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cupid-styles · 3 months

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casual

partially based on casual by chappell roan and a lil bit of sad personal experience hehe

word count: 2k

content warnings: angst (no happy ending), references to smut, alcohol, harry being a douche, not ramadan friendly

main masterlist | talk to me

. . .

From: H (12:47 a.m.)

Come over?

To: H (12:50 a.m.)

Give me 15

From: H (12:52 a.m.)

. . .

It’s not unusual for her nights to look like this. Or her early mornings, rather.

It wasn’t always this way. When she first met Harry, she wanted nothing to do with him romantically or intimately. She’d heard about his reputation — it wasn’t anything bad as long as you were looking for the same thing. He was an expert in bed and the friends that slept with him always provided rave reviews. Ever excited rumblings of, “oh my God, he’s so caring! He made me finish twice before he even took his cock out” and “he’s the perfect one night stand — seriously, I’ve never had anyone better.”

But Y/N didn’t care for that.

She was a serial monogamous, always bumping around from one lengthy relationship to the next. In hindsight, she supposes she wasn’t any better than Harry, who earned his notoriety from a series — a long series — of casual hookups.

If you needed a rebound, you went to Harry.

If you were going through a dry spell, you went to Harry.

If you were just horny and needed someone to go home with at the end of the night (and he hadn’t miraculously already found somebody else yet), you went to Harry.

And Y/N never planned to sleep with him. Ever, really. He was a fine friend, someone who mixed well with their mutual friends, but they hardly exchanged conversation except for the occasional nicetie. She had his phone number from when he planned Rachel’s surprise birthday party last year and they were friends on Venmo, passing back the same $20 every month for drinks or a shared Uber.

That was the extent of their friendship.

Until a few months back, when Y/N was down in the dumps. She’d been seeing this girl, Samantha, for a month or two, assuming that they were headed straight towards a happy, exclusive relationship — only to discover that Samantha was sleeping with and seeing just about 10 other people on the side. And it only came out because Samantha happened to contract chlamydia from one of her sexual partners, so she’d been forced to tell Y/N for the sake of her health.

Y/N's friends, Rachel, Maeve, and Len gave her time to wallow. They offered it to her on a silver platter, even, offering multiple girls nights out (and in), providing Y/N all the space she needed to cry and complain and talk about how hurt she felt.

But then… a week of moping turned into two, which turned into three, which eventually turned into a month and a half. Her friends were exhausted from watching her spiral into sadness, so they did the only thing they knew: They sat her down and told her she needed to rebound. Fast.

“And who the hell am I supposed to rebound with?” Y/N asked through a sniffle. The only thing that made this whole thing worse was her friends staging an intervention for her because she was being annoyingly sad about her not-really-breakup-but-felt-like-a-breakup. “See, that’s the best part of being friends with a man whore,” Maeve replied eagerly. Len and Rachel sat on either side of her with bright eyes, nodding excitedly. “Harry! He already said he’s down and everything!” “Wait— you already asked him?” “We just put the idea in his head. Don’t worry, men are stupid,” Len quickly waved her off, “But he’s going out with everyone tonight. We’ll feed you a few shots to get you just buzzy enough, and then send you off to your night in heaven. You won’t even remember that girl’s name by the time Harry’s done with you!” Y/N cringed. “Hasn’t, like… everyone slept with him though?” Maeve shrugged. “Yeah, but he’s clean. He gets regular testing and uses condoms. Really, Y/N, it’s sort of a rite of passage at this point. But you should do it only if you’re comfortable— don’t let us force you into it.” Y/N swallowed tightly. She had to admit, the thought of a rebound sounded… appealing. She’d swiped through dating apps looking for one, but she was too scared that a one night stand would end in her bloody murder. And it helped that Harry already knew what he was doing, and— wait, was she crazy or was she actually starting to consider this? “Alright, fine,” she replied with a shaky exhale, “Let’s do this.”

That was four months ago.

And what was supposed to be an evening of stupid, lusty, casual sex turned into Y/N falling hard. It wasn’t her fault, though — no, not when he panted breathy promises into her mouth in the back of the Uber, mumblings of “just tonight, you know that, right?”. She’d replied just how she’d rehearsed it in her brain hours prior: “yes, yeah, I know— just tonight. Just for tonight.”

"Just for tonight" shifted into Harry asking her to stay until the morning for breakfast and shower sex. Then, the following weekend, he texted her the ever classy you still awake? at just past midnight. She was indeed up, doing nothing but rotting on her couch and watching a documentary about the deep sea — and her hookup with Harry had been good, really good, and she wasn’t going to turn down another night of orgasms.

As he wrapped a condom around his dick and pressed messy kisses down her neck, he whispered the same hurried sentiments from the weekend before: “didn’t see anyone I wanted tonight and we were good, yeah? It was good. So just… just one more night, okay? That’s fine, right?”

Foolishly, with flittering eyelashes and her nails scraping down her back as he pushed inside, she nodded and echoed his words. Just one more night, that’s fine.

It didn’t take long for their friends to catch on when Harry would leave the bar an hour early without looking for someone to take home. Or, when they’d both be out and, like magnets slowly being pulled towards one another, they’d end up kissing on the street as they waited for an Uber to take them back to Harry’s place.

The guys hounded Harry about it, asking if Y/N was finally the one to tie him down.

“Nah,” he’d reply with a shake of his head, “She’s a good girl. Too good for me.”

When Y/N’s friends demanded to know every last detail, she shrugged.

"I'm not really sure. It's... good, I think."

They only responded with small, tight smiles.

. . .

“Your mom texted me today. She invited us to come see them this weekend.”

Harry doesn’t reply — or rather, he makes an unassuming humming noise — as he gets out of Y/N’s bed, untangling his naked form from her sheets. He hunts down his briefs and pulls them on before stretching his arms out.

“Did you eat dinner?” he asks, grabbing her tee-shirt off the floor and tossing it to her. She sits up, tightening the sheet around her chest. She shakes her head as she clutches the fabric of her shirt in her hands and watches him scroll on his phone.

“No. I thought we could get something.”

Harry hums again, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers. Swallowing, Y/N puts her shirt back on. She’s not sure why, but she always feels oddly vulnerable once they’ve finished hooking up. When she’s still naked and he’s already moved onto the next thing, like having plans with the guys or taking a shower before he heads home. She'd even purchased his favorite body wash and shampoo when he started sticking around a bit longer, but he'd never even mentioned it or uttered a thank you.

“Yeah, maybe,” he finally replies. He locks his phone and places it back on the ledge of the TV stand in her bedroom. The simple act makes her heart jump — usually, he’ll stuff his phone in his pocket as he’s leaving. Maybe he was planning on staying the night. “So listen, I know I took you to dinner at my parents’ place that one time, but I don’t really feel comfortable with you talking to my mom.”

Y/N furrows her brows in confusion. “She texted me, H. I don’t, like, regularly reach out to her.”

“Right, but it just makes this whole thing feel way more serious than it is.” he says, sitting back down on the bed. He maintains a steady distance between them and it makes a small lump form in Y/N’s throat.

“Okay,” she murmurs slowly, “That’s fine, I get it. But… we never really talked about what this is.”

Harry glances up with wide, confused eyes. “We’ve said it a million times, Y/N. This is casual. Completely and totally casual sex.”

An ugly, involuntary chortle leaves her chest. He raises his eyebrows.

“We’ve been fucking for four months. That’s not really casual.”

“Yes, it is. It’s friends with benefits.”

“Sure, maybe, but that’s if you explicitly outline that you’re just having sex. No feelings involved.”

“We did that.”

“When?”

“At the beginning,” Harry responds. He seems frustrated now, but it feels as though he’s recalling a memory that Y/N was never even around for. “Remember? I told you, it was all just for tonight type shit. Nothing real.”

“Then why the fuck did you take me to your parents’ house two months ago?” Y/N demands, anger rising in her chest, “And why am I your date to all of your stupid, boring work events? And why the hell are you at my house like four times a week, and why do you have a drawer full of my clothes at your place?”

“Y/N—”

“This isn’t fucking casual, Harry. This is dating. You’re dating me and you don't even realize it.”

“I would know if I was dating you, but I never asked you to be my girlfriend. I don’t want a girlfriend, you know that.”

She groans and shakes her head, ignoring the way her jaw already aches from clenching it so hard. She grabs a clear pair of underwear from her drawer and quickly slips them on. Harry’s silent the entire time.

Suddenly, she whips around and faces him. “Have you been fucking other people?”

A wrinkle forms between his brows. He shakes his head.

“No. I wouldn’t do that, and it’s unsafe.”

“Right,” she murmurs, placing her hands on her hips, “So piece it together, Harry. Neither of us are sleeping with other people. We’re exclusively seeing one another.”

“You’re just making this out to be way more of a thing than it is—”

“Oh, fuck off!” she exclaims, “You have a key to my house! That’s pretty serious!”

“I didn’t ask you for that!” he fires back as he stands up from the bed. They’re in a stand-off now, staring at one another with angry eyes. She snorts and shakes her head in disbelief.

“My friends were so fucking right about you. You’re such an asshole. You know Maeve called me a loser for thinking you were a good guy?”

Harry rolls his eyes as he grabs his phone and sweater, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

They don’t exchange any other words as he leaves her room. She sits back down on the edge of the mattress, listening as he stuffs his feet in his sneakers and slams the front door shut. She doesn’t even notice that tears are lining her eyes and falling onto the apples of her cheeks.

. . .

It’s barely 48 hours later when Y/N’s watching a YouTube video as she stands in the bathroom, doing her nighttime routine.

Like four months prior, when she hoped Harry would be a good rebound for her heartbreak, she's been moping around in self-hatred and sadness. She's in awe of how cruel and oblivious he's being, but more than that, she can't believe she actually believed he had real feelings for her. Ones that extended beyond sex.

She’s brushing her teeth when she notices a text notification come down, redirecting her attention from the influencer vlog to read the name of the sender. She taps on it to see a familiar initial.

From: H (10:32 p.m.)

Sorry for what I said. Can I come over?

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hyuckswoman · 18 days

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alumnusbf!mark helping you study

pairing: alumnus mark (who’s also your bf) x reader

genre: fluff

summary: you’re stressing over this one subject until your bf appears

“fucking hell” you mutter, your finals were in a week and you were currently studying the subject you have been dreading since the beginning of the study period. Studying for exams was not fun. Especially when you had this gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach telling you that you were 100% going to fail.

markie

hey babe, you busy?

upon hearing the notification, you cursed at yourself as you swore you put your phone on do not disturb to avoid distractions .Yet here you were grabbing it to check the notification. turns out you did put your phone on do not disturb but since your boyfriend (who had to practically beg you to get removed off there texted you) was the origin of the notification, your phone still notified you.

being too lazy to write back, you just decided to call him

“hey, what’s up? I’m studying for my finals right now” you say after greeting him “oh really? I’m sorry to disturb then, how long have you been studying?” your boyfriend mark asks “hours. i literally had a full on mental breakdown studying the course because i suck at it and it feels like no matter how hard I study I just keep on failing” you say sighing “did you cry?” mark asks, maybe he knows you a little too well. “yea” you sigh yet again, it bothered you to see how big of a toll your academics were taking on you

“that’s a good thing then! wait no I don’t mean you crying is a good thing I meant it’s a good thing I’m on my way with food and stuff to give you a break” your boyfriend says making you laugh “mark, look I really truly appreciate it but I also really need to study” you say. honestly seeing how fucked you were because of this one course you couldn’t allow any distractions, and lord knows mark was a pretty big one

“no I know, we’ll just eat and then I’ll help you study. trust when I’ll leave you’ll be back in your academic weapon antics” mark says. after weighing your options (not that you had much of a choice seeing as though he was already on his way) you figured that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. you had the chance of having a boyfriend who already graduated which meant he already passed this course so maybe it’d actually help

“hi babe, i brought food” your boyfriend says, you were glad you had a boyfriend that supported your big backed antics. “i might make you my male wife at this point” you said as he hugged you. you guys then decided to turn on the tv and put a show none of you cared about for the sole purpose of having some background noise.

“okay, we’ve been slacking off for long enough, let’s get to studying now” your boyfriend says. you almost forgot about your finals for a second.

“okay, we’re done making the flash cards, quiz time” mark says quietly laughing upon seeing your face. “every right answer you get, i’ll kiss you” he says finding a way to motivate you as you looked like you were on the verge of dying. “I don’t think it helps, you distract me too much. i’ll probably only remember the kisses and not the actual class material” you reply. As much as it didn’t look like it you were seriously (for once) in the mood to study, you couldn’t let this pretty man distract you no more.

a short while after you were thrown over your desk defeated because what do you mean you only got like half the questions right???

“I don’t understand I’ve spent literal hours trying to memorize this shit I’m sick of it I just want it to be over” you sigh, this is the first time you’ve struggled this much over a school subject. usually being a bit above average doesn’t require you a lot of efforts so you never really tried that hard to pass your classes throughout the years. college beat the shit out of you tho!! you found yourself completely taken aback by the difficulty and you had to learn how to properly study throughout the years. if somebody asked you, you’d say you’ve got studying covered but seeing how this study session was going maybe you didn’t…

“I think you’re getting those wrong because you don’t understand this part” mark says patting your head as you mumble an ‘i know’. being the very considerate boyfriend he is, he then proceeded to explain the entirety of the material, dumbing it down whenever you looked up at him confused or when your eyebrows frowned a little too much. he also was so very patient, explaining the same things to you three different times as you had already forgotten what he said as soon as he moved on to another topic.

the dedication mark put into your academics was just too much for your heart to handle, you loved him so much and the fact he didn’t mind spending his evening studying with you instead of doing literally anything else warmed your heart. that’s why you didn’t have it in you to tell him you were getting gradually sleepier and were fighting your mind to stay awake because how could you when he looked so good concentrated trying to explain to you what you deem as the most incomprehensible subject ever.

“y/n? i feel like I’m losing your attention are you- oh.” mark says finally looking up from your study sheets seeing you asleep on your desk “pft, I didn’t know I was this boring damn” he laughs. since you were already in your pajamas and were in a position where the man could not carry you to bed he decided to gently shake you to wake you up “hm? I’m sorry I fell asleep markie, thank you for studying with me I love you. let me read the cards again to make sure I understand better” you say your voice a bit groggy “what? no go to sleep, nothing you read now will be effective just rest and sleep will take care of the memorizing for you” mark says preparing your bed for you “okay but only if you join me” you say already laying down under your covers “of course dude, let me put the things away and I’ll join you” mark says as he looks over to your half awake self that’s seemingly waiting for him

being in front of your final paper makes you realize even more how lucky you are to have mark in your life because you knew damn well that if the study session never happened you would have been shitting bricks internally crying over how much you don’t understand but now you got out of the final feeling confident you didn’t fail. you ran up to mark who was waiting for you to celebrate final period being over and he couldn’t help but mimic your immense grin as you told him how the final went better than what you had expected and thanked him for his help. He did refute by telling you it was all you and your mind but settled on taking a little bit of credit after you threatened him.

it was kinda crazy how mark made everything easy, every single thing without exception. looking at your boyfriend eating his meal you couldn’t help but smile thinking about how much you loved that man and how lucky you were to have him in your life.

#mark lee #mark x y/n #mark x you #mark x reader #mark fluff #mark imagines #mark drabbles #nct dream #nct dream drabbles #nct drabbles #nct #nct 127 #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct mark #kpop

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ebenelephant · 2 months

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look i've been partaking in fandom for a number of years now but nothing so far has affected me quite so much as ninejackrose, and doctorjackrose in general. i feel nauseous just thinking about them.

because you have the obvious angle; they seem so in love, then jack is abandoned and waits for the doctor for 150 years only to find that rose is gone and the doctor a) has a new face and b) has moved on. after they left him, after all that sincerity and affection, they just carry on as normal as though he'd never been there to begin with. but also, rose clearly doesn't know about jack's immortality, so we have to ask, what does she think happened to him? what did the doctor tell her? how do you even begin to untangle the fucked up ethics of that one?

rose made this man immortal because she couldn't bear to think of him as dead, and no one even told her he'd died in the first place. she was nineteen. the doctor was over nine hundred. jack was in his thirties. she made him into essentially a perfect companion; somebody who the doctor loves, and who he cannot outlive. a reminder of rose's boundless capacity for love, and ten can barely even bring himself to look him in the eyes.

by the time ten meets him for a second time, when the daleks invade, jack is already older than him. jack is more than a thousand years older than him, in fact, because he was buried alive in 27ad and was forced to live for a millennia as a prisoner to the earth and to his own brother. jack finds a new family, finds somebody to love, and they all die. rose gets an imitation of the doctor to love in a world that isn't really her own; their lives will be a blink that the others won't get to see. the doctor also finds love and a family, and also loses them - every version of them.

they meet in a prison millions of lightyears away from where they first met – thousands of years after, depending on who you ask – because jack heard that the doctor needed help. he's barely aged; the doctor has had two faces between this one and last time. she recognises him immediately, though he mistakes someone else for her.

they still remember rose.

#shaking crying throwing up etc etc #chewing at my own ankles #ninejackrose #tenjackrose #doctorjackrose #doctor who #the doctor #rose tyler #jack harkness #torchwood #mine #ninth doctor #tenth doctor #captain jack harkness

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pixiesfz · 3 months

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steph catley x child (sunshine)

plot: Steph takes you home

warnings: mention of deaths

series master list: here

When Lara passed you cried, cried like hell.

To you Lara was the world, your only world, she was what brightened your day whenever you visited and you were let out of the orphanage, even if it was only for about two hours or so.

But near the end of Lara’s fight, you started to share your world

With Steph.

You knew your sister liked her so you decided to like her, even if she didn’t play for her favorite team.

But now you were packing your bags with the help of one of the older kids.

Steph stood out the front of the door with Jen Beattie, one of her closest friends “Steph stop shaking you’ll be fine” Jen reassured the Australian “I know it’s just-“

“I just want her to have somebody, I promised Lara”

Jen squeezed her friend's shoulder “You still haven’t cried yet?” she asked and she crossed her head “I don’t know why”.

The doors opened to who Jen assumed to be the director of the Orphanage who welcomed them in, Steph was familiar with the woman as she greeted her with a laugh and a smile.

“How is she?” Steph asked the director as they sat down and waited for you to come down with your bags.

“She’s still upset, it’s the worst at six because that’s usually when she would go see her but it’s getting better, she is excited to see you” The woman smiled and Steph nodded “Did we finish all the files, and papers?” she asked and Steph nodded eagerly and Jen pulled them out of her bag for her.

“Now we just have a month trial and we get child services to come and ask her about you and the house life, especially since you have such an important job,” The director told Steph as she nodded, already knowing this information.

Jen watched her friend with a smile, she had seen Steph determined before but right now she looked so determined to give you a good life.

“Stephy” A sniff was heard behind the two Arsenal players as they both turned around quickly to reveal you, your brunette hair curled by one of the older orphans as you chose one of your prettiest dresses, one that Steph bought you when Lara was still alive.

She was out and about with Mini shopping for Harper when she saw the little yellow sundress and thought of you naturally as you always put a smile on everyone's face, like a little ray of sunshine.

But it was slightly cold so you paired it with a white cardigan.

“Hey, Sunshine!” Steph smiled before you waddled over to her, your dress flapping around before lifting you “You look pretty” she gushed and you looked down at her outfit “You look cool too!” you bashfully yelled, truly excited to see her after she finally told you that she was going to adopt you.

Steph had put effort into her outfit, wanting to look sophisticated when she picked you up, she had straightened her hair and wore a suit jacket with matching pants with a white singlet underneath.

Jen had teased her a little but she didn’t care, she was seeing her sunshine.

“Now I have to ask for protocol but Sunshine, do you want to stay with Stephanie?”

You jumped on Stephs knee’s nodding dramatically “Use your words Sunshine” Steph told you and you looked back to the director “Yes please”.

“Okay” the Director smiled, happy you were getting your happy ending with your circumstances “Let’s get you two out then” she laughed and Steph felt the butterflies in her stomach jump around like crazy, Jen got up to grab your bags, there were only two.

With her free hand, she took photos of you two that you both would grow to cherish.

The drive to Stephs was something you will never forget, both your smiles were huge as you asked questions about little things, Sometimes asking Jen about little things, especially asking her how it felt accidentally slamming Alexandra Popp which she was shocked to know but smiled when you told her that Lara was a huge arsenal fan.

“Who was her favorite player?” Jen asked and you put your finger to your chin thinking “Kimmy!” you yelled after remembering “But it was Jill before she moved” You nodded and Steph smiled “You have an amazing memory Sunshine” She complimented you and you nodded.

“It’s my superpower, now I get to remember Lara even more!”

Jen looked to Steph to see if any tears had fallen but no, she just nodded solemnly as she finally drove to her house.

When you got out of the kiddy chair that Steph had set up weeks ago, Steph held you in her arms and gave her keys to Jen to open the door when she opened the door Steph let you down, free to adventure which you did.

“Have you told her about Calvin?” Jen asked as she heard a squeal from you “I thought I put him outside” Steph's eyes popped.

“You have a doggy door”.

“Steph quickly followed your squeal but let out a laugh when she saw you and a still puppy Calvin playing with each other, you on your knees as he licked your face.

“Thankfully she likes dogs” Jen smiled as she turned the corner.

“Do you want to see your room?” Steph asked you and you looked at her with a grin “Do I have to share?” you asked and Steph crossed her head “Nope, you get it all to yourself and it’s a big girl bed”

“I’m a big girl” you smiled and Steph nodded “Exactly”.

You ran to your room with a smile on your face and jumped on your bed with a big yelp as Steph helped you up “Do you like it?” Steph asked as you looked around to see the room.

It had white walls and your draws were wooden but you had little yellow decorations as you told Steph your favorite colour was yellow “I love it!” you yelled, you kept on yelling, your excitement taking over you.

It was later in the day, after Jen went home at six o’clock you ran from the TV room into the kitchen where Steph was cooking pasta in your new pyjamas she bought you.

“Can we see Lara now?”

Steph dropped the wooden spoon in the pot at your words and quickly turned off the gas as she turned to you.

