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#I LOVED this art and this fic was stupid fun to write
storm-and-starlight · 2 days ago
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'Cause We're One and the Same
This fic was inspired by this art from @itsrapsodia​ -- I got this scene of the two of them together stuck in my head and ended up writing it! (As a... general sort of trigger warning, Jaskier opens the fic by making a joke about not having a penis; my intention was that he experiences little-to-no bottom dysphoria and being both slightly drunk and around trusted friends, he’s comfy stating that.)
"--and that fucking Valdo Marx," Jaskier says, gesticulating wildly with his thankfully mostly-empty mug, "always sauntering around like he's so much better than everyone else just because he managed to get a court position straight out of Oxenfurt instead of slumming it like the rest of us, and all the rest of-- them," with a peculiar emphasis on the word that Geralt has no clue what it means but Priscilla and Essi clearly do, "acting like they're so much better than us."
Priscilla makes a sharp noise of agreement and sets her glass down on the table with a thunk. "It's like it's all just a contest to them, who can get the most popular song or the biggest royal patronage or--"
"It's a dick-measuring contest, is what it is," Jaskier says with finality, thumping his hands on the table, and Geralt snorts.
"Which you're exempt from?"
"Geralt, darling, I think by virtue of not having a dick--"and his mouth snaps shut, eyes going wide and startled. “Shit.”
Geralt blinks.
"Um," says Priscilla, and then leans over and says in a furious whisper "you haven't told him?!"
"No, I haven't," Jaskier mutters, seeming almost-- shocked, "it never came up, and he can hear you."
Geralt hums to indicate that he can, in fact, hear them both, and turns his gaze on Jaskier. The bard is growing paler by the moment, all the blood draining from his face, and for the first time since they met Geralt can smell-- fear? Just the barest traces of it, overlaid with alcohol and nerves, but it's the first time it's been really, truly, directed at him.
Jaskier's fingers are rattling on the tabletop, off-beat and out of rhythm, and then he shoves himself up and away with far more force than necessary. "I'm-- getting some air. Don't wait up."
"Jaskier--" Geralt says, half-reaching out to him, but Essi puts her hand on his wrist and pushes it back down, firmly, and Priscilla gives him a glare that could curdle milk as Jaskier ducks through the growing crowd inside Three Little Bells. He's had worse glares from Lambert, but there's something about seeing Jaskier so shaken from what seemed to be nothing more than a slip of the tongue that leaves him... unsettled.
He shakes off Essi's arm and rises to go after him, to make sure the bard's okay, but Priscilla catches him by the fabric of his sleeve. "Leave him." He blinks at her, and she levels him with that glare again. "He doesn't need you barging in after he's already said too much," and Geralt looks at her, really looks at her and how much she cares, and dips his head.
"If he comes back, tell him I'll be in the room." She keeps glaring at him, fierce and protective, but very deliberately lets go of his sleeve, and he walks away before he can start to think about-- whatever it was that just happened
~
He's carefully cleaning his steel sword when Jaskier comes stumbling back into the room, still pale-faced but with the scent of alcohol no longer quite so pungent from him. He's sobered up a bit, then, and Geralt very carefully sets the sword to the side, folds his hands in his lap and tries to look as unintimidating as possible. It's late enough that the tavern is quiet now, and he's had plenty of time to think about what he wants to say to the bard. There’s a lot of secrets he hasn’t wanted, or even had the chance to tell, but he’s beginning to think--
Better to see what the bard says first, though.
"Hello, Geralt."
He hums in response, not quite sure how to start... whatever this is. Jaskier closes the door behind him with exaggerated care, and then doesn't move from the middle of the room, scratching at his lute calluses in the familiar nervous gesture, the tension radiating off of him in a cloud. Literally; Geralt can smell it.
"I should probably. Um. Explain."
Geralt nods, and then seeing how Jaskier goes that much paler, huffs and clambers to his feet to haul out the room's single chair. "Sit down before you fall down."
"Ah. Thanks?" It's almost more a question than anything else, but Geralt nods in what he hopes is a reassuring manner and retreats back to the bed.
"Right. So. I should... probably tell you. What I meant by-- by that." Jaskier flounders, hands fluttering wildly through the air, and settles on "I-- I wasn't born a-- a man."
It's only one of the answers Geralt had been prepared to hear, but it settles something reassuring in his gut, that there's more common ground between them than only a few years of shared adventures. "Neither was I."
"I know it's not exactly-- talked about, but I promise you it's very real and I really am a man and if you don’t think that’s true we are going to have-- hang on, what?"
"I wasn't born a man."
Jaskier gapes.
"But you're--" and he flaps his hands in Geralt's general direction, "I mean, you-- I've never seen you-- really?"
"Yes."
"And you're not just saying that to make me feel better, in some twisted... I'm-an-outcast-from-society-and-I-don't-understand-basic-etiquette-like-not-telling-bards-they're-pitchy-to-their-face kind of way?"
Geralt lifts an eyebrow, carefully not commenting on the fact that he had been pitchy, and Jaskier lets out a sound that might be a laugh and might be a sob. "Right, yeah, when do you ever care enough about my feelings to do something like that. Fuck, Geralt, you can't just-- spring that on a fellow. I mean-- gods, here I was worried that you'd be... weird about it, and instead you're--"
"As dickless as you are?"
