sinisterly.

“what? you wanna see what you’re doing to me, slut? huh?”

you nodded, dumbly. he snickered again.

“course you do. get on your knees for me.” he demanded. you followed every order like a well trained dog. you settled down by his feet and looked back up at him, as he readjusted the lens again.

“mmmm you look so perfect from this angle, babygirl” he praised stroking your face gently, before slapping his hand against your cheek just enough to sting a bit. your jaw dropped slightly in surprise, which matt took as an opportunity to slid his thumb into your mouth. you sucked at his digit and he groaned, watching you before sliding it back out of your mouth creating a popping sound.

“take off my pants” he commanded. you eagerly fumbled with his belt and zipper, hooking your fingers around the waste and and pulling slowly. his already rock hard dick sprung out and slapped his t shirt. your mouth almost watered in desperation at the sight of his veiny, practically throbbing, member.

“open your mouth, baby” he exhaled. you looked up into the camera, doe eyed and parted your lips with your tongue out slightly. he pumped himself with his free hand, the tip of his dick just grazing your lips and tongue and then began to slowly insert himself into your warm wet mouth. he ran his hand down your head, petting your hair, soothingly, as you took him all the way down the back of your throat. fighting the urge to gag at his size.

“such a good girl” matt groaned. his pets reached the base of your skull, then latched harshly into your hair. his grip was tight, as he began to thrust into your mouth. you felt tears form at the corner of your eyes as he forcefully fucked your throat. matt let his grasp on your hair go and slid himself out of your mouth. he grabbed your jaw and forced you to turn your messy face to him, getting a clear shot of the streaks of tears on your cheeks and spit running down your chin.

“get on your hands and knees. i need to feel that pretty little pussy of yours” he huffed, patting your face again. you scrambled to the bed, desperate to feel him fill you up. you’d never felt so much heat screaming from between your legs in your life. you arched your back, letting matt have perfect access to your dripping folds. matt dragged a finger down them, teasing you and eliciting a loud whine from your lips.

“soaking for me already huh, slut?” he mocked. all you could do in response was whimper.

“so pathetic for me” he taunted, pressing two fingers against your entrance.

“matt—please—“ you breathed out in agony

“camera can’t hear you, baby. be a good little slut and beg louder for me.”

“Matt—fuck—-please—i need your dick now—“ you cried out, the need for contact almost eating away at your brain. you screamed as matt rammed into you, entirely, and without warning. the unprepared sensation of stretch caused a pleasurable pain to radiant through you. he groaned, finally feeling your wet pussy around his torturously hard dick. he began to relentlessly pound into you from behind, filling the room with deafening slapping sounds intermixed with your screams and his grunts.

“MATT—“ you cried out, overwhelmed by his intensity, collapsing your face into the pillows beneath you.

“what? ” he wrapped his free hand around a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back up.

“don’t act like you can’t handle my cock now, slut.” he snarled, not letting up on his unwavering rhythm in and out of your core. he slapped your ass again.

“understand?”

“yes matt” you wheezed. he slapped your ass again.

“yes, who?”

“fuckk—yes, daddy” you sobbed out

“good girl” his thrusts hit your g spot each time, making your legs shake and stars form against your tightly squeezed eyelids.

“you wanna show me how much you love my cock, princess?”

“yes, daddy” you hardly could think straight

“bounce that perfect ass on my cock, baby” he said, slowing his thrusts. you obeyed and began to rock your hips back and forth, fucking yourself on his dick.

“good girl. doing such a good job” he sang out, one hand gripping your flesh while the other captured your movement on film. you whimpered again, your hips stuttering.

“you tired, princess?” you nodded and let out another pathetic sound.

“need daddy to take over again?”

“yes—oh fuck—please daddy-“ you managed to mumble out. Matt pulled out of you abruptly, causing you to whine at the loss. you couldn’t move anymore, but the last thing you wanted was for him to stop fucking you. he slapped your ass again

“turn over” he growled

“i wanna see your pretty face when i cum in your pussy” you felt like you could cum from his filthy requests alone. you’d barely even landed on you back before matt slammed back into your throbbing entrance. he struggled to keep his balance momentarily, too desperate to feel you around him again. he kept one hand supporting himself upright and the other still holding the camera, pointed at you as his picked back up his steady thrusts.

“so perfect—look ss-so good—with my cock stuffed inside your little pussy” he huffed out between thrusts

“OH—fuck—yes—your cock feels so good, daddy” you moaned out, helplessly. your eyes rolling back into your head. matt’s free hand wrapped around your throat, constricting your breathing perfectly.

“watch me while i fuck you, slut” he growled.

“yes, daddy” you wheezed out against his tight grip. he removed his hand and you gasped for air. within moments of his dick pounding perfectly back against your sweet spot, you felt your orgasm begin to crest.

“FUCK—IM—“ you panted.

“that’s it—good girl—cum all over daddy’s cock” he ordered. your walls clenched and throbbed around him uncontrollably, causing him to let out a string of curse words. you felt his dick begin to twitch deep inside you.

“ohh-hh-fuck—shit” he stuttered out, his thrusts becoming wilder and less expertise.

��mmm—close—“ he groaned, his jaw dropping slightly.

“mmmm fuck yeah cum inside me, daddy” you whined out, your high still settling.

“shit yeah baby? you want me to fill your little pussy?”

your brows knotted and your nodded your head desperately.

“fuck i’ll fill you up—so full of cum—baby you’ll look—-so perfect—spilling out of you” he huffed

“OH FUCK FUCK BABY IM GONNA CUM” he cried out as his whole body shook. he thrust deep into you one last time, halting as his cock spasmed against your walls. releasing a multitude of spurts of his hot white load. once matt seemed to regain his senses, he clicked the red button again—ending his taping. he pulled out of you slowly, making your legs shake. he glanced down at your trembling sensitive entrance leaking his release in pulses and bit his lip in a satisfied smirk, snapping one last photo of the mess he’d made of you.

“MATT!” you laughed out in embarrassment, shutting your legs and rolling onto your side.

“sorry…i had to. too hot not save” he said, smiling and flopping down next to you.

“are you okay? was that too much?” he asked, pushing your hair out of your face.

“no way. i loved that”

“you swear i wasn’t too rough with you?” he said with worry. you shook your head vigorously

“not at ALL! that was HOT” you replied through a smile. he fought a grin, biting his lip clearly extremely pleased at your enthusiasm.

“so can i ask what inspired the camera?” you questioned.

“well, now on tour i can reminisce what it’s like to fuck my crazy hot girlfriend” he smiled at the ceiling.

“hey!” you slapped his chest playfully “you know you can always facetime me and we cannnnn” you dragged your words out, looking off into the distance above his face in teasing suggestion.

“oh don’t you worry, we’ll have phone sex all the time. this is just for when you can’t call me and i need to…y’know” he glanced down at his crotch.

“jesus, how many times are you planning on jerking off” you teased

“twice a day. minimum.” he matter of factly stated, grinning again.

“MATTHEW!” you scoffed out in shock

“What? not my fault you’re so sexy” he laughed, leaning in to give you a peck on the lips.

“yeah yeah whatever. just NEVER show that to anyone”

“are you kidding me? you think i’d ever let anyone else get a look at you like that? nhhuhh nope.” he shook his head dramatically

“only i get to see how perfect you look getting your brains fucked out” he leaned in, kissing you playfully again. you giggled, feeling a slight blush.

“i love you, you freak” you said against his lips.

“i love you more, baby”

—————————————————————————

ok y’all were on to something with wanting this one cause WHY DO I LOVE IT?? rly hope everyone likes it ahhh 🫶🫶

also guys imagine matt accidentally posting the wrong video and posts ur tape instead of a car video?? HAHA

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smutoperator · 2 months

Text

Luck Inside Her Backdoor

Kim Yoohyeon x Male Reader

Tags: 100% anal, big ass, butt plug, casting couch, facial, gape, glasses, (a lot of) lube, sloppy blowjobs, sugar daddy

Word count: 4223.

Your daughter came with an unusual request. She wanted to attend the concert of a K-pop group. You had never heard of them. Dreamcatcher, apparently. But you decided to be a good father and give her the tickets to the concert. You knew nothing about them but wanted to make your daughter happy, especially following the recent divorce you had with her mother.

At the concert, one of the girls caught your attention. She was quite tall and moved her body perfectly while also performing great interactions with the crowd. "What's her name?" you asked your daughter. "Yoohyeon," she replied.

Indeed, Yoohyeon had hypnotized you, especially her ass. You kinda wanted to impress your daughter and see if you could find a way to meet Dreamcatcher after the concert, but more than this, you wanted to take a closer look at her.

You contacted the managers, who said it wasn't possible; they just weren't going to give you access. But you insisted, using your money and influence to bribe them and get your daughter to have an improvised fan meet with them.

Your daughter was quite happy, taking as many pictures with their idols as she could. But you were even more delighted as you managed to sneak in a message to Yoohyeon. "If you're still in town tomorrow, meet me at this place. Here's my phone number." Yoohyeon was about to throw it out, but she texted you out of curiosity, asking why you would want to meet her in private. "For sex, tell me where your place is, and I'll pick you up," you replied in the next message. "Sure," she agreed.

You left your daughter at school and guided Yoohyeon to your place. It was a cold day, meaning she was wearing a quite long jacket, but her long-sleeved top had all the buttons in place but still showed off her beautiful midriff and elongated navel, while her jeans showcased the great figure of her bottom. She also looked extremely cute with the glasses she had on. Yoohyeon sat on your couch as you approached her, asking her a question. "Are you ready for your audition?"

As soon as Yoohyeon heard those words, she already knew what to do, getting on her knees. She slowly took off her jeans and panties, showcasing her meaty pussy and the butt plug covering her asshole. You already knew her ass was amazing, but it looked even better in full display—truly a packed and stacked bubble butt.

Yoohyeon gave you a little smirk as you started playing with her anal plug using your left hand, removing it, then putting it back in a couple times. Every time her butthole got exposed, you used your tongue to lick it fully. Yoohyeon enjoyed the attention as you focused on her ass before sliding your right hand under her to massage her pussy. "Ah yes," she said in approval.

Having someone willing to be her sugar daddy was something she wasn't expecting. Things looked pretty safe for Yoohyeon as of lately. Her group avoided the seven-year curse, and she had a steady income from sales and touring, but she knew she had to ace today's performance more than any concert to be set for life. She got herself barefoot as you kept playing with the plug in her ass and making her let out some very sexy moans.

You picked up the pace and fucked her a little faster using the plug while placing your free hand at her massive cheeks. You started giving Yoojyeon some hot kisses without looking at her cute face as both of you closed your eyes to enjoy the touching of both your lips better. Between the kisses, you continued to warm up her asshole, pushing the plug in and out of it.

"Let me see that dick," Yoohyeon interrupted you with a naughty request as her eyes brightened under the glass. "You want it now?" you asked. "Yes," she said with a big smile, truly ready to impress her sugar daddy. But you decided to tease her a little, fingering her pussy while still manuvering the plug in her asshole. "Take it yourself," you told her.

Yoohyeon turned around and placed her hands in your belt, taking it off and then unzipping you as she unveiled your cock. It was still flaccid due to the weather, but it definitely had the size. Nothing like some little work couldn't fix it, as Yoohyeon grabbed it hard and inserted it in her warm mouth, prompting a rush of blood from the rest of your body towards your pole.

You started taking your shirt off as Yoohyeon coughed on your dick while taking it deep in her throat for the first time. She managed to warm your cock up so quickly that it wasn't long before your tip was springing out of the foreskin. "Oh fuck, oh shit, god damn it," you murmured as Yoohyeon started her no-hands blowjob that made her gag on it.

As more spit came out of Yoohyeon's mouth, she started to unbutton her jacket and take it off without ever leaving your cock out of her mouth, even with you making it harder on her by pushing her head against your crotch, as she closed her eyes while her forehead landed on your belly. That only made Yoohyeon try harder, as she had now taken her jacket off to the fullest and started loosening up her top's buttons one by one as soon as she gagged on your prick once again, rolling her eyes as her glasses touched the base of your cock.

Yoohyeon pulled out of your cock as soon as she managed to take her top off, with you moving her face close to yours to kiss her sloppy mouth while caressing her beautiful round boobs. You took Yoohyeon's pantyhose off, the last piece of clothing she was wearing, staring at her now fully naked body from top to bottom. It was freezing cold outside, but her body was so hot that you weren't feeling anything. Quite the contrary, as your cock was now fully erected and throbbing for more heat from Yoohyeon's filthy mouth.

As Yoohyeon dove under your cock to suck you off a little more, you placed your right hand right on top of her big ass, closing your eyes as her mouth sucked the shit out of your dick. You fucked her ass with the plug, dreaming of replacing it with your cock the more she gagged on it. You pushed your shaft a little up, reaching all the way down her throat, to make it harder for her, leading Yoohyeon to gulp and almost throw up as you hit her gag reflexes. You two started it all over again, this time with her lasting much longer with it bulging under her throat as she quickly adjusted to your length while also adding some hot massage to your ballsack.