You had been so excited and happy all day that you had forgotten your troubles “We can’t do that Sunshine” Steph told you, bending down to be level with you “Why-“ you stopped your sentence as your memory finally caught up with you “oh yeah” you frowned, a tear escaping your eye which Steph wiped away quickly “I forgot” you cried a bit more.

“that’s okay” Steph eased you as she felt her eyes starting to water from your mistake “I forgot” you repeated and buried yourself into Steph's neck “It’s okay Sunshine” she squeezed your tights as tears began to flow down her cheeks.

Lara was truly gone.

Steph was all you had left.

#woso #woso x reader #woso soccer #woso community #matildas #steph catley x reader #steph catley #jen beattie #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal women #arsenal wfc #awfc

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sungbeam · 1 month

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𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

nonidol!kang yeosang x f!reader

yeosang doesn't remember your name, but he remembers what kissing you tastes like and how you like your eggs in the morning. just your regular prince charming trying to find his cinderella, or in this case, his passenger princess..?

9.5k (lord.....), nc-17, s2l, frateez au, college au, mentions of alcohol, swearing, kissing, humor, fluff, minimal angst, another cinderella story au/trope(?), drama (i bring i bring all the drama-ma-ma-ma), a girl who is not a girl's girl :l, the barest of proofreading

a/n: this is for the @atzhouse you can't outrage us event! guys if the flirting is lackluster, it's cuz im running out of rizz

“I don't believe you.”—

The last place you expected to end up was in the front seat of some guy's white Lexus while the party raged on inside the ATZ fraternity house just down the street. According to him, he had to run out just before the crowd rolled in, and when he got back, somebody had snatched his parking spot.

—“Okay, but why don't you believe me?”—

The car smelled not like fresh leather, but an enchanting mixture of something like pine and smoked wood. Bitter, yet somehow, refreshing. You bet, even as the alcohol was hitting you, that it was what he smelled like.

His name was Yeosang—the guy sitting next to you in the driver's seat, the owner of this car, and the ATZ fraternity brother you bumped into at his house's own party. That had been just about twenty minutes ago when you'd ended up isolated from your pack of friends, and Yeosang had needed a desperate breather. It seemed he'd been running from someone (question mark), so you asked if he knew where the kitchen was. Eager to get away from whoever it was, he guided you straight to the kitchen and where the secret stash of flavored sojus were.

An offhand comment about wishing you didn't have to miss this one drama episode dropping tonight led to a longer conversation about the dramas you both enjoyed, which somehow landed you in his passenger seat.

The rest was history. Or—you supposed the rest was now.

“Because,” Yeosang said in a tone that sounded a lot like he was saying 'duh’, “you don't look like a biology major.”

He was gorgeous, even if the lighting in the party and out here was jack shit. The way the shadows cut across his face made him look like a faerie torn straight out of one of your old sketchbooks. You were half certain he had pointed ears beneath the cat-eared beanie he wore, but maybe that was just the alcohol doing its thing.

You sputtered out a laugh as he knocked back another gulp of his melon soju. He was more drunk than you were, maybe not by too much because that wouldn't have been fair, but it did take him seven tries to unlock his car seven minutes ago. “What's a bio major s'posed to look like?”

“Mmm…” he hummed, lips pressed together in a line that dug into his cheeks. “Not you.”

It only made you laugh harder. It wasn't even that funny. “That doesn't even make sense!”

“Does it have to make sense?” He squawked. His face shuddered for a moment as if he just experienced a glitch. “I forgot what I was gonna say, but it's the vibe.”

“The vibe,” you parroted in mild amusement. After you swallowed down your next gulp of soju, you gestured to him with the bottle, “Okay, now what about you? Your major, go.”

“I read shit.”

“Who doesn't?”

“Jared, 19,” he replied, dead serious.

Equally serious, you asked with wide eyes, “Really?”

He gave you an emphatic nod back. Really. Now, if you were a little less tipsy, you wouldn't have taken what he said at face value, but tonight was already miles away from your regularly scheduled program.

You pondered on that—the “I read shit,” not the misfortunes of one nineteen year old named Jared. “So if you read a lot of shit, does that make you a literature major? No, wait! I got it; you look like Comparative Lit.”

“Bingo,” he cheered, raising his bottle up into the air. “Wait. What do you mean I look like a comparative lit major? What does a comp lit major even look like?”

“I dunno, but it’s you.”

He pursed his lips into a deadpan at your callback to what he'd said before, and you merely stuck your tongue out at him like the mature adult you were. “Touché, my friend. Touché…”

Silence passed between you two for the first time since you met each other. In the distance, you could hear the muffled sounds of the party raging on. It wasn't that you didn't go to parties often; it was more so that you usually went to house parties hosted by friends or friends-of-a-friend. Making it all the way to Greek Row was not something you did every weekend, but a mutual friend—Chungha—knew the ATZ president and got you and your friends in.

Nearly finished with his third bottle (or was it his fourth?...), Yeosang knocked the remainder down his throat with a grimace. With the empty bottle, he set it at his feet on the car floor to join another—the cup holders were already occupied with yours and his second rounds. The first was abandoned on the frat house lawn somewhere.

“I think—” he slurred, blinking slowly at you like a cat, “—that you look like an artist.”

“An artist?” You parroted dumbly and felt warmth rise to your cheeks. “And why would you say that? Vibes?”

“Well, yes!”

You sputtered out a laugh at the way he said that. “Then yes, I am an artist,” you said, emphasizing the latter half of the word so it sounded like “teest” and not “tist.”

Yeosang gave a hoot. “I'm so good at this. Does that—does that mean you can paint me like one of your French girls?” He pulled his lips into an adorable, little smile, the back of his hand poised beneath his chin as he fluttered his lashes.

“I don't think I could do you justice,” you admitted. There was a rather annoying buzz at the back of your brain that was distracting you. With a shake of your head, you refocused your gaze on him. “You're too pretty.”

He preened at the compliment, unconsciously reaching up to adjust his beanie. “Like calls to like then.”

“What does that mean?” Your buzzed-out brain couldn't compute—

“It means that prettiness is attracted to prettiness, and I'm attracted to you.”

You whined, burying your face in your hands. Yeosang giggled to himself, incredibly proud at making you flustered, his knees curling upward to kick his feet in the cramped space. “I don't like you.”

“You don't?”

“No,” you raised your head up with a displeased frown, only to see that his eyes seemed to be twinkling with unrestrained happiness and something else. You weren't in the right state to hyper-analyze the way he looked at you, but it made your heart skip more than just a beat. “It's not fair that you're a literature major.”

“But I'm drunk,” he said innocently.

“That's even worse!”

He grinned boyishly at you, bashfully stretching his limbs and then cupping the back of his neck with a hand. “What if I told you I'm minoring in math?”

You deadpanned. “I don't think that makes me feel any better. You rule both the realms of words and numbers.”

“It doesn't mean I'm good at math,” he guffawed, leaning back in his seat. “It's only there 'cause my mom's a math teacher, and having a math minor makes my parents feel better.”

That sounded familiar… awfully familiar. The thought made you sober a bit, and it seemed your counterpart wasn't so wasted that he didn't notice the shift either.

“Uh oh,” he chuckled nervously, “what'd I say?”

You waved your hand around dismissively. “Oh, it's nothing. I'm kind of the opposite—my bio major is sort of to appease my parents and the fine art minor is for my sanity.”

He pressed his lips into a line, nodding in understanding. “Ah, I see,” he drawled. “So you don't… you're not happy? With what you're doing, I mean.”

Maybe it was the way he asked it, but it made the cogs in your head turn. You bit your lip. “I'm happy-ish. It's kind of a lot, but I'll survive.”

“'m sorry I upset you,” he pouted. “But,” he stammered, swallowing, “but I get it. My parents never wanna talk about my major anymore. Pretty sure they're just bitter and disappointed. I always feel like I’m walking on eggshells around them.”

You could tell that it affected him more than he wanted to admit. You wordlessly passed him your half-drunk bottle, and he gladly took a generous sip. When it was back in your hands, you guzzled down the remainder.

The buzz was getting better.

“Well, if they're not proud of you, I am,” you declared, setting the empty bottle at your feet. Your eyes blinked slowly for a moment as you got your bearings again. Maybe… maybe you should stop drinking! Yes, that would be the smart thing to do.

Yeosang hummed. “Thanks,” he said with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He gazed over at you from his side of the car. “I'm proud of you, too. You'll be happy one day; it'll always turn out okay, Yn-ie.”

Something warm and fuzzy settled in your chest, like a cat had just curled up there, purring and content.

A thought suddenly popped into your head. “Yeosang, how do you like your eggs?”

He snorted and burst into laughter, coaxing a similar expression out of you. A moment later, you were trying your best to pout at him, “Hey! Don't laugh! I hear it's all the rage on the pick-up line scene.”

“You're trying to pick me up?” He giggled. All memories of the previous topic flew out the car window.

“Well, is it working?”

He licked his lips around a smile, leaning over the center console to rest his cheek against his fist. “Ask me again.”

You took another sip of your soju before returning it to its cupholder. “Okay. Yeosang, how do you like your eggs in the morning?”

“However you'd like them.”

You deadpanned, and that only made him laugh louder. His head tilted back so you caught a glimpse of his canines, before he brought himself back down to Earth. His cheeks looked as flushed as you felt—even in the dim streetlight you could make out the blooms of peony pink across his cheekbones. “Yeo.”

He reached over to pat your head a couple times, though the sloppiness of his movements made it feel closer to two affectionate smacks. “Okay okay. Sorry. How about we say it at the same time?”

“Okay.” That wasn't a bad compromise.

“Okay, one, two, three—”

“Sunny-side up,” you both said at once.

Your eyes and his eyes widened at once, gasps of delight sounding into the quiet car. Could this guy be any more perfect?

“You're not bluffing?” You asked with narrowed eyes.

Yeosang shook his head vigorously. “Mm-mm. I wouldn't lie to you, Yn-ie. Scout's honor,” he slurred, holding his hand up as if he was a boy scout.

You giggled at the gesture, and he broke form to melt into an ooey gooey puddle of liquefied butterflies. For a moment, he just stared at you with a strange look on his face, one that you couldn't quite place when you were in this inebriated state.

You chuckled, shifting your position when one leg started falling asleep. “What’s wr—?”

He leaned forward and—oh. Oh. Those were—his lips were on yours. He had leaned over the console and kissed you. He was kissing you.

And when you didn't kiss him back, he drew backwards, an embarrassed expression painted over the adorable flush on his cheeks. “That—I shouldn't have done that, should I? I'm sorry; I dunno what I was—”

You crushed your mouth against his this time, effectively stealing the apology right off his tongue. He tasted like melon soju, and his touch was gentle as he brought his hand up to cup the side of your face, cradle your jaw. He was tracing the outline of your features in the dark like he could sketch them in the lines in his mind.

He tasted like the color of amber, warm and bright, but not blindingly so. He was mellow and sweet, with the undertones of the burnt wood in his cologne.

You melded your lips against his mouth like you could engrave him into you, and you were practically half over the middle console already. Yeosang's free hand fumbled backward to find the button on the side of his chair—there. The chair began moving backward with a monotonous brrr sound, and as it moved you couldn't quite keep your lips physically attached to his.

You disconnected from him for what felt like an eternity in order to climb over—shoes knocking against empty soju bottles, ass nearly bumping the horn—and with some clumsy, awkward maneuvering, you were on him again, this time quite literally. You tumbled into his lap, his hands landing on either side of your waist and your hands bracing against the back of his chair.

He loosened a soft groan with the return of your lips to his, and he hauled you down closer to him, until your chests were pressed flush against one another and you couldn't tell which heartbeat was who's. His beanie fell off at some point, but your fingers buried themselves within the dark, silken mass of his hair, a hat in their own right.

When you both pulled away for breath, your chests heaved in tandem to catch it. You settled your cheek against his shoulder while you inhaled the smell of his cologne, much stronger now that you sat against his chest with your nose by his throat. His hand warmed the small of your back with the other cupping the back of your head in an affectionate cradle.

“I don't think I've ever kissed someone like that,” you admitted into the quiet. You suddenly couldn't hear the muffled music blasting from the party in the background anymore.

“Me neither,” he replied, voice hoarse from the kiss. “I've never met someone like you before.”

“Never in your life?”

“Never in my life.”

“So let me get this straight,” drawled Wooyoung with both hands poised at his temples, eyes screwed shut against the bright morning light coming in through the window. There were currently eight people crowded onto President Hongjoong's bed at a time that was far too early to be alive for a group of people who partied until four in the morning. “You're saying that you know this girl's family life, how she likes her eggs in the morning, and how she kisses—but you don't even know her name?”

Yeosang was propped up against the headboard, squeezed between a very unfairly serene-looking Seonghwa and a mildly hungover Hongjoong. Yeosang's bangs were flat against his forehead and he squinted his tired eyes through the strands. “No, that's not what I said. I said that I know her name… it's just not coming to me right now.”

He knew your name. Right? You told him your name, right? He addressed you by your name at least once last night, right?

(If he was being honest, as soon as Yeosang woke up this morning, he started whimsically recalling the events of last night in his head. But once he realized he neither had your number nor remembered your name, he jostled his friends up to invade the president's room for an emergency round table discussion. Who would have guessed their alarm clock would be a very panicked Maltese screaming, “I DON'T REMEMBER HER NAME!”)

“Which pretty much means you don't know her name,” Jongho piped up where he was laying against Yunho's back on the corner of the bed, his eyes closed while he attempted to squeeze in five more milliseconds of sleep.

“Well, do you know who she came with?” San asked. “She probably has at least one mutual friend or else she wouldn't have gotten in.”

Mingi furrowed his brows together. “Not necessarily. The pledges might not have been thorough when checking.”

Hongjoong's eyes narrowed. “You were supposed to be there with them at the door, Mingi.”

“Oh, was I?”

Yunho cut in before Hongjoong could tackle Mingi off the bed. He grinned to himself, “Okay, but San has a point. Usually people are only able to sneak in if they're with a group.”

“Awh,” Wooyoung cooed, reaching over to pinch at Yeosang's cheek, “Yeosangie fell in love with a stowaway—ow! Hey! He just bit me!”

“Deserved,” Seonghwa said plainly. He turned his head so as to not have to face Wooyoung's wounded puppy eyes. It was too early for this. “Do you know if she came with anyone, Yeosang-ah?”

Yeosang scrunched his nose up, disgruntled. “No. I'm pretty sure she was looking for her friends when we met… something like that. I remember some things, but not everything.” He pinched the place between his brows in an attempt to piece together his memory of last night. He could remember the way you made him feel—it was the jittery warmth that came with falling, and his heart had never grown wings before like it had around you.

After the kiss, the two of you had sunk into a comfortable, quiet conversation about anything and everything beneath the sun. For the first time in a long time, he felt comfortable and heard by someone other than his fraternity brothers. You were perfect, for lack of a better word. And he knew a lot of words.

But how could he fucking forget your name?

He was never drinking that much melon soju ever again.

“She's a biology major,” he offered with a defeated sigh, letting his hand fall into his lap.

“What does she look like?” Hongjoong asked.

Yeosang's gaze went up to the ceiling as he recalled what you looked like to his friends. It was pretty dark the entire time he was with you, but there were a few moments when the streetlights hit your face and his conscience was constantly trying to keep his drunk ass from kissing you within the first ten minutes of meeting you. He'd managed to hold it together for a little bit longer before throwing all caution to the wind.

When he was done, San said in light amusement, “I'm just surprised you kissed her first. She must be something then, huh?”

Yeosang couldn't conceal the smile that slowly crept onto his face. “Yeah, she's…” He cleared his throat. “I just don't want last night to be the first and last time I see her.” It couldn't be—just when he thought he clicked with someone, the universe couldn't possibly be so cruel as to rip you away from him, could it?

“Don't you worry!” Mingi chirped, “We'll help you find your passenger princess.”

Seonghwa snorted. “Passenger princess? What is this, Cinderella?”

“It might as well be,” San chuckled, lifting his shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Operation: Passenger Princess is a go!”

Yeosang wasn't sure if recruiting his friends’ help was a good or awful decision. But because his past, drunk self hadn't done many favors for his future, sober self, he would take all the help he could get.

You knew the moment you stumbled out of your bedroom and saw your roommate that you were in trouble. It wasn't trouble in the conventional sense; considering her eyes were laughing as she watched your pitiful walk of shame from your room to the shared bathroom, you knew you were not going to hear the end of everything that happened last night ever.

“Not a word,” you said to her as you winced at the blinding bathroom lights.

Her toothbrush hung out of her mouth as she slipped in behind you to spit her toothpaste into the sink. When her mouth was rinsed and clear, she made eye contact with you in the mirror, eyebrows wagging up and down. “So you and Yeosang, huh?”

You glared at her from around your own toothbrush. You would have taken the damn thing out to defend yourself, but you were already late.

Reina took full advantage of your occupied vocal chords. “I never knew pretty frat boys were your type, Yn,” she teased, practically floating out of the bathroom to go check on the state of her espresso in the kitchen.

“Aye hae yuu,” you grumbled around your toothbrush.

“What's that?” She cackled, bringing a hand up to the shell of her ear. “I love you? I love you, too, Yn. But you know who else loves you?—”

“Dompt shae it.”

“Yeosaaaang!”

You loathed the fact that her saying such things made butterflies flap their wings and dance around in your belly. It was simply delusional to think of love when all you and Yeosang did last night was make out in his car and accompany each other in deep, provoking conversation… conversation that definitely didn't make you feel incredibly seen or anything… definitely not.

Finally, you were able to spit your toothpaste out to make your argument. “Okay, first of all, I don't even have his number. And—how could he love me?” As if possession of a phone number could even correlate to love either.

Reina paused, her expression arranging into loud incredulity. “You what? After all I went through to separate the two of you to go home, you didn't exchange numbers?”

Okay, so maybe you shouldn't have disclosed that information—now you just looked stupid.

You lathered up facial cleanser in your hands and on your face. “Look. Exchanging numbers was just the last thing on our minds—” Oh, Yn. Have you ever said something smart?

Reina snorted. “Oh, I know.”

“We didn't just make out,” you grumbled, your cheeks warming beneath your hands. You furiously splashed cool water over your skin before patting your face dry. There likely wasn't much time left before you and Reina had to run to meet your other friends at your weekly volunteering session. “We talked.”

“Uh-huh, and you know that denial is a river in Egypt, right?”

Suffice to say that Reina most definitely did not let your shenanigans from last night go. The two of you managed to reach the food bank sometime before fifteen minutes past your original start time. Everyone else was already stationed and on time, and because you and Reina were the last to arrive, you were sent straight to dishwashing.

As you and Reina pulled on your twin pairs of pink rubber gloves, your friend Mark Lee (and brother with the NCT fraternity) barrelled into the backroom with a dirty ladle in his hands. His head perked up at the sight of you both, a smile blooming on his face. “Well, good morning, Party Animals. How was the ATZ party last night?”

He deposited the ladle into the sink for you to wash while he went to go find a clean one.

“It was cool, but I think Yn would love to tell you all about her experience,” Reina teased, bumping her elbow against your side.

Mark sidled up beside the two of you and leaned in close in proper tea-spilling fashion. “Oh my gosh, did something happen?”

You scowled at Reina, then said to Mark, “Nothing catastrophic—”

“She hooked up with Yeosang!”

You cut her a hard glance. “Reina, I don't think Neptune heard you.”

Mark's eyes went comically wide, jaw slackening. “Yn and Yeosang? That's so wild. Like—like Kang Yeosang?”

“I think? We didn't exactly exchange last names, but why would it be wild? We just kissed and talked.”

“Who kissed who now?” The new voice had you all glancing back over to the kitchen door where another member of the group, Yura, walked in. Yura was Reina's cousin, and the two grew up quite close, so it was natural that they ended up in similar social circles. You and all your other friends got along pleasantly with her. She flashed you all a small smile. “From the sounds of it, I'm guessing you guys had a fun time at the party last night?”

“We did!” Reina chirped.

“Shame you couldn't come with us this time,” you said offhandedly. It wasn't like Yura to miss a party.

Reina cocked her head to the side. “I could've sworn I saw you there though—”

“Ah,” Yura waved her hand to dismiss her cousin's thought. She chuckled, “You're probably mistaking someone else as me; I had that paper I needed to work on last night, remember? But Yn, you and Yeosang?”

You groaned. “I thought we were over this.”

“Dude, we can't not get over this,” Mark quipped back. “Yeosang just doesn't do stuff like that—hook up with people, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Yura chimed in, “I've seen him at a couple other Greek parties with some of my sorority friends and he looks pretty standoffish most of the time. He's usually always with one of his brothers. He's kind of cold, really.”

Mark furrowed his brows. “I wouldn't call him cold; he's just a little shy, is all.”

“My friends told me that a lot of sorority girls chase after him,” Yura said with wide eyes. “They get, like, aggressive about him or something.”

You and Reina exchanged a look. Was that who he was running from last night? “That must be kinda stressful,” you said softly with a small frown.

“Apparently, that's why his social medias don't take DMs unless approved,” she shrugged.

Well, there went your backup plan of finding him on social media. Then again, if he recognized you or your name, would that help if you requested him? That was if you deigned to change your profile picture to yourself and not one of your silly doodles.

You couldn't help the weight that your heart seemed to gain as it sank to the pit of your stomach.

“Well, that's mildly disappointing,” Reina muttered, turning to quickly wash the ladle Mark had just dropped off.

“I just wouldn't want you to get targeted by any of those crazy sorority girls, y'know?” Yura gave a laugh that sounded almost nervous. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before snapping on a fresh pair of gloves.

You nodded, gnawing on your bottom lip. “Yeah, no, I—I get it. Thanks, Yura.”

She gave you a sympathetic look. “Of course,” she said. With a wave, she made her way back toward the kitchen door. “Mark, we better get back to work. See you guys at lunch break!”

When she was gone, Mark clapped a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Hey, listen. I don't really know the guy personally, but me and Wooyoung are pretty tight. I can get in touch with them if you want—”

Baekhyun, the section leader for your session, charged into the kitchen with his arm piled high with dirty dishes. If you didn’t fear for the safety of the porcelain bowl at the top of the stack, you might have chuckled at the scene before you. “Mark! We don't pay you to stand around.”