"Oh, fuck off," but the fear-scent is gone, the color slowly coming back into his cheeks, and he slouches back into his chair in a boneless heap. "Gods. I-- thanks, by the way."
"For what?"
"For... for trusting me, I guess? I mean it can't exactly be the kind of knowledge you want getting out there, what with witchering being... witchering."
Geralt shrugs. His brothers all know, of course, and so did most of the Wolf School before the pogrom -- hard to keep secrets like that with communal bathing, and there were always a few of his kind -- their kind, now -- in every school. "Most people just... assume."
"Right, yes, what with the whole... big grumpy manly... man look you've got going on there. How did you do that, by the way, some kind of potion? Transformation spell?"
"The Trials," Geralt says, trying to hide the flinch that comes with the memory, even after all these years. "They made us all like this."
"Ah," says Jaskier, and falls silent, not quite looking at him, or at anything in particular.
"Are you--" Geralt starts, the dim memory of before the Trials and the horrible sense of not fitting into his own skin surfacing unbidden, and Jaskier must read something in the look on his face because he nearly lunges forward out of his own chair.
"No! No, I'm-- I'm happy, really, Geralt, I promise. Just, uh, teensy bit jealous, you've got the whole--" and he makes another of those flailing gestures that only really manages to indicate where Geralt is in the room rather than anything in particular about him, "muscles and jawline and stubble thing really going for you."
"You can grow a beard too," because he can, he saw it when Jaskier's razor broke in the middle of Kaedwen and he couldn't get a replacement for a week and a half.
"I can!" and Jaskier grins, impossibly wide. "There's a-- a potion, there's a mage in Novigrad that makes it, it's why I'm here, actually, and it's what makes me, well--" and he gestures proudly to himself, to the long trim line of his torso and the shadow of dark stubble on his jaw and Geralt can't stop the half-smile that grows across his face because even though it's been sixty years and more he still remembers the impossible joy of finding a skin that fit.
Jaskier grins back at him, bright and brilliant and throws himself forward to wrap his arms around Geralt's shoulders in an abrupt embrace. Geralt can smell the happiness rising off of him and for once he doesn't stop himself from holding the bard back, because-- There were others like him, at Kaer Morhen, but they all died in the pogrom a long, long time ago and it's been... lonely, since.
"Thanks," Jaskier says, softly.
"For what?"
"For being here," and Geralt only hums and holds him tighter.
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greenorangevioletgrass · 8 months ago
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art imitates life imitates art (t.h.)
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pairing: tom holland x actress!reader
summary: you and tom work on an intimate scene together... and then get intimate together.
word count: 3.5k
warnings: friends to lover, dash of mutual pining, profanities, professionalism lol, smut, so much fluff
notes: i had so much fun writing this! this is probably the fic that closest to my irl experience, especially with the intimate scene and the smut, aaand i hope you enjoy it!
***
Turn nerves into excitement, Tom reminds himself for the twentieth time that morning. Rehearsal days are usually his favorite days-- he loves learning all the stunts and the fight choreography, but today is a different day of rehearsal. Today, Tom Holland will attempt to conquer the toughest choreography of his career to date:
His first ever sex scene.
He’d become fast friends since he met you at your screen tests. He thought you were very lovely --funny and friendly, not to mention very pretty. Getting on with you has been effortlessly pleasant. But unlike Tom, with multi-billion blockbusters under his belt, you mostly dabble on hearty British stages and small independent films. You’ve got all the training he doesn’t have, and it intimidates the hell out of him.
Little does he know, you’re just as intimidated as him. You’d paced around the empty studio, earlier than God, trying to settle your nerves. You are a professional, first and foremost. Nevermind the fact that this is your big break. Nevermind that you will be playing opposite an actor and friend you admire. Nevermind that you would never admit the big crush you’ve had on him since the first time you met.
“Ready for the big day, Tommy?” you grin when he comes into the rehearsal space.
He drops his bag on the side of the room, smiling back at you. “Been dreaming it for days, my love.”
You purse your lower lip at the nickname, but doesn’t miss the butterflies in your stomach at the same time. “Ooh, is it a good dream or a bad dream?”
“I mean…” he frowns deep in thought, swinging his palm unsteady as if saying, ‘eh.’
You give him a friendly jab on the arm just as he hugs you hello, casually kissing you on the cheek. Good thing his face is completely hidden from your sight, otherwise you’ll notice the pink flush taking over his face.
“Alright, lovebirds!” the project’s intimacy coordinator, Julia, bursts into the room. “Shall we get ready?”
This time, he jabs at your arm lightly. “After you, partner.”
Intimacy coordination is a very strategic affair. You, Tom, and Julia gather on one corner to discuss the context of the scene-- what’s going on in the scene, what’s going on in your characters’ heads-, while a couple of crew members bring in a bed to the center of the room, promptly exiting as soon as they finish to give you maximum privacy.
“So, let’s walk through the sequence together.” Julia motions towards the set. “It starts here, yeah?”