She really knew where to hit the right spots, as Yoohyeon's massage ended up being a massive turn-on to you. And she sensed the same, increasing the speed at which her hands moved around your big balls. "Oh my God," it was all you could say once she finally finished it, moving towards fast dives into your cock and a high-paced blowjob that slowly turned her on as well, making her nipples quite hard in the process.

You pushed Yoohyeon's hair a little to the side to have a better view of her pretty face gagging all over your meat. But it didn't take long until you received a request from her. "I want you to shove this dick deep in my ass," she said. You loved hearing those words. Yoohyeon was ready to take it straight up her butthole and not waste any time in her pussy. She knew she had to go big or go home, and her begging voice clearly indicated it. Today, it was anal or bust.

"You do? Then beg me," you tease her. "Please, daddy, shove it up in my big fat ass; I want you to stretch my asshole out and gape it to the size of the moon." Yoohyeon meant business as she turned around and got on her knees on the couch, her butt now facing you as she licked her tongue. You removed the plug off her anus in one go as Yoohyeon held her left hand into the couch's arm, bracing herself for your big cock fully inside her. You added some lube as her butthole quickly started to clench shortly after the plug's removal.

You shoved your tip on Yoohyeon's backdoor, taking advantage of the lube you placed at her anal entrance, leading her to elicit a few moans. "Oh my God, yes," she approved as your shaft slowly disappeared inside her bunghole. You penetrated it slowly, making sure to take your cock deep inside her cavity from the start. Yoohyeon then starts fingering her pussy to increase the stimulation as you grab her slippery tush with just your right hand.

You give Yoohyeon very deep pumps, with the lube helping you slide all the way in with ease. Running your hands on top of her ass, you keep impaling her with your full length for a decent amount, leading her to scream. "FUCK!" she yells as every inch of your cock is already buried inside her butthole. "Want to take it deep again?" you ask. "AHHHHH YESSSS," she says in sync with your cock ripping her hole apart as you pull out of her.

Yoohyeon closes her eyes as you get ready for yet another deep anal insertion. This time, you go a little faster, making her feel much more of the heat. "Ugh, fuck, give me, give me, give me that cock," she says, her body bouncing at each thurst you give her. You pull out to check her already large gape, spitting straight inside her asshole and pounding her big ass with more speed as soon as you go back inside. "Ohhhh, so fucking deep," she says as her voice starts to crack, squealing as your balls start clapping her round cheeks, rolling her eyes at each pump you give her.

You pour some extra lube on her cheeks and your cock. Yoohyeon's ass jiggled as she felt your meat stretching her cornhole out. You kept putting more lube in her ass and using your hand to spread it out as she panted and moaned with your cock deep inside her butthole, enjoying the massage you were giving her butt. "Put it deep in my asshole; oh fuck, make me cum so much," she said as you started pounding her harder with the lube fully settled in and making her ass shine.

Yoohyeon held her hands against the couch's arm as you railed her, groaning and getting out of breath. "YEAH! YEAH!" she screamed at each pump. She put her ass up and enjoyed your balls smashing her cunt, rolling her eyes while doing so. You started spanking her fat cheeks, showing off who her owner truly was, and printing your hands all over her ass before switching to slower thursts to enjoy your shaft disappearing inside her ass to the fullest while she screamed in submission to your cock and groaned more and more.

"Let me taste that dick," Yoohyeon said as she pulled out. That imposing girl you saw the day before had turned into a submissive whore who would do everything to please her sugar daddy's huge cock. As she dove back into your shaft, you surprised her with some thrusts into her mouth. You weren't even going fast, but she was already spitting all over that dick. You grabbed her by the hair, shoving your cock harder in her mouth as you increased the pace. Yoohyeon was gagging and spitting so hard that your cock had turned into a pudding mess of saliva.

Still catching her breath, Yoohyeon sits on your massive meat and starts riding it, giving you a perfect view of her ass bouncing up and down your cock as she gets impaled. Her spit is more effective than any lube, it turns out. She goes slow, trying to adjust to your length as she puts her feet on your thighs while riding. But as soon as she does that, you pump your cock up Yoohyeon's shithole, challenging her to keep her balance as you mercilessly pound her ass.

"FUCK, IT'S SO HUGE!" Yoohyeon screams as she closes her eyes and grips her feet as hard as she can against your thighs, managing to regain control of the bounce as she finally takes it full length inside her asshole. Yoohyeon pants a lot but wants more, gyrating her hips as she takes it deeper in her anus.

Your cock hitting the whole length of Yoohyeon's butthole makes her moan much harder. You sense the opportunity and start fingering her cunt while she bounces on your manhood. Yoohyeon now spreads her legs as you massage her clit, getting even more passionate as you draw her body closer to you, kissing her while she moves up and down your cock and running your hands all over her fit belly and sexy tits.

"GOD, YES, YES," Yoohyeon felt overwhelmed: your mouth in her lips, your hands now deep in her meaty pussy, just like your cock balls deep in her ass, it was too much for her to handle as she closed her legs and her thighs started to jiggle involuntairly. You took advantage, and shortly after, you resumed pounding her hard. Yoohyeon couldn't decide between staring at the ceiling and closing her eyes or staring at your big cock manhandling her. Your high-intensity pounding had flipped a switch on her, as she started bouncing hard on your dick as if she had something to prove. Well, she kind of did, but at this pace, she had passed your test with ease; everything else was just a bonus now.

"OHHHHHH. UGGGGHHHHH," Yoohyeon lets out a massive scream as you tilt her body slightly and start hammering her. But her next reaction would be even more priceless. "Oh shit," is all she can say when you lift her legs up and lock them with your arms, placing her under a full Nelson as you hit deep in her shitter. Yoohyeon is completely imobilized and gets the perfect view of your cock working inside her bunghole.

"Ahhh, oh my fucking God," is all Yoohyeon manages to say when you free her and now tilt her entire body sideways, closing her legs as you kiss her passionately and keep stretching her out, her pussy gushing at each pounding you give her asshole. "Holy fuck, you're making me cream so hard," she says as she gets fucked with her legs fully up in the air and the perfect view for you to look at her face screaming and crying. "Ahhhh, so so good," she says in an almost muffled manner as you get close to her face to kiss her, grabbing her thighs as you give her a sort of spooning with her legs lifted.

Yoohyeon moans a lot, prompting you to tell her to hush. You spread her legs a little for deeper penetration as you increase the speed of your poundings in her butthole. Yoohyeon fingers herself as her left leg rests on your couch while her right leg is fully up in the air. You go harder and get her out of breath before slowing down to take a pair of deep pumps in her ass.

"Now taste it," you say as you pull out of Yoohyeon's dirty hole and she gets on her feet for the first time in a long while. But that doesn't even last a couple seconds. Like a puppy, Yoohyeon crawls back to your big rod on all fours to suck it dry and taste her shithole, gagging on it, slurping it, and massaging your balls as you run your hands all over her big ass.

"Ready to go back?" you ask her. Yoohyeon doesn't need any words to answer, just her eagerness to jump on that pole and ride it like a cowgirl as she lines it up against her anal entrace once more as you add more lube to her shiny cheeks. Yoohyeon sits on it as she tilts her body down and lets your cock fill her ass up to the fullest while you massage her huge tush that carries half her weight. She starts very slowly, enjoying every time your tip touches the depths of her bunghole. You spread her ass a little for easier penetration, grabbing it to push it up and get longer bounces from her.

"Shit!" Yoohyeon exclaims as you start clapping against her ass again and giving it some spanking. She rests her head on the couch, bracing herself for another round of rough pounding. You get so overconfident that your cock slips out of her hole, but you quickly make up for it, making her cheeks make a noise akin to someone's while riding a horse, as all the lube accumulated around it makes it splash at each pump. And indeed, Yoohyeon was getting mauled by a horse hung all the way deep in her ass at an increased speed.

Drops of Yoohyeon's saliva were still glued to your cock as they created a little string between your cock and her buttcheeks, resisting your hard thursts as you now spanked both her cheeks. Yoohyeon decided to take a bit of control and ride it herself, much to your approval. "Just like that," you told her as Yoohyeon smashed her fat ass against your hips and made your cock disappear between her enormous cheeks.

You pulled out and gaped Yoohyeon's asshole as some fluid came out of her asshole. It was the lube that accumulated inside her after so much pounding; although it looked so much like cum, it felt like you had creampied her when it landed on your skin. "Want another gape?" you asked. "Yeah," she answered while moaning as you slowly removed your cock and spread her cheeks. Her butthole was fully red and wide after such a long and rough fucking.

Yoohyeon put your cock back in and bounced a bit, but soon it would be stopped as you gaped her again, this time placing your middle finger at the edges of her anus and spreading it out. But Yoohyeon wanted something different. "Stop teasing me and fuck my ass," she says as you insert your cock back in her and give her a hard pounding while beating her buttcheeks like a drum.

Yoohyeon then decided to place her feet on the couch to give your meat another ride, bouncing her fat ass so hard that your impalment eventually hurt her, leading you to lift her ass up in the air and regain control of the pounding, showing no mercy for her now sore asshole. Yoohyeon tries to stay strong as you tear her ass apart, howling and screaming like a puppy. Her cheeks are fully red, she groans and moans like never before, and the couch trembles at each pounding you give her. "AHHHHHHHHHH," she screams hard as you continue to impale her nonstop.

"Yes, baby, I love that dick in my ass. I love it," Yoohyeon says. "Then show it," you tell her, pulling out for her to taste it once more as you dunk her head on your cock. "Gag on it, bitch," you demand as she also spits on it, and you impale her mouth like it's her dirty asshole. Yoohyeon can barely breathe, but you don't care and push her to the limit, giving her a congratulatory kiss shortly after.

"Get on all fours like a good puppy," you tell her. An extra lube and your cock slide inside Yoohyeon's gaped butthole with little resistance, going deep inside her in the first thrust. Her wet cunt taints your couch, but you couldn't care less; you just wanted to admire her stretched hole, taking your cock in and out of it to the fullest multiple times. "Ahhhh, stretch my asshole," Yoohyeon begs as you keep playing with it and watch her cunt drip.

In, out, in, out. You keep doing it, now a little faster, until Yoohyeon spreads her cheeks just enough for you to pound her to the fullest. "AHHHHHHH. AHHHHHH," she screams with her eyes closed as you top her and ram her like a dog. She cries a bit as you spank her ass and clap her cheeks hard. "OHHHHH FUCK FUCK," she keeps begging. Your couch now creaks at each pump you give inside Yoohyeon's used-up asshole as you take her balls deep. "Good puppy," you tell her after you slow down. She can only look at you with begging eyes as you dominate her.

"You're gonna make me fucking cum so hard," Yoohyeon says as Squirt keeps gushing out of her vagina. Her impending orgasm leads to pleasurable pain for her as her already sore anal walls get even more sensitive, and she keeps barking and howling. "Then let me see it," you tell her.

You order Yoohyeon to put her back on the couch and face you, giving her a missionary fucking. Her legs tremble as she starts cumming while you fuck her ass, enjoying an amazing orgasm that only gets better after each thrust. Even your cock now is a little bent over after such long wear and tear up her butthole. "Jeez," Yoohyeon says as she continues to orgasm and you continue to fuck her.

Yoohyeon spreads her anus and shows you her massive gape once more. She's so stretched out now that even your balls can enter her anus while barely forcing them in. She's just your slutty puppy, your begging sugar baby, and your anal gloryhole. "Stretch my ass," she says as you place your thumb in her mouth. One extra layer of lube to grant her wish, and you're back inside her worn-out pooper. You grab her legs to allow you to increase your pace. Yoohyeon feels it as just a couple of faster thrusts have already sent her over the moon. "Oh fuck," is all she can say; her tits now jiggle as you go rougher on her, putting your hands between them. The couch continues to creak, now harder than ever as she can barely say any words now with your cock hammering her like a sex toy. Now her whole body trembles just as you give her a rest and switch to a slow-paced fucking of her lube-filled shitter.

But your mercy only lasts a few seconds as you rub Yoohyeon's dripping cunt, searching for more squirt, sensing she's still aching inside her holes. "D-d-daddy," she says with her grinding teeth, in a way you can barely hear it. She keeps squealing and moaning as she feels weaker than ever and can barely feel her legs. Your dominance over her is almost complete; you just need one item to cross off your sugar baby's checklist.

Yoohyeon closes her eyes and opens her mouth. You keep pumping her deep. She seems to be waiting for something. It doesn't take you long to find out. "May I have your cum, please?" she asks. "You want it? you reply. "I want your cum. I want it so fucking bad; please, please, give me your cum," she continues. You increase the pace of fucking her asshole, getting ready to finish inside it and crown your work of art, pushing Yoohyeon's body hard against the couch's arm, but she has different plans.