“Hyung,” Mark huffed exasperatedly as he rushed over to help Baekhyun before the section leader could get knocked over the head by a rogue dish assisted by gravity. “You don't pay us. We're here out of the goodness of our hearts.”

“Well, I don't get paid enough for this,” Baekhyun said once all the dishes were transferred to the sink, and you and Reina were put to work. “Now come on; lots to do!”

Just as Mark was about to follow after Baekhyun, he caught your eyes. “I'm serious about the offer, Yn.”

You smiled. “Thanks, man, but let me think about it and I'll get back to you.”

“Yeah, just lemme know!” And he was gone.

Word broke out that someone in the ATZ household was searching for a girl. Word of mouth was a method of dissemination that could spread like wildfire, leaping from one tongue to one ear to another, leaving only ash and debris behind. And around Greek Row, it became a massive game of Telephone.

But while nearly everyone in the university's fraternities and sororities knew about his strife, Yeosang’s efforts seemed to be for naught. The only thing that emerged from this were more people harping after him, claiming to be 'the one he was looking for.’ None of them were you.

Your name had manifested itself in his head about halfway into the week. He'd been toiling over the theory readings his professor assigned for Thursday's lecture when he'd underlined a word, and it came crashing down upon him with ice cold clarity.

His eyes went wide as he shot up out of his chair, nearly sending Jongho careening off his bed on the other side of the room. “What the—”

“Yn,” Yeosang said. Then he declared a little louder, a giddy smile on his face, triumphant and bright, “Her name is Yn.”

Jongho resettled himself on top of his bed. “Well that narrows things down for us,” he drawled, taking his phone out and typing something out. “I don't suppose you have her last name.”

Yeosang fwumped onto the edge of his bed with his lips pressed into a line. “Dude. I literally just thought of her first name. Do you really think I can come up with—”

“Okay, okay,” Jongho laughed, flicking his wrist at him for a moment before resuming his typing.

“Who're you texting?” Yeosang asked as curiosity drew him across the room to Jongho's side.

His friend sat up so he could peer over his shoulder at the phone screen. “I'm doing the heavy lifting,” he teased. Based on the social media handle at the top of the direct messages channel, Jongho was texting Chungha, a friend of the frat's but a closer friend of President Hongjoong's, and the recently graduated head of the Phi Omega Phi sorority. “Hongjoong hyung mentioned offhandedly that Chungha wanted to get some friends into the party on Friday, so I'm seeing if she recognizes this Yn person you're looking for.”

Yeosang’s eyebrows flicked upward as he settled into a more comfortable position on Jongho’s bed while they awaited Chungha’s response. In the meantime, he pulled out his own phone in an attempt to search for your name amongst his mutuals. He frowned at the lack of a successful search—did you use a different name or did you not have a social media account? Was that why you hadn’t attempted to contact him in the past few days?

For a moment, a shard of self-consciousness pierced through his chest at the prospect that you didn’t want to contact him. Did sobriety make you embarrassed at what happened that night? Had he made you uncomfortable with the amount of vulnerability that was in the car—no, the vulnerability was mutual… but maybe—

“Gotcha.”

Yeosang’s head whipped back over to Jongho’s screen. Having your name and major seemed to ring a bell for Chungha, and she forwarded a social media handle, along with a “tell Yeosang good luck ;)”.

“Thank you, Jongho. And bless up, Chungha,” Yeosang muttered as he swiftly input the social media handle into his search bar. There it was—a private art account with your first name in the biography line. There were only one or two people who you both shared mutuals with, which made sense.

His thumb hovered over the request button, and he bit his lip. With little else left to do and his heart banging around in his ribs from the anticipation alone, he clicked the button.

It didn’t take you incredibly long to accept his follow request and to follow him back. (Though, half an hour felt like an eternity when he was so anxious.) He made it painfully obvious that you acted in response, because Yeosang fumbled his phone between his palms like it was a hot potato, before he dropped it and stubbed his toe with it.

Jongho sent him a strange look as he handed the device back to a red-faced Yeosang, who furrowed his brows together to think of an opening direct message to you.

“It doesn't have to be perfect,” Jongho said as he peered over Yeosang's shoulder this time. He had even paused the game he was playing on his phone to stay tuned into the live entertainment.

Yeosang made a face. “Yes, it does.” It had to be the perfect mix of witty and funny and subtle and—

He figured it out.

@/yskang99: how do u like ur eggs?

Jongho released a sound of utter flabbergast, and Yeosang shushed him, both pairs of eyes pinned to the three dots that appeared on the bottom left-hand side of the screen.

@/studioyn: sunny side up

Yeosang broke into a smile, and Jongho's face contorted into pure incredulity. “What kind of security question is that?”

“Inside joke,” Yeosang replied giddily, rising from Jongho's bed to cross over to his side of the room. He collapsed into his desk chair and propped his feet up along the end of his bed.

Jongho scoffed, shifting his lounging position. He threw his friend another incredulous glance before giving up and returning to his game. He'd done his job.

@/yskang99: congrats u passed the test!

@/studioyn: ahh so that was a test? i imagined us doing a virtual handshake tbh

@/yskang99: i like that better actually

@/studioyn: also how did u find me lmao

Yeosang bit his lip through a grin. I have my ways, he typed out cryptically, cheekily.

@/studioyn: wtvr u say ig… 🤨🤨🤨

For a brief moment, Yeosang wondered if he should bring up the concern lingering in his mind—why you hadn't reached out to him. He didn't want to simply assume that he was “popular” enough that just anybody knew who he was, but he was also aware that most people were able to track him down on social media. But would that kill the vibe? He liked the energy.

@/studioyn: i can't get a read on whether or not ur any different than how u were drunk

@/yskang99: would that matter?

@/studioyn: not particularly, no, but i've met people who r

@/yskang99: no i get that, i've met my fair share too :/

He began typing out slowly: I missed you… Then he swiftly amended it to: I missed talking to you.

@/studioyn: awhh wait ik we've only technically spoken the one time, but i missed talking to u too yeo :’)

A smile split his face from ear to ear. Would you wanna hang out again? Only if you're comfortable, of course.

He watched the three dots appear, then disappear. You were thinking and his heart was sinking.

Finally, your response came in. I'd love to, but I don't wanna disappoint you with my god awful schedule this next week.

@/yskang99: what abt the weekend? something low stakes maybe?

@/yskang99: my brothers and i r going to the nct house on sat

@/studioyn: oh!! im actually close friends w mark lee :] i'll see if i can drag my friends along, and we can link up there?

The thought of seeing you again, even if it was at another dumb Greek party, made electricity zip through his veins. His stomach filled to the brim with butterflies, and he had to shift his position because of how much it tickled.

@/yskang99: yeah sounds great :D i'll look forward to seeing u

@/studioyn: same here yeo :’))

@/studioyn: how's ur week been so far?

Yeosang leaned back in his chair again, propping his elbows on the armrests to sink into a comfortable position. He had a feeling he might be here awhile, but he would sit here all night if it meant talking to you.

“Yn! We're gonna be late!”

You nearly jolted at the sound of Reina's voice carrying through the other side of your bedroom door. You dropped your phone onto your bed, racing to finish up the rest of your makeup. “You can never be late to a Greek party!” You countered, swiping your thumb over the pigment you just put on your lips.

Your bedroom door opened just as you were slipping a chain necklace around your collar. Reina poked her head in, her eyes looking you up and down. “Ooh-la-la,” she gushed with a teasing smile. “Someone's gotten all dolled up. I wonder who for…”

You rolled your eyes and ignored the obvious warmth rising to your face. “I just felt like it,” you defended weakly while spritzing a light mist of perfume over your neck and wrists. You stood up from your desk to collect your wallet, keys, and lip gloss to dump into a purse, then went over to retrieve your phone.

The screen displayed another message from Yeosang, no doubt continuing the conversation you had to abruptly pause because you would be late for the NCT party. This was going to be the second Greek party in two weeks—a record for your books. But you had a feeling it was going to be a good time like last week, you were sure of it.

As you skimmed the message Yeosang sent, you slipped out of the room to join Reina in the main living space. She casted you a pointed look with arms crossed over her chest and lips pressed together.

“What?” You blinked over at her innocently.

“You're never gonna see your boy at this rate,” she said as the two of you picked out your shoes for the night.

You sent a text answering Yeosang and letting him know you would be at the party soon. “He's not 'my boy,’” you said.

“Right. He's your man.”

You hated how hard it was to keep the giggle in your throat down. It was embarrassing how you smiled just then, too, turning your head away from a smug Reina.

God, he was just a guy; how did you get so head-over-heels after just one night? It had to be the fact that you'd been texting him nonstop over the past few days. Though you were busy and exhausted, you continued to check your phone all throughout the days and stayed up long into the nights just to talk to him. He had you hook, line, and sinker.

At some point, you'd forgotten what Yura warned you about on Saturday.

Your friends picked you and Reina up in one of their family minivans. A round of greetings went up as you clambered in behind Reina, and your friend asked where her cousin was tonight if she wasn't carpooling with the rest of you.

“She said she was at her sorority friend's house,” Sieun said offhandedly from the driver's seat. The minivan door closed on its own with a mechanical whirring sound. “She's probably at the party already.”

Some nights, parties called for a pregame session, while others (not unlike this one) was attacked raw. Sieun parked the minivan about a block outside of Greek row where there were spaces between cars along the curbs and where there was less of a chance of her accidentally running over a drunk partygoer stumbling into the street. The party was already in full swing with neon green strobe lights blazing aggressively through the front windows, and Gasolina blasting at nothing less than one hundred percent speaker volume.

You felt your phone vibrate in your hand as Reina grabbed your hand to avoid instantly losing you in the crowd.

@/yskang99: im on the second floor where there's less people 😋😋 they've got a nice balcony we can hide on!!

“Mark said they've got spiked Capri Sun somewhere in here!” Reina shouted into your ear.

You nodded your head vigorously. “Let's find it then!”

@/studioyn: gonna grab hard caprisun and then head up!! do u want some??

@/yskang99: surprise me w a flavor, pretty pls x

You grinned to yourself and slid your phone into your purse to focus on the task at hand.

The NCT fraternity house wasn't a completely unknown landscape to you and Reina. Being friends with one of its brothers and friends-by-association with all the rest, you'd popped by more than a few times. You could likely navigate this house with your eyes closed; that was what it was like weaving through the dark rooms and throngs of people squeezed together like sardines in a can, anyway.

Along yours and Reina's trek to the kitchen, you gained a couple people in your conga line of linked hands, NCT's own Xiaojun and Jungwoo. NCT frat brothers always pregamed, so the two brothers were already tipsy and giggled about your kindergarten field trip line (with Reina being dubbed the poor kindergarten teacher tasked with keeping you together).

When you arrived at your destination, it didn't take long for you to lose both Xiaojun and Jungwoo to the game of Texas Hold 'Em being played at the breakfast table. The singular lightbulb overheard made it feel like a smoke-filled backdoor gambling den.

“Aha!” You cheered after playing a game of mystery cooler roulette, and opened the cooler lid that held the spiked Capri Sun juice pouches on ice.

“Mine!” Reina snatched up the last cherry flavored one, the shiny aluminum slippery and ice-cold as she impaled the opening with the thin, yellow straw.

You grabbed a Pacific Cooler flavored pouch for yourself, and a second for Yeosang.

“Ah, is that for the man of your dreams?” Reina said between sips, her pouch already half empty.

You sent her a look. “He has good taste, which means he'll probably appreciate Pacific Cooler as much as I do.”

“As long as it's not lemonade,” came a voice to your left. There stood a rather tall and lean man, his warm smile enunciated by the dim kitchen lighting as the green strobe lights from the living room painted across his face. “I can't deal with sour shit,” he explained, making a face.

You laughed. “That's valid. Fruit Punch is a classic though.”

“Can't argue with that,” he replied, leaning down to pick his poison for the night. He stabbed a straw into his pouch of strawberry kiwi juice, then arched an eyebrow at you. “I feel like I know you. Do I know you?”

“Hey,” Reina chimed in as she leaned over your shoulder, “you're with the ATZ frat, aren't you? I recognize you from Twister last week.”

He smiled sheepishly from around his straw. “Ah… haha, not my best moment, but yes. I'm Yunho.”

“Reina,” your friend replied.

“Yn,” you added on.

Yunho's expression jerked as if he'd just been delivered an electric shock. He waved his pointer finger at you. “Oh my god, you're Yeosang's girl!”

Your eyes shuddered in surprise. Yeosang's girl. “Sorry?” You stammered. There was an insane amount of possessive pronouns being used tonight, buy you definitely weren't complaining about it, and could he perhaps say that again—

“Yeah, he won't shut up about you.” Yunho slurped up the rest of his juice pouch, draining and flattening the life out of it in record time. “He loves Pacific Cooler, by the way.”

He took his leave then, saying nothing else to you and Reina except for shooting you a pair of finger guns like saying 'go get em, tiger!’

Reina wheezed, draping herself over you for a moment. “Oh—my god! Good thing Yeosang's just as down in the trenches as you are.”

“Don't do this to me, Reina,” you whined and dragged her along out of the kitchen toward the second floor staircase. “I don't need encouragement; the crush is enough!”

“It's never enough,” she declared with her pointer finger up in the sky. “You are gone, my friend! Gone, I say.”

You patted her head as you both began your ascent up the stairs. “Alrighty; then gone, I am. Do you remember where the balcony is on this floor?”

She hummed. “Ooh! Somewhere by Johnjae's room, abouts. I just remember because Mark told us how—”

“Right—the sophomore year Romeo and Juliet reenactment,” you snorted. You couldn't wrap your head around the batshit crazy things that occurred around these parts. “Who convinced Doyoung to play Paris anyway?”

She made a noncommittal noise. “Must've been bribed—oh, there it is, but I think there's a couple out there already…”

There was most definitely a couple on the balcony. Their outlines were silhouettes against the residual strobe lights shining up from downstairs, so it was a little too dark to make out who they were. They seemed close—the girl was all over the boy, the latter trying to hold her up by her waist. Maybe she'd had too much to drink, and for a moment, you were glad someone was taking care of her.

But when she leaned in for a kiss, green light glanced across their faces to reveal their features to you. It was only a split second, but it was all you needed.

“Reina,” you exhaled in shock, turning away from the balcony with enough speed to nearly give you whiplash.

She didn't question you, as you both careened back down the hall from where you came from, heading for one of the open bedrooms on this floor to collect yourselves. When the two of you were out of earshot of the balcony, she hissed under her breath in utter disbelief, “Yura?”

You'd seen it nearly clear as day, too. That was Yura kissing Yeosang.

Your head spun as you shouldered your way into Mark's and Haechan's room, their names plastered on the door in foam letter stickers from the craft store. As Reina closed the door and turned on the lights, you sat down in Mark's desk chair attempting to make sense of what you and Reina just witnessed.

Yeosang and Yura? But wasn't Yura the one who warned you that chasing after Yeosang was a risk because of how many others were, as well? Why would…

Oh.

Well, now you just felt stupid.

Reina dragged over Haechan's desk chair to settle in front of you, her expression less enraged than before, and more concerned over what she was reading off of your face. “Hey, don't do that. Don't think like that.”

“You don't know what I'm thinking,” you murmured, setting the untouched juice pouches on the desk.

“You're thinking that you're stupid.”

“Okay, maybe you do know what I'm thinking.” You inhaled, then exhaled slowly, leaning forward onto your knees. “I don't really know what to think or assume.”

Reina nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. “That's okay. I don't think I really understand what I saw either.”

“But that was Yura, right?”

She bobbed her head again. “That was my cousin, yeah.”

“Would it be fair to even think that she told me all that shit last week to discourage me from seeing him?” You didn't enjoy thinking that another person would have such malicious intentions without understanding their point of view, especially someone you considered yourself friends with.

“Well,” Reina drawled, “I think we both saw what we saw, and Yura was acting strangely about it on Saturday. It would be fair if you were hurt by it; I think your feelings have been clear.”

You gave a small nod. “Do you think he…?”

“I'm not sure, hon.”

You resolved to talk to him about it. If anything, you had these juice pouches left to console yourself, but you wanted to make sure you knew where his feelings laid. You would be lying if you said your heart didn't harbor even a glimmer of hope that this was all a misunderstanding, and that the kiss was an accident and didn't matter.

You and Reina left the relative safety of Mark and Haechan's bedroom to go find Yeosang. There weren't any new messages between either of you since the Capri Sun exchange, and you thought about texting him on his whereabouts.

The balcony by Johnny and Jaehyun's room was empty now, barren of any evidence somebody was there in the first place.

You and Reina wandered back down to the main floor. The party was nowhere near over; the night was still young. Hope was sinking fast in your stomach as the two of you traveled from room to room in search of him, but with no luck. Even asking around was useless.

“Text him,” Reina encouraged, as the two of you sipped on the juice pouches that were supposed to be for you and him.

She held your spiked juice while you texted him.

As time passed, and a response had yet to come through, you tossed yours and Reina's flattened Capri Sun pouches into the nearest garbage can.

If he wasn't going to answer, then maybe you would just go home for the night. You had a lot to think about.

Defeated, you let Reina sweep you under her arm and guide you to the front door. “Let's go home, hm?” She said, rubbing your shoulder.

On your way to the front door, you paused. You thought you heard someone calling your name—

You turned around to find Mark barreling toward you through the crowd with another guy at his side. “Mark?” You shouted over the music.

“Hey, we've been looking all over for you,” he said. Nodding to his friend, he told you, “This is Wooyoung, by the way, the ATZ brother I'm friends with.”

“Yeosang's been looking for you,” Wooyoung said in earnest, eyes as wide as Mark's. Had they been looking for you as much as you were looking for Yeosang?

Something like hope sparked in your chest again—you were at odds. The fight had nearly dissipated from your blood and you were ready to go home. But if he was trying to find you… it must be worth it then, right?

“Where is he?” You asked.

It was nearing midnight by the time you settled yourself on the concrete curb outside the ATZ frat house just down the block from the target being thrown at the NCT house. With everyone over there, no wonder it was quiet enough to finally hear yourself think. With the coming of deep autumn, a slight breeze wafted by that drifted over your skin and raised goosebumps on your arms.

You heard gravel crunching from behind you, coming down the ATZ driveway, and before you could turn your head to look, a warm jacket was placed over your shoulders. You held your breath, fingers finding the lapel to keep it from slipping as you glanced over at your counterpart.

Yeosang lowered himself onto the curb next to you, mimicking your position with his knees bent and arms resting upon them. “I—my phone died,” he said lowly.

“Oh.” That took care of at least two of your questions.

“Is there—” He stopped himself, amending his statement, “There's something on your mind.”

Understatement of the century. You pulled his jacket around you, the intertwining scents of alcohol and his cologne lingering on the collar. “I was going to meet you at the balcony, and I was there, but… but I saw you and Yura, and…”

It was his turn to say “oh.” He angled his body toward you now until his knees bumped against yours and he was muttering out an apology he didn't need to say. He laid his upper body over his arms that were folded onto his knees and peered up at you through lengthy lashes.

He was waiting for you to finish.

You swallowed, following his lead and turning your body toward him. “I saw her kiss you,” you said, the sound barely audible to anybody but you and him. “Reina and I went somewhere to kind of just soak in what we saw, and then we went back out to find you so I could talk to you about it, but we couldn't find you.”

“I'm sorry you had to see that,” he murmured, eyebrows furrowed together. “It—it didn't mean anything. She did try to kiss me, but I pushed her away before she could.”

You believed him. You loosened a small chuckle from your lips. “Y'know, it sounds silly to me now, but last week she told me that there were a number of girls who were pursing you and were very aggressive about it.”

He snorted. “If there were any, I only know of one.”

“She…?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, lips pursing. “I know she's liked me for a while, but I've made it clear I don't see her the same way. At last Friday's party, I was actually trying to lose her in the crowd when I found you.”

Your eyes widened. “So she was there?” Then Reina had actually seen her cousin at the party; Yura had lied about where she was.

“She told me tonight that she was scared about me liking you more than her,” Yeosang said as he lifted his body back up to rest his cheek against his fist. “She was really drunk—which was why you probably saw me trying to hold her up—and then she… tried to kiss me. I pushed her away, and one of her friends found us, so I handed her over and went to get some air.”

And that was why you couldn't find him. You released a breath you didn't realize you were holding in. “Are you—are you okay? I'm so sorry she did that to you.”

The corners of his lips tugged upward in a reassuring smile. “I'm alright, thank you. And it's not your fault.”

“I know, but still,” you insisted. “Your boundaries were violated, and it makes me feel so icky that I've called her a friend of mine, and—what?”

Your words came to a screeching halt when you realized that Yeosang was just smiling at you. Or rather, gazing at you, admiring you. It was whatever he did whenever his eyes possessed a set of twin jewels in his irises that needed no light to glitter like gold; and when his grin softened at the corners by a tenderness that knocked the wind out of you, all words and systems failed you.

You recognized this look, except this time, you weren't drunk.

“I'm really happy I met you,” he said in your silence. “And I'm happy I got to see you again.”

You nearly melted. You smiled back at him, replying quietly, “Couldn’t have said it any better. Thank you for being honest with me.”

“And thank you for believing me.” He reached for your hand, his movements slow as if giving you an opening to pull back if you wanted to. But you didn't, and you closed the remaining space to link your fingers and press your palms together.

You and Yeosang shared mutual smiles in the dim lighting outside his fraternity house. Your heart beat had quickened a considerable amount now that he was so close to you again.

You cleared your throat. "Just to be clear though—when you said she was scared about you liking me more than her—?"

His smile reached his eyes and turned them into upturned crescent moons. "I'm not scared," he said, "that I like you more than I have ever liked her." By a landslide.

Your heart gave a lurch in your chest. "Good," you smiled. "That's good, because I like you a whole lot, too."

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Yeosang inclined his chin toward where his car was parked a couple vehicles down. “Properly this time, now that we're not completely wasted?”

You laughed. “I would love nothing more.”

Pleased, he helped you to your feet. You must have stood up far too quickly though, because the blood rushed up to your head in a riptide current. You swore as the vertigo hit you, and your footing stumbled.

“Woah, careful there, pretty,” he murmured, his low voice by your ear as he steadied you with one hand pressed between your shoulder blades and the other around your waist.