The two of you go straight to your marks-- you standing by the foot of the bed and him on the far left side of the room. Shifting on your heels nervously.
“Mm-hm. Owen walks in from here, finds Claire there…” Tom walks over to you, “Hugs her from behind…”
“Now put your arms around her waist like so-- very good. Chin in, at an angle,” Julia instructs.
Tom all but buries his face in your hair and murmurs his line, “I really am sorry.”
You sigh, to calm yourself down more than anything else. It’s supposed to be just a walk-through, but he says it so earnestly that she can’t help but go all in on the scene as well.  “Are you now?”
“Mm-hm,” he sways you side to side, and you let him. “I’m a stupid, arrogant son of a bitch--”
You turn around to face him, annoyed and wordlessly demanding of an answer.
His shoulders sag, and all the playfulness fades away. “I mean it.”
“Hold your gaze, Y/N. Just like that. Excellent.” Julia quietly addresses you, watching very intently from the side. “Tom, do the neck kiss in three, two, one…”
Tom kisses you down your neck --accurate to the count, but no less passionate as a man asking his lover’s forgiveness. In turn, you sigh and tilt your head back, giving him more room for his lips to explore. Your hips roll strategically so it looks like you’re grinding against him.
One, two, three more kisses and Tom finally comes back up for air. Holds your gaze again for the longest time, and then breaks it just as easily.
“And then we kiss and fall into bed and-- you know, shag.”
He chuckles somewhat bashfully, glancing at Julia for help.
“Let’s break it down, shall we?” the older lady smiles very understandingly, and the two of you have never been more grateful to have her around.
Julia is very patient in choreographing every single step, every turn of the head, every movement of your hands. She's a firm believer that actors should have the safe space to explore their emotions in a physically vulnerable act. The chemistry is not magic; it’s trust and comfort carefully built between scene partners.
And you really couldn’t ask for a better scene partner than Tom.
“Excuse me, so is it arm first or the hand down first?” Tom asks, akin to a diligent student --although said student is propped up on top of you, placing one hand lightly on your forearm and the other on the mattress, just inches away from the apex of your legs. You try not to think about it too much.
“That’s right. Remember to go firm on the arm, soft on the hand, yeah?” Julia replies, showing the movements with her hands grasping the air.
“Don’t mind me, I’ll just be down here. Snug and comfy. And a bit noisy.” you throw a thumbs up, making Tom and Julia laugh.
He smiles down at you. “You alright, love? Do you need some air?”
“I’m alright,” you shake your head. “You’re doing great, by the way.”
“Oh, thanks! This isn’t so bad, by the way. With you.”
You squint your eyes outrageously. “Was that meant to be a compliment? That’s the most backhanded shit I’ve ever heard in my life!”
His face falls, but it only makes you laugh. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that. I meant--”
“I know, I know,” you wave him off.
“You’re just--” he let out an exhale, pushing his hair out of his face, “You’re a pro.”
You’d be lying if you weren’t the slightest bit distracted, but you’re more pleased at how respectful he is. And maybe, just maybe, you’re enjoying the view of his eight-pack abs up close too much to complain.
This isn’t your first time rehearsing intimate scenes, but this is definitely Tom’s --he’s mentioned it many times. Of course, it doesn’t feel like it, given how open he is about the whole thing. He’s more than willing to repeat the steps to perfection, and more than okay with being stuck in the most compromising position.
“Let’s run the whole thing one more time, alright?” Julia commands. “Reset and places, please.”
The two of you get ready as you walk to your marks. You casually stretch your limbs, nodding at Tom in acknowledgement, watching him jog and throw punches in the air to get himself hyped up for the scene.
Julia takes one more look at each of you. “Ready? Get into your zone, take a deep breath… and action!”
Tom walks into the ‘bedroom’, his urgent stride halting into softer, more hesitant steps. You’re facing the other way, but you’re listening very closely. Your character’s inner turmoil fills your head, letting it take over your body; sending tension to your jaw and shoulders, turn your breaths slow and seething--
He seizes you from behind and your body seizes up with him for a moment. And then he presses his whole chest against your back and you relax. This is a man that you’ve been with for 5 years. His touch feels like home, and no matter how angry you are at him, you feel naked without it.
Without him.
“I really am sorry,” he murmurs into your hair.
You heavily sigh. “Are you now?” you deadpan, just about done with his antics.
“Mm-hm,” he sways you side-to-side just as choreographed. “I’m just a stupid, arrogant son-of-a-bitch--”
You swiftly turn around, meeting his charming brown eyes with a steely gaze. There comes a point where ‘Owen’ pushes ‘Claire’ just a little too far, and this one is it.
And he gets it. The boyish spirit seems to dim, and all the pretense is gone. “I mean it.”
You search for an answer and wonder if you should forgive him once again. Again and again for the millionth time.
He kisses down your neck one, two, three times in apology, until he’s out of breath. He comes back up for air, searching for the answer in your eyes this time; whether his apology is accepted or not.
Your hand reaches out to his hair, gentle fingers running through his curls. His eyes close at your gentle touch and when they open again, you see nothing but the boy you fell in love with years ago. Earnest, yearning for your love.