"I want your cum all over my fucking face. Hit my face with your fucking cum; cover my glass. Please, please, cum on my face; I want to taste it. Please, I want your cum. Please, please, please," Yoohyeon starts to beg. You answer her as she gets on her knees, and you start jerking your cock off before she takes control and does it herself, sucking it and getting it ready to burst. "You want that cum? Work for it!" you tease her. "Yes, I want your fucking cum," she says. "Oh, keep going," you tell her as she gets you on the edge and close to finishing.

"Oh fuck, I wanna cum." It doesn't take long for you to say those words. After an extra jerkoff from Yoohyeon, you cover her nose and her glasses full of jizz, eratically shooting to a point where some of it lands on her collarbone. A very pleased Yoohyeon sucks your cock, and now your legs are the ones that tremble. Then she takes her glasses off to lick and swallow the cum that got stuck in there, later scooping what was in her face and sending it straight to her needy mouth.

Yoohyeon keeps sucking your cock, still hard, even after she drained your balls. "Can I be your sugar baby now?" she asked. "You didn't even need to ask," you tell her. As she keeps jerking you off and you guys start thinking of your future plans, she hears some noise coming out of the door.

"I think someone is entering the house," Yoohyeon says. "Let's get out of here."

It was your daughter.

#yoohyeon smut #dreamcatcher smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

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azurefanfics · 2 months

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Incoming call from Lover Boy <3

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: A late night call from your lover Wonwoo after successfully wrapping up his second Tokyo concert.

Note: To celebrate Nana Tour coming to an end I decided to FINALLY write the fic idea I’ve had since episode 1. Please forgive my rusting writing skills - it’s the first fic I’ve actually written in years!

“Incoming call from Lover Boy <3”

The familiar nickname flashed up on your screen, causing you to pause in your reading, smiling slightly at the phone. It was just a joke at first - changing your boyfriend’s nickname in your phone to see how he would react, but the sheepish pink blush that painted his cheeks whenever he caught a glimpse of it drove you to keep it that way ever since.

Your phone continued to buzz angrily, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“What’s up?” you questioned, picking up the phone right away. It wasn’t unusual for Wonwoo to call you when he was away, but you knew he’d just wrapped up a concert that night and usually he’d prefer to either celebrate with the boys or just sleep, especially this late.

“Sorry baby, were you asleep?” a familiar face came into view, picking up on the slightly sleepy tone of your voice and voicing out his concerns.

“No, I was just finishing up this chapter, don’t worry. Is everything ok? What happened to drinking with the guys?” you asked, turning your camera on in turn.

“I had a drink already, but I thought I’d turn in early or else I’d be up all night with those idiots. We do fly out at 6 am after all.” The rosy flush that dusted over his features revealed the truth in his statement, as he shook his head fondly at the questionable sleeping habits of his members. “Besides I couldn’t miss out on speaking with you, it’s the highlight of my day.”

This made you smile a little to yourself. Although you’ve never doubted your boyfriend’s love for you, it still felt good to hear that your presence lights up his day in the same way his does to yours.

As you continued chatting about anything and everything - mostly the boys’ antics during the concert - Wonwoo began to remove the remnants of his stage makeup and get ready for bed. You did the same, basking in the moment of shared domesticity despite the ocean between you both. Despite all of the moments you’ve shared together, perhaps watching him sleepily rub his eyes with makeup remover is the most romantic of them all.

Before long, Wonwoo was done cleaning his face and headed back into the hotel bedroom as the two of you chatted. The lights went out with a click and you heard faint shuffling noises as Wonwoo struggled with his clothes. Eventually, he turned on the bedside lamp to reveal himself lying down, shirtless with his glasses on and his head on the pillow.

“You should take your glasses off hun, that’s got to be uncomfortable”, you chastised him, “and that can’t be good for the frames either”.

“No, I want to see you properly”, came the petulant response, “I won’t be able to actually hold you until tomorrow so this is the best I can get”.

“I can’t wait until you’re home.” you sighed. Although it had only been a few days, the pandemic and the fact that you were able to go with them on the last tour meant that times where you’d been away from Wonwoo were few and far between. Although the two of you had been very lucky in that regard, it did make time apart more of a struggle.

“Me neither, it’s not the same sleeping in these hotel rooms without you…”, he sighed. “I’ll be home tomorrow though! Do you have any plans? I know you’re working but maybe we could have a night in? We can watch a movie and order food? Oh! We should try out that new pizza place near ours, you know, the one Mingyu was talking about?”

“Oh yes! He made it sound so good - I’ve been wanting to check it out for a while! We should get extra and then we can have some leftovers for breakfast the next day!”

“…Babe… What are you talking about…. Pizza isn’t breakfast, you monster.” he deadpanned. At this, your cheeks puffed out a little in frustration.

“Breakfast can be whatever you want it to be! You can’t convince me that you had a healthy breakfast every day when you were living with Mingyu!”

As you continued to bicker back and forth about the validity of various breakfast(?) foods, you took a second to admire your breathtaking boyfriend. Even with his face smooshed into the pillow and his glasses askew, his handsome features and plush lips pulled into a subtle smile never failed to make you swoon.

Eventually the conversation turned to your days, catching up on everything that had happened since you last spoke. Although yours was quite uneventful - “just my manager being an idiot, as always” - Wonwoo was full of stories of shopping with the boys earlier that day.

“And then Hoshi just ran away with Coups’ crutches! He was just sat there on the floor pouting!”

As you giggled at his latest story, Wonwoo couldn’t help but join in as well. Your laughter never failed to give him the deepest joy - he would share stories until his throat ran dry, just to see you smile. He’d even endure the endless teasing from his members to buy magazines with his own face on to bring back to you. He didn’t understand why you needed them when you had the real thing - “They’re good to make collages out of, ok? Don’t judge me!” - but he’d dutifully bring them home to you to catch a glimpse of that bashful blush and shy smile of yours.

As your giggles died down, a wave of exhaustion washed over you and you couldn’t hold back your yawn. Despite doing your best to stifle it off camera, your ever attentive boyfriend still caught on.

“Are you tired baby? Sorry for keeping you up, we can always catch up tomorrow instead”, he said apologetically.

“No, no, if anyone should be tired it’s you. You’re the one that just finished a whole concert! Besides, I like hearing you talk. Tell me more about your day”.

At your gentle prompting, Wonwoo launched into another story about Dino’s latest antics. Despite his animated retelling of the members bullying their maknae, you felt calmed by his voice and felt yourself slowly being lulled to sleep. As your eyes drooped further, a gentle “sleep well baby” was the last thing you heard before your eyes shut completely.

—

The next morning you wake up to a text received at 4 am:

‘Sorry honey, we’ll have to take a rain check on our plans today. I’ve been kidnapped’

‘We’re going to Italy. I’ll bring you back some limoncello to make it up to you x’

You wracked your sleep-addled brain trying to make sense of his message before you remembered - Youth Over Flowers! You felt a slight twinge in your chest at having to cancel your date night, but that was quickly overtaken by excitement for your boyfriend, whom you know has never been to Italy before. You had considered visiting together in the past, but you’d never been able to make it work with your boyfriend’s packed schedule. Your boyfriend had rarely been able to go abroad for leisure at all in the past, let alone with almost all his members. The fact that Na PD somehow managed to surprise the boys, despite them losing all hope of the trip actually happening, just made it that much more sweet.

As you set to work looking up restaurant recommendations in Italy to make sure that your boyfriend was able to enjoy his trip to the fullest, a knock sounded on your door. Jumping out of bed and pulling on a dressing gown, you quickly made your way to the door.

“Pizza for Y/N?” It was the pizza place you’ve been wanting to try.

“I don’t think I ordered this? Do you have the wrong place?” you responded, bewildered.

“It was ordered to this address under the name of Jeon Wonwoo. There was a note left on the receipt.” At that your heart swelled, and you accepted the box gratefully from the delivery driver.

As you settled down at the kitchen table with the still hot box, you unfolded the receipt and took in the message your lover left for you.

“Sorry I can’t be there today baby. Please take this as my peace offering while I’m off expanding my pizza horizons in Italy. I hope you have a good day at work, can’t wait to see you soon! 10 days can’t go by fast enough. Please wait for me a little longer love <3”

You smiled softly at the thought of him, bleary eyed, having to pack all of his belongings in a rush, but still taking the time to think of you.

You took a bite of the piping hot pizza covered in your favourite toppings - delicious. Who ever said pizza wasn’t a breakfast food anyway?

#jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen #wonwoo #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #seventeen imagines #seventeen kpop #kpop #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #svt #svt x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fanfiction

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miragemurder · 5 months

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★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Secret

Part 2 of Spotlight

Pairing: Veneer x GN Reader

Genre: Fluff, Make out

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A continuation of the oneshot, Spotlight.

For the people who asked. <3 ★ ★ ★

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks had passed since you last been at the club with your friend. So much had happened in that one day, it felt like you just rode the craziest roller coaster in the world. After the party, you and your friend spent the rest of the night giggling and fawning over the guy you just met. He wasn’t just some guy though, he was the Veneer.

You laid back in your bed, head softly hitting the pillow behind you as you pick up your phone from the side table. Today was a relaxing day as you didn’t have anything planned for today, so why not just lay back and go on your favorite social media. You clicked on an app and doom scrolled for a little bit. Most of the posts you saw were just of people going crazy about the latest stars and their new albums. You sighed and kept scrolling, not really interested in other people’s “fangirling.”

You stopped on a post that really struck your interest. It was a post of Velvet and Veneer. You didn’t even know they had social media let alone allowed to because of their agencies. You continued watching the video as they were announcing their touring schedule and meet ups. That’s when your brain clicked. You had Veneer’s number.

You got up from bed and scurried to your dresser, opening up a drawer and picking up the crumbled piece of paper that had his contact information. You took in a deep breath as you opened up the message app on your phone and dialed in his number. You decided to keep it simple and type in a little “Hey, its [_____]”

You dropped your phone on top of your dresser and paced around your room, anxiety getting the best of you. You didn’t know why you were so nervous, it was one simple text. You felt like you were about to pass out until you heard a buzz. You ran over to your phone and read the message.

“Oh hey! I didn’t think you were actually gonna send a text. Had me worried lol.” He sent a little laugh emoji next to his message.

You sighed deeply, all the worry draining from your body as you sent him a reply.

“Heh yeah, I eventually gained the courage lol”

You slightly cringed at the text as you sent it. You waited a couple of minutes for a response until you heard the vibration coming from your phone. He was trying to call you. You panicked and quickly picked up the phone.

“Hey sorry for the incoming call. It’s so much easier just to talk than having to type out everything. How were you lately?” He asked.

“Oh I’ve been good, just relaxing at home and sometimes going out everyone once in a while.” You sighed and smiled. You were nervous and excited all at once, you just hoped he couldn’t hear any of it.

“I wanted to invite you over to one of our meet and greets at the Rage Dome tomorrow, do you think you’ll be able to make it?” He questioned.

You quickly looked at the calendar you had hanging up on your wall. It’s not like you had anything planned but you liked to check.

“Nope! I should be free tomorrow.” You said, a little bit of your excitement coming out.

“Great, can’t wait to see you there.” He softly laughed at your excitement, making you fluster.

“Ugh, crimp is pestering at the moment. I’ll call you back when I can, bye.” He dragged out the bye and hung up. You sighed and laid back on top of your bed. You really were down bad for this guy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day rolls around and you slowly get up and stretch. You smiled to yourself, remembering that you get to see him today. You get up to go take a shower and fix your hair. You set the shower to be a nice warm temp and started stripping. You hopped in and quickly cleaned yourself, not wanting to spend forever in the shower. You quickly got out and got dressed, picking out your best formal outfit you can find. Yes, it is a meet and greet but you still wanted to look good for him.

You finished up your final touches when your phone started vibrating again. You picked up your phone and answered the call.

“How is my number one fan doing this fine morning?” He laughed. You laughed with him.

“I’m doing good, just finished getting ready for the day. How about you?” You asked, leaving the bathroom and sitting down on your bed.

“I’m doing alright. Honestly, I am way too tired to be getting ready right now but what can I say. Crimps already all up in my hair about the meet and greet. I don’t know why she’s so worried, the meet and greet doesn’t start until six.” He groaned. You can practically hear him roll his eyes at the end of his sentence.

“Well, I wish you luck.” You said softly.

“Thank you.” He paused for a moment until he continued. “What if you come an hour earlier so we can meet up beforehand? In private.”

You flustered a dark red. There was no way he just asked you to meet up IN PRIVATE.

“Uh yeah that would be great!” Your voice almost trembled because of your nerves. There is no way that this was actually happening.

“Great, I’ll see you at five.” He hung up. You sat at your bed, shocked. You slowly went downstairs and went into your living room, filling in time until it was ready to go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stepped inside the Rage Dome and were almost blinded by all the lights they had going on. You were about to pull out your phone until you saw someone approaching you.