Oh, there went your heart… it flew up to halo around Yeosang's head, and it wasn't yours anymore—

“You okay?” He mused.

You cleared your throat, straightening. “Yeah, I'm great,” you said sheepishly, ducking your head toward your chest.

A warm, fond chuckle left his mouth. “Cute,” he murmured. He lifted your chin up so you would look at him, his eyes darting down toward your mouth, and yours mirroring his movements. “I was wondering…”

“You can kiss me,” you blurted out, ignoring the utter leap in your pulse and the heat crawling up the back of your neck.

You tasted his smile as he leaned over to seal his mouth over your own, a long awaited return to the place that felt just right. You breathed him in, inhaled him, devoured him whole—you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer just as his hands pressed you flush against him.

In the distance against the heavy house music in the background, a cheer went up into the night sky.

You and Yeosang parted only to crane your heads in the direction of the noise, only to find what looked like a gathering of your friends and his friends hooting and applauding like it was New Years.

“OPERATION: PASSENGER PRINCESS WINS!” The guy from earlier, Wooyoung, practically howled up at the sky.

You pressed your face against Yeosang's shoulder as he groaned. “I am so sorry about them,” he chuckled through a grimace, lips grazing over your crown.

You laughed along with him. “My friends are also among the guilty party, Yeo.”

He kept his arm around your waist and you kept your head against his shoulder as the two of you walked away from your friends and toward his car. Contentment curled itself up over your chest again, and it nestled in deep, as if it planned to stay awhile.

“By the way,” you piped up as he unlocked his car.

“Mhm?”

You opened the passenger side door and leaned over the top of it to ask, “What the hell is Operation: Passenger Princess?”

Yeosang sputtered out a laugh and his cheekbones burned red. “How about we save that for our third date?”

You blinked, lips parting.

Yeosang grinned impishly. “Close that mouth, pretty, or I'll close it for you.”

Your jaw snapped closed, and his laugh echoed against the houses along this street. You climbed into the car after him, flustered beyond words. “I don't like you,” was all you could come up with.

“I'm sure you don't.”

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if you enjoyed! also, the plan is to try and write another wooyo frat au as well, so pray for me...

atz m.list

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#atzhouse #cromernet #kflixnet #ateez x reader #kang yeosang x reader #yeosang x reader #ateez oneshot #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #yeosang fluff #yeosang imagines #yeosang oneshot #yeosang drabbles #yeosang scenarios #rager: you can't out rage us

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smusherina · 1 month

Text

yard work - chapter 15 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10 / chapter 11 / chapter 12 / chapter 13 / chapter 14 / chapter 16

Shivering in the cold, hiding beneath the bleachers, you held your cigarette between trembling fingers. Crouched on your feet so you wouldn't have to sit in the snow, your legs were already going numb.

Taking a drag, you held back tears. She'd tried, she picked you, and you didn't want it. No, you did want it, but didn't believe it.

Your phone beeped. It'd been ringing and pinging since you left. Kylie and Mrs George were worried about you. You'd text them back soon enough, let them know you felt under the weather, and that you were home.

"You're so predictable, y'know," You startled so badly that you toppled into the snow.

"Fuck!" The burning bit of your cigarette fell onto your hand. "Ouch! Fuck!"

"Should be flattered or offended?" Regina—fuck, Regina—stood over you, hands on her hips. She was still in just the camp tee. You spied the hairs on her arms were prickling.

"What do you want?" You grouched, flicking your barren cigarette away.

"What did you think of the song?" She cocked out a hip and crossed her arms.

You got up, not wanting to crane your neck as you had this conversation. You brushed off the snow clinging to your clothes.

"Real pretty. I..." You could pay her a compliment. Casually. "I do like your singing voice."

"I know. You've told me. I also know you're not intellectually challenged, so..." She trailed off, eyebrows quirking and eyes scanning your face.

"Yeah," You sighed. "A song isn't gonna do it."

"Just wanted to make sure you got the message." She straightened her spine and uncrossed her arms, instead intertwining her fingers in front of her. She took a deep breath and spoke:

"I'm sorry. I don't know if... I'm sorry for back then. When I left you in middle school. I don't know if explaining why would help, because," She glanced up at you. "I don't want to make excuses. You were my friend, my best friend, and I should've done better. Done right by you."

You didn't know quite what to say.

"I'm also sorry for Thanksgiving. I'm sorry I freaked out like that. I felt..." She fiddled with her fingers. "Rejected, I guess, and I didn't know how to handle it. I should've handled it better, that's for sure."

You stood there, waiting to feel some relief or happiness or even anger. Anything.

"I know apologies aren't gonna be enough. I tried to prove to you with that song that..." She swallowed. "That you're more important to me than status. I don't need to wow everybody if I had you. I've changed."

She looked up at you, also waiting. Still nothing.

"Do you think you'd already be hugging me if whatever happened today hadn't happened?" She bit her lip. "I'll make them pay, y'know."

"I thought you'd changed." You parrotted her words back at her. Brain whirring to action, you digested that it hadn't been her. Or maybe she was bluffing.

"Not that much. Not enough to not do anything when somebody hurts you."

"I..." You examined her, brow furrowing. "I haven't told many people. Only you and Mrs George. Janis, too."

"You told Janis?" Indignant, Regina's voice rose and arms spread. She was getting cold you could tell, because she shivering intensely, teeth chattering if not for the clench of her jaw.

"It came up some time ago." Back when I was still defending you. "Solidarity, y'know."

"Okay, fine, but why do you assume they had to know? There's been buzz about your sexuality before, unprompted." Her eyes narrowed. "I would know. I took care of them."

You blinked. "What?"

"Obviously. You..." She looked away as if looking for a way to convey what she meant without speaking it. "I just didn't want that. For you."

Was she lying to you? Trying to manipulate you? What was her goal? You didn't trust yourself to believe this was all sincerity and the lack of foundation, the instability of your own conclusions, made you feel crazy.

You circled back, refusing to process Regina supposedly protecting you all this time. What did it mean? No, not now.

"Yeah, but why now? Isn't the timing a little too convenient?" You accused, looking at Regina closely for signs of guilt. "You had every reason, all the power, to fuck me over, Regina. I think it was you."

"What? No. Why would I do that? I just dedicated a song to you!" She sounded frantic. "I've kept you safe!"

"I don't know! Why would Gretchen shout that I was lesbian in the middle of their performance? How would she know unless somebody told her?" You ran your hands through your hair and turned away from her. "Maybe you wanted me to run back into your arms so you could pick up the broken pieces. The pieces you broke."

"I did not tell Gretchen. I don't know why she did that and I don't know why I expected a fucking Britney Spears song to change anything, but I fucking tried!" She took a step back, pausing for a moment. "I don't want to shout. Let's not shout."

"I- are you fucking kidding me? Are you actually fucking kidding? Things didn't go your way, I didn't respond like you wanted, and you don't want to shout. You don't control me, Regina, I have my own life, my own things, I don't need you!"

You inhaled the cold air until it burned in your lungs.

"Okay. Feel better now?"

You felt the blood rush to your head, painting you red and exploding out in a shout.

"Shut up! No! No, I don't feel better. I would've felt better if you ever fucking listened to me or talked to me. It doesn't even matter what happened back then, because, yeah, it hurt, but we were kids. I know why you did what you did and no, it wasn't right, but I get it. Now, though?" Your chest bubbled with hysterical laughter. "We're nearly adults, Regina. Why- why..." Why couldn't you treat me better? That, just less pathetic. "Why did you have to be such a bitch?"

"I get it, okay. You don't have to forgive me. We can just move on." Her voice trembled, from the cold and something else.

You clenched your fists so hard your hands shook, squeezed your eyes shut so tight you felt the tension in your forehead, and so badly wanted to throw a tantrum on the ground like a toddler. Your hands found your hair and tugged.

"I don't know! I don't know!" Your voice was beginning to sound more and more like a wail. "I want to move on, I've had enough of feeling like this but I don't- I love you but what am I supposed to do with that? I should- should just hate you- I don't know what to think."

You pulled, tugged, and felt some rip out of your scalp. The world was spinning around you, leaving you behind in the impossible pressure of space. Your skull was full to bursting, bees buzzing between your ears.

"Who was it?" You hiccuped and resented the hot tears painting streaks on your cheeks. "Why would they do that to me?" You were angry but so, so tired.

"Hey, J, stop that." Regina pulled at your hands, still knotted in your hair. You let her move you, all tuckered out from shouting. Your body shook.

"I'm tired... I wanna go home." Your eyes closed. Regina was still touching you. She had you by your forearms.

"Okay. I'll drive you." She whispered. You couldn't look at her. Shame was crawling down your spine, settling deeper with every passing second.

"With what? Didn't Mrs George drive you?" You slumped against the back of the bleachers. Regina followed, stayed close with her hands on your arms.

"I'll drive your car." She spoke softly. A part of you bristled, not standing to be patronized, but you didn't have the energy anymore.

For a moment, not a word was said. With tentative movements, Regina's hands trailed from your arms to your torso, slipping into your coat and around your back. Her head came to rest on your shoulder as she held you close. Your skin crawled at the contact, but reluctantly, as if your body was used to her, you sunk into her.

Your arms hung limply at your sides.

"Notice me," Your eyes fluttered open when she uttered the melody. "Take my hand,"

Her hands petted at your back, scratching lightly with her long nails.

"Why are we, strangers when, our love is strong?"

In the darkness of a wintery night, breath-creating wisps in the air, she sang and held you. It was impossible to ignore the poetic setting, the sappiness of the moment. Even so, you could appreciate it. A little.

"Why carry on without me?"

It was nowhere as good as she'd been on stage. The acoustics outside in the snow, below the bleachers were even worse than in the gym. But it was just for you, this time around.

You tried to hold your breath, tried to keep it in. Not now, not here. Not for her. Again.

"And every time I try to fly I fall without my wings," She lifted her head and you looked at her. She paused there. "You're the wings." With a little smile, she continued singing. All the while looking at you.

Your head felt too big, like somebody had blown it full of air. You'd float away if she wasn't holding you down.

"I feel so small. I guess I need you, baby," The backs of your eyes heated up, the tear ducts stinging, and you bowed your head. Your arms came around her and wound tight around her neck.

"And every time I see you in my dreams, I see your face. It's haunting me. I guess I need you, baby,"

You sobbed. You sobbed and sobbed, interrupting her song, and wept into her collar. You missed her. You wanted to be with her so badly. You didn't want any of this to happen. You wanted things to be easy. Why did this have to be so hard? This was all unfair.

You cried at the injustice, cried for the hurt she'd made you feel, for the pain you'd made her feel and the names you'd called her. You wept because there was little else you could do.

"I'm sorry. I- I don't know what to do." You tried to breathe in, but your breath kept wooshing out of you. Every single orifice in your face flowed with fluid and you felt thoroughly disgusting. You couldn't stop it.

"We'll figure it out." Regina's voice was soft and her face even softer through your blurry vision. All hazy, gentle shapes.

"I'm- I'm scared." You whimpered, holding onto her shoulders.

"I know." Her arms tightened, holding secure around your waist. "I know, baby, it's gonna be okay."

"I'm still angry with- with you."

"That's okay."

"I dunno if we can... Y'know."

"I don't care. I just want you."

"Woah," You laughed, still sounding a tad bit hysterical. "Deep."

"Shut up." You could tell from her voice that she was rolling her eyes. "I preferred it when you were shouting at me."

Your laughter mixed with a hiccup.

"I don't believe that." Your voice wobbled since you still weren't quite done crying, apparently. Mortifying.

"You shouldn't." She amended, burrowing deeper into your coat.

With her hands rubbing your back, your fronts pressed so close together, you calmed down pretty fast. Your eyes stung and your nose was blocked. You felt dried out, like all moisture had been sucked out of you.

You knew this already. Every time, you'd go back. Every time, she'd wriggle under your skin and find solace in your heart and you couldn't even resist. Not really, anyhow, not effectively.

You wanted to believe she'd be there to stay, this time around.

"Can we go soon?" She asked, noticing your weeping had mostly concluded.

"Ugh," You groaned, head falling to rest on hers. "You think the crowd's been let out yet?"

"No, there's a sock puppet play that lasts ages. I think it was Hamlet or something."

"Sock puppet Hamlet? Reg, I think we need to go back in."

"No, nope, not if I have your keys!" She felt around in your back pockets. You did usually keep them there, but they'd been digging into your ass when you were sitting in the gym. They were in your coat pockets instead.

"Woah, take me to dinner first, jeez," Just like that, her hands detached like your butt was stove-hot.

"Sorry," She muttered. The mood shifted, the lighthearted and familiar air turning awkward.

"It's all good." Was it? It didn't feel weird, there was nothing sexual about what she'd done, but you weren't sure how you could say that. You yourself weren't sure what your boundaries were. You weren't even sure if you wanted to be vulnerable like that now.

She looked up at you with a contemplative look on her face. You looked back, waiting for her to ask something. When she didn't you shrugged.

"Let's go to yours." She said and then waited for you to... Do something again. You nodded. "I'll order, uh... What do you feel like eating?"

"I can cook-"

"I want take out, Jorts, so we're getting take out, 'kay?"

You tried not to smile at that.

"Whatever you say." You patted her on the back. She hummed, satisfied.

"Let's do Chinese. Sound good?" You nodded along, eyes closing. "We sleep. In the morning, we'll go for a walk. We'll talk about serious stuff during or after the walk?"

"Do we gotta go for a walk?" You asked petulantly.

"Yes." She said and did not elaborate.

"Fine, I guess."

Notes: A confrontation! At last! I couldn't keep the readers hanging for long, that would've just been cruel. I do have a nasty tendency to finish chapters with cliffhangers. Am I the drama? Noooo...

Btw, being transparent here, I named this fic "yard work" back when I was still thinking it was gonna be a one-shot, so (at least IMO) it doesn't really fit the series as a whole at this point. If I were to change it to, let's say, "everytime" would that be confusing or what? If the change were to happen it'd only be after this was completed, so no worries there. Just let me know y'all's thoughts!

Taglist will be posted separately! If you wish to be added on there, comment on that post :)

#mean girls #mean girls 2004 #mean girls 2024 #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george x oc #regina george x ofc #mean girls x reader #lesbian regina george #regina george #wlw

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worldofkuro · 1 month

Text

Painted Smile

Painted Smile VIII

<- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ->

Pairing: Alastor x Female! Reader

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: Well, well, well. Here another chapter for you my dears ! I hope you'll enjoy it! Reader and Alastor are getting closer and closer it's adorable...For now.

You went back inside with Alastor, his jacket still draped over your shoulder. Alice waved at you before staring at Alastor then at you, with a big smile. What? You sat back down on your chair and listened to the conversation which was now about the war. You didn't really want to talk about that for Christmas but..

You felt Alice nudged you, making you look at her confused, she was observing you with a teasing expression. You raised your eyebrows, before leaning toward her, she immediately whispered in your ear as you took a sip of water.

“ Your lipstick is smudged.”

She leaned back with an amused grin and pointed discreetly toward Alastor. You followed the direction she pointed and almost choked on your water. Alastor had lipstick on his lips ! You blushed furiously, did somebody else notice it ? You looked at everyone around the table but they were way too focused on the conservation, even Alastor was talking with them. You hide your lips behind a napkin , staring at Alice with wide eyes.

She seemed delighted ; hiding her smile behind her gloved hands. Should you go to the bathroom, to wash up? But it wouldn’t clean Alastor’s lips. You touched Alastor’s tights with your palm, which made him take your hand in his, his gaze turning toward you. You tried to point to his lips but he only smiled wider before tilting his head toward you. You leaned toward him and opened your mouth but he cut you off.

“ You already want another one?”

You threw yourself back against your chair as Alastor was laughing, throwing his head back. Everyone stopped talking and looked at the both of you, confused and curious. You took your glass, hiding your face behind it as they tried to coat you to tell them what had happened. It was Alastor who spoke first.

“ I just reminded my dearest friend that being gluttonous was bad,” he said with a cunning smile. Oh, he looked so full of himself ! You wanted him to be flustered as you were! “ You might get addicted!”

“ Unlike you, I don't have food all over my mouth.” You closed one eye, staring at him with the other as you drank from your glass. Take that Alastor! And please read between the lines… “ and as you know my dear Alastor, since our younger age, you always were the glutton one.” you smirked as you remembered how he would eat so much for the tiny body he used to have.

Alastor just smiled with a teasing expression. You stuck discreetly your tongue at him as the guests were laughing with Alastor, saying how a grown man like him needed to eat so he shouldn’t feel bad for eating so much. You’ve never seen Alastor naked but you knew that he was strong. He could easily throw you on his shoulder when he wanted to do something you didn’t want.

“ You know that when I like something, I can’t help but crave more until there is nothing left for others to share.”

You almost spat the water on the table, your eyes wide open. Was he still talking about food ? You felt your body suddenly getting warmer. You didn’t understand why a sentence like this could make you react like this.

“ Ooh Alastor, you have such a way with words. What else can that mouth do?” said a lady, who seemed to have drunk more alcohol than water. You blushed as she leaned toward Alastor making her chest bigger with her arms. What was she doing ? You almost hid your face, feeling so embarrassed but you wanted to see Alastor’s reaction. Did he like this kind of woman?

“ It bites.” He said with a dangerous smile. You could see your lipstick on his lips, making it seemed like it was blood. You didn’t know why you liked it. You shook your head, what were you thinking? A bloody Alastor wasn’t attractive ! The sweet juices must have been alcohol for you to think such a thing about your friend. You finished your glass, you were getting tired now, and frankly you wanted to go home. You were feeling cold even with Alastor’s blazer on your shoulder. You ignored the lady’s giggles as you stood up, Alastor following soon after you.

“ Well, I think we are ready to go back home.” you smiled at Alice and John who seemed sad that you were already leaving. You hugged Alice as you explained that your feet were killing you, you danced all night and you weren’t used to those kinds of heels. Alastor shook hands with some people and you went toward a butler who gave your coat back.

You gave back his blazer to Alastor and then you left the mansion which was still buzzing with energy and music. You looked at the sky and sighed. Come on, only 35 minutes and you would be able to throw off your shoes. You could almost feel your legs trembling because of the pain.

“ Hold onto me.”

You squealed as Alastor crouched before you and lifted you in his arms, just like a bride. He began to walk. You were impressed, he had danced even more than you and yet he could carry you without breaking a sweat. You touched his lips with your cold fingers, making him look at you.

“ You know you have lipstick on your lips?”

“ Well, yes.” You stared at him, eyes wide opened. What did he say? He knew? How? “ Dear, when you kissed me I could see that your lipstick wasn’t as clean as before. And with Alice’s reaction, it just confirmed my thoughts.” he smiled teasingly at you but his eyes were full with warmth.

“ But… Why did you not wipe it?”

He kept walking in silence for a moment, even making you believe that he wouldn’t answer you. Sometimes Alastor would just stare at you and not answer your question and you knew that it meant that he wasn’t ready to share what he thought, so you would just give up and talk about something else. You sighed in relief as you saw your home. Finally.

“ I wanted to feel you a little longer.”

You looked at him as he put you on the stairs in front of the door. You tilted your head, he wanted to feel you a little longer..? You took his hand with yours and smiled softly at him, you knew from his expression that he didn’t want to have that conversation right now, even with his usual smile. You quietly opened the door and realized that nobody was up, you could see bottles of wine on the living room’s table but your mothers were nowhere to be seen. You took off your shoes and almost moaned in bliss. Finally…

You went upstairs and took a peek inside your mother’s bedroom and smiled. Marie and your mother were both asleep on your parent’s bed, you could feel Alastor leaning his chest against your back as he stared at his mother. You guessed he wanted to be sure she was okay.

You went into your bedroom and fell on your bed, you just wanted to sleep..

“ Nu-uh miss, you are going to wash your face and take off your clothes.” you felt Alastor’s hands on your waist as he dragged you toward the bathroom. You groaned, you were so tired… You could wash up tomorrow.. He made you sit on the bathtub’s edge and he kneeled before you. He took a tissue and began to take off your makeup, beginning with your eyes, forcing you to close them.

“ Alastooor…” you moaned, trying to to coat him in letting you go. “ I just want to sleep…”

“ And I want you to go to bed clean, so be quiet and let me work.” he said as he wiped your lips. You nodded while opening your eyes, the faster it was done, the faster you could go to bed. “ Good girl.” he smirked at you with a mocking glint in his eyes.

You bit his finger, the one which was still wiping your mouth. You stared at him, trying to look dangerous. You… didn’t like when he was saying “good girl” in that tone, like you were someone he could easily manipulate, someone that wasn’t special to him. He looked calmly at his finger then at your eyes. You didn't know what he was thinking and it was killing you. Yes, you could read him easier than most people but Alastor stayed a mystery for you sometimes… Like right now.

He leaned toward you, making you lean back, keeping his finger between your teeth, until your back was at the bottom of the bathtub. He climbed above you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“ I recall being the one who said that I bite…” he looked at you calmly as you stared at him with angry eyes. You smirked, keeping his finger against your teeth, you always loved when you succeeded in surprising him. It was such a thrill.. What could you do now.. Oh! You let his finger go and smiled sweetly at him.

“ You wanted me to be clean, right?” He titled his head before you quickly opened the water. You hid underneath his body as the water fell upon his body. You laughed as you saw his face. His eyes were wide open and his smile looked like a grimace, but he was staring at you. He quickly turned off the water and fell on you, his face near your neck. “ Ouch! Alastor, you’re heavy!”

You felt his arms holding you against him, squeezing you so hard that you could feel your chest being crushed against his torso. He was getting your dress wet now! You tried to run away but you couldn't move from his hold and you could feel his smile on his lips against your neck. You sighed, giving up. You took a strand of wet hair, it was beginning to be curly. You smiled, you liked his curly hair, it was cute!

“ I think it’s past midnight , so Merry Christmas.”

“ Merry Christmas, Alastor.” you closed your eyes as you hugged him as hard as he was squeezing you. You felt him gasped against your skin, tickling you. You stayed like this for a moment before you were feeling really cold. Alastor helped you get out of the bathtub, you looked at yourself in the mirror. You were clean! You went into the bathroom and looked at the dress. How were you supposed to take it off without tearing it? Last time, Alice was the one to help you take it off.