“Gently, gently…” Julia comments quietly as the two of you lean in for a kiss. Brief, chaste. As if questioning how much has changed. At the same time, realizing that nothing has.
He deepens the kiss, his hands seemingly aching to touch every inch of you. Cradling your skull, running down your spine, tracing the swell of your hips. You faintly hear Julia signaling the next movement as you make your way towards the bed, and you fall onto the soft mattress.
You crawl back towards the middle of the bed as he undoes his shirt buttons before you. He discards it to the side carelessly and joins you in bed, smoothing his palm on your soft cheek.
“Will we be alright?” he asks so quietly.
“I hope so,” you murmur into his lips, not daring to think of what might happen. Instead, you let the kiss consume you. It drives you to explore the bare plains of his back and unbuckles his belt. Your hands reach out for as much of him as you’re allowed to. As much as you possibly can within your ability.
He pins you down by your restless arm and reaches under your dress to caress your heat --or so he mimes. In reality, he simply tugs down the hem of your dress, covering your modesty and giving you the signal to react.
Your jaw falls open as you look into his lustful eyes. The thought of it all takes your breath away and elicits little whimpers in its place. You wiggle your hips into the mattress for one-two-three-four counts and let him feign entering you, letting a cacophony of filthy moans fill the room.
The choreography makes perfect sense now that you and Tom play it out with the emotion, with the weight of the storyline keeping it well-grounded. This part marks the last time Owen and Claire unite in bed, and it’s the hardest, most soul-baring scene in the entire movie. And as they have discussed time and time again, it’s not about the sex itself; it’s the vulnerability of being together that becomes the heart.
It’s the strangest thing ever. Separated by a throw pillow between your nether areas, you and Tom move your hips in perfect sync as you have rehearsed twenty times before. And yet in this game of pretend, you can feel your heart twisting in ache. You feel your cries grow more hoarse. He presses his forehead against yours and interlaces his fingers with yours as he acts out his release.
A single tear rolls out of your eye as Tom emits a low grunt, his upper body falling on top of you.
“My love…” he whispers into your lips like a plea, voice laced with tears.
The room is silent, and for that long second, you might as well be Claire bidding farewell to her Owen for the last time.
“And cut,” Julia softly, definitively announces.
The two of you let out a shaky breath of relief as you allow yourselves to come back to reality. Tom rolls off of you, but you squeeze his hand in reassurance under the sheets. He smiles, tearful and gleeful at the same time, and it makes your heart swell.
You sit up on the bed and Tom follows suit. “Was that-- was that okay?” you casually ask, all the while wiping tears from your eyes.
“That was… amazing, you guys. Well done!” Julia walks over to give them high-fives, beaming as bright as the sun for her two pupils. “Good job. Let’s gather up for closure and wrap up for the day, okay?”
There’s not much awkwardness with Tom. You work hard together, pour your heart out, and at the end of the day, call it a job well done. It’s that easy, that comfortable. It makes you wonder if you’d be good partners in other regards, too.
“Do you wanna go to Nando’s after this? I’m starving.” he turns to you while he puts his shirt back on.
You chuckle lightly. “Sounds great.”
It’s that easy.
***
A quick trip to Nando’s turns into a mindless drive in search of ice cream on the other side of town, and by the time Tom drops you off at your apartment, it’s well past midnight. Shame, you think, you’d love to hang out with him some more. He’s an incredibly lovely company and he makes working so much more fun than it already is.
“Thanks for the ride, Tommy," you say as you unbuckle your seatbelt. "And the dinner. And the dessert. Wow, that was a pretty complete date. Shall I invite you in for a nightcap?"
He gasps. "Y/N! Scandalous. What kind of gentleman do you think I am?"
"An easy one?"
"Ouch."
She rolls her eyes playfully. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N." he pulls her in for a hug and kiss on the mouth, like it's something you've always done.
It's quick as lightning. You almost don't realize it until it happens. Almost. Hugs and friendly kisses are normal, but your heart skips a beat when his lips find yours. And what's worse is that it feels like you were as ready to kiss him as he was to kiss you.
The music in the car feels quiet in comparison to the rapid heartbeat echoing in your ears. Both of you frozen in place as you realized what you just did. Smiling awkwardly, eyes not knowing where to look, mouth not knowing what to say.
"Shit," he grimaces, "I badly misread the situation, did I?"
You let out a sheepish laugh. "I mean… kind of?"
"I'm so sorry, Y/N, I promise you it won't happen again. You don’t see me like that-- I'll be super professional and--"
His words are cut off, by your lips once more. You kiss him briefly, chastely, much more surely than the first time. It's over as soon as it began, and Tom is just as flabbergasted as earlier-- puppy eyes blown wide, mouth slightly ajar. It turns your nerves into amusement and it puts you a little more at ease.
"I hope I didn't misread the situation?"
He shakes his head vehemently. "Not at all. You hit the nail on the head there."
"Yeah?"
"I've been wanting to kiss you without Julia watching for a while now."
You don't know whether it's the way he admits that, or the strangeness of bringing up their intimacy coordinator, or simply how true it is, but it makes you keel over in laughter. And laughter is the best cure for tension.