“Hey you made it!” Veneer cheered, spreading out his arms to wrap you into a hug.

“Yeah, I was just about to ask you where to go.” You chuckled and so did he.

“Let’s go on back to my break room. I don’t want anyone seeing us out here. I’m not ready for all the paparazzi.” He shuttered sarcastically.

He walked you back to where all the breakrooms were. The rooms were for the celebrities to take breaks in, just in case they needed to fix their appearance or if the crowd was being too much. Once you walked in you noticed that Velvet wasn’t there.

“Where’s Velvet?” You asked, scanning the room.

“Oh she’s getting ready in another room. They gave us separate rooms which I kind of enjoy.” He smiled and looked at you.

“Can I just say something real quick? Your outfit is gorgeous.” He complimented. You smiled, blushing a little.

“Thank you, I didn’t think you would care that much.” You said with an awkward smile.

“It looks really good on you.” He stared into your eyes. You felt like you were about to explode with how close you too were. He slightly pulled you over to the couch and sat you down, him sitting right next to you.

He gently touched the side of your face with his hand, still staring longingly into your eyes. He slightly looked down at your lips and back up again before asking something.

“Can I..” He spoke hesitantly, leaning closer. You followed his actions and leaned in. He brushed a piece of hair back behind your ear and quickly closed the gap between you two. Your eyes fluttered closed as you two both enjoyed each other’s presence.

You wrapped your arms around him, your hand slowly moving through his hair. He deepened the kiss, his other hand grabbing your hips and moving you closer. He pulled back for a quick second to give you guys some time to breathe. His hair was a mess and his eyes were half-lidded. He was breathing heavily. You took in the sight, making sure to keep it ingrained in your memory.

“That was…” He looked down into your gaze. You smiled slightly and pulled him back in for another kiss. You laid down on the couch, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him on top. You continued making out for what felt like forever until you heard some foot steps from down the hall. You guys hurriedly got up and brushed yourself off, making sure it looked like nothing happened.

You were just about to walk out the door before Veneer put his hand on your shoulder.

“We can…keep this….as our little secret.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aye! I made a part two! I hope you guys enjoyed this. I tried to keep it as Pg-13 as possible since he is a teenager. He’s still a little out of character but eh, what are you gonna do. Anyways, leave requests down in the comments!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#veneer x reader #veneer trolls x reader #fanfic #trolls band together #trolls #veneer #veneer trolls #velvet and veneer

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rafeandonlyrafe · 16 days

Text

just add water

words: 5k

warnings: brief illusions to sex but no smut, mermaids (like h2o mermaids), tropical storm/bad weather, really fluffy hehe, australian!reader, lots of kisses omfg these bitches in LOVE!

it's one of the few things rafe does to calm himself down. sandals held in his hand, feet pressing into the cool sand with every step.

rafe looks down the beach, the moonlight reflecting off the water as the waves gently lap against the shore. he squints into the darkness when he sees movement, hoping his relaxing walk isn't going to be interrupted by someone's public intimate moment.

he continues walking, the same stretch of beach he always does, passing by familiar houses of friends and old classmates.

his vision clears as he gets closer, eyes widening when he sees you, knees pulled up to your chest as you stare into the water.

“hey.” rafe says when he's a couple yards away, not wanting to spook. you, but it fails as you gasp and jump up to standing.

“sorry.” rafe holds his hands up, trying to show that he means you no harm. “im just taking a walk on the beach.”

you take a step back, like you're making room for him to walk past, for him to continue to leave footsteps in the sand, but rafe looks closer at you as the moon shines down, light slightly illuminating from the rows of houses with porch lights or bedroom lights left on before bed.

“im rafe.” rafe can't seem to keep walking, his feet planted firmly as his eyes roam over your face. “i don't think we've met before.”

“just moved here.” you explain quickly. “im y/n.”

“you're australian?” it's more of a statement than a question, but you nod, the accent clearly giving you away.

“i was wondering why i haven't seen you before. it's a small island, everyone kinda knows everyone.”

“yeah.” it's a signal to end the conversation, polite but firm, but again rafe can't help himself, drawn close to you looking out onto the water just as he does.

“would you like me to give you a tour of the island? tomorrow or whenever you're available.”

“that would actually be really nice.” you smile at rafe. you were worried about leaving everything you knew in australia when your parents moved you across the country, and it's perfect luck that you meet someone your very first night in the outer banks willing to show you around.

“here.” rafe pulls his phone out of his pocket. he puts it on do not disturb for his walks, pretending it's not there, not allowing it to distract him, but he needs your phone number, needs to see you again, to see if your eyes are the same enchanting twinkling of the water in the daytime.

you take his phone and put in your name and number before handing it back, hand briefly touching his, feeling warm against your slightly chilled skin, making you realize you probably should have put on more than just shorts and a tank top for relaxing at the shore at night.

“ill text you.” rafe says, giving you one last look over before taking a step back, not turning away yet, keeping his eyes on you, as if you're an apparition thats going to disappear the minute he blinks.

rafe finally turns away to walk home, not looking back. he smiles. he can feel your eyes on him.

you sigh as you step into the bath, sinking in as your legs morph into a tail moments after the water makes contact with you. you never realized how much you loved showers until you couldn't take them anymore.

you have a love hate relationship with your abilities. being able to manipulate the shape and volume of water, as well as enhanced breath and super speed swimming, is amazing. but having your bottom half turn into a mermaid tail every time water touches you is a hard accomodation to make when your parents love the ocean.

you wash yourself off quickly, knowing you have to get totally dry before rafe gets here to show you around the island.

two weeks in the outer banks. the time feels like it's flown by. you're surprised how much you don't miss australia. your parents tended to jump around from town to town to surf, so you never developed a close group of friends either.

two weeks spent with rafe, first showing you the popular parts of the island, then his favorite areas, the spots only locals know about, filling you in on all the nicknames that can't be found with a simple google search.

the only place he hasn't shown you yet is anything out on the water. you refuse every time he offers to take you out on his boat, and his sad face breaks your heart.

“wanna go out on the boat today?” rafe asks, just as you're thinking about it, like the idea transferred from your head to his. you hope that's not a new power developing.

“sure.” you finally concede, heart fluttering when rafes face breaks into a wide smile. you are taking things slowly, despite what is clearly forming. “but no swimming.”

you hate having to lie to rafe, pretending like you don't wake up every morning and explore the waters of the outer banks before hiding under a pier to dry off. you told him you were afraid of the water, that you didn't like going in it, merely enjoying looking at it.

rafe is excited to take you out, so much so that wheezie gives him a weird look before shrugging, deciding to herself that crushes make boys do crazy things, because she's never seen her brother act like this, so enthralled.

“here, ill help you.” rafe reaches his hand out as you step into the boat. you don't want to let go as he guides you towards the bench behind the helm, allowing you to sit down as your fingers finally disconnect.

“im gonna show you everything.” rafe undoes the lines quickly before returning to you. “and by the end of your boat tour, you'll realize that the outer banks is so much better than australia.”

rafe places an arm around your back, not caring that he now has to navigate with just one as you giggle and tuck yourself into his side.

the ocean calls to you as rafe shows you different spots, the outer banks feeling so different when looking back at the land.

rafe anchors the boat at a sandbar. you look over the edge, surprised how crystal clear the water is in this area.

“there's a spring in that marshy area over there.” rafe points towards a cluster of grass. “it feeds out into the ocean here. one of the best spots in the obx.”

“it's beautiful.” you say honestly. the sun is warm against your face, tanning your skin and relaxing you, keeping you dry enough to not turn whenever a drop of water splashed over the side of the boat onto your skin.

it's dangerous to be on the boat, but you can't help it with the way rafes eyes light up as he looks at you before ripping his shirt off over his head, catapulting over the side into the water.

“rafe!” you shout as a plume of water splashes up, soaking your arm.

rafe smiles at you as he resurfaces before his expression quickly shifts to a frown when he sees you furiously rubbing a towel against your arm.

“y/n, the water isn't dirty.” rafe didn't realize how deep your fear got. he climbs back onto the boat as you stagger back, face twisting in fear as you look at rafe.

“shit, im sorry.” rafe takes a step towards you, but you back away.

“take me back, please.” you sit down at the front of the boat, making your position clear.

rafe nods, glad the water covering him is hiding the tears that well up in his eyes as he pulls the anchor.

you stay sat far away, towel wrapped around your shoulders to protect you from getting wet as rafe drives back in silence, not speaking until he has the boat tied back to the dock, now completely dry and donning his tshirt again.

“hey.” rafe kneels in front of you. “im really sorry.”

you open your mouth to reply, to tell him it's okay, but rafe continues speaking.

“you said no swimming. i should have listened. i saw this-” rafe places a glimmering queen helmet conch shell in your lap. “at the sand bar and wanted to get it for you. so you could remember this day.”

rafe stands up, figuring this is the last time he'd see you after his mess up. “so you can remember me.”

you stand up quickly, but make sure to carefully set the shell on the seat next to you. before you can second guess your actions, before that cautious voice in your head can convince you otherwise, you press your lips against rafes, having to rise to your tiptoes to reach.

rafe hesitates for a moment before kissing back, arms wrapping around your waist, tugging you in tight to him.

“this is a cute spot.” you snuggle into rafes side, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders, showing all of the obx that he's taken, and you're the one who's captured his eye.

“it is.” rafe hums, looking around the diner. it's not his usual place, but rafe wanted somewhere casual to take you, so you didn't have to worry about dressing up or proper etiquette for your first official date.

you order a stack of pancakes as it's around brunch time, rafe ordering a cheeseburger for himself. you smile at the waiter as they walk away before looking to rafe. “im totally gonna steal some of your fries by the way.”

“fries and pancakes?” rafe twists his face up as you giggle.

“potatoes go with everything.” you explain, like it's a commonly known fact.

“what's your favorite food?” rafe asks. he's dying to know everything about you, wanting to sit you down and run through the list of questions in his head, but he knows it's best to take things slow, to allow things to progress naturally despite wanting to ask you about your favorite color, past boyfriends, whether you're a cat or dog person and so so much more.

you're about to answer when a passing waitress stumbles, her tray of waters heading to a crowded table dumping over you, getting your entire side wet.

the waitress goes to apologize, but you're already on your feet, mental timer starting in your head as you rush to the restroom, letting out a sigh of relief when you realize it's just a single stall as you lock the door behind you moments before you fall to the ground as your tail appears.

“y/n?” rafe must have run after you as he jiggles the doorknob.

“im okay!” you call out. “just drying off. give me a minute.”

“are you sure?” you can picture rafe standing outside, ear pressed against the door.

“yeah. ill be out soon.” you try to reach up to the towel dispenser with little luck. “you better not eat all the fries before i get back.”

you're relieved to hear rafes laugh as you finally get the motion sensor to work, rubbing it over your side, letting out a sigh of relief when your tail finally transforms back into two legs.

you stand up, always feeling a bit wobbly at first, but you want to get back to rafe, to your date and most importantly as your stomach rumbles to your pancakes and fries.

“aussie cheesy potatoes.” you say as you slide into your seat. “my favorite food, aussie cheesy potatoes.”

i miss you

you send the text to rafe, smiling when his response bubble instantly appears.

i was just about to text you the same thing

you know you're in the honeymoon phase of your relatively new relationship, but you can't help the giggle that escapes from your lips, the way your heart starts to beat faster.

meet you halfway? rafe sends back before an image loads of a dark beach, camera pointing down the shoreline towards your house.

on my way <3

you quickly touch up your makeup in the mirror, deciding to stay in your pajamas since they're just a loose long sleeve shirt and comfortable shorts. you hesitate between putting on a pair of sneakers or sandals, ultimately deciding more coverage is the smarter option.

you are quiet when leaving your house, just in case your parents are awake. you doubt theyd care anyways, they probably haven't noticed how much you've been gone lately. you are an adult after all, but they stopped being protective the minute you were in your teens, letting you surf solo for the first time the day after your thirteenth birthday.

you walk down the beach, keeping your steps fast as you look for rafe, breaking out into a jog when you finally see his figure emerge from the darkness.

you throw your arms around rafe as he twirls you, tucking his head into your neck, pressing kisses to your delicate skin before pulling back to connect your lips together.

“hey.” rafe smiles at you, lowering you carefully back to the ground.

“hey.” you peck his lips again in another kiss.

“you look beautiful.” rafe says earnestly, the words falling from his mouth. you're beautiful to him during the day too, but there's something about night time that makes you shine, like the moon calls to you.

“not too bad yourself handsome.” you let rafe string your fingers together before beginning to walk, back in the direction of tanneyhill.

you chat about your days as you stroll, mostly with what rafe was occupied with as he helped his dad, spending your first day away from each other since you arrived on the island. safe to say you're both falling fast.

“stay the night with me?” rafe asks when you're standing in front of tanneyhill, the large house frightening imposing.