“ Alastor, can you help me with my dress?”

“ Of course dear” he approached you and dragged the zip down. You thanked him but didn’t move when you felt his gaze on your back. You turned your head toward him with a curious expression. He was looking at your back with a straining smile. “ I hope nobody will ever backstab you… Can I..?” he whispered as he held his hand toward your back. You nodded and closed your eyes when you felt his other hand covered your eyes. For years, you kept this game you had created, hiding your eyes and telling a secret.. And Alastor loved using this game against you.

You felt the tips of his finger caress your naked back. You shivered, you wondered why? Were you cold? His touch was timid, but when you took a step back to get closer to him you felt his palm against your body. He moved his hand from your spine until he back of your hair. You tilted your head back. You didn’t really know what was happening.. The moment was a little scary, but because it was Alastor, you were feeling safe. He moved your hair from your back, sliding it on your shoulder.

“ Keep your eyes closed…” he took his hand from your eyes and then you felt both of his hands on your back, touching your hot skin.

God…

You sighed as he slid his nails against your epidermis. It felt like he was tracing lines. Was he writing something ?

“ Alastor..” you whispered and he hummed in response. “ Can I… Can I do the same..?” you felt him flinching and you bit your lips. Were you too greedy? Did you break the moment you were having? You knew that Alastor was being vulnerable right now… You knew he had problems with others' touch. Something you had to learn even if it did hurt you when you were younger.

“ If you keep your eyes closed.”

You gasped as his finger dipped softly into your skin.? He said yes? He said yes, he said yes, he said yes.

He took his hand off your back, which you were already missing, and you heard him take off his clothes. You kept your eyes closed, you would never betray his trust. Never. Youknew it was another step in your friendship.. Was it a friendship… Was Alastor just a friend? …

Did you want Alastor to stay as a friend?

“ I will be sitting down, my back toward you.”

You felt his hand take yours and bring it toward him. You didn’t want to touch his skin right now, you could feel his hand shake a little. You put your hand on his curly hair and stroke it. You wouldn’t touch him unless he was relaxed.

“ Tell me if you want me to stop. Tap me somewhere on my body.”

He didn’t answer but you could feel him squeeze your hands. You breathed and began to trail your hand near his shoulder. You caressed them softly, from the tips of your finger, just like Alastor did.

Just like he did, you would make him feel safe.

You slid the tips of your finger on his back and you felt him tensed. You stopped, waiting for him to tell you it was too much. He didn’t speak and you waited for his body to relax once more before touching once again his back. You began to put more pressure on your touch, your fingers were caressing his hot skin. Was he sweating ?

“ You are beautiful, Alastor.”

“ You say that because you keep your eyes closed when you are with me.”

“ Then, let me open them.”

“...No, not yet.”

“ Alright.” you smiled a little, you didn’t want him to feel like you were upset. Right now, he was giving you more than he could imagine. You leaned toward your hands and pecked his skin. You felt him tense immediately. “ I’m sorry–”

“ No.. No, it’s okay.. I.. I was just surprised.”

You leaned your forehead against his back, your eyes still closed. Has Alastor ever been backstabbed ? Was that why he was so protective of you? Was that why he always held distance with others? You remembered him telling you once when you were children :

“ A betrayal always comes from your own house.”

Was he talking about his dad? You only knew that Alastor didn’t like his father but that was it. You didn’t like his father because you felt like Alastor wasn’t safe with him…

You felt Alastor moved and you leaned back. You kept your eyes closed, as long as he didn’t tell you to open them, you would keep them close. You would accept all of Alastor when he was ready. You waited for him to talk but you could only hear your own breathing.

“ Alastor.. Where..?”

“ I’m here, you are caged between my legs right now.”

You scoffed at the choice of his words.

“ I’m caged ?” you teased him, tilting your head against his legs. You were beginning to be very tired…

“ With me.” you felt his lips against your forehead.” Would you like that? Being caged with me?” he whispered, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear him. Was he afraid of your answer? Should you be afraid that you didn’t hesitate ?

“ Yes.”

You gasped as he tugged you against his naked torso, hugging you so hard, you were almost choking but you embraced him even harder. You desperately wanted to see his face but he wasn’t ready right now. So you would wait…

He let you go and you waited a moment before he said you could open your eyes. You turned to look at him, he was wearing a pajama that belonged to your father. He went downstairs and you put on your nightgown.

What had just happened ? You felt like your bond, who was already deep, just deepened once more. You turned your head toward the door as you saw Alastor with your cup, you could already smell the sweet scent of hot chocolate. You smiled at him as he gave you your cup and you drank eagerly.

“ I hope you’ll get warmer with this… disgusting brevage.”

“ Alastor, you have no taste. Who drinks coffee without sugar or with some sweets?”

“ Me.”

You shook your head, laughing quietly. You didn’t want to wake up your mothers. You finished your cup and went under the cover. Alastor joined you; you looked at him. You couldn’t see any trace of fatigue.

“ You think you’ll be able to sleep a little?”

“ Mhn… Who knows.” he closed his eyes with an amused smile. You rolled your eyes at him before falling asleep not even five minutes later.

You woke up hours laters, drooling on your pillow. What time was it..? You looked around, you could hear noises downstairs and Alastor wasn’t next to you anymore. You yawned as you stretched your body just like a cat. Thinking of cats, you’ll have to visit Husker next time.

You took your robe and went downstairs, going straight toward the living room where everyone was. You hugged your mother and Marie wishing them a Merry Christmas. You looked around, Alastor wasn’t there?

“ How was your soirée sweetie?” asked Marie with a soft smile. You told them how big the mansion was, how there were so many guests, how you sang with a band, that you and Alastor danced. It was a really good soirée. You looked at the Christmas’s tree, you didn’t even notice the presents below the tree. When did you mothers put it here, it wasn’t there when you came home last night.

“ Well, it’s time to open the presents!” said your mother with absolute glee! She went toward the tree and gave Marie’s your present. She seemed really touched. You smiled at her, Marie’s was someone important for you now, so of course you would make something for her !

“ You bought my Mother a gift?” you felt Alastor leaned against you with a happy grin.

“ I made it, she is the one who has to support you everyday, she is a real hero!” you kissed both of his cheeks with a teasing grin.

“ Oh dear, did you make it ?” she smiled at you as she showed everyone your handkerchiefs. It wasn’t perfect but you did try your best. You nodded and she stood up before hugging you. You sigh in relief, okay, it went well.

Everyone gave their presents. You were surprised when Alastor gave your mother a gift, thanking her for everything she has done for his mother. Your mother almost cried but she composed herself quickly. It was a perfume! Wasn’t that scarily expensive ?

Marie gifted you a book with all of her recipes. You couldn't wait to try it! Alastor suggested that you should wait for him to be with you if you wanted to try some of them, for security’s purpose.

You took the gift you had for Alastor. Alright, now or never. You walked toward him with, you hoped, a relaxed smile but from his observing eyes, you must have failed. You put the little package in his hand.

“ Merry Christmas Alastor.”

He stared at you but opened his present. His eyes widened as he saw a beautiful watch. You had a hard time buying a watch that looked luxurious but wasn’t too expensive. Thank God Alice had contacts everywhere.

“ Well, dear… I’m flattered.” he said with a genuine smile, already putting the watch around his wrist. You relaxed, every gift was given, you could relax now. You sat on the sofa with a sigh. Who would have thought Christmas could be so stressful?

“ Stand up dear, I still didn’t give you my gift?”

You tilted your head but stood up. Alastor made you turn your back to him after he put his gift in your hand. You looked at him curiously but he just made a movement with his head toward the gift. You opened it carefully and gasped.

Into a beautiful white cloth was a beautiful necklace who looked like gold with a red stone hanging from it. You stared at him, your mouth wide open. How..?

You felt Alastor getting closer, carefully taking the necklace.

“ May I?”

You nodded as he put on the necklace around your neck. You touched the red stone with a moved smile. You would never take it off. You saw from the corner of your eyes your mothers giggling behind their hands as they watched you. You rolled your eyes, amused. Who were the adults here? You felt Alastor hands on your shoulder and he whispered in your ear.

“ Merry Christmas, my dear.”

Tag List: @lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega @tiredflame132 @mo-0-o @vvollerie @sodavizz@boogiemansbitch @tessemerick @slytherin4ever @kammsinn @alastorssimp @t0xic1vi

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bookyeom · 2 months

Text

pairing: Joshua x reader word count: 3.1k warnings: kissing, a swear or two, bad jokes

Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary.

This one is based semi in reality (the laughs bit). Can you even believe?

shortcut to heaven by lullaboy

oh my god, what a blessing out of ten, you’re eleven

you make it worth all of the waiting somebody patient, somebody kind

10:54pm.

You technically shouldn’t be cleaning up before the doors officially close at 11:00, but it’s been a slow night, so you figure it can’t hurt. You’re sweeping the farthest corner of the cafe when you hear a new song start to play over the speakers, and you let out a cheer.

“You’re welcome!” You can hear your coworker shout from his spot behind the counter, where he’s preemptively cleaning the espresso machine.

“You rock,” comes your returning yell.

You love the nights you get to close with Joshua. He wants to get out of there just as quickly as you do, so he’ll break the rules a little and help you clean early when there’s no customers. Plus, he has great taste in music. Since you work the same closing shift three nights a week, the two of you usually split the AUX, but you wouldn’t really mind if he controlled the sound for the entire eight hours.

The song that’s just begun to play is a new favourite of yours that you’d sent him over text last week, and it makes you feel all sorts of giddy that he remembered and played it over the speaker for you.

You hear the espresso machine begin its loud cleaning cycle, and you’re impressed that Joshua had the guts to switch it off completely already. It’s 10:58 now, but if your boss knew, he’d have a fit. You finish sweeping, bringing the broom and dustpan back to the corner it rests in by the counter, and then you jog over to the front door. You turn the lock and flip the sign to CLOSED with a dramatic flourish, and when you turn back, you meet Joshua’s eyes. He’s laughing, and you shoot him a grin.

“Risky,” is all he says, and you snort. You’re about to tease him back when the landline phone for the cafe rings, and Joshua easily uses a free hand to hold it out for you. You make a face as you recognize the number, but you pick up regardless.

“Hello?”

Your boss’s voice rings out over the line, and you wince. You roll your eyes, putting on a show for Joshua, and you’re rewarded with another soft laugh as he shakes his head. You watch as he finishes wiping down the espresso machine, meticulously scrubbing the syrup shot cups and dumping out the grinds, as you listen to your boss drone on about something being dropped off in the morning. You agree to pass on the message for the girls opening the next day, stifling a sigh as your boss then rambles on about what needs to be done during the closing shift as if you haven’t been doing them for months now. He finally hangs up after you offer a polite laugh in return to one of his lame jokes, and you hand the phone back to Joshua with a grimace.

“What joke did he tell that time?”

You stretch your arms out over the counter dramatically, leaning forward to rest on them with a yawn. “How do you know he told me a joke?”

“Because he always does.” You pout as Joshua throws a cleaning cloth at you, and you force yourself back into an upright position. “And,” Joshua continues as he heads towards the door to the stockroom at the back, “that was your ‘you just told a joke that was absolutely not funny but I’m too nice to tell you that’ laugh.” He disappears around the corner, and it takes you a second to register what he’s just said to you.

Your what laugh?

You grab the cleaning spray from under the sink and head towards the tables in the cafe, settling into your usual closing routine with Joshua. As he restocks what’s necessary, you clean the tables and the washrooms, brows furrowing as you replay what Joshua said in your mind.

You’re distracted when he emerges from the back and turns the music up, and you finish up your closing list in no time.

Joshua waits as you lock up, and as you head to your cars, he listens diligently as you finish the story you were telling him.

“She’s here everyday and gets the same thing every time! I’m not trying to judge people’s coffee orders, but she orders a quadruple-shot Americano at 5pm. Is she okay?”

Joshua shrugs as he unlocks his car. He peers over the hood at you, lips pursed as though he’s thinking, and then he says, “I don’t know, but you’re right. A four-shot black Americano is definitely a sad drink. A Despresso, if you will.”

You let out the loudest groan known to man as he absolutely beams, proud of himself. You can’t help it — you burst into laughter.

“Horrible,” you manage, trying to roll your eyes, but you’re still giggling.

“Ah,” Joshua grins. “See? There’s the laugh you have when you actually find something funny.”

You’re taken by surprise again at the comment. His words make you flush a little, but you’re quick to respond. “No way. That’s impossible, see, because you’re not funny.”

Joshua gasps. “Rude,” he says, scandalized, and you laugh again, lifting your hand in a wave as you open your car door.

“Bye,” you say in response, grin still wide on your lips. He shakes his head, but he’s laughing, too, and you consider it mission accomplished. “See you on Friday, Shua.”

You’re having the worst day ever.

First, you hadn’t been able to sleep because of the wind and rain outside your window. When you’d finally stumbled out of bed at 11:00am, you remembered that you were out of milk which meant that you a) couldn’t have a bowl of your favourite comfort cereal, and b) you couldn’t have your morning coffee. When you managed to force yourself to get dressed and out the door to the cafe down the street, they’d been out of your favourite muffin and their espresso machine was being serviced. Last but not least, you’d forgotten to move your clothes from the washer to the dryer the night before, and the load you’d done had included your favourite work shirt — the new one all the employees had been given recently that was plain black instead of the old ugly, vomit shade of yellow-green. So here you are, pulling up to clock in for your shift, wearing the ugliest shirt known to man because you’d forgotten to dry your other one. You think the giant coffee stain on the collar that you’d never been able to wash out really adds to the appeal, too. And when you step in a puddle on your way to the door that almost entirely soaks your left shoe, you barely even flinch.

You’re in a daze as you half heartedly greet your coworkers. One of them simply lets out an ‘oof’ from behind the cash register at the sight of you, and you’re inclined to agree. You head into the breakroom at the back, grabbing your apron from the locker and turning your head only briefly when the door opens behind you.

“Hey,” Joshua greets.

“Hey,” you return quietly, turning back to fix your ponytail in the mirror. You can feel Joshua looking at you and you face him, your eyebrows raised in question. “What?”

He shrugs, and you watch as his eyes take note of your puke-coloured shirt. “Nothing,” he says after a moment, and you cross your arms.

“Go on then,” you say. “Get the teasing out of the way now.”

Joshua grabs his own apron, lifting it over his head. You watch as he smiles while reaching to tie it behind his back, meeting your eyes again as he does. “What would I possibly have to tease you about? You look like my favourite movie protagonist.”

You blink. “What? Who?”

Joshua deadpans, smoothing down his apron and beaming as he replies smoothly, “Shrek.”

You pout. He dissolves into laughter, and you hate that you’re genuinely upset by his teasing, but you’ve just had the worst day ever and you can’t help it. You turn away from him, trying to compose yourself as you let out a forced laugh of your own. “Funny,” you say, trying to appear way less upset than you are.

”Hey,” Joshua says softly, and you close your locker door. The last thing you want is for him to feel bad for you right now.

“Let’s go. It’s almost 2:00,” you say, and you’re about to brush past him when he gently grabs your elbow.

“Hey,” he says, and when you meet his eyes, you can tell he genuinely feels bad for teasing you. “I’m sorry.”

He searches your face, concern written all over his, and your shoulders relax just a little. “It’s okay. It was funny,” you offer.

“I know it was, but you gave me your ‘I would normally find this funny but something is wrong’ laugh.”

“Okay, now that’s ridiculous.”

Joshua searches your face. It’s not lost on you that he’s still got a gentle grip on your arm as he says, “So you’re telling me nothing’s wrong?”

You open and close your mouth for a moment. For some reason, you want to tell him everything. Instead, you settle for, “I’m okay, Shua. Thanks.”

He nods slowly in response, seemingly deciding not to question you further. Then he reaches into his locker and pulls something out, holding it towards you. “Here. I keep a spare one just in case.” When you don’t say anything, dumbfounded, he drapes the black t-shirt over your shoulder and smiles. “It’s clean, don’t worry. And I really don’t mind if you wear it.”

Before you can process any of it, he’s disappeared out into the cafe. When you emerge a few minutes later, he’s already clocked you in so that you’re not late, and the rest of your shift passes without a single comment on the black t-shirt you’ve changed into.

You’re staring again.

It’s a bit slow at the cafe this evening, and your eyes stay on Joshua as he leans against the counter, scrolling on his phone for a song he wants to show you. He’s laughing as he explains how he’d discovered it, blissfully unaware of the way you’re gazing at him like he’s the sun incarnate. You wish you could blame your unprofessionalism on the fact that you’re bored, but the truth of it is, simply, that your coworker has the most delightful laugh.

You’ve known Joshua for a couple of months now. You’d clicked immediately during your first shift together, and it had been easy from then on out. Even on your worst days, everything is a little better with him there. He greets every customer with a friendly greeting and a smile, and he never complains. His smile makes your day, and his laugh… you’re starting to realize that it does something to you.

It doesn’t help that he’s often laughing at your jokes. Or commenting on your many different laughs, which you’ve come to learn are plenty. Since that closing shift when he’d first mentioned it, he’s pointed out at least five different laughs of yours. If you’re honest, it’s got you entirely flustered. Joshua has always been kind to you, and you would even argue that you’re friends now… but do friends pay this much attention to one another?

You think about it all day. You think about it when he calls out a drink order to you with a smile; you think about it when he goes on his break and you miss him the entire time. You think about it when you meet eyes throughout your shift; you think about it when he hides the last chocolate chip muffin from customers so you can have it on your lunch.

You’re still thinking about it as the day nears its close. As usual, you find yourself a bit bummed about the end of your shift. Not because you want to work – you don’t – but because you know you won’t see Joshua for at least two days after this.

You’ve been on beverages all afternoon, and you’re grateful when the post-work rush keeps you busy. You’re making your third decaf latte in the last thirty minutes, and you thank the customer politely when you hand them their drink. You offer a polite smile and a laugh as they make a joke about how silly decaffeinated coffee is, really, and you’ve just turned back to the espresso machine when you nearly run into Joshua. He leans past you to hand the same customer a muffin he’d warmed up in the microwave before he meets your eyes.

“That was your customer service laugh,” he says, low enough for only you to hear, and you flush.

You can’t help it as you say, “You pay an awful lot of attention to me, Mister Hong.”

Joshua chuckles, not fazed in the slightest that you’ve pointed it out. He just smiles. “You’re hard not to pay attention to.”

His admittance is soft, nonchalant. And when he leaves you at the espresso machine to tend to the next customer, you stand there for a few moments, staring blankly at the metal of the machine in front of you. Even after you’ve kickstarted your brain into working again, his words bounce around in your head for the rest of your shift.

And for the next few days.

It starts off just like any other day.

You arrive ten minutes before your shift – as usual. Joshua arrives soon after, and you forget how to breathe for a minute when he says hello – as usual. Then you spend the rest of your day wondering if he’s flirting with you, or just being really, really nice – as usual.

Just another ordinary day.

Until you and Joshua find yourselves soaked from head to toe in coffee and hot water.

“I’ve told him so many times that we need a new one,” you mutter helplessly as the two of you stare at the broken machine. You’re angry, but mostly you’re just tired from going to war with the espresso machine.

You’d been cleaning it after the last customer had left when it had begun to spray coffee grinds and brown, grimy water all over you and your apron. Joshua had rushed out immediately as soon as he’d heard you gasp, and the two of you had done everything in your power to stop it. You’d won in the end – but at what cost?

Joshua sighs, humming in agreement as a hand rubs at his jaw. “We’ll let him deal with it in the morning. It’s not your fault at all.” He turns to you, a hand lifting to your shoulder as he says softly, “Are you sure you’re not hurt? The water didn’t burn you?”

You shake your head, offering him a tired smile. “I’m good, Shua. Did it get you at all?”

“I’m okay.”

He smiles back, giving your arm a squeeze before he turns, and you watch as he slides down slowly to sit on the floor. You let out an exhausted laugh before you join him, resting your head back against the counter in a mirror image. He glances over at you at the sound of your laughter, a smile lifting the corner of his lips. You wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. He just gazes at you, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what kind of laugh that one was?” You ask, voice low in the quiet of the closed coffee shop. Joshua’s smile grows wider as he finally looks away. It takes you a moment longer to look away from him, though. He’s got the tiniest smear of coffee grains on his cheek, and you wonder what he’d do if you reached out to brush them off.

“Does it bother you?”

You blink out of your daze. “What?”

Joshua picks at a thread on his jeans. Neither of you has the energy to lift your heads from the cupboard behind you, and you can’t imagine what the two of you look like right now — covered in coffee grinds and dirty water as you sit side-by-side, slumped on the floor behind the counter.

“You know,” Joshua says softly, gesturing vaguely, “the whole laugh thing.”

You look at him again in surprise. “Oh.” You bite your lip, looking down at your hands. You shake your head. “No, it doesn't bother me at all.” You flush as you add quietly, “It’s nice that someone notices stuff like that about me.”

You can feel Joshua’s eyes on you again. “I like that you have so many different laughs.” He pauses. “It’s versatile.”

You let out a snort at that, and when you meet his gaze to roll your eyes, you’re stopped by the way he’s smiling at you.

Then he says, as soft as ever, “I like your laugh a lot, actually.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as his eyes fall to your mouth. “Laughs,” you correct shakily as your gaze finds his mouth, too. “Plural.”

“Right,” he murmurs with a smile, “laughs. All of them.”

You don’t know who begins to lean in first. All you know is that he’s so pretty, even with his coffee-stained apron and his coffee-grind-covered cheek. Even as you both seem to forget that you’re filthy when his hand finds your chin and tilts you up to meet his mouth.

He’s pretty, and his lips are so warm, and it’s over way too soon.

But his hand is still on your face, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. You can’t help it — you let out a small, breathless laugh, and Joshua’s smile spreads wide.

“That one’s new,” he whispers.

“I think that one means ‘finally’.”

His answering smile is so fucking soft that you think you melt right on the spot. When he stands up and holds out a hand to help you, he pulls you up and right into his chest, and you have a feeling the closeness isn’t an accident. The way you pull him even closer by his apron isn’t, either.

And it’s definitely not an accident when he kisses you again, pushing you gently against the coffee-stained counter.