And as the tension dies down, you find yourself getting bold.
"Is that the only thing you wanna do without Julia watching?"
"Well, no…" he shyly meets your curious gaze.
You look at your front door and then back at him in consideration. "Do you, uh, wanna come in and tell me all about it?"
His eyebrows shoot up. "Yes, please. Show me the way."
You practically sprint towards the door with Tom on your tail, gingerly grabbing your waist while you unlock the key. You nearly fall over the threshold, but he catches you with his strong hands, pulling you flush against his chest.
"This is familiar," you quip cheekily.
He chuckles. "Shut up."
"Make me."
Tom twirls you around and kisses you, much like the scene you were working on earlier. There's just no choreography this time. No repeatable steps. Just two off-duty actors stumbling around a real, lived-in hallway in a mess of tangled lips and limbs.
"Left, left, left. My bedroom's on the--"
"--Left, got it." He hums as he follows you in.
The muscle memory of smoothly unbuttoning his shirt seems to escape Tom completely, although your eager fingers seem to be a great help. His hand seems to crave your soft curves more than they have any desire to get out of his restricting clothes.
"Tommy…" you whine, “My dress. I--”
He lets go of you just enough to pull it off over your head, fully planning to pull you back in to kiss you some more, but he finds himself awestruck at the sight before him.
“Holy shit, Y/N, you’re stunning,” he breathes out, reaching for the swell of your ass. Giving it a light squeeze as he licks and bites your neck. “Is this okay?”
“More than okay-- fuck me,” you groan out as he sucks a particularly nasty hickey.
He pauses. “I mean, since you asked nicely?”
You share an easy smile with Tom, and it feels almost… normal. Routine. Domestic. You go to one side of the bed, unclipping the bra hook and shimmying out of your panties; Tom to the other side, kicking off his shoes and taking off his sweatpants and boxers, revealing his beautiful cock curving upwards. You fall into bed nearly in unison, all too glad to be united again.
The kiss is laden with familiarity, even though it’s unlike any other instances you’ve ever kissed. You’re both overcome with lustful curiosity that drives the need to taste each other’s bare skin. Tom laps at your hardened nipple and twists the other with his fingers, eliciting a quiet moan to escape your lips.
“Been wanting to know how you really sound, too,” he muses, doing it all over again so he hears more of your sweet noise.
“Mm, that’s funny. I’ve been thinking about your hand between my legs all day.”
“Really now?”
You nod, daring him to do it. And God, he doesn’t disappoint.
He licks his fingers wet and reaches down right where you want him, a featherlight touch on your glistening lips. His Adam’s apple bobs as he parts your folds, warm, wet, and so damn inviting.
“Fuck’s sake, Tommy.” your hips buck into his fingers, drawing tantalizing patterns on your swollen clit.
“You’re so fucking wet, love. Fucking hell,” he curses out. He slides a digit into your silky cavern, stroking and stretching you out for another.
Your body feels like it’s been strung up and unwound at the same time. Tom’s filthy, open mouth kisses keeps you grounded, but the unhurried draws and plunges of his fingers pushes you further and further into a blissful state. Before you know it, you’re coming all over his hand with his name repeating on your mouth like a praise.
And still he doesn’t stop. He quickens his ministrations and watches in amazement as you writhe and shake underneath him. The praise turns into whines and pleas in a frenzy, and you’re aching for and from him in the most delicious ways possible.
“Tommy, stop.” you weakly push his hand away.
“Was that too much?” he seems to come back to being sweet and caring, and it makes you want him even more.
“That was amazing. But I want you now.” you drawl. “Condom; side drawer.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. You can see how hard his cock is and how it stirs as he tears the foil packet open, rolling it onto his length. He couldn’t resist giving himself a few strokes while he watches you open your legs wider for him and him alone.
You let out a shuddery sigh in sync as he enters you, the stretch makes your core shake and ache for more. Your arms hold him close, willing him to stay where he is while you get used to his size. And he’s all too glad to be encased in you like this.
“My love…” Tom gazes at you softly, cupping your face for a tender kiss.
You blush at the use of endearment. It’s what his character calls hers in a moment of sheer vulnerability. It somehow fits them perfectly right then and there, in a completely different way. So pure, so full of wonder. Like he can’t believe you’re real.
And here you are, life imitating art as you move in imperfect harmony, basking in the worldly pleasure of each other. Fingers woven together. Sweaty limbs entangled in one another. The waves of pleasure ebbs and flows with every thrust until release washes over.
Tom falls on top of you, and you embrace him even tighter.
“Hey, Tommy?”
“Yeah?”
“You were right,” you admit, “This isn’t so bad. With you.”
His shoulders shake in soundless laughter. “Thanks, Y/N. Appreciate the backhanded compliment. A lot.”