“i don't know…” you trail off, but the smile on your face tells rafe you clearly want to.

“at least lay with me on the hammock for a while.” rafe tugs on your hand, and you find your feet following him. he lifts the mosquito netting up as you duck under, toeing your shoes off as rafe lays down.

you snuggle in next to him, sighing as you rest your head against his chest, the fabric squeezing the two of you together.

you both enjoy the gentle quiet, the sound of the waves and wind rushing through the leaves the only thing breaking into your peaceful silence, not needing words, just each other.

sleep takes you both, warmed by your bodies wrapped together.

you're not sure what jolts you awake, but you're glad it happens as your eyes snap open, a drop of water hitting your cheek.

“shit…” you mumble, quickly pushing it off your skin as you look up at the gray sky, the events of last night coming back to you as you realize you're still in the hammock next to rafe. you don't want to move, you're the most comfortable you've ever been in your life, but the skies threatening to open and dump it's rain down on you has you scrambling.

“baby?” rafes voice is deep with sleep as you rush to put your shoes on, knowing the dew on the grass is going to turn you as you look towards the house.

“i-i need to pee!” you yell quickly, pushing out of the mosquito netting as you run, the rain beginning to fall. you're aware of every drop as you push some away with your abilities, but ultimately you can't stop nature as a few drops hit your back.

you aim for the glass doors, praying they're left unlocked as you burst inside, eyes widening when you see not just wheezie, who you've come to know pretty well, but the entire rest of the cameron family milling around in the kitchen.

you're seconds away from transforming as you find your voice. “bathroom.” you simply say before rushing into the closest half bath, glad you accepted the full tour from rafe one day when both ward and rose were away from the house.

“shit.” you mutter under your breath as you hear through the door that rafe has come in after you, mentioning something to his family about rain coming before the tropical storm set to hit in the next couple weeks if it doesn't change direction.

you grab the towel, neatly embroidered with their last name as you rub your back, glad it's only a couple drops as you're quickly able to exit the bathroom.

“sorry about that.” you say awkward, clasping your hands in front of you.

“i was wondering when you lovebirds would wake up or if the rain would do that for you.” ward smiles, eyes flicking between you and rafe. you let him lead the amount of affection as he walks and wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“stay with us for breakfast, y/n.” rose says. clearly someone told the couple about you, most likely wheezie tattling on her brother. you just hope she said nice things.

“yeah, id love that.” you say after rafe squeezes your shoulder to let you know it's okay.

good morning gorgeous

you smile at the text, grabbing your phone the second you were awake.

you quickly reply, a string of emojis that only lovesick you would type out.

there's a party this friday. come with me?

you glance at the calendar hanging on your wall. not a typical one filled with appointments or birthdays, but one charting the phases of the moon, letting you know when it's safe to be out at night. you let out a curse when you realize friday night is a full moon.

sorry baby i can't :( parents want me home to call my grandma back in australia

you can come after, yeah?

sorry rafe

you leave it at that, hating telling him no, but you need to stay inside during the full moon.

you should totally go though! spend some time with your friends

rafe doesn't mention the party again when you meet up later that day.

“i got the party changed to saturday.” rafe says, his head sat in your lap as you brush your fingers through his hair.

“what?” you question, raising your eyebrows. you're sat in your bed, the afternoon sun pouring in from the open windows, watching some show on tv neither of you were truly invested in, just background noise as you look into each other's eyes.

“the party this friday. you can go saturday right?”

“yeah.” you nod, smile stretching across your lips. “yeah, i can.” you shouldn't be surprised rafe changed everyone's schedules just to fit yours, the party is at his friend's house after all.

you're excited to finally meet them, you've heard bits and pieces from rafe, but have never gotten to actually see them.

you spend the entire time you're locked in your bedroom on friday night choosing exactly what to wear, curtains drawn tight closed, even blankets thrown over for extra precaution, not allowing any of the full moon to peek inside.

you realize you made the correct decision when saturday night comes and you open the door to rafe, his jaw visibly dropping.

“oh my god, i was totally picturing someone different when you were talking about topper.” you whisper to rafe after walking away from his friends to find a quieter spot. you didn't even have to tell rafe that you were starting to get overwhelmed, he seemed to sense it and pulled you away, not caring that kelce was still going on about something.

“what did you picture?” rafe asks, hoping the talking will distract you from all the excitement of the party, finding an empty guest bedroom and sitting down on the bed together.

“i don't know why but dark hair.” you shrug. “and i always pictured glasses.”

rafe laughs as he leans against you, your hand coming to his hair to scratch at his head, the soft movements of your fingers comforting you just as much as rafe.

“thanks for meeting them. and coming here with me.” rafe says earnestly. he's always liked parties of course, going wild and getting drunk or high or whatever he felt like that night, grinding against different girls and ultimately taking one to bed. rafe never put together how all of that was just a distraction, that he wasn't truly happy.

“you make me happy.” rafe says, turning to look at you, eyes still twinkling, reminding him of the ocean, the moon, the most stunning gemstone, and something so uniquely you.

“rafe.” you coo, pressing your lips together. you don't come out of the guest bedroom until the morning after, giggling quietly as you sneak out of toppers house, your hair a mess and clothes askew.

“i just realized ive never seen you in a swimsuit before.” rafes eyes look carefully over your body, having just taken off your coverup once your arrived at the spring again, rafe vowing not to jump in again, simply enjoying laying out and tanning on the boat.

you smile at rafe, gesturing for him to get closer.

rafe crawls over the bed area at the front of the boat to hover over you, pressing his lips tightly against yours. your hands feel his muscles, skirting from his chest down to his defined abs.

“you know, there's no one else out here.” you smile up at him as you reach lower.

“naughty girl.” rafe chuckles, glancing around to make sure no boats were within view.

once you're both finished, tired and panting, skin sheened with sweat, rafe finally brings up a question he's been dying to ask.

“why don't you like the water?”

you place your chin on your hand as you turn to look at rafe, taking a moment to formulate an answer. you hate having to lie to him, but you don't want to reveal your secret yet, for rafe to look at you any differently.

“i used to love to swim, to surf.” you say honestly. “but then something happened… and it's turned me away from it. i don't even like pools.”

rafe doesn't push for more, but his face does turn to a frown, thinking about whatever happened. he's guessing you got caught in a riptide or had a near drowning experience, he would never in a million years guess that you fell into a cave exploring an island after a fight with your parents and swam through a mysterious pool to get out, waking up to surf the next day only to transform into a mermaid.

“im sorry baby.” rafe says honestly. he wishes he could fix whatever happened, to enjoy riding on a jet ski with you, or relaxing on a sandbar.

“it's okay.” you shake your head. “i like being on the boat with you.” you say. “you make me feel comfortable.”

rafe pulls you back into him, not caring if you get an uneven tan line as he kisses you again. he swears you taste like honey with the slightest hint of sea salt.

“we got cyclones all the time back in australia.” you tell rafe, looking out your window. the sky looks normal, no sign of a tropical storm that's supposed to be blowing in soon, thankfully it never upgraded to a hurricane.

“do you want me to come over for it anyways?” rafe smiles at you as you finish braiding your hair. “hold you just in case you get scared.”

you laugh as you stand up, dramatically falling onto the bed, placing a fanned hand on your forehead. “oh, save me rafe cameron, save me!”

rafe laughs as well, pulling you against him. your shared laughter always turns into shared kisses. it's been months now that you've been in the outer banks. you swear your accent is even diminishing ever so slightly.

but you don't miss australia. you love your life here. spending nearly every day with rafe, exploring the island and the waterways, trying out different food spots and even letting rafe give you golf lessons, despite your inability to hit the ball straight.

you open the door as soon as there's a knock, expecting rafe, but your face falls when you see ward standing there.

“y/n, is rafe here?” he questions, entire body soaking wet from the storm, now covered by your front porch, dripping onto the welcome mat.

“no.” you shake your head. “he should be here any minute though…”

“shit.” wards eyes are wide with worry. “he took the boat out. i was hoping he docked it here.”

“the boat?” your voice rises as your anxiety does as well. “what is he doing on the water in this storm?”

“he likes to go to the spring at the start of storms to watch them roll down the coast, but he's always back before it hits. something must have happened to the boat, i don't know.” you can tell ward is rambling. “maybe he ran out of gas or got caught in something-”

“you have to go out there and save him! the waves-” you don't need to tell ward, you're sure he knows how bad the water is going to get, how violent the storm will make the sea, even in the shallow area rafe is in.

“i can't.” he shakes his head. “i already tried the coastguard but they won't go out until the storm is over.”

“he's your son!” you argue. “you go!”

“i can't.” you can hear the pain in wards voice. “if something happens to me, sarah and wheezie will have no one.”

you know it's not an appropriate reaction, but you're so mad, so worried about rafe being out there in this mess that you slam the door right in wards face.

you walk back through your house, past the empty kitchen and dark dining room to your living room, the glass doors revealing the storm raging outside. you make a decision in that split second, opening the door and barely shutting it behind you before you take off, rain hitting you in the face. you send out a prayer to the moon to allow you to reach the water before you transform. you make it onto the sand before face planting, having to awkwardly pull yourself forward into the water.

the second you're submerged, you take off, using your speed swimming abilities to navigate through the waters and strong tides. you go faster than ever, heading in the direction of the spring and sandbar, desperate to find your boyfriend and make sure he is safe.

you see through the rain at the surface of the water his boat, letting out a sigh of relief when you see he's anchored in his usual spot.

“rafe!” you call once your surface. “rafe!” you shout again, hoping he can hear you over the roar of the wind and rain.

rafe pops up, looking over the edge, wrench in hand, clearly trying to fix whatever is wrong with his boat, a smear of oil on his forehead not washing away with the rain.

“y/n?” rafe shouts. “what the fuck are you doing?”

rafe drops the wrench, rushing closer to the edge as he looks at you. your tail flicks up. there's no hiding it anymore. you don't want to anyways.

“babe, get out of the water theres-” rafe blinks, his eyes squinting as he realizes its not some strange fish, but in fact covering your legs.

“get in the water rafe im going to swim us back home.” you shout, eyes turning to the sky, looking down the coast. the worst of the storm hasn't hit yet thankfully. with the size of the waves coming, it's sure to capsize his boat.

“baby-” rafe swallows harshly before jumping over the side. he may not understand what's going on, but he trusts you.

you grab onto rafe, keeping his head above the surface as you swim. it's slower getting back pushing him with you, but you go as fast as your tail will allow.

“you're a mermaid.” rafe says simply when you get back to shore, deciding to go to your house instead of tanneyhill, just in case ward is looking out his windows for rafe to return.

“go inside, ill be okay in the water.” you tell rafe, just needing to make that final couple steps onto the sand.

“im not leaving you out here.” rafe simply says, glancing to your tail before back at your face. he scoops you up in his arms, holding you tight to his chest as he carries you onto land, despite how heavy your tail is.

you hold onto rafes shoulders as he brings you inside. he sets you down on the plush rug in the living room as gently as possible.

“the tail doesn't go away until im dry again.” you lift your fin up and down as the rain pounds against the windows.

“ill get some towels.” rafe is ridiculously calm, coming back and patting you down in silence until your legs reappear.

“im sorry for not telling you earlier.” you say with a whisper, hand reaching out to hold rafes, shifting to sit up. “i-i love you rafe, but i understand if you want to break-”

you can't even finish your sentence as rafe leans in, pressing your lips together. “i love you too.”

“is that the right part?” you ask rafe, leaning yourself against the ladder as he fixes the engine on the boat, somehow it managed to stay anchored at the sandbar.

“we'll see right now.” rafe cranks the key, letting out a cheer when it turns on.

you smile as he jumps over the side in a dramatic celebration before resurfacing and shaking his wet hair out of his face.

“okay, you gotta show me again.” rafe stands on the sandbar as you swim around him, tail flicking back and forth.

you concentrate on a spot of water, lifting it into the air before popping it like a bubble, sending droplets raining down.

“you're the most amazing person ive ever met.” rafe says. “most amazing mermaid.” you correct him with a giggle and a splash of your tail.

taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut

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littledovesnow · 3 months

Text

a growing family | part 4

a/n: the finale!!!! i had so much fun with this mini series, i hope you love it!

warnings: childbirth (but traumatic), idk... hospitals? inaccurate medical stuff (i worked in a hospital but i don't know shit about medicine!!!!)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

-----

Following a few Peacekeepers back to the train, you and Coriolanus talked softly about the conclusion of the tour.

“How did you like to see my old stomping grounds?” He asked, referring to the quick stop you two had made in the Hob so you could use the restroom.

“It certainly looks like the place that could draw a crowd.” You smiled, thanking the Peacekeeper as he helped you into the train.

Coriolanus walked dutifully as you more-so waddled down the aisle to the private car. “Are you feeling okay?”

He had noticed you taking more breaks while walking, discomfort on your face.