“I was really hoping to do this off the clock,” Joshua muses against your lips, “but I’m not upset at all that I’m being paid overtime to kiss you right now.”

A/N: sorry this took so long, there’s been a lot going on in my life!! Thanks for waiting xx

If you read it REBLOG IT, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed, I promise.

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#hjs x reader #SVT X reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #joshua imagines #Joshua x reader #hjsfic #Joshua fluff #joshua imagine #Seventeen fluff #seventeen imagine #my writing #thirteenvalentines

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keenzinemugstudent · 7 months

Text

Clark x Black goth reader! Smut! A not so secret quickie!

Warning ⚠️ ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS THIS IS A SMUT SO ADULTS ONLY PLS⚠️

Lana hears strange noises in the art room and goes to investigate.

"Where Clark?"

Chole asked looking around not seeing the farm boy Lana just shrugs her shoulders.

"I'm not sure I saw him earlier though he seemed really out of it."

"Well that's weird."

"Oh I forgot my bag you go on without me!"

As Lana was walking through the hall way she heard noises coming from in the art room hmm maybe it was the janitor? She goes to check it out what she didn't expect was to see you and Clark.

He was holding your hands softly you stood in front of him looking at ground face full of worry. Lana could see you looked troubled she was about to walk in and see if everything was okay until you spoke.

"Clark I don't think this is a good idea.."

"Oh come on Y/n you promised!"

"I know it's just- this is embarrassing!"

You try to move from his reach but he grabs your hand a pout on his face.

"I promise we won't get caught. You don't have to worry so much."

"Clark it's almost the end of the day can't you just ya'know wait than?"

"I can't! I've been waiting for this since third period if I wait anymore I'll go nuts!"

Lana had no idea what was going on what was Clark trying to get you to do? He sounded pretty desperate. She had noticed in class that he kept looking at the clock for lunch to start but just to see you? She heard you let out a surprised gasp Lana leaves from her thoughts only to see Clark pick you up to sit on the teachers desk your face was flustered you put your hands on his chest starring up at the handsome farm boy.

"What if someone catches us?!"

"Y/n please just focus all your attention on me okay?"

You let out a small shaky sigh as his hands slowly move down your hips to your thighs to your knees gently spreading your legs open so he could easily stand between them which caused Lana's face to become warm. What exactly was she seeing? Why was Clark touching you like that?!

He leans down to gently kiss your forehead than your cheek than to your lips making Lana cover her own in surprise, you close your eyes shyly kissing him back holding his arms, you wanted to be strong and not give in but when he kissed you everything else didn't matter anymore.

"Is it okay for us to keep going?"

You was hesitant but nod your head Clark gives you a smile, gently grabs your face to kiss while you start lift up his shirt that was always kept tucked you unbutton his shirt to show his well toned stomach making you bite your lip he was just so damn hot it was ridiculous! You rub his chest going down to his stomach to his pants zipper he lets out a low groan as you grazed his front pants touching his already hardened cock making you giggle.

"Wow you really weren't kidding huh?"

"What can I say you make me excited"

They both give a small laugh than go back to kissing all you could hear was lips and moans around the empty classroom. Lana was still hiding behind the door face red still not understanding what was going on the whenever she saw you two together it was always a friendly interaction, Clark would say "Hi" to you in the hallway and you'd shyly wave back at him before running off somewhere.

Lana that it was weird because you were the quiet goth girl and he was the shy but friendly farm boy you both weren't friends or so she thought but than she remembered when she saw Clark and you at his mom's flower shop once and you two were talking and laughing she had noticed you were holding red roses. Than the next couple days at school she and Chole always saw a red rose either on your locker or on your desk. Whenever somebody would try to question you about it you'd always just shrug your shoulders not knowing who it was, then you'd go the whole day with a smile on your face.

Did that mean that Clark had been the one to give you those roses???

"Ah C-clark!"

Lana looks and could see Clark's hand going under your skirt you try to stop him but could only give out a weak moan as his fingers entered you...Clark freaking Kent was fingering you in the art class.

"Clark baby please! Oh you know I'm sensitive down there!"

He just shh you by kissing you again muffling your cries of pleasure while still rubbing your clit in circles

"You said you'd give me anything if I passed that test I got a A+ all that studying really paid off huh?"

You try to speak but could only moan and whimper as his fingers started to speed up. You were so wet that you could hear it making you hide your face in his shoulder trying to quiet the embarrassing noises.

Lana could feel herself getting wet just from the sight. To say she was jealous was an understatement she couldn't believe that Clark was doing this in school of all places! and to you of all people you were always so quiet but nice enough Lana didn't think you two had THAT kind of relationship!

"Y/n I want you to cum... think you can do that for me sweetheart?"

He whispers in your ear kissing your cheek. You couldn't say anything but nod holding on to his arms moving your hips trying to make his fingers go deeper into your pussy.

"Y-yes! oh god yes yes! I'll cum just please Clark don't stop!"

You sounded so needy Clark moves his fingers faster and deeper making loud moans leave your mouth not even caring if anyone walk by and hear you (too late for that)

Lana should not still be here why was she even still watching this?! It was something private between you two so why the hell was she still here?! Just as you so close to your release suddenly Clark stopped his movements causing you to look up at him with teary eyes upset that he didn't let you cum.

"W-why'd you stop?"

He just moves hair from your forehead to kiss your upper brow removing his fingers making you whimper from the lose, Clark reaches in his back pocket and pulls out a a condom.

Lana went wide as she saw Clark start to pull down his pants revealing himself Lana's mouth was wide open in shock but you just let out low moan rubbing your legs together feeling yourself getting wetter at the sight as he put on the condom even though you've seen it multiple times he just looked so damn good!

Main while Lana nearly passed out when she saw how big Clark was jesus even Whitney wasn't that big! There was no way Y/n would be able to take him! Right?

Clark got closer to you his forehead touching yours once again hands going under your skirt to remove your red underwear he grabs your hips pulling you closer you wrap your arms around his neck kissing under his jaw leaving light hickeys and black lipstick stains on him biting his ear. You looked towards Lana's direction making her freeze on the spot, thinking she'd been caught but you give an annoyed sigh you were looking up at the clock on the wall.

"Clark baby I'm sorry but we're are out of time."

He looked at his watch and saw that you were right but he just shook his head.

"We still have more time."

He spread your legs rubbing himself against your wet heat, you both let out loud gasp as he slowly pushed himself inside you stretching you out, once he was fully inside he stood still all you could hear in the room was their heavy breathing.

"I'm going to start moving okay?"

You were so lost in pleasure all you could give him was just give a lazy nod, he starts to slowly moving his hips letting out a shaky breathe even though this wasn't the first time you two had sex, he was always careful with you seeing as he accidentally left hand marks on your legs once and Chole saw it thinking someone had hurt your since than he always tries to be careful with you but God it was so hard there was just something about you made him crazy!

You lay your back on the desk gently moving your hips enjoying the feeling of him inside you but it was so hot that you had to remove your shirt making Clark give a low growl at the sight of your breasts and your blood red bra the one thing Clark loved most about having sex (making love but he won't say it out loud yet)

Was seeing your chest they were just so perfect! that's when he realized he was wasting time and need to speed this up so he leaning his body nearly covering you and moved his hips faster making your eyes go wide at the usual change of pace.

"W-wait Clark no wait please! Not so fast please! I can't oh god!"

He just ignored your cries of mercy and just moved his hips even faster, skin hitting against skin both of you panting heavily you arch your back off the desk mouth wide open cries of pleasure leaving your mouth. Clark just hugs you closer he grabs a hold of your ass than slapping it harshly making you let out a surprised cry of pain and pleasure. With how fast he was going your chest bounced at each thrust making you feel like you were seeing stars.

It didn't make it any better when he put his mouth on your left nipple gently sucking and bitting it making a small scream leave your mouth.

"Your doing so good for me Y/n."

All you could do was give a him a whine and wrap your shaking legs around his hips in a desperate attempt to pull him closer and deeper in your poor weeping pussy.

Lana was still watching the two lovers go at it like animals in heat she got up slowly legs shaking gave a low quiet moan as she could feel underwear wet. She had to get out of there and hopefully try to forget the scene she just witnessed.

By the end of the day Lana saw you and Clark again but this time he was helping you walk too his trunk you were limping and your makeup was a mess and you still looked flustered Clark he looked fine??? I mean his clothes was a bit ruffled but he looked okay.

"Wow I wonder what happened to Y/n?"

Lana didn't say anything but blush red not being able to say anything to Chole. The only thing she could think was Y/n was one lucky girl.

I'm probably going to hell for writing this aren't I?

570 notes · View notes

inkykeiji · 8 months

Text

say you’ll love me to death, cause i will

character: todoroki touya | dabi x fem!reader

genre: smut

notes: alright, so we’ve discussed how touya-nii would react to encountering the man who took your virginity, but let's talk about how you would respond to running into the woman who took touya’s. set in my touya-nii au! as always please heed the warnings and stay safe! | title credit: RUNRUNRUN by dutch melrose

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest (stepcest), public sex, minimal prep, extreme jealousy, toxic relationship

words: 4.7k

synopsis:

“Well, that’s alright! How long have you two been together?” And, oh, the giggle that bubbles past your lips is downright sinister, fucking caustic, burning your tongue and eroding your teeth. No, you’re not his girlfriend, or his partner, or his significant other. You’re something so much better.

You’re off minding your own business, legs swinging idly on a bar stool as you wait for your designated reservation time, when it happens, when she appears.

“Touya?”

The name cuts through the blurred noise of the restaurant, both yours and Touya’s attention snapping to the source: a woman, late twenties or so, waving a little in indication on the other side of the bar.

She’s snaking through the patchy crowd, busy unfastening her hair from the intricate bun its been woven into—a requisite for all the waitresses at this establishment—eyes bright, smile brighter.

You don’t even know who she is; not technically, anyway, had never thought to press the issue any further than a simple how’d it happen, had never cared enough to try—especially not when he had been sleeping with so many others right in front of you.

It hadn’t seemed to matter much then. Not the way it matters now.

But she exists, because she must, because somebody would’ve had to take it, would’ve had to be the first, one way or another.

Doesn’t mean you have to like it.

She’s pretty, but you wouldn’t expect any less. Touya stands as she reaches the two of you, pulling your body up with him.

But then Touya greets her, a name you’ve heard kicked around every now and then, and it all fully, finally clicks.

Touya’s first.

“Oh my God,” she’s gushing, “I haven’t seen you in—What’s it been now? Over ten years?”

“Just about,” he responds easily, readjusting his grasp reassuringly on your hip as you cling to him, large palm flattening against your abdomen and hugging you closer to his side, tucked protectively beneath his arm.

“What are the chances! You look...” her eyes scan his body once, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, then back up again, and your fingers flex, coiled and rigid in the material of his shirt, stiff joints already aching. “Wow, incredible!”

“Thanks,” Touya says, an awkward lull in the conversation when he doesn’t repay the compliment.

Their discussion meanders for a little bit—how have you been, what are you doing now, remember when...?—most of it muddled by the blood roaring in your ears and jealousy burning in your throat.

But then her fingertip is just barely grazing his forearm as she points in indication at the ink etched into his skin, and your ears tune into their frequency again, white-hot fury slicing through hazy envy.

“I remember when you started this one,” she’s reminiscing. “You finally finished all of the pieces,” she says with another appreciative glance, and you grip him tighter, the skin of your knuckles pulled so taut it’s starting to hurt. “It’s so breathtaking to see them all come together.”

And you hate the way she speaks to him with a certain type of familiarity; an old friend, effortless and full of laughs, someone who knew him long before you did, when you were only in grade school.

God, how rude of her not to introduce herself, she’s telling you as she finally turns toward you, finally takes notice of you, rooted in Touya’s side; a growth he planted there himself, shoved between his ribs and engrained in his soul, roots so tangled you’re both irremovable, inseparable, now.

She holds out her hand in greeting, but you only clutch Touya more firmly, nails scraping against starched cashmere, face half-hidden in his chest, childish and petulant.

The woman’s smile drops from her face, a slow drooping of her mouth as her forehead crinkles, confusion bleeding through her features.

“She’s shy,” Touya says as way of explanation, but that wolfish smile is stretched sharply across his cheeks, teeth gleaming in the dim light.

“I see,” she says, almost hesitantly, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before they flit back to Touya’s face, expression brightening again. “Well, that’s alright! How long have you two been together?”

And, oh, the giggle that bubbles past your lips is downright sinister, fucking caustic, burning your tongue and eroding your teeth.

No, you’re not his girlfriend, or his partner, or his significant other.

You’re something so much better.

“Oh, we’re not a couple. This is my little sister.”

And, oh, how this is always your favourite part.

You know that it’s his favourite part, too.

Because the way that shock and disgust eats through their confusion, fucking devours any other emotion on their face, is better than anything else in the entire world. The way their expression churns into something twisted and repulsed sends sordid little thrills racing through your veins, blood buzzing with adrenaline.

The two of you must be such a fucking sight, expressions handcrafted by the Devil himself, with glowing eyes—gluttonous gazes gobbling up every little expression, two pairs wide and frantic as they glide across her face—and smug little smirks, points of your mouths so sharp they could pierce the flesh of a fingertip if touched.

Her voice sputters a little, snagging in her throat as she struggles to find the proper words, blinking rapidly, as if trying to clear the scene in front of her.

“I—Uh, I didn’t know you had another little sister?”

It’s phrased as a question, her voice beginning to tremble, unnerved as her stare swaps between your faces.

“My mom remarried,” Touya says simply. “This one came packaged with the deal.”

He jostles you in his arms a little—showing off his favourite, precious, most coveted prize—and you cuddle into him, burrowing into his chest a little, fingers flexing in his dress shirt as you clutch him tighter, gathering healthy handfuls of cashmere in your scrunched palms, buttons beginning to strain beneath the strength of your grip.

And he states it proudly, as if he’s glad to own you, to be your big brother, to call you his, staring down at you with so much fondness it melts his hard eyes, sapphire turned to something thick and gooey.

“Oh,” the woman responds, but her voice wavers through a wobbly smile on her face, lips unsure if they want to grin or grimace. “That’s cool.”

“Yeah,” Touya responds, though his eyes do not leave yours, voice softening. “I got pretty fuckin’ lucky. Don’t think I could’ve asked for anything better.”

You can feel the sick, sadistic glee radiating off of him in dense waves—something heavy, something intoxicating—and, if this girl knows him well enough, you’re sure she can, too.

It’s so thick it’s nearly suffocating, but you breathe it in readily, greedily, draw it into your lungs and let it marinate in your tissues—infect, consume, decay.

“We should go for drinks sometime!” her unnaturally chipper tone snaps the trance, draws both of your gazes back to her. “You know, to catch up and all that.”

A noise shudders your ribs, something between a growl and a whine, and Touya laughs as if it’s so fucking cute, looking back down at you with so much adoration in his eyes it’s nearly spilling past his lashes.

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, but his stare never breaks yours. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

“Mr. Todoroki?” a smooth voice floats above the indistinct murmur of the venue. “Your table is ready.”

“Ah, that’s us,” Touya says to you.

“It was nice—”

But you’re already turning away, a single entity in the way you move, think, breathe, be.

“I don’t like her,” you’re grumbling as Touya guides you toward the hostess, not caring that she’s still very clearly in earshot, the confession spilling from your mouth almost subconsciously, having pried past your lips, desperate to be heard.

“I can tell, baby,” Touya snorts, though the smile on his face is soft.

“I—I don’t even wanna eat here anymore,” you sulk, feet starting to drag, words filtered through a deep pout. “And I don’t ever want to see her again!”

It comes out as a demand, a little harsher and firmer than you had intended, uncharacteristically surly, and Touya stops.

Blinking down at you, Touya’s face falls, features suddenly serious, all mirth evaporated from his expression in an instant.

His head dips, voice dropped to a low, dire murmur—something secret, something just for you.

“You want me to kill her for you? Huh, princess? Does niichan need to get rid of her?”

And, oh, how your heart soars, swells, swoops then nearly bursts from your ribs, desperate to claw its way from your chest and into the palms of its owner. Tears rush to cloud your eyes, vision thick and bleary, and two large hands cup your jaw, tilting your face to his.

“I’ll do it, baby, I swear to God. All you gotta do is say the word.”

He will. You know he will. You love that he will.

“I love you,” you nearly whimper, hands pawing at him urgently, the words a garbled mess in your mouth, weighted with spit and tears. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he laughs a little, but concern is warping his features, eyes sweeping across your face in search of an answer.

His hand squeezes your jaw gently, callouses decorating the pad of his palm scuffing your soft skin as he holds you in place.

“Just tell niichan what he needs to do to make this better.”

Your gaze holds his for a moment, heavy and unblinking.

“Fuck me,” you finally say. “Remind me who I belong to, remind me who you belong to, remind the whole fucking world who we belong to.”

Sapphire turns to navy, lips spreading into something sinful.

He can do that.

The parking lot is sparsely populated, rows of cars jagged and gapped like knocked out teeth. A small cluster of people hover outside the restaurant’s golden doors, encased in a hazy cloud of smoke and murmuring quietly amongst themselves, and a few people are scattered throughout the lot, just arriving or preparing to leave, but for the most part, you are alone.

The Audi is parked near the back, narrowly missing a pool of white light from one of the tall lampposts.

A chuckle is huffed from tattooed lips, shining eyes trained on your profile as you march toward the car, his long legs easily keeping up with your own.

His baby is on a mission tonight.

“You know, it’s really cute,” he’s saying as he presses you up against the driver’s door, “to see to see you so fucking determined.”

“Want everyone to know you belong to me,” you whine a little, forehead scrunching as your pout deepens.

“Is that so?”

“That is so.”

“And how would you like to show everyone that niichan is yours?” he murmurs into your flesh, lips tracing the curve of your neck.

“Want—Want you to fuck me, right here.”

“Right here?” his hips shove against yours in emphasis. “In the car?”

“No,” your hips push back into his, back arching, already so needy for him. “Right here, in the parking lot. I want that bitch to see.”

And for once, you do not get scolded for such foul language.

“Yeah?” Touya’s breathing into your mouth, hands already rucking up your little cocktail dress. “All out in the open where everyone can see how much of a little whore you are for your big brother?”

“Right here, right here,” you’re nodding, words cracking with desperation. “Right now.”

“So greedy, my little sister is.”

“I don’t care,” you gasp. “Show them, Touya-nii, show them all.”

And he’s so fucking hard you swear you can feel his cock throbbing with each rush of blood, each of your little pleads and dirty words sending another bout of it southward, swear you can feel it twitching and gorging with lust.

“You don’t care, huh?” Hardened fingertips sink into the plush flesh of your ass, kneading a little as his hips gyrate in pitiful little circles, more teasing than anything else.

“No, no,” you’re shaking your head. “I want it now!”

A palm collides with your flesh, hard and sharp, the sound echoing out among the space, chased by your resounding yelp. It draws a handful of glances from the throngs of people loitering around the restaurant’s entrance, but doesn’t keep their attention for long.

“Don’t be impatient, now,” Touya warns, but the glint in his eyes begs you to keep misbehaving. “Get my cock wet first.”

Your face falls as your fight fades, a small frown on your lips.

“Wh-What?”

“You want my cock so badly, baby? Get it fucking wet, then.”

He pauses, watching you closely, smirk growing into something sinister when you freeze in hesitation.

“Aw, what’s wrong?” he pouts, and it’s so condescending it scathes your cheeks. “Not so bold and brave now? I thought you wanted everyone to know; I thought you wanted to show everyone who I belong to,” his tongue tuts, head shaking in mock disappointment, “and you can’t even take my cock down your throat?”

“I do,” you nearly growl, eyes flashing with sudden jealousy, uncharacteristically fierce.

His expression softens, that sharp glint in his eye dulled to a smoldering glow, full of fondness.

“Then get niichan’s cock wet,” he says, hips shoving against yours in emphasis again, “so he can fuck you properly.”

And although it is still very much a demand, a direct order, his voice is tender, his edges worn down by years of affection.

Sliding down his body, your fingers furl in the waistband of his suit pants and tug a little, pulling his hips closer to your face. The buckle of his belt clanks heavily as you tug it undone, the button on his trousers pops easily, and then you’re yanking them halfway down his thighs, freeing his cock.

It’s so fucking pretty, dusty pink from base to tip and smoother than the most expensive velvet, and you just can’t help but nuzzle your cheek into the head with a cute little hum, smearing a thick stroke of pearlescent pre-cum across your skin.

But you know that Touya doesn’t like that, no matter how beautiful you look with his pre-cum slathered all over your face, that Touya can’t stand anything he deems even remotely teasing, and you’re quick to wrap a hand around the shaft as the beginnings of a growl rumble against his ribs, feeding him to yourself.

“S’it, there you go,” he praises as you gorge on him, stuffing him down your throat in a single swallow, reflexive tears burning your eyes.

Lashes flutter quickly, desperate to clear your vision, little drops of crystal collecting in the wispy strands.

It’s pathetic, really, how much your heart soars with such bland praise. But it doesn’t matter, you don’t care, willing to soak up any scraps he’ll afford you, an addict endlessly chasing a fix.

You force your mouth open wider, hinges of your jaw stretching, straining, your tongue curling around the underside as you suck him in further, viscous globs of drool already beginning to collect at the corners of your lips.

“Yeah, yeah, swallow me whole, baby,” he breathes, gaping pupils glittering with a thin ring of cobalt. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous like this.”

A choked little whine, muted by his cockhead grinding itself into your throat, vibrates, evoking a cracked little moan of his own, hips twitching involuntarily, an instinctual reaction, searching for more.

The asphalt is rough against your knees, skinning them with superficial little scrapes as Touya fucks your mouth a few times; first slowly, breath huffed out through spit-slicked lips as he glides in steadily, inch by inch, voracious eyes watching as your wet mouth puckers around his shaft, coating it in thick, gleaming saliva.

He whimpers a little as the tip of your nose scrunches so cutely as he presses it to his pubic bone, holds it for a breath and savours the way your throat flutters with hiccups and gags before pulling nearly all the way from your mouth, repeating the process as he gains momentum; then faster, harder, cockhead rubbing against the back of your tongue, each quick stroke leaving bitter streaks of pre-cum.