******
Tagging my taglist and lovely moots who might be interested 💕 do like and comment and reblog and enjoy!!! 💞
@calltothewild @rebekkah4766 @galaxystern08 @the-panwitch @spiderbibby @angel-holland @averyfosterthoughts @u-rrose @clara-licht @tommysparker @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @crazyshitinmontreal @tonguetiedholland @quaksonhehe @spxder-bxcky @agirlwithpointlessideas @serendipitous-amor @sovereignparker @geminiparkers @marshxx @keenmarvellover @holland-styles @hazardosterfield @mischiefmanaged011 @parker-hollandx @slytherin-chaser @dummiesshort @dreamabovetheclouds-blog @marvelhoesworld @miraclesoflove @unicorn-princess-1999 @moonphoric @peterspideysstuff @lmaotshollandd @oh-whatabeautiful-parker @musicalkeys @more-like-reyna @marvelouspeterparker @allegra-writes @fancyxparker @spideyspeaches @duskholland @pensivepeter ​ @hotforharrison @shipping-not-sailing @hollandsrecs @rosee-eemma @terrifictomholland
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h2bakugou · 4 months ago
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Could I have a fic or situation where 1-A was hosting a play and it was sleepy beauty? With Bakugo being the Prince and reader being the sleeping princess? I thought it be cute!
a/n: yes yes yes! this is really cute omg im so sorry it took me forever to write this but i hope you enjoy it hun!!
summary: the play was a class project, one for some short school arts festival. the play chosen was sleeping beauty, one that stared you as the princess, and bakugou as the prince.
key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk
warnings: swearing, fluff, some slight competitive nature with class b (i do love them im so sorry for the slander)
word count: 1.9k
;cut for length;
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"The school arts festival starts in three weeks. By the end of the week, you'll need to come up with some sort of arts-related project to present as a class." Aizawa stated, handing out small stacks of papers to each of the students at the front of the rows to pass back.
"Another festival?" Kaminari piped up.
"This festival focuses mainly on the arts. You'll have to pick something related to it. No superhero quizzes." Aizawa's gaze drifts to Midoriya.
You begin to feel giddy and excited. The last festival was amazing, the singing, the dancing, hearing the crowd cheer. It was so much fun.
"Let's start coming up with ideas." Iida suggested, ready to stand up at the board and write the ideas down.
"You have twenty minutes." Aizawa sunk down into his sleeping bag and closed his eyes, zipping it up before rolling toward the corner of the room.
"We should do another song!" Mina suggested.
"Or some sort of like mural painting through a song." Kirishima added.
"What about a play?" You suggested. A few heads turned toward you.
"I mean Class B did one and almost beat us in ratings. Think we should show 'em how it's done?" You tease, earning a few scattered cheers.
"I think a play could be lots of fun!" Uraraka agreed, as well as a few others. After listing off some more ideas, the play seemed to be the most popular, outvoting Kaminari's idea to do a maid-cafe-art show.
So after deciding fairly quickly, it left you with plenty of time to get started.
You had all settled on Sleeping Beauty, something that everyone had some sort of role in.
Though through some small auditions, you landed the role of the sleeping princess, and Bakugou, who had originally stated he didn't want to be in the play and rather help on the set, the class thought he would make a good prince.
After the first week of script-reading and assembling the set, you'd practiced enough to no longer need your script at all.
Bakugou, on the other hand, was a little ignorant. He'd practiced his lines over and over again in his room and memorized them within the first three days.
However, he'd pulled you aside on day four and made some rules.
"Listen up dumbass. Just 'cause we're playing some prince and princess don't mean shit." Bakugou stared into your soul, making you feel small under his gaze.
"It's just a play, it's not like they think we're together." You say quietly. Bakugou shook his head.
"It has to be believable idiot! We get married at the end of the fucking play. If I'm gonna be in this stupid thing I'm gonna give it my all." And with that, he walked away, leaving you a bit flustered.
When rehearsals for the kissing scene came up, you were nervous. Not because you had to kiss someone, but because you'd never kissed anyone at all before.
And to do it in front of your classmates, it felt sort of awkward. Maybe even embarrassing if you did it wrong.
"Alright, places!" Sero called from offset, allowing everyone to fall into their set places, you laying on the 'bed' closing your eyes.
"Action!" Sero called.
Bakugou began his role, acting as the prince who was climbing the tower to get to you, the sleeping princess.
You held your breath as he leaned over you, blocking your face from everyone else. You froze as you felt his breath hit against your lips. You jerked away.
"What are you doing?" He hissed quietly.
"You-your breath stinks!" You lie quietly, feeling terrible for making him feel bad. He raises a hand over his mouth and groans, lurching back from you, raising an arm to Sero.
"Cut! What's going on?" Sero asked, a little upset that he didn't actually get to see the two of you kiss. He wanted to tease Bakugou about it.
"I'm taking five." Bakugou wandered off stage, leaving you on the bed, sitting up.
"M-Me too!" You shouted, running off in the same direction.
You'd been practicing in your regular clothes for a while, but dress rehearsals were in a few days.
You got some cool water and splashed it on your face in the bathroom, wiping it all off with a paper towel before staring in the mirror at yourself.
Quickly checking to make sure your breath didn't stink, you were thankful to find it didn't. You felt horrible for possibly embarrassing Bakugou, if it were even possible to do such a thing.
Returning back to the set, you spoke with Shoji, one of the lead costume designers.
"Do I really have to kiss him?" You asked quietly. Shoji's hands stopped measuring your shoulders.