Nodding, you toed off your shoes and lounged with your feet on the opposite bench, letting your husband rub them once more. “Just ready to get these babies out of me. I feel like a beached whale.”

Coriolanus laughed, looking out the window as the train began the two-day journey back to the Capitol. “I’m sure they’re excited to be out in the world, have more space to move.”

You snorted, letting your head roll back and lean against the plush booth. “How long do you think we have until they come?”

“A couple more weeks, I hope. It’s still a little early.” Coriolanus chuckled as you let out a moan when he got a particularly rough knot out of your foot. “What are you thinking for dinner tonight, my love?”

You two continued the conversation while you both watched the trees go by, content in your last days alone.

-----

The following morning, you woke before your husband, smile coming to your face when you saw the Capitol’s skyline in the distance.

Slowly rising from the bed, you paused for a moment when the world went off-kilter.

You stood and walked over to the exit of the private car, moving into the dining one for something to drink, never understanding why your mouth was so dry when traveling on the train.

“Goodmorning, ma’am. How are you feeling?” A Peacekeeper asked, soft smile on his face as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Tired. How about yourself?” You replied, eying the mug of coffee with envy.

You two kept a quiet conversation until the door opened once more, Coriolanus entering the car.

“You could’ve woken me; I would’ve gotten you something to drink.” He chastised, pressing a soft kiss to your head.

Rolling your eyes, you smiled as the Peacekeeper left to give you and Coriolanus some privacy. “Coryo, I’m going to be holed up in a bed for weeks in a few days, let me get movement while I still can.”

Coriolanus tsked as he looked over what would be served for breakfast shortly, smile coming to his face when you pulled his free hand into your own, fiddling with his wedding band. “How are the babies doing?”

Shrugging, you looked out the window as the snow-capped mountains drew nearer. “They’re getting anxious, certainly hope they’re both in the correct position now.”

Coriolanus chewed on his lip as he hummed in agreement, not wanting you to experience surgery if it could be avoided. “We shall see, you’re meeting with the doctor the day after tomorrow, correct?”

Nodding, you sipped the tea that was placed in front of you. “Unless I go into labor beforehand.”

The elephant in the room was finally mentioned, and Coriolanus’ frown returned.

“Coryo, you know as well as I do that there’s a high possibility we’ll become parents before the end of the week. I want as much as you do to wait until it’s safer, closer to the due date, but twins come early a lot.”

Nodding, the blonde took a long sip of his coffee. “As long as you’re all okay, that’s all that matters.”

-----

You woke to a loud screech, groaning into Coriolanus’ chest as the train stopped moving, stationed back at the Capitol.

“Good morning, welcome home.” Coriolanus whispered, voice hoarse with sleep.

“Good morning, Coryo.”

Both of you getting up, albeit you at a slower pace than Coriolanus, there was a small crowd cheering when you two disembarked the train, publicity-trained smiles on both of your faces.

Several reporters for the Capitol News had come to the station, vying for questions about the tour and wondering it’s success.

You sucked in a breath while Coriolanus spoke with Lucky Flickerman, keeping your face neutral as you interrupted the conversation. “Excuse me, Lucky, but Coriolanus and I have prior engagements we need to get to.”

Coriolanus sent you a look as you dragged him away from the cameras. He leaned down to ask you a question, voice soft to keep it off of the microphones. “What are you talking about?”

Looking up at him, you sent him a tight-lipped smile. “I’ve been in labor since four this morning. We’re going to the hospital.”

-----

You groaned in pain as your OB/GYN walked into the room, smile on her face. “Didn’t think we’d be seeing each other so soon, my dear.”

“Well, we like to keep you on your toes.” You grumbled, letting out a sigh as the pain dissipated.

“Where’s Coriolanus? I expected him to be stationed next to you the entire time.”

Laughing, you watched as the doctor put some bands over the bump to monitor the twins. “He stepped out to call Tigris and my mother. He should be back shortly.”

Moving to examine you, you looked on the monitor to watch the babies’ heartbeats.

Coriolanus re-entered the room soon after the examination ended, smiling at the doctor when he noticed her, though when he saw the tears brimming on your lash line his smile dropped. “What happened?”

“Baby B is still in a breech position, we’re going to have to do a C-section.”

At the doctor’s repeated explanation, Coriolanus was next to you in an instant, clasping your hand in his own. “It’s going to be okay, dove. You’ve got wonderfully trained doctors, the best in all of Panem, you’ll be fine.”

It felt like a whirlwind while you were being prepped for surgery, contractions getting worse as time went on.

Coriolanus stood next to you, wanting nothing more than to help take the pain away, willing the pain away.

“Mr. Snow, we’ll be going to operating room shortly. We don’t normally allow this, but you are able to sit in the surgery with us. Meet your children.”

You frantically looked up at Coriolanus, nodding rapidly. “Please, please Coryo. I need you, I can’t- I don’t want to do this alone.”

Coriolanus nodded, allowing himself to be layered in the sterile gown and booties, nerves skyrocketing as if he was the one on the table. “You’ll be okay, my love. It’s going to be okay.”

There was an oxygen cannula pressed against your face, IV into your arm, short curtain set up on top of you, inhibiting your view of the doctors at your other end.

Coriolanus pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, salty with the sweat still beading along your skin.

You felt the pinprick of a local anesthetic, the sounds of medical instruments being picked up and jostled, and the low voices of the surgeons and doctors birthing your children.

“You doing good up there, Mrs. Snow?” One of the surgeons asked, glancing up at your stats.

You nodded, too afraid to speak.

“Alright, let’s meet Baby Number One.” Your OB/GYN smiled, and a piercing cry erupted into the room. “Welcome to the world, Little Girl Snow.”

“A girl, we have a girl, Coryo.” You looked over at Coriolanus, ignoring the pressure in your head.

“We have a girl, love.” Coriolanus smiled, tears threatening to spill over.

You heard one of the machines behind you beeping more incessantly, the voices of the doctors growing muffled and distant.

“Coryo, some-something’s wrong. I feel- something is wrong.” You mumbled, words slurring.

Coriolanus felt his heart drop onto the floor at your admission, head snapping to the doctors who had started to rapidly soaking blood up, and he could pick out a few phrases from their rapid chatter, the words “obstetric hemorrhage” sending chills down his body.

“What’s wrong, what’s going on with my wife?” Coriolanus yelled, terror on his face.

“Mr. Snow, you’re going to have to head to the waiting room.” A nurse spoke, ushering him out of the operating room.

He saw one of the doctors pressing his fingers onto the second baby’s chest, while a handful of other surgeons and doctors focused on you, and Coriolanus had never felt fear quite like this.

-----

Four hours had passed since you were ripped from Coriolanus’ sight, four hours since he last saw his children. “A boy and a girl, Mr. Snow. Congratulations.” The nurse had said, smile on her face.

How she could smile in the face of a man whose wife could be dead, he’ll never know.

Coriolanus’ knee was bouncing a mile a minute as he awaited any news on your state, on the babies, on anything.

“Mr. Snow?”

His head shot up when he heard a soft voice call his name, and he saw a nurse approaching, hesitant smile on his face.

“Is my wife okay?” He asked, eyes frantic.

Nodding, the nurse lead him to a private room, away from any prying eyes. “Mrs. Snow is stable. She experienced a large quantity of blood loss during the birth, but with some transfusions, she is stable and should wake up shortly.”

Nodding, Coriolanus let out a sigh. “The babies? Are they- can I see them?”

The nurse paused, and Coriolanus saw a tick in her jaw.

“What’s wrong with my children?”

“The boy, I’m not sure if you’ve decided on names yet, but the boy will need to be monitored for a few weeks here. His lungs weren’t as developed as his sister’s, but with some supplemental oxygen and time, he should be a fighter.”

“My daughter, is she okay?”

“Would you like to meet your daughter, Mr. Snow?”

The nurse lead him to the nursery, motioning for him to sit in one of the rocking chairs. “Newborns do best with skin-to-skin, if you unbutton your shirt, I can place her on your chest.”

Coriolanus quickly undid the buttons, ignoring the nurse’s gasp at the few bruises on his chest from back on the train, and gently placed the newborn in his arms.

The baby was smaller than he expected, having never held a newborn before, but he felt enamored by her, by his daughter. Already, he was wrapped around her little finger, wanting nothing more than to give her the world.

“She has her mother’s eyes.” Coriolanus whispered, soft smile on his face as he rocked slowly in the chair.

Looking up at the nurse, Coriolanus asked about you, when you would be awake and ready to meet the twins.

“It’s hard to say, some mothers wake up shortly after birthing. Others, ones who had complications not unlike your wife, it can be a few hours to days before they wake. Rest assured, your wife is being monitored closely, and you will be able to bring your daughter to meet her mother.”

Coriolanus nodded, blinking back the few tears that threatened to leak.

He was thankful you two had decided to have the hospital facility to sign NDA contracts, not wanting his soft side to be released to the public.

“I’ll let you two bond, just press that green button when you need anything.”

Coriolanus thanked her, looking down at the small baby in arms.

“Welcome to the world, little one. You and your brother aren’t going to have to worry about a thing, I’ll make sure of it.”

-----

Coriolanus looked at himself in the mirror of your hospital room’s bathroom. The man staring back at him did not look like the Coriolanus Snow who was on the presidential election posters that were recently debuted to the public.

No, the man staring back at Coriolanus had greasy, unkempt hair, stubble popping up along his face, and bags under his eyes. Tigris had stopped in with a change of clothing and something to eat, knowing her cousin wouldn’t eat if it meant leaving your side.

The twins were recovering well, the boy’s lungs growing stronger with each passing day.

You were now Coriolanus’ top priority, you still haven’t woken from the emergency surgery and complications from days prior.

The doctors were unsure of why you hadn’t woken yet, speculating your body needed more rest than you let on, the tour taking a toll on your body.

Coriolanus walked back to the chair on the side of your bed, cracking his neck as he sat down and took your hand in his.

“The babies are doing well, doctor’s speculate we’ll be able to take them home in a few days. We have to name them first, and I know we decided on what to call them, but it feels wrong to sign the certificates without you there.”

The blonde man had taken to talking about his day, explaining things the twins were doing, hoping you would wake up and respond to his ramblings.

The only response he got was the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, the only thing keeping Coriolanus sane.

A knock on the door drew Coriolanus out of his stupor, tight smile coming to his lips when he saw Tigris.

“How is she?” The older Snow asked, dropping a small box of baked goods on the table next to your bed.

“The same.” Coriolanus croaked, voice raw from the nights he spent crying, hoping you didn’t suffer the same end that his mother did.

It was as if Tigris could hear his inner monologue, as she hugged her cousin tightly. “She won’t be like your mom, she’s going to wake up, and she’s going to raise those babies down the hall, and she’s going to be your First Lady.”

Coriolanus nodded, dam breaking as tears escaped his eyes, racing down his chin to meet each other.

-----

Two weeks after you had become parents, Coriolanus had to make an appearance in public to show the Capitol he was still strong, and he would be Panem’s next president.

He was sitting next to Lucky Flickerman, answering lukewarm questions and entertaining the premise that he was running on a full night’s sleep, not the coffees he had been all-but bathing in.

While the show was at a break, one of the Capitol News associates came over to the two men, serious look on his face. “Excuse me, Mr. Snow.”

Coriolanus looked over to him, Lucky frowning that his story had been interrupted.

“Mr. Snow, I’ve just gotten a call from a Tigris Snow? She said that you’re needed at the Capitol Medical Center urgently.”

Coriolanus felt the blood rush to his ears as he left the station without a single look back, commanding his driver to what had become his second home at this point.

-----

Footfalls echoing off the walls, Coriolanus’ eyes were wide as he turned the corner and entered the room that had become familiar over the last weeks, the room seemingly brighter when he saw your smiling face back at him.

“Love.” Coriolanus sighed, rushing to your side, kissing you as if he was starved.

You kissed back just as eagerly, only breaking the kiss when you felt your stitches pull. “Hi, Coryo.”

“Hi, dove.”

-----

a/n: the end <3 maybe you'll see this beautiful family in some future fics!