And you hate how his palms are pressed against your ears, muffling every sweet sound you manage to elicit from him as he holds your head still, his thumbs pressing into your cheekbones, nails biting shallow crescents into the skin as they dig deeper, grasp tightening as your face becomes slippery with tears, cascading over his knuckles.

Even so, his grip isn’t enough to keep the back of your skull from banging off the door of the Audi, each thrust procuring a dull thud of flesh against metal.

And, Christ, what a beautiful symphony it all creates; the rhythmic sound of your head thwacking against his car, the dainty jingle of his belt buckle, hanging heavy and undone and bouncing between your chin and his thigh, those precious gags and gurgles and sniffles and hiccups that he loves so much, choked off and snuffed out as his cock rams them back into your chest, the half-stifled sounds that keep shattering to pieces on his tongue, shards swallowed down with difficulty, scraping against the walls of his throat and leaving his voice ragged and raw.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” he’s panting as his fingers thread through your hair, fisting at the roots and dragging you off of him. “S’a shame, because you look so pretty,” a rough thumb skims over your swollen, glossy lip, his gaze following its trajectory. “But I wanna cum in your cunt, not your throat.”

And then he’s pulling you back up from the ground, strong arms wedged beneath your own and hoisting you into the air, your legs instinctually wrapping around his waist, locked securely at the ankles as they hook together at the base of his spine, thighs squeezing around his hips in anticipation.

He pins you to the metal of the Audi, one palm securely cupping your ass as the other wraps around the base of his cock, hips inching back just enough to find your hole.

The head, now slicked with your spit, glides over your clit twice—a cheeky little tease, just to hear you whine his name again, all stringy and petulant through a swollen pout—then down your slit until it catches on your hole.

It stings as he forces himself into you, always does no matter how wet you are, no matter how much you’ve slobbered all over his shaft, because Touya routinely refuses to prep you at all—not that you would’ve let him, not tonight—because he loves it, too, he loves it just as much as you do.

He loves the sharp little hiss pushed through the gaps of your teeth by your tongue, he loves the gentle fluttering of your cunt as your most delicate skin stretches, splits itself open for him, to suck him in and swallow him down, he loves that sweet sigh that melts from your mouth as he bottoms out, slathered over his own huff of breath, conjoined relief.

“Touya-nii, Touya-nii,” you’re whimpering out, fingers curling against his shoulders.

“M’here, baby, m’here,” he pants out, forehead pushing against your own, eyes slipped shut.

And for a moment everything is still, breath held stagnant in swelling lungs as you both savour this feeling—of fullness, of closeness, of wholeness—appreciation unhindered by noisy exhales or slapping skin.

Then his hips are moving, gyrating in little circles that gain speed with each completed motion, cockhead grinding into your cervix.

He can’t exactly fuck you properly like this, can’t exactly fuck you like he wants to, like he normally would, not all out in the open like this.

But he manages to make do, the pace quick right from the start, shallow fast snaps of his hips that have the buckle of his belt is clanging against his car, leaving superficial little scratches just below the door handle.

It’s all still so fucking hot, though, his forehead pressed tightly to yours as he exhales nicotine-tinged breath across your face, each one pushed from his chest with the rapid little ruts of his hips.

It’s all so fucking naughty, fucking out in the open where anyone who’s paying more than a shred of attention can see, his movements just barely hidden by the flesh of your thighs, cushioning his hips.

The thought that anyone could be watching, touching themselves, filming you has your muscles tightening and your stomachs fluttering, the dirty, illicit nature inspiring another rush of adrenaline to taint your blood.

Your mouth drops open, starved for more of him—never satisfied, are you, greedy lil thing—welcoming his huffs onto your tongue, spicy and sweet as hickory. Your tongue unfurls from your mouth, dumb and lazy and so fucking messy, licking at his lips in quick, uneven strokes, sopping up any remnants of his essence.

The tip slithers between his parted lips, kittenishly lapping at the edges of his teeth, tracing the sharp ridges one by one, and he laughs, warm and airy.

His own tongue shoves against yours, pushing it from his mouth and back into it’s rightful home before he flattens the slick muscle against your face and drags it, slow and steady, from the point of you chin to the tip of your nose, leaving behind a thick, fat trail of cooling saliva painted across your face.

The action has you squealing, scrunching up your nose as you involuntarily suck your bottom lip between your teeth and suck it clean.

His scent is strong, now saturating your skin as it dries, tight and hard, on your face, sealed by the breathless little giggle he exhales across your cheeks.

And, Christ, he’s so fucking gorgeous, strands of alabaster plastered to his forehead and stuck to his temples in scraggly strings, clumped into damp little tufts that curl up at the base of his neck, drops of sweat balancing precariously on the points.

His rough, quick movements have them breaking free, glistening drops of sweat rolling down his puckered skin, tracing the curve of his neck, streaking ink and ivory with glimmering little trails. They pool in the dips of his collarbones and soak into the collar of his shirt, turning cashmere translucent.

The sleek muscles in his forearms flex beneath inked skin, gliding as he readjusts his grip, holds you closer, hugs you tighter, fucks you harder.

His whole body is covered in a sheen layer of sweat, urgently chasing that high that only his little sister can gift him, sharp pistons of his hips keeping you pinned to the car while he uses you as his personal little toy, his favourite little toy, forcing you to just take it.

And yet, despite it all, his eyes are bright, his lips molded into a brilliant smile, a sick sort of love stained with exhilaration—the thrill of getting caught: fucking all out in the open, fucking your family—brimming in his gaze.

He’s such a fucking pro, knows you and your body better than anyone else ever has, ever could, ever will, angling his hips so they fuck you just right, each stroke of his cock an upward curve, dragging against that puffy spot buried deep within your cunt, head swiping against your cervix with each draw back.

Across the lot, that girl is fiddling with the keys to her shitty little car, rooting around for something in her bag, and Touya laughs—a loud, booming sound, heavy with deranged delight that echoes throughout the space, garnering the attention of a smattering of bystanders.

“Look,” he nudges his head to the right, your gaze following his own, slippery cheeks pressed flush together. “She’s watching. She can see you, sweetheart—can see us, can see you’re mine and I’m yours.”

Good. If she hadn’t already figured it out before, it should be abundantly fucking obvious now, who he belongs to.

“She—She looks disgusted,” you snicker.

Even from several meters away, she does, you can tell, face twisted up somewhere between horror and shock, eyes wide and unblinking as they scan your conjoined forms, brow scrunched and chest beginning to heave.

She looks like she’s going to be sick.

You hope she is.

“Oh, she doesn’t even know—fuck—the half of it, does she?” Touya keens, hips faltering for just a moment before regaining their momentum. “Why don’t we give her something to really be repulsed by?”

Yes, yes, yes, you’re nodding your head, little mewls of affirmation spilling from your throat.

“Give your big brother a kiss, then.”

And oh, how eager you are, ever his good girl, ever his best girl, arms tightening around his neck as you pull yourself closer, smashing your lips to his. Dainty fingers thread through the hair at the back of his scalp, soaked with salt, and tug harshly, enough to have a reactionary hiss slipping through his teeth.

Using the opportunity, you suck his bottom lip into your mouth between your teeth, clamp down hard and yank backwards, so hard his lip stretches like shimmering, pink bubblegum, gums beginning to strain until it finally slides free of your hold, teeth scraping against flesh. He spits out a curse, muddled and chased by a laugh, tongue laving over the indents you left, now weeping copper.

“Niichan’s gonna get you back for that one,” he says, sadistic glee shimmering in his eyes almost as pretty as the crimson glazing his mouth.

You’re sure he will, too, later tonight, with that cherished knife you gifted him last year.

The giggle that pours past your lips is fucking raucous, leaves your tongue sticky and tingling, so wicked it rivals your brother.

“I wanna show her, niichan,” you’re panting out, voice fading into a whine. “I want to show her that you’re mine.”

“Do it, baby,” he breathes. “Show the whole world how fucking gorgeous you look cumming for your big brother.”

Three more rapid pumps of his hips and you’re convulsing around him, cunt clenching almost viciously around his cock as your heat gushes down his shaft, sticky and messy and so much, so much it pools in the folds of his heavy balls, so much it streams down his taut thighs and soaks the waistband of his trousers, so much it dribbles down the metal of the Audi, smeared across the door in sloppy strokes.

“Mi-Mine,” you growl, thighs squeezing around him as if you’re attempting to milk more juices from yourself, trying to stain him with you and stake your claim.

“Yeah,” he nearly moans, hips beginning to stutter. “Yours, baby, niichan’s yours. Tell him again.”

“You’re mine!” you sob out, nails gripping the sleek muscle of his shoulders with such strength the joints of your fingers crack and ache, clawing at him as if you’re trying to gorge every part of you on him, eat up every piece of him you can, stuff every bit of you as full of him as physically possible.

“Fu-Fuck,” he keens, the curse shattering in his throat. “That’sa—That’s my good girl.”

He’s close now, you can tell; can hear it in the way his words keep splintering on his tongue, can feel it in the way his thrusts have gone from precise and particular to loose and sloppy, an urgent, uneven rutting of his hips.

“Fill me, fill me, fill me with your cock, niichan,” you’re gasping out, scrabbling at his neck, scraping skin and sweat beneath your nails. “Fill me with your cum, fill me so much, fill me until I can’t take anymore and it starts le-leaking out, all—all over the place.”

And, well, he’s never been one to deny his precious baby sister what she wants.

Because then he’s complying, hips stammering to a halt and pressed flush to your ass as his cock throbs, stuffing you full of thick, burning cream.

“More! More, more,” you’re gasping out as you try to fuck yourself on his twitching cock, desperate to pump him for everything he’s got to give, eliciting a breathless, broken little laugh falling from his lips.

“S’all yours,” he manages to slur out, slumping a little against his car, knees beginning to quiver as his cock strives to please you, giving another weak spurt of cum. “S’all yours, princess, always.”

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi smut #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya x you #todoroki touya smut #tw:pseudocest #tw:toxic relationship #tw:minimal prep #tw:public sex

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geebeeskoos · 2 months

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I can certainly see why people are obsessed about the slow burn reading of narumitsu, the one where they wait for 7, 9 or even more years before they ever do anything romantic together, but. Their relationship in the trilogy era could be so, so interesting and complicated and yet so. Warm and full of comfort.

Just... Two traumatized and mentally ill men trying their best to figure out this relationship thing. Phoenix remembering what it's like to have a romantic partner again, after being betrayed, after being left behind, and now confronting his abandonment issues. Edgeworth learning how to love somebody, and now trying to express it, perhaps searching for his own ways of doing so.

Yes, they encounter a number of problems. Edgeworth gets this nagging feeling at times that he's too broken for a romantic relationship, that he's a parasite leaching on another person's care and affection, thus at times he acts aloof and withdrawn. Phoenix gets paranoid that he'll end up completely alone again very soon, whenever he notices Edgeworth getting so cold all of a sudden. Edgeworth genuinely thinks at the worst moments that the right thing to do is to just break up right now so he doesn't waste any more of Phoenix' time. Phoenix is anxious that one day Edgeworth can just disappear on him again without saying a word. Edgeworth feels forever indebted for everything Phoenix did to help him, and now when he notices his partner struggling he wants to do the same for him, but he doesn't even know why Phoenix is troubled, and even less about how to help him. Phoenix is less than honest sometimes on how he feels because he really thinks that his problems are nothing compared to Edgeworth's, but he can't help but feel bitter nevertheless that his partner isn't that helping. And then feels like a petty person for that bitterness and knows that he can't be actually cross at Edgeworth for not being a mind-reader. If truth be told, they both think that the other "has it worse", so they both make the same mistake of not opening up fully until something not very good occurs.

"But why didn't you tell me anything??" They both ask each other. Often. But the important thing is, is that they get to ask that eventually. Say sorry to each other. And then move on knowing each other a little bit better, and maybe not repeating the same mistake in the future. At least, the chances are lower now.

Would it be unhealthy for them to be together in that era? Well, depends on your definition of the word 'unhealthy', but I'm a firm believer that it's better to figure out things together, with your loved one, and that's what they are doing. Healing goes much smoother when you have mutual support. And sometimes hurt people can understand and help other hurt people better than any 'healthy' person can. You are in pain, and I'm also in pain, so I understand how you feel and want to help you get through this. It's all about trust and empathy. And isn't it the core of narumitsu and their relationship?

So basically, while it takes a lot of work for them to be together at this point, it is worthwhile. And that is why I prefer the interpretation that they have something going on already in the trilogy. I really want them to struggle, but make it work. I want their relationship to begin not in the best possible moment, perhaps, but to grow more comfortable and mature with years regardless. It is not ideal and far from the perfection, and that is exactly why it's so real and beautiful.

#or you could say I'm just not a fan of slow burn when it gets too ridiculous #also I've always read them as aware of everything. including each others' feelings #maybe it's just one of my pet peeves showing but i don't vibe with nrmt being “oh no... but what if it's.... unrequited........”#anyway I know a couple or two with a similar history *cough* so my headcanons actually have a solid foundation #aa #ace attorney #narumitsu #wrightworth #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth

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niningtori · 3 months

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let me into your world | chapter one: my world is mine

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, choi soobin x you

summary: you're a hopeless romantic waiting for your soulmate, but what do you do when you finally find him and he doesn't want you?

genre(s): romance, angst, angst with a happy ending (?), soulmate au

word count: 7.1k

notes: for some reason, i feel SO embarrassed to post this. it was the first series i ever wrote, so it's getting a facelift before seeing the light of day, but it's still a little flabby in some places. bear with me, please! also, shoutout to evie for this layout with the lyrics in the center :') i'm tired of looking at my own uglyass posts so much omg. see ending for more notes!

your soulmate is perfect in every way, or so you've been told, and you're sick of waiting to find out. everyone says meeting your soulmate is like finding the other half you never had, so when the yearning had started when you were a teen, you were eager to find him and put an end to your constant ache. it would be impossible to know who it was until your seal appeared on your skin. where it would land and what it would look like, you weren't sure, but you knew it couldn't come fast enough. in theory, he would complement you in every way. you imagine someone quiet, a little shy, maybe. someone thoughtful, someone patient and understanding. you just hope to god he's everything you wish him to be.

beomgyu has had just about enough of soulmate talk, but unfortunately for him, it's inescapable. when he turned 13, the yearning had already started for most of his peers. when his friends asked if he felt similarly, he simply shrugged his shoulders with a smug little grin while musing that he might not even have a soulmate — maybe he was just partnerless. some of his friends, like taehyun and kai, were appalled by this, almost pitying him. half of his heart was missing, after all. some of his other friends, however, were a bit jealous. their reasoning was "it'd be nice to not be chained down by someone you don't even know". he agreed with the latter sentiment, having seen the effects of being chained to somebody firsthand.

he remembers watching his mother wither away. she had loved his father more than anyone, even him, and got scraps of affection in return. they weren't soulmates — her perfect other half had died not long after she met him, but his father became her second and last love. he didn't concern himself with soulmate talk and eventually married beomgyu's mother. they were happy, very happy, until beomgyu was around 10 and his father met his so-called soulmate. he remembers the sheer despair on his mother's face as she found out her husband was leaving seemingly out of nowhere, her life uprooted because of a fucking pattern imprinted on her lover's skin.

they weren't soulmates, but beomgyu watched his mother die a little every day until she finally passed. dying of a broken heart was the only way he could explain what happened to her, and she did all that for a man who wasn't even her soulmate. if soulmates could make you kill someone innocent for your love, he didn't want to find his at all. if love could make you abandon everything you've ever known, well, he simply didn't want to know what it felt like.

college is a turning point for you, you feel. you had a good time in high school, but you're nearing the average age of the seal and you're more than prepared to find your special someone. you couldn't know for sure, but you have a feeling none of the boys in your high school were your other half.

"why don't you date just to get some experience?" sumin asks somewhat exasperatedly. you had rejected yet another guy with seemingly good intentions for practically no reason.

"i don't know, i guess i just don't want to waste my time on anybody else when i already know my soulmate is out there waiting on me," you shrug. "i want to save all my firsts for him."

"you're hopeless, you know?" she snorts.

"yeah," you smile, "but he's probably the same way." she teases you good-naturedly for this, but even she agrees that you'll most likely fall for a guy just as hopelessly in love as you are. he wouldn't even have to try very hard — you're willing to put in however much effort it takes to find him and love him unconditionally. all he needs to do is reciprocate and you would do the rest.

unfortunately for you, time has passed and you're nearing the end of your time in college with no soulmate in sight. you'd be more upset about it if you weren't so fucking busy with school work and trying to line up a job post-graduation. you're so wound up lately that sumin practically forces you to let loose and go to a house party. needless to say, they aren't particularly your scene. you like to drink just as much as anybody else does, you guess, but that doesn't mean you want to reek of shitty beer, sweat, and premarital sex, which will undoubtedly be the case once you step into a college house party. still, she is as persistent as you are exhausted and you're too defeated to fight.

you're fairly bored after fifteen minutes or so of loitering around all the action, never really joining in on the antics of your friends and all the other party goers unless you absolutely have to. you're absentmindedly kicking around a beer can when it rolls away, straight in front of a couch. you go to kick it again when you look up and see him.

you can't keep your eyes off of him. you've found people attractive before, but he's probably the most beautiful person — maybe even the most beautiful thing — you've ever seen. your heart almost stops when you look at him.

in that moment, the idea that he could be the one blooms in your head and you can't help but stare. you don't how long you keep your eyes locked on him, but he eventually looks up at you and his eyes widen for a split second. you're almost positive he feels what you feel, but not even a moment later, he pulls out what you can only describe as a lascivious smirk as his eyes travel up and down your figure. you feel like meat on display rather than his sacred other half. before you know it, a girl is sliding into his lap and he's turning away from you and planting a heavy kiss on her glossy lips while groping her ass.

"that's beomgyu," sumin says and you're snapped back into reality. "he's really hot, but he's slept with pretty much every girl here."

you're somewhat disappointed before you realize you must be mistaken. there's no way a man like that could be your soulmate. you strangle the bud of hope in your heart mercilessly because your soulmate is somewhere waiting for you and you can't afford to lose him over some pretty boy with community dick.

you said you'd avoid him, but beomgyu is the first one you notice when you walk into the first class of your final semester as a college student. his eyes lock with yours and you hurriedly avert your gaze before sliding into the nearest seat.

"hi," a sweet voice from next to you says. you jolt and turn to look at him.

"sorry, i didn't mean to scare you," he laughs.

"it's okay, i'm just a little jumpy, i guess," you grin sheepishly.

"i'm soobin," he smiles and you can see his dimples come out. you briefly wonder if he'd mind if you poked them, but that sounds weird even to you.

you introduce yourself and find you're forgetting all about beomgyu as you and soobin begin to chat. he's funny in a dorky kind of way, and you can't help but giggle at the seemingly unassuming things he says.

beomgyu notices you when you first walk in because of course he does, but he sees you sit next to soobin, a guy he met in freshman year, and feels a sense of loss he's never felt before. he watches as you grin and giggle at whatever lame jokes the boy next to you is almost certainly making and his eyes darken. yeonjun, his longtime friend and desk mate, notices his sour mood and asks what's wrong. beomgyu can't really answer that question. even he himself doesn't know why he feels so against you, a stranger, spending time with another guy, but he chalks it up to the fact that he thinks you're hot and would very much like to get in your pants as soon as possible.

he supposes he should have done so when he first saw you, but duty called when one of his frequent flyers sat in his lap and he couldn't very well ignore the way her chest swayed in front of him. he doesn't think about it much more deeply than that. he doesn't want to think about how your eyes seem to indicate that you know him — have known him — and he feels the same way about you. he toys with the idea of maybe asking you if you two knew each other at some point, but deep down, he knows he'd never forget you if he actually had known you before. he tries not to think about why that is.

a few weeks into the semester, you've sat next to soobin every day and it's safe to say you have a tiny little crush on him, but you know he's not your soulmate when he rolls his sleeves up one day and you spot a green seal on his wrist. you roll up your own sweater, just to be sure, but there's no pretty green tattoo to match. he spots your empty wrist and the expression on his face looks an awful lot like disappointment.

"i don't really care about that stuff, you know?" he whispers as your professor drones on and on about something you've stopped listening to long ago.

"really?" you ask a little too eagerly before reining yourself back in. what are you doing? you have a soulmate and he's waiting for you.

"really, really," he smiles. you prepare to launch into a long speech about the sanctity of soulmates and how you're waiting devoutly for yours, but instead of pushing the subject any further, he simply turns to the professor again and you're left reeling.

you're pulled back to your senses when the professor announces everyone will be paired up with a partner for an assignment. you and soobin grin at each other and are ready to begin prepping for the project when your professor adds that the partners will be completely random. when he calls soobin's name, your fingers are crossed in hopes that you'll somehow still get lucky, but he ends up pairing him with another classmate named yeonjun. you start getting a sinking feeling, something akin to dread, and you don't know why. clarity overwhelms you when you register that the person your professor opts to pair you with is none other than choi beomgyu.

beomgyu is late to your first library appointment together and though you didn't expect anything less from him, you're still annoyed when he arrives nearly 15 minutes after the scheduled time with nothing but a mumbled "sorry" and a cheeky grin.

"it's fine," you offer, but you both know you're irritated. you're a little bit of a pushover by nature and it's like he could immediately sniff it out. he doesn't even make an attempt to seem like he cares, though.

"are you ready to get started?" you ask.

"of course, what are you waiting for?" you roll your eyes at his shamelessness, frustration melting away without you intending for it to. you're kind of shy, but his presence is so comforting, it's like you've known him for years, so you dare to say your next words without much thought.

"you, smartass." he looks a little appalled at your words but he registers it as a joke when he notices the corner of your lips struggling not to pull themselves up, eyes gazing mischievously from beneath your eyelashes. not for the first time, he thinks you're really pretty. but he, not for the first time, says nothing.

after a few meet ups, you realize being with beomgyu is easier than you thought it would be. sure, he's incredibly obnoxious, but he's surprisingly easy to talk to. he invites you to his apartment one day and, as if he senses your apprehension before you can even feel it yourself, he states his roommate will be there as well. you try not to read too much into it, but you have a feeling he's implying that he won't make any moves on you. you're grateful for this, but unexpectedly a bit disappointed. as for why that is, you don't venture to guess.

being in his apartment is a new feeling entirely. it feels oddly... intimate somehow when you enter his bedroom and see all of his posters, his messy bed, and some vinyls stacked up against his record player. he nonchalantly puts one on and you gasp when you recognize the song.