"I suppose not, not if you're not comfortable, I'm sure there's another alternative. Blocking the view would work like how you just rehearsed." Shoji tilted his head to the side.
"It's a little too late to switch leads, though if you're not comfortable, I believe Momo was the one who asked to be your understudy. She's memorized the lines while working on costumes and set design." Shoji spoke softly, understanding that you most likely didn't want the entire set to hear your conversation.
"Thanks." You nodded, walking back to the stage, feeling a little less on edge.
When Bakugou returned, you wanted to pull him aside and apologize, but you got back into your position and waiting for Sero's directions.
It didn't help that your small crush on Bakugou had now festered and grown even more. Doing this might've all been a bad idea, and it was going to result in you most likely locking lips with the explosive blonde in front of a crowd.
"Alright places everyone! Bakugou, (Y/n), let's try not to block the audience's view of the kiss, we want this to be believable! We need the good ratings or Class B wins." Sero encourages Bakugou to not block the view of the kiss from everyone. And now you feel worse.
"Action!" He calls again, awaiting Bakugou, you can hear his footsteps as he approaches, this time he's on the opposite side of you.
Everyone sits in anticipation as he lowers his head down toward yours, his breath, now overwhelmingly minty, ghosting over your lips. You jolt away once more stumbling out of the bed before running off.
"Cut!?" Sero pointed in the direction of where you'd run off.
"I'll handle this." Bakugou groaned. Chasing after you, he found you sitting back in the empty classroom.
"What's going on with you?" Bakugou's loud voice scared you. Lifting your head off of your desk, you peeked over your arm, laying your head back down.
"I just need a few minutes, I'm not feeling good." You lied.
"Bullshit." Bakugou closed the door behind him as he entered the classroom, walking over to you. You wished he would leave and let you be, but you knew he was smart and that he'd probably figured out something was wrong.
"What's your fuckin' deal?" Bakugou's voice was right in front of you now. Refusing to lift your head and look at him, you clenched your fists.
"I-"
"You what?!" Bakugou growled.
"I've never kissed anyone before!" You cried. Refusing to show your face, it had gone silent. Bakugou stood before you, his cheeks turning red.
He'd somehow roped himself into a stupid class play, one that you just so happen to have the lead role in. Admiring you was a challenge at first, refusing to believe that he wanted anything to do with you. But your drive, your passion for heroics, it fired him up.
You were beautiful as well, smart, snarky, but light-hearted and kind. Bakugou waged a war inside him as his own crush on you grew. And now he had to kiss you. And he wanted to, so badly. Desperately. He needed to.
Thinking about being your first kiss made him feel cocky. Your first kiss huh, it was going him. It was going to be him. Not from some stupid boyfriend you might have, or random boy during a cliche game of truth or date.
"Let me kiss you now then." Bakugou spoke quietly, watching you lift your head up.
"Wha-"
"Just shut up and come here. You're thinking too much about it, it's making you nervous. Do you not want to kiss me?" Bakugou questioned, asking for your consent.
"No, I do! I just..." You trailed off, standing up as you moved toward him.
"I'm just worried that I'm gonna mess up and embarrass you on stage or something-"
"Shut up." He cupped your cheek, silencing you as you stared up at him nervously.
"It's just a kiss. Just follow me, it's not rocket science dumbass." He pulled your face toward his, slowly leaning in, his eyes flicking to yours before closing them, eliminating the gap between you and him.
His lips were soft against yours. Still not sure of yourself, you tried to follow him, moving your lips against his in a similar fashion. It was sweet but oddly wet. His lips tasted like mint, and you could tell he'd brushed his teeth. Recently.
"I lied." You pulled away.
"Your breath didn't-"
"Obviously." Bakugou pulled you back into him, your lips colliding with his again, the motion getting smoother as you leaned back against your desk, his free hand finding home on your hip.
You didn't want to stop. His lips felt so nice against yours, you wanted to kiss him for hours.
He pulled away this time, rubbing his thumb over your lower lip, grinning.
"Feel better now?" He asked, watching you shake your head.
"Yeah." You mumbled. You were obviously flustered, your cheeks were hot and he could probably feel that while his hand rested on them.
"Can you kiss me on stage now?" He asked, heaving a sigh as he moved his hand away, stepping back.
"I can try. It's kind of weird doing it in front of so many-"
"Pretend it's just us. Block them out. Think we're back here in the classroom."
When the day of the play came around, you were excited. Dress rehearsals had gone amazing, and you'd gotten a little better at kissing Bakugou.
But now, as the audience watched, the show slowly going on, it was time for the kiss.
Bakugou made it up the 'tower' and toward you. Moving hair from your face, you tried your hardest not to smile at him. He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.
It was electric, your lips moved against his, probably more than they should've. Though with some restraint, Bakugou pulled away before you sat up, 'awaking' from his kiss.
The play continued until it was over, the curtain call aligned all your classmates in one, all of you bowing as the audience cheered.
After stepping offstage, Bakugou pulled you aside, slamming his lips on yours.
"Be mine, I'm tired of acting." Bakugou groaned, watching as your eyes lit up.
"Yes please." You smiled, hugging him.