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #hunger games imagine #coriolanus x you #hunger games x reader #hunger games tbosas #coriolanus snow

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belladaises · 1 month

Text

𝙎𝙀𝙑𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝙁𝙄𝘾 𝙍𝙀𝘾𝙎 (𝙒𝙤𝙣𝙬𝙤𝙤/원우)

back to directory ＼(^-^)／

satellite by @milfgyuu

way back home by @wongyuuu

Waffles by @heartysworld

ang wakas, the hows of us, til there was you by @moonwonuu

manners (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4) by @fantasyescapes17

jeon's anatomy (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Epilogue) by @hansols-yoda-boxers

marriage by @yikesmary

meet cute of the century by @lovelyhan

gamer boy (pretty boy) by @wqnwoos

Conclusion Number Three, By the Moon by @wonwoonlight

Of Flames and Fate, reverse uno, Wishing on Airplanes by @twogyuu

in which he is late @wongyuuu

ask me again when you’re sober by @smileypansy

Healing Hues by @thedensworld

Crush by @gyukult

ruminations, tomorrow, hearts in parallel by @waldau

to build a home series by @tomodachiii

play again by @shuarush

momentum (part one. part two. part three), with wonwoo by @wonlouvre

getting into an accident while he's on tour by @hannieehaee

peach by @cherryredcheol

burnt promises, second chances @slytherinshua

[12:54] by @gyu-effect

this summer [in progress] by @uhdrienne

new beginnings by @etherealyoungk

under wisteria blooms @lovequartz

Please bother me by @hirayaaraw

right where you left me by @tonicandjins

Heart & Seoul by @milfgyuu

the deluxe version, umbrella by@darl-ings

tomorrow by @genezpen

9:45am by @wonuism

‘96 line; neurosurgery department by @taeyegu

13 ways to propose by honeyhypen-deactivated20230613

Wonwoo Royalty AU by @because-of-a-friend

~~~will be continuing to update thissss!

#seventeen x reader #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff

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monzabee · 9 months

Text

déjà vu (beyoncé’s version) – ln4

masterlist

Summary: The one where a bad prank leads to you and Lando exploring an option you thought was not an option.

Pairing: lando norris x bestfriend!reader (nicknamed Tink)

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: smut elements but no actual smut, cursing, pining and of course fluff!

Request: “Haiiii. I love your style of writing Lando and feel like you would 100% do a request justice to scratch the itch in my brain Reader and him have been childhood friends, mutual pining with some sexual tension but never crossed lines other than a new years kiss with friends etc. So reader ends up training and qualifying as a physio/masseuse and travelling with Lando bc fun besties on tour together yay! Thinking she ends up getting to know his body really well from that and has to massage some intimate area- tension builds blah. They have a cosy night in together after front row quali to prep for the race, face masks cuddles bc really physically comfortable together and then some confessions happen. After this going out to celebrate home race (not jinxing tomorrow!!) and reader ends up dancing with another driver, Lando gets jealous fully opens up and they go home together (as much detail on that as you feel comfortable with) No probs if it’s something you don’t feel inspired to write! Pls continue writing whatever you love because I love to read your stuff!!”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! am i back after a literal month of no fics?? i hope so!! thank you so much for being patient with me you guysi i appreciate it, and i just want to say that this was the first time i wrote for lando (and you can definitely thank @userlando and her lando brainrot posts for that) and i’m kind of obsessed!! so as always, thank you to the anon for the request, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Being friends with Lando has resulted in both of you getting in trouble way too many times, you realise. The most recent case? The both of you ended up in a supply closet nearby the Aston Martin hospitality, hiding from a very, very, angry Spaniard. The close proximity and the limited space wouldn’t have been a big issue, for if Lando wasn’t looking at you with that look in his eyes. Under normal other circumstances, your reaction would’ve been much more different to the one you give him now – which is a glare that shows him you are not happy with the situation the both of you are in.

You’re about to scold him, but the words on your tongue quickly die as he presses his index finger to your lips. “I know you’re about to yell at me,” he whispers as he tries to keep his voice as low as possible, “but I really don’t want to be found right now.”

“Then maybe you should’ve thought about that before, you bloody idiot.” You hiss while slapping his hand away, which wins you a mock pout in return. “Why would you play that song every time he walked into a room?”

“It’s his name,” Lando tries to reason, “I thought he’d be used to it by now!”

Here’s the sitch. Lando, being the absolute prankster he is, decided to play ‘Fernando’ every time his former teammate entered into a room that morning – which resulted in the Spaniard becoming more and more annoyed with him until he snapped and Lando had to find himself a hiding place. How did you get roped into this, you may ask? You have absolutely no idea, other than your best friend dragging you into a nearby storage closet as you were walking back to the McLaren hospitality after meeting up with some of your friends for a cup of coffee. And now? The two of you are stuck inside a closet which is obviously too small for you both, and Lando has to bend his neck in an uncomfortable position.

“Lando,” you whisper in an attempt to keep your voice down, “don’t bend your head like that, you’ll strain something.”

“Well it’s not exactly comfortable, Tink.” He grimaces as one of the shelves hit his neck, which causes him to let out a low groan.

Ignoring the nickname he’s used for years, you motion him to move lower. “Just– let me see, okay?”

He begrudgingly nods as he bends his body towards you to accommodate you. You let your fingers run across his skin to find any knots along his shoulders. He lets out another low groan, but this one is more appreciative as you work some of the knots your fingers end up finding.

You watch as Lando’s expression changes from painful discomfort to relief as your fingers work their magic on his tense muscles. For a brief moment, it's just the two of you in the confined space, and you almost get lost in the comfortable silence. “Feels good,” Lando murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, “I swear you have magic hands or something.”

You let out a breathy chuckle, “I just know your body, Lando.” After realising the words that come out of your mouth, your face flushes with embarrassment at the unintended implication of your words and you scramble to add, “Not like that, I didn’t mean–”

He smirks playfully, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Oh, really? My body, huh? You think about my body often?” he teases, his hands squeezing your waist – and being lost in the moment, you don’t even know how they ended up there.

Your cheeks grow even hotter, and you feel your heart rate quicken. “No, that's not what I meant,” you stammer, trying to regain your composure, “and you know it’s basically my job to think about, you know?”

The mischievous glint in his eyes shine brightly as he decides to play dumb, “To think about what, baby?”

Your heart skips a beat at his teasing, and you can't help but let out a small laugh, trying to hide your embarrassment. “Don't be ridiculous, Lando,” you retort, trying to act cool despite the butterflies in your stomach. “I meant knowing your body like an expert, considering the fact that you pull a muscle every time you decide to do a physical activity.”

He chuckles, and his hands, still resting on your waist, give you a playful squeeze. "Sure, sure, Tink," he replies, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "But let's be honest, it's not just my body you know well. You practically read my mind too."

You roll your eyes, trying to playfully push him away. "Oh, please. You're not that hard to figure out."

Lando leans in a little closer, his grin still evident. "Is that so? Then tell me, oh expert of Lando Norris, what am I thinking right now?"

You raise an eyebrow, not falling for his trick. "You're probably thinking that you got away with the Fernando prank and now you owe me big time, your brain is empty most of the time."

He smirks, impressed by your response. "You're good, Tink. But you're right, I do owe you one. What can I do to make it up to you?"

You pause, the closeness between the two of you making it difficult to think clearly. "Well, for starters, maybe you can stop dragging me into your pranks and getting us into trouble," you suggest with a hint of a smile. “And I don’t know, maybe take pole for me, you know?”

As the playful banter continues, you both seem to forget about the predicament you're in. The confined space of the closet no longer feels suffocating; instead, it becomes a haven for shared laughter and camaraderie.

Just as the two of you are lost in the moment, the closet door suddenly opens, and you both freeze. The angry Spaniard stands before you once again, but this time, his expression has softened, seeing you and Lando in a surprisingly intimate moment.

"Am I interrupting something?" Fernando asks, his tone amused.

Your face turns beet red, and Lando lets out a nervous chuckle. "Oh, hey there. Just having a chat, you know."

But Fernando raises an eyebrow, still looking amused. "In a supply closet?"

You and Lando exchange a sheepish glance, realizing how the situation must appear to Fernando. "Well, we kind of got caught up in the moment," you admit, hoping he doesn't read too much into it.

Fernando chuckles, and there's a warm glint in his eyes. "I see. Well, it's none of my business, but you might want to find a less cramped place to chat next time."

You nod in agreement, grateful that Fernando seems to be taking the situation lightly. "You're right. We'll keep that in mind," you say, trying to sound casual.

Lando adds with a grin, "Yeah, and we promise not to play 'Fernando' every time you enter a room from now on." But he’s quick to correct himself when you give him a glare, “I promise not to play 'Fernando' every time you enter a room from now on."

Fernando chuckles again, seemingly amused by the whole ordeal. "I'd appreciate that. Anyway, carry on. I won't keep you two any longer."

As he walks away, you let out a sigh of relief. "That could have been a lot worse," you say, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

"Yeah, we got lucky," Lando agrees, giving you a playful nudge. "But you know what they say, Tink, nothing like a bit of closet bonding to strengthen a friendship."

You roll your eyes at his playful banter, but there's a fondness in your heart as you look at him. "You're incorrigible, Lando Norris."

He grins, "You love it, though."

You can't help but smile, knowing he's right. “Come on,” you say, “you have a quali to attend.”

The tension from the qualifying session had left you on edge, your heart pounding with every lap, and your nerves had gotten the better of you, leading to some slightly bloody nails from biting them in anticipation. But all that anxiety melts away when you see Lando step out of the car, grinning ear to ear. As soon as he catches sight of you, he opens his arms, and you don't hesitate for a moment. You rush into his embrace, holding him tightly, relieved that he's safe and thrilled that he performed so well.

"You were amazing out there!" you exclaim, unable to hide the pride in your voice. "P2, front row! That's incredible!"

Lando chuckles, his arms still wrapped around you. "I don’t know how we did it!"

You pull back slightly to look into his eyes, your heart swelling with admiration for your best friend. "I never doubted you for a second," you say earnestly.

His grin widens, and he playfully ruffles your hair. "I know you didn't. Seems like you’re my lucky charm, hm?"

“You know what that means?” You ask him return, a playful smirk on your lips.

His answer comes quickly, and his look seems to reflect your own, “Pizza and a movie?”

Your reply is just as enthusiastic as you throw your arms around him and give him a big smile, “Pizza and a movie, baby!”

Eventually, you manage to escape the whole hustle and bustle of the circuit, and you and Lando find yourselves back at the hotel, with you on the couch trying to find something to watch and him deciding to take a quick shower after the stressful day of qualifying. After a few minutes, you hear the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. You smile to yourself, glad that Lando is taking some time to relax after such a demanding day. As you wait for him to finish, you finally settle on a movie to watch with a small grin on your face, clearly pleased with your choice. Just as you're about to start the movie, you hear the bathroom door open, and Lando emerges, looking refreshed and relaxed.

After he gets the pizza box out of the oven, he walks over to the couch, wearing sweatpants instead of his jeans, and flops down next to you. "That shower was exactly what I needed," he says with a contented sigh.

You chuckle, glancing at him, while also trying to actively ignore the fact that he’s wearing grey sweatpants. "Feeling better now?"

"Definitely," he replies, flashing you a grin. "So, what are we watching?"

“Mamma Mia,” you scoff, “of course.”

“A classic, nice.” He nods in understanding, extending the pizza box to you for you to take a slice. “It’s still warm.”

You wordlessly grab a slice and pass the box back to Lando as you settle in your seat, ready to focus on your choice of movie. The comfortable silence between you feels familiar, like the unspoken language of best friends who have shared countless memories and moments together. Throughout the movie, you can't help but notice Lando's occasional stolen glances at you, and you find yourself stealing glances right back. He even winks at you with that boyish grin every time he catches you staring at him, making you giggle as you quickly turn your attention back onto the screen. You somehow find yourself sprawled out on the couch once the pizza box is emptied and discarded, and it’s harder for you to keep your eyes open. With your head on Lando’s lap, he plays with the ends of your hair as the two of you try to keep your attention on the screen.

‘Try,’ being the operative word here, since Lando realises that you end up falling asleep in the middle of the movie where Sophie realises all of the men she invited to the wedding thinks they are her father, and though he finds some kind of comfort in the chaos knowing that it will get resolved eventually, he can’t help but take his role as a makeshift human pillow very seriously. As the movie continues playing, Lando tries his best not to disturb your peaceful slumber. He leans back against the couch, adjusting his position so you can rest more comfortably on his lap while also trying so hard to not wake you up. He can't help but smile to himself as he plays with your hair, finding himself mesmerized by the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathe.

With a sudden realisation that maybe it is not the best thing to stare at you while you sleep, he tries to occupy himself with something on his phone while also trying to keep still so that you don’t wake up. However, the text thread between him and Max quickly makes him realise that the thoughts that he tries so hard to keep away. He never gave himself the opportunity to think about the two of you that way, he supposes. Not that it would be weird or anything, but in his mind, he’d seen, and been in, far too many relationships form and de-form to know that not all is permanent when it comes to relationships and it’s also not something he’d want to risk when it comes to you. Although the unwarranted thoughts of the two of you together, as a couple, have been haunting him for the past couple of months, he did a great job of sending them away and finding something else to focus on – up until now, that is. And now that he’s pictured the two of you together, holding hands in the streets of Monaco, going on dates, doing more than what ‘best friends’ are meant to do, it doesn’t seem that daunting to give it a try.