"i love this band," you say quickly. his eyebrows raise in interest.

"you like them too?"

"of course i do! i've loved them since i was a teenager," you laugh.

"do you like their newer stuff?"

you wrinkle your nose a little bit at this, your answer evident. he laughs his signature squeaky laugh at this and you can't help but stare in awe at his dimples, like whiskers, appearing on his cheeks. you clear your throat awkwardly and begin to talk about the project.

after a few hours and some really great progress, you find you're a little hungry. you're about to mention this, but beomgyu beats you to the punch.

"i'm starving. want pizza?" you smile when you realize you're on the exact same page.

"thought you'd never ask."

you're sitting on his couch now, wolfing down your third piece of pizza while beomgyu slurps the cheese off of his. he's talking about absolutely nothing, but he's still easily drawing more and more laughter out of you with his antics. you tell him to stop because you hate your laugh, but he's addicted to the sound. he wants to keep you laughing. words like "always" and "forever" briefly flicker across his mind, and usually he would force them out with conviction, but he's having such a good time hearing you giggle he can't pay attention to much else. he never says it or gives any indication he feels that way, though. he just tells you "i can't help that i'm so fucking funny and charming and beautiful." you lightly smack the back of his head and he's giggling with you.

things are going remarkably well when his roommate emerges from his room and says a few of his friends will be coming over soon. you don't particularly want to hang around them and you certainly don't want to overstay your welcome, but beomgyu, for reasons unknown, insists that you stick around.

"we can just relax for a bit then get back to work. c'mon, don't you wanna finish this thing?"

"fine, fine, fine. i'll stay." his face lights up at your words and you can't help but blush a little bit at this. why he's so excited, you have no clue. what you also don't know is he has no idea why he's so excited, either.

a few minutes later, a few guys enter the apartment boisterously and you can't help but internally regret sticking around. beomgyu, almost preternaturally, senses how uncomfortable you are and makes an effort to introduce you and include you in conversation. things are going well until one of the guys, whose name you don't know but whose face seems vaguely familiar, makes an offhanded comment.

"y'know, gyu, she's actually very smart. maybe you'll actually pass." the entire group bursts into laughter and joke about his supposed stupidity and laziness.

"he's actually very helpful. i couldn't do this without him," you counter with a little edge to your voice.

"maybe you're not deadweight after all," he says sarcastically. beomgyu just smirks and goes along with it. to the untrained eye, he seems perfectly fine, but to you, he just looks kind of sad. you pull out your phone and decide to text him.

you don't have to laugh if you don't think it's funny

he looks up at you and you nod encouragingly.

it's fine i really am kinda dumb

don't say things you don't mean. you're not their dancing monkey here to entertain them and you're not a fucking punching bag

his heart feels a little sour at this. how did you know he was hurt by their comments, no matter how seemingly harmless they were? even his own friends didn't seem to notice, but somehow, you did. you always seem to notice the little changes within him. like when he's tired and doesn't want to show it, you offer to take breaks or meet another day. or when he's stressed out so you try to wrangle even the smallest of smiles out of him — real ones, that is. he wants to say you're just a thoughtful and perceptive person, but in reality, he thinks it's a little more complicated than that.

it's beomgyu's birthday, which should be a happy occasion, but for some reason, you feel like shit. you wonder if it's a mix of anxiety because of the project or maybe because your time in college is coming to the end, but it feels so much more profound than that. you woke up this morning from a fitful sleep and it feels like there's a hole blown through your heart. if you feel like shit, you don't look much better, but you have to meet with beomgyu at his apartment and you can't be late.

"whoa, you look absolutely awful," he muses when he opens the door and sees you with two appalling dark circles under your eyes.

"wow, thanks, asshole," you mumble. you did, indeed, look and feel like utter shit, but being here seems to bring a sense of relief you did not anticipate.

"hey, i'm just kidding, you look pretty," he laughs. he's been saying things like this, lately. you can't deny the way your heart skips a beat, but you shoot down any further thoughts because you know, know, know he sleeps around and you know that seemingly off-the-cuff comments like this are probably part of the reason why he's able to do so as easily as he does. you're not to be trifled with, though, so instead of letting the comment fly off your back as you usually would, your mouth opens before you know it.

"not as pretty as you, beoms," you smirk. you don't know exactly what you expected, but his ears turning a rosy pink isn't it.

"o-okay," he says sheepishly, clearing his throat. you find him criminally endearing in this moment, and for once, you don't mentally slap yourself for it.

"oh yeah. happy birthday!" you say, pulling out a cupcake and decisively putting an end to the awkwardness.

"thanks," he says with a smile before eyeing you suspiciously. "is this poisoned?"

"give it back," you say monotonously and he giggles when you try to snatch it away from him.

"hey, i'm just kidding! thank you!" he says as he takes a bite and his eyes widen in surprise.

"mmm, how'd you know this flavor's my favorite?"

"i dunno, i didn't. i just kinda figured you'd like it," you shrug. you walk towards his coffee table, which is where you all have been working lately, and again he's plagued with the idea that you know him far more deeply than you should.

working with beomgyu usually goes smoothly, but you're exhausted. you're still incredibly sad for no reason, but being with him makes you feel less... empty? you would try to put a name to the feeling, but you're too tired to do so at the moment.

"want some coffee?" he asks as he watches you yawn for the umpteenth time since you've been here.

"please," you say sleepily. he smiles and gets up from the floor as you bury your head in your hands.

beomgyu has been in a relatively good mood since you've been here, and not just because it's his birthday. he can't explain why, but his mouth has pretty much been etched into a curve ever since you got here. he catches a glimpse of his smiling face in the mirror of his living room before opting to fix his hair a little, mindful of how he looks in front of you. when he does this, he feels a rough patch of skin behind his right ear. he's confused when he runs his fingers over it and feels grooves and lines where there shouldn't be.

he quickly pulls out his phone and takes a picture. what he sees horrifies him. a seal. it's pink and delicate, but has a complicated pattern he couldn't even begin to replicate. the day he's been dreading for years has finally come. he stares at the picture before shaking his head and ruffling his hair to cover it again. no. this changes nothing. he won't let this ruin his day — his life.

he moves to the kitchen and begins to prepare your coffee. when he reenters the living room, he hears you lightly snoring with your head resting on the coffee table. he smiles in spite of himself and places the coffee down. he wants to say you look peaceful, but your eyebrows are furrowed like there's something you can't quite figure out.

he chuckles softly to himself before subconsciously pushing your hair out of your face and behind your ear. that's when he sees it. pink like a blooming flower and as complicated in its pattern as the one on his head. he hurriedly pulls his phone out and compares the picture of his seal to the one behind your ear. he already knows, but he has to be completely sure. he's not surprised in the slightest when he comes to the conclusion that they are, indeed, the same.

when you awaken, you feel a pit in your stomach and you're genuinely on the verge of tears. someone would think you'd had a nightmare, but you hadn't. you're stuck in a whirlwind of emotions when you're snapped away from them by a soft baritone voice.

"you awake?" beomgyu asks.

"shit, i'm sorry!" you exclaim, wiping the drool off of your face and straightening up your hair. "how long has it been?"

"i dunno, an hour or two?" he says nonchalantly. you sense some resentment in his tone and you feel beyond apologetic.

"god, i'm so sorry. let's just finish this really quick and i'll get going. i'm sure you want to be done with this and celebrate your birthday," you say embarrassedly.

"i already finished it," he says, and even through your sleepiness, you feel his disdain.

"you... finished it? alone?"

"why? do you think i'm not capable of doing it by myself?"

"no! not at all! i just feel bad that you had to do it alone," you exclaim.

"well, it's done. so you can leave now," he says, not without urgency.

"leave? but i —" but what? but i wanted to spend more time with you? that doesn't sound right, but that's what you feel.

"you can leave now," he repeats with disgust that you can't quite understand.

"o-okay. i'll get my stuff and go, but shouldn't we review everything together just in case?"

"i have plans, so no," he says firmly. you have no idea why he's so angry. you want to say it's because he had to finish the project alone while you were knocked out and drooling on his coffee table, but it feels much deeper than that.

"thanks for finishing everything. again, i'm so sorry," you say as you gather your things and head for the door. beomgyu is ready to shut the door behind you when you look back to him and softly say "happy birthday, beoms." and the door slams shut.

when you get home, the first thing you do is cry. the pain in your heart is suffocating. you so badly want to know what it is that's causing this seemingly out of nowhere pain, but you can't put your finger on it to save your life. you decide to shower and have another good cry. after you shower, you look in the mirror as you twist your hair up in a towel. your fingertips rub against a rough patch behind your ear when you do so and you're stunned before you register what it is. you take a picture to get a better look at it, but you already kinda know what to expect: a seal.

it's more beautiful than you imagined it'd be, but instead of joy, all you feel is dread. but why? a seal is a happy thing. you should feel relieved to finally have it on you and he should, too. you ponder over this and come to the conclusion that it's not your pain you're feeling, but your soulmate's. you've heard about soulmates feeling each other's emotions before, though it was somewhat rare. the question is: why is he so sad? you don't know how, but you instinctively know it has to do with the seal appearing and it makes you drop to the bathroom floor in tears. this isn't how you wanted it to be. you clutch your chest, willing your heart to stop pounding so hard, but it doesn't.

beomgyu has been avoiding you, that much is clear. as to why that is, you have no idea. he used to greet you and strike up conversation, project be damned. you want to think about this more, but the depression you feel makes it hard to think clearly about, well, anything, really. you feel an emptiness you've never known before, and you can't help but feel like being with him would make it better. in a way, you're glad he finished the project alone because you're sure you wouldn't have been able to be much help at all.

when you walk into the class you share, his absence puts you at a loss you don't understand. you remember that soobin is yeonjun's partner and ask him if he knows anything about beomgyu's whereabouts. he shakes his head.

"i don't know the details, but yeonjun said he's been bummed ever since he got his seal." ever since he got his seal? that means he must have gotten it recently, just like you. the cogs in your brain start to turn and you feel the dread in your stomach again.

"why?” you ask tentatively.

"i dunno. i think he might not like his soulmate, but he won't talk about it any more than that," he shrugs. "hey, are you okay?"

you nod before touching the seal behind your ear. you feel another pang in your heart. what if... what if he has the same seal? what if... beomgyu is your soulmate?

after class, you practically sprint out of the room and to beomgyu's apartment. you pound on his door impatiently and when he doesn't answer, you pound even louder.

"what are you doing here?" he hisses when he swings the door open. you flinch a little, but you're determined to get some answers. you falter when you notice a girl, haphazardly dressed, appearing from behind him.

"who's this, beomie?" she says, voice silky smooth.

"kick rocks," he says simply. she shrugs and makes her way past you while fiddling with her clothes. you don't have to guess what they just got finished doing, and it hurts, hurts, hurts.

"who's that?" you say, eyes glassy.

"what are you doing here?" he asks again, actually a little embarrassed, but never showing an ounce of it. you storm into his apartment and he shuts the door behind you.

"show me your seal," you say determinedly.

"what? no," he answers defensively.

you reach for his long hair to lightly tuck it behind his pierced ears. he wants to stop you, but he can't bear the thought of batting away your hand. he hears you inhale a sharp breath as you see the pink seal behind his ear and he feels his chest becoming heavier and heavier.

"how long have you known?"

"since my birthday," he answers after a slight pause.

"and when were you gonna tell me?"

"probably never," he says truthfully. your hand drops to your side and he subconsciously misses the way your touch felt.

"why?"

"because... because i don't want a soulmate."

"what's so bad about me?" you ask as your lips tremble.

"it's not just you," he sighs. "i've never wanted a soulmate."

"then what's so bad about soulmates?"

"i just don't want one and you can't make me," he snaps and you wince, so he tries again. "look, you're a nice girl and everything, but it's never gonna happen between us, so you need to stop trying."

"even without the seal, i'd still have feelings for you." he looks a little taken aback by this, as if he never expected to hear those words from you or anyone, really, and it makes your heart ache. "can't you just give me a chance?" you look so earnest right now, but he's almost sadistically dedicated to squashing the sprout of hope that is almost certainly peeking out of you right now.

"no, i can't. you're not my type at all. if we weren't soulmates i'd never even look at you." he's lying but if he's not cruel now, he knows you'll never let go.

"but we are soulmates and you are looking at me right now."

"for god's sake, you're not hearing what i'm saying. i will never love you, alright? i tried to be nice about it but you keep pushing me. you look fucking pathetic right now."

your frown deepens, eyes reddened and hot. as a last ditch effort, you hurriedly say your next words.

"i can feel your pain," you whisper and his eyes widen. "i know you feel it every day. i know you're empty and you need somebody — why can't i be that person? i-i'll be whatever you need me to be." you've taken your heart and served it on a silver platter. all he has to do is hold it.

"because you're not what i need! you're not even what i want!"

the silence that follows will haunt him for the rest of his life. you look so small right now, so fragile. he almost wants to take everything back, but he remembers what soulmates mean and what they can do to a person. he looks at how vulnerable you are, how your heart is bleeding in front of him and how easily he can and will break it. he never wants to give anyone that power over him. no fucking way.

"i can feel your pain," you try again, and before he can reply you continue. "can you at least feel mine?" you look absolutely devastated with your eyebrows furrowed pleadingly, sobs racking your body. you look like you're going to be sick.

"i can't and i don't wanna," he answers flippantly with a shrug and a lopsided smile. "that's how much you mean to me." he knows exactly what to say and how to say it, the way only somebody who really knows you ever can. it's the final nail in the coffin for you. you will lock your heart for him in it and bury it as deep as it'll go.

"i've been waiting for you, you know? always. always." your eyes trail down to his hastily thrown on shirt and hickeys adorning his neck. at this, his jaw clenches and his eyes actually close in shame. you're not sure where your pain ends and his begins, but for the first time, you don't really care. a burning rage fills your heart and your dignity demands to be taken seriously for the first time. you're a doormat, sure, but you won't be anymore. not for him, anyway.

"i don't want to see you anymore. don't you ever fucking talk to me again," you finish and with a spin on your heel you're sprinting towards the door.

you are true to your word. when you walk into class after the entire debacle, you don't even spare him a glance. even if you can feel his gaze on you, you remain perfectly unfazed. he asked for this, he thinks. it's the way it should be. still, nothing really consoles him when he sees how tired you look. he can't feel your pain, but he can very well see it, and he wishes he could take it away. he regrets what he said to you, but he knows you'd never give up if he had given you even a sliver of a way out.

you're a good girl, though. a lot of people will come your way if you'll just let them. he feels a pang in his chest when he thinks about what they'll be like. he doesn't like to imagine it very much, but his thoughts wander that way more than he'd like to admit. he can't fathom anyone being good enough for you, really. especially not him.

do you feel the way he hates himself for the way he has to treat you? he doesn't know for sure, but he's pretty convinced when he sees you put your head in your hands, shoulders shaking. soobin quietly asks if you're alright before you bolt out of the room.

it's an end of the year house party thrown by soobin's new friend and former project partner, yeonjun. you truly, honest to god, do not want to go, but sumin really wants you to and you feel guilty because you're unsure when you'll see her again after graduation.

you sit almost catatonically as she does your hair and makeup, dressing you as if you're some kind of doll. when she's finished playing dress-up, you have to give credit where it's due. you look like a new person, but you can still feel the rotten old you underneath the shiny veneer, and it doesn't feel very good at all.

you're sitting in a circle, passing a blunt around when someone mentions him. it's innocuous enough, but you still flinch when you hear it. they joke about how he's probably upstairs getting his dick wet with some exchange student who's only here for a semester. you don't think that's true, if only because you can feel the pull and it feels so fucking lonely and isolated there can't possibly be anyone else around him, but it still hurts to hear all the same.

sumin gets blackout drunk fairly quickly, which is nothing new. what is new, however, is how you match her shot for shot and chug for chug. you know in your head that you should stop, but your heart keeps telling you to drown it, drown it, drown it until you can't feel the pull anymore. so you do.

"my god, you're drunk!" yeonjun exclaims when you're literally about to fall over and bust your head open.

"i'm not drunk, you're drunk!" you hiccup. he almost laughs before he sees you grip your stomach and gag. he thinks it's the alcohol, but in reality, you feel the loneliness beomgyu felt dissipating and you can only imagine what he's doing to cope. fuck, you didn't want to feel this.

"c'mon, girl. don't throw up here. let's go to the bathroom." he leads you up the stairs into some shitty bathroom that doesn't even have toilet paper. you kneel in front of the toilet and let yourself go, tears marring your carefully crafted makeup.

yeonjun gently grabs your loose hair and twists it into a makeshift ponytail. when he sweeps the last few strands from behind your ears, he sees it. all pretty and pink, ornate but unassuming. the seal you share with beomgyu.

"oh fuck," he says simply. you're drunk, too drunk, but even you know what he means.

"don't... don't look at it," you hiccup as a fresh wave of tears stream down your cheeks. "i want it gone," you whine, futilely scraping at it with your fingernails. in your head, you know it won't do anything. seals are permanent and even a tattoo couldn't cover it — it'd just resurface. in your aching heart, though, the thought of having beomgyu's matching seal makes you sick and you're willing to do almost anything to get it off of you.

"what the fuck is going on here?" a voice you'd recognize from anywhere emerges from the bathroom doorway. soobin. "what happened to you?!"

he's kneeling down to your level and wiping the mascara from under your eyes. yeonjun is still holding your hair back, so it's only a matter of time before the seal catches soobin's eye. it takes him a second to place where exactly he's seen it before, but once he does he murmurs a simple "oh shit."

you'd laugh at the similar reactions from the two boys if you felt anything other than misery at the moment. soobin grabs a rag from god knows where and wets it to tenderly brush around your lips. yeonjun tactfully lets go of your hair and escapes from the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. you sit in silence.

"you know, this is a really bad time," he begins awkwardly, "but i want to remind you that the seal stuff doesn't matter to me. i know it matters to you right now, and that's okay, but it doesn't have to be that way forever." it takes you a minute to really process what he's saying and understand the implication behind his words. once you finally do, you're shocked to say the very least.

"do you still like me when i'm like this?" you say, mouth agape, tongue still heavy from the vomit.

"i do," he replies simply.

"really?"

"really, really."

beomgyu knew you felt his pain as soon as you said it, but he didn't know to what extent until he hears you sobbing in the bathroom. the walls are paper thin and you're not exactly quiet, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't straining his ears to ensure he's catching every word. and catch every word he does — even the ones you exchange with soobin — the ones that pierce his heart, and yours, apparently, because you wail when you feel it.

being with soobin is simultaneously the hardest and the easiest thing you've ever done. he starts off slowly, as if he's afraid to break you even more than you're already broken. he's patient with you even when you're sad about a certain somebody, and never makes you feel guilty for it.

when you're bawling your eyes out one night and cancel your plans with him, you're surprised to hear a knock on your apartment door, anyway. you look through the peephole and see a familiar figure with a smile on his face. you hurriedly wipe the mascara from under your eyes and pull your hood up to cover your fucked up hair.

"what are you doing here?" you ask once you open the door.

"i was just in the neighborhood and thought you might want some ice cream," he says simply.

you snort. the "neighborhood" in question is a good 20 minutes from his apartment, but you don't ask any questions for fear that he might actually leave.

and so you sit on the living room floor with a movie playing in the background as white noise. you forgo the formalities and both of you are digging into a, frankly, alarmingly large tub of ice cream with nothing but two spoons. he pokes your reddened nose when you eventually start to drift off into space and remember your soulmate doesn't want you. he doesn't ask any questions, either. just boops your nose and you're back to reality and giggling at his childishness.

being with soobin is so easy, so comforting, that when he eventually asks you to be his girlfriend, you say yes.

on graduation day, beomgyu feels an excitement he sincerely did not anticipate. sure, he was happy to graduate, but he had no idea he'd be fucking elated. he has no clue why he's so ridiculously excited when he's honestly not even sure what he'll do after college, but when your name is called to collect your diploma and his heart is racing so fast he feels like it might explode, beomgyu comes to a damning realization: it's not his happiness he's feeling... it's yours.

the revelation is fully enforced when he sees you leaving the stage and hugging soobin. he feels your heart skipping a beat when he watches your fingers lacing with the other man's. he can't quite understand it, but the contentment you feel juxtaposes the sadness brewing inside of him. the sense that something is missing feels more palpable than ever. you walk off with soobin, swinging your interlocked hands while he gently brushes his thumb against your fingers. you don't look beomgyu's way even once, and his eyes start to burn when he realizes that image will forever be seared into his head. he has nobody to blame but himself.

beomgyu can feel your joy now and it makes him sick. he feels the butterflies in your stomach as you slow dance with soobin. feels your first kiss and the thrums of electricity permeating from your lips to your toes. he even feels your excitement before soobin makes love to you for the first time and the pure bliss that comes after. he feels it all and it's enough to make his stomach churn. he wonders if you can still feel his pain, and on some level, he hopes you do. maybe he's selfish, but it would serve as another reminder that he's bound to you and you to him. it doesn't feel like you can, though. how could you be so happy if you felt even a fraction of the weight on his chest? he's drowning every day and you're out playing first comes love then comes marriage with soobin. he's currently looking at your instagram from a burner account (you blocked him on his main) and he's trying to keep his pain tucked carefully behind his ribs, where his heart is, but it's constantly threatening to overcome him. you look different — not bad — just different. you're glowing now, it seems, and your hair is always down. he has a guess as to why that might be, and it pains him to think about it. this must be the yearning everyone, including you, had felt. he supposes he should be happy that you're happy, but he's never claimed to be a good person, and the sight of a picture of you planting a kiss on soobin's cheek is enough to twist the knife in his chest.

notes pt. 2: hi :,) i hope you all liked this one. if not, i'm sorry :,) my pacing is sooo bad but i'm working on it i swear ( ཀ͝ ∧ ཀ͝ ) feedback is always appreciated!! and yes, there will be a part 2.

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