He carefully shifts you onto his lap with gentle movements, surprised that you don’t wake up and also trying to figure out the best way to wake you up without startling you. As he gently brushes your cheek, your eyes flutter open, and you look up at him with a sleepy smile. "Did I miss the end of the movie?" you ask, your voice still heavy with sleep.

Lando chuckles, shaking his head, but not stilling the movement of his hand. “No, we just finished. You fell asleep somewhere in the middle.”

You sit up slightly, rubbing your eyes with a small yawn. “I'm sorry,” you say, sounding apologetic.

“No need to apologise,” he assures you, his thumb caressing your cheek. “You looked adorable sleeping, Tink.”

Your cheeks flush slightly, and you give him a playful nudge. “Stop teasing me.”

Lando grins, but there's a tenderness in his eyes as he looks at you. “I'm not teasing, Tink. I mean it. You always look adorable, no matter what you're doing.”

You feel your heart skip a beat at his sincere compliment, and you can't help but smile back. “Thank you,” you say softly, feeling a warmth spreading through you, “I, uh, I should probably go to my room and let you sleep.”

“What? No, you don’t have to go.” Lando’s eyebrows furrow on their own, “I mean, you could stay over, it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

You give him an unsure look, “I don’t know, Lando, you have a race tomorrow.”

“And we’ll sleep,” he shrugs, “the name ‘sleepover’ implies that, baby.”

You end up giving in and nodding, albeit a little hesitant. "Alright, I'll stay over."

Lando's face lights up with a bright smile, clearly pleased with your decision. "Great! It'll be fun, just like old times."

You chuckle softly. "Yeah, just like old times."

And you’d expect it to feel like the old times, because the two of you said it would be like the old times – the times where you’d spend the night over at his house because his mother picked you up and you didn’t want the playtime to be over. But instead of the excitement of a prolonged play date with your best friend, you find yourself anxious in the hotel bathroom over the fact that it’s him out there, and there is no way that he is not aware of the way you feel about him. You take a moment to compose yourself, splashing some cold water on your face to calm your nerves. This situation is new territory for both of you, and you don't want anything to ruin the friendship the two of you have. When you eventually make your way out of the bathroom, you desperately want to go back in, feeling undoubtedly exposed under Lando’s burning gaze.

“What?” You ask, your voice coming off weaker than you hoped, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

It takes a minute for him to answer you, mainly because of the fact that poor Lando is having a brain malfunction at the sight of you in his shirt – which he gave it to you because it was the only logical option for sleepwear, you know? Suddenly regretting his possessive streak, he attempts to clear his throat, “Nothing, you look good in my clothes.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you try not to let yourself become reduced to a blubbering mess, “Oh, well thank you. It’s yours,” after a brief moment of realisation you quickly add, “but you already knew that.”

“Tink,” he calls out, snapping you out of whatever embarrassed state you’re in, and your eyes quickly snap to his. “Come here,” he pleads as he extends one of his towards you, he’s quick to draw you into his arms – and just like that, you find yourself straddling your best friend.

“This is crazy,” you whisper as Lando grabs you by the waist to still your movements as you try to find a comfortable position while not realising just how uncomfortable it becomes for him.

“It doesn’t have to be,” his whisper is just as soft as yours as he looks up to you, “we don’t have to make it weird.”

A compromise, you’ll take it. “Are you going to kiss me?”

“Do you want me to kiss you?” As much as you hate it when he replies to your questions with his own, you nod your head with a sheepish look on your face, though it doesn’t satisfy Lando as a valid answer. “I need you to say it, baby.”

You answer comes of in an instant. “I do, please.”

“Such good manners,” he mumbles while giving you that boyish grin you love oh so much. When he catches biting the corner of your lip, you’re broken out of your daydream by his thumb pulling your lip free. “Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself,” his thumb caresses the side of your lip, “that’s my job, anyway.”

Your cheeks flush at his playful comment, and you can't help but smile at his words. "Your job, huh?" you tease, feeling the tension in the air starting to dissipate.

Lando chuckles, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your waist. "Among other things," he replies with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Before you give yourself the opportunity to overthink, you lean in and press a soft kiss to Lando’s lips – it’s only a peck, a hesitant one at that, but not completely uncharted territory when you think about it. The two of you have shared kisses before, at Christmas or New Year’s at midnight, but somehow this simple peck feels different than any of those other occasions. Lando doesn’t rush you. He’s a patient man after all, and he knows that the feelings he has for you are reciprocated by the feelings you have for him. So when you look him with widened eyes, he gives you a soft smile and it does wonders to calm your nerves. It doesn’t take you long to press your lips against his once again, but this time the kiss is deeper, more passionate, and filled with the unspoken words that have lingered between you for too long.

It starts off with another peck, but this time you take the initiative to deepen the kiss, and the appreciative groan that leaves Lando’s lips makes you feel butterflies in your stomach. His hands move from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him, while yours tangle in his hair, revelling in the softness of his curls – and the fact that all of this feels almost familiar in some kind of a way. He’s not shy as he lets his tongue explore your mouth, in fact, he encourages you to do the same. It’s a messy kiss filled with colliding tongues and mixed breaths, and the hands that were on your waist one moment are now on your hips, encouraging their slow movement against his groin. It’s not a subtle build-up for any of you, either. It a matter of seconds, you find yourself dry-humping your childhood best friend in his hotel room, and in a couple more, both of you are whimpering into the kiss.

You’re both out of breath and breathing deeply as you rest your forehead against Lando’s. Thankfully, his hands continue to guide your hips as their movement get more and more erratic, and you him groan out, “Slow down, baby.”

You let out an objective whimper in return, whispering out a weak, “No.”

“No?” Lando repeats, his breath hitting your exposed neck in a light chuckle, “Do you want to come?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, letting your hands grab handfuls of his hair, “but you can’t fuck me.”

The whine that comes from your lips can only be described as bratty when Lando forces your hips to cease their movements, raising an eyebrow at you as he grumbles, “Excuse me?”

“You can’t fuck me, Lando.” You mumble, trying to move your hips again, but his hold is too powerful against your attempts. “At least not tonight.”

“And why is that, Tink?” He takes in your wide eyes and shuddering breath in, thinking he’d done something wrong, something you didn’t like. “You want to come, no?” He thinks at that moment, as you give him a nod with that dreamy and almost innocent look on your face, he could die and he’d be happy with where his life has led him, but he gives you a confused look, “Then what is the problem?”

“Um, you have a race tomorrow,” you explain as your fingers gently slide down to meet at the nape of his neck, “I don’t want to jinx anything.”

As a respond to your words, Lando gives you a look of disbelief, “You don’t want to jinx me having a good race,” he mumbles.

You give him another nod, “Are you mad at me?”

“Am I mad at you?” Lando repeats the question, and he flips the two of you over in a smooth motion so that you're lying on the bed with him hovering above you, his eyes locked onto yours. “Answer the question for me, will you?”

You take a moment to catch your breath, your heart racing as you meet his intense gaze. “No,” you reply softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. “Why would you be mad at me?”

Lando's lips curve into a playful smile as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “See?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours, “Good girl.” As he moves down your body, you let out a protesting sound, but he quickly shushes you as he positions himself between your legs. “I’m going to make you come, and you’re not talking to Micheal Italiano ever again.” He taps the side of your hips to signal you to raise them up as he carefully takes off your underwear and then murmurs to himself, “Pretty girl, too.”

With a blush which is quickly spreading onto your cheeks and neck, you raise yourself onto your elbows as you watch him give you the do-over. “Lando,” you plead.

“Oh baby, you're wet,” he teases, “don’t worry, though, I’ll help you with that.” He also gives you a look while grabbing both of your thighs, “And the shirt fucking stays on.”

After the events of the previous night with Lando working wonders between your legs for the remainder of the night, he honestly didn’t expect to start the morning with you returning the favour. Alas there you were, between his legs, with sleepy eyes and an innocent smile as if you hadn’t just given him the best blowjob of his life. And as the two of you make your way along the paddock, he wishes he was back in his hotel room with you in his arms. You try your best to distract him from overthinking everything and costing himself the race, and Lando is aware of what you’re trying to do – though that doesn’t mean you succeed completely.

You can tell by the small frown of eyebrows that he is lost inside his head, probably double guessing every aspect of the strategy his team debriefed him about this morning. With a deep inhale, you give his hand a small squeeze, halting your movements to stop him alongside you. “Hey,” you call out gently, “you’re going to be amazing out there, okay? You have nothing to worry about.”

“I know, it’s just the pressure is getting to me.” You watch him sigh, closing his eyes for a moment to regroup his thoughts, “I’ll be fine before I go in the car, I promise.”

You nod, giving him an encouraging smile, “I know you will. After all, you feel the–”

“Need for speed.” He completes the sentence without thinking, which makes the two of share a short laughter. “Thanks, Tink.”

“You’re welcome,” lifting yourself up on your tiptoes, you give him a soft peck on his lips, “I’ll watch the race with your dad, okay?” You chuckle at his reaction when he lets out a prolonged groan, “What?”

“He’s going to make fun of us, big time.” He says, rolling his eyes.

“Go,” you say in between laughter, “don’t be late and for the love of God, be careful!”

Lando chuckles at your playful warning, giving you a mock salute. “Yes, ma'am!”

It doesn’t take long for you to find Adam, who gives you a knowing look, in the sea of spectators in the McLaren garage. And as the race begins, you and Adam stand side by side, your eyes fixed on the track where the race is unfolding. The first four laps as the Lando leads the race makes your heart beat so hard, you can practically feel the excitement coursing through your veins. Each turn and straightaway that Lando navigates flawlessly adds to the anticipation building in the air. Even when he returns to his original position, you’re on the edge, praying to whatever deity up there for him to finish this race without and incident. You’ve told him million times before that you don’t get F1 at all, you’ve always thought the adrenaline linked with the sport to be a negative feeling – too heavy, too much and definitely not something you want to feel every weekend. But in the moment that Lando passes the finishing line P2, you realise why people are so obsessed with this sport. Because when Lando crosses the finish line, you find yourself cheering as loudly as anyone else. The rush of emotions, once alien to you, now feels like a shared celebration of human achievement and dedication.

Lando is all smiles when he finally finds his way back to you, and he’s giving you a kiss the moment he has you back in his arms; celebrating with the team in the paddock was a whirlwind of emotions. As he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, his big smile is infectious.

So you’re honestly confused when he starts dragging you through the hallways of the club you went to for his celebrations with the rest of the team. The beat of the music playing back in the dancefloor echoes in the hallway as he leads you down the hall. The lights, the laughter, and the energy of the celebrations in the main area of the club are still audible, but you can only hear the muffled sounds of the celebration being held for him. “Lando,” in hopes of finally getting some answers, you say his name for the umpteenth time, but he just looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, “what’s wrong?”

He's silent as he wraps his arms around your waist and before you can repeat your question he buries his head in the crook of your neck. While you’re thinking about what could’ve caused his sudden need to be alone with you, he’s very glad that you’ve opted to wear sneakers tonight instead of heels.

“Baby,” you murmur, your fingers running through his curls in an attempt to bribe him, “tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong.” His voice is muffled by your skin and you can feel the breath he exhales on your shoulder.

You purse your lips and give him a few moments for him to break on his own, but when he doesn’t, you sigh softly. “Something is wrong.”

He raises his head momentarily to give you an unamused look, then bury his head back into your neck, “I saw you and Oscar.”

“Yeah, we were talking about the race.” Your confirmation leaves you confused as he lets out a scoff, and you find yourself warily asking, “Is there something wrong with that?”

You hear him scoff again and then, “Well I didn’t particularly like it.”

You gently push him off of you as you try to look past his confused expression and pouted lips, “You didn’t like me talking to your teammate… about your race.”

“Well when you put it like that–”

“Lando he is two years younger than us, and he has a girlfriend you do realise that, don’t you?” Your hands rest on either side of your body on your hips as you give him a small grin, “You were jealous, weren’t you?”

His eyes widen as he nods, “Well yeah, Tink, I think that one was very much obvious when I dragged you here.”

“I mean,” you drawl, “it was kind of cute, you know?”

As his eyes narrow, Lando walks you backwards until you’re pressed up against the wall. “Well I am a cute person.”

“Oh yeah,” you let out a giggle, “the cutest.” Your fingers toy with the buttons of his shirt while you look up at him to meet his eyes, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That we should probably get back to the party?” He mumbles, his eyes drifting as he looks around the hall.

You fist the collar of his shirt as you raise yourself up on your tiptoes, your voice lowering down for only him to hear even if it’s a deserted hallway, “You don’t have a race tomorrow.”

His eyes come back down to meet yours, “Well yes, it’s Mond– oh,” it takes a moment for him to realise what you’ve meant, and you’re thrown over his shoulder in an instant.

“Wha– Lando put me down!” You shriek, “What are you doing?”

His voice is playful as he starts walking towards the back door of the club, “We are not leaving that hotel room for a few days.”

It doesn’t take long for you to start laughing, “You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs the opposite shoulder, “but I’m your idiot.”

The sincerity in his words catches you off guard, but you can’t help the small smile forming on your lips as you murmur, “Yeah, yeah you are.”