The after-party was a success. The dorm was rather alive that night, especially joking about Bakugou being all soft for you with dozens of photos taken of him kissing you.
"Delete them!" He charged after Kaminari, palms sparking.
"Awe Kacchan! Go smooch up on your princess some more!" He teased, dashing toward the couch.
"Shut the fuck up!" He grabbed your hand and pulled you up to his dorm.
"Guess my play was a good idea after all." You teased.
"Yeah. Guess so, princess."
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ditttiii · 8 months ago
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gold rush. || kth {m}
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⇢ summary: kim taehyung is a walking heartbreak waiting to happen. all narrow eyes and long nose and devilish smirks, he is everyone’s dream. after months of sharing an elevator with the man who makes your heart race until you can scarcely breathe when the chance finally comes; are you willing to risk it all for his touch? 
⇢ genre: porn with feelings, soft smut, angst, is unresolved tension and feelings a genre?
⇢ pairing: kim taehyung x reader
⇢ word count: 4.4k
⇢ rating: explicit / 18+
⇢ theme: strangers to lovers, s2l!au
⇢warning/s: public/elevator sex, exhibitionism, fingering, cunnilingus/oral (female receiving), lots of kissing, hickeys, unprotected sex? reader’s on the pill, swearing, tension and so much of it, unresolved-repressed feelings, taehyung is a certified dingus & reader is hopelessly smitten. 
⇢ a/n: betaed by @yeojaa​ who owns my heart and is the most precious bean ever. 
also have all my virtual, socially distanced cuddles @btsmosphere​ @papillonsgf​ @birbdae​ & @unoriginal-username15432​. if it weren’t for their support this wouldn’t be out today. my gratitude knows no bounds ♡ also big thanks to taylor for the fic title.
banner by @chillingkoo​ & moodboard by @today-we-will-survive​​ their art breathed life into this fic ♡ a belated birthday fic for one mr.kim taehyung & the beautiful @kerikaaria​.  this fic is also my submission for @thebtswritersclub​ january monthly project. 
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lastly, i had a lot of fun writing this so i hope you guys enjoy it x 2021 here v go ♡
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You wonder when the shame stopped making you hide behind a curtain of messy bed hair. When the smell of a man's cologne on you and a fruity fragrance on him started to feel normal; routine.
 The elevator closes with a 'ping', and your eyes track the numbers as they descend, the warmth of another human, the soft puffs of his breath, warming your shivering, scantily dressed body.
 "What happened to ‘she’s too old for me?’ " You grunt, slipping off your six inches of agony inducing footwear and pushing them to a corner.
 "What happened to you not being jealous?" You can feel his smirk, oozing of self-assured nonchalance and smugness that would seem ugly on anyone but fits like a well-tailored suit on him. From the corner of your eye, you watch as he leans back, hands resting on the metal railing while his tall, lean body slouches lazily, almost invitingly, and you have to force your eyes away from tracing the curves of his pecs. It's a tempting sight, but you aren't about to give him any more ammo to goad you with. As it is, he already knows too much, is far too keen. 
 "Of your sugar mama? I don't think so."
 Taehyung hums but doesn't refute the statement and the silence between you two stretches on. A burning ball of jealousy in your stomach continues to eat away at your peace, and with a clenched jaw, you allow your head to rest against the cool metal of the elevator and pretend that the proximity doesn't affect you. 
 It's always the same between you two, a constant game of tug and war, where one pulls too firmly, and then the other comes tumbling close until one of you comes back to your senses and then it's back to square one. Back to bickering and recounting the previous night’s escapades of half-truths and lies told from kiss-swollen lips and hooded gazes as you try your best to rile the other one up.
 It's stupid. You are in your twenties and this isn't like you. The lying, the pretence that you are still seeing your ex-boyfriend and biting and sucking your own lip until it swells; until you look properly ravished; none of this is you.
 You should have known the day he first stumbled into the elevator with a half-buttoned shirt and bite marks painted over the pale skin of his neck, a satisfied smirk curled on his dark pink lips, that he wasn't good for you. But no, like the absolute fool that you are, you fell for him. Fell knowing full well he wasn't yours to have, that back then you weren't his to have.
 The elevator comes to a stop with a shudder. Your eyes, closed sometime during the descent, snap open and your feet pause when the sight of the closed doors grace you.
 "You stopped the elevator." It's not a question, not when his hand is still hovering over the stop button, head tilted as his eyes stay trained on you.
 "I did." He admits to a question you never asked.
 Biting back a hiss at his insistence on being difficult, you twist on your heels, lips pulled into a smile whose edges sting like shards of a broken glass and parry, "And why did you do that, pray tell?"
 He doesn't answer, just looks at you with that half-lidded gaze and his silence only infuriates you more, makes the back of your neck feel heated as an angry flush rises from your chest all the way up to your cheeks and with a few angry stomps you’re in Taehyung's space, barely a few inches left between you two.
 "God!" You start, and the anger, the jealousy, the ugly ball of insecurity and lust and something you haven't quite found a name for yet all coagulate and rise up your throat, burning your heart in their wake until you are hurting and seething. “I don’t get you, nor do I want to anymore!" The words tumble out, one after another and half thought out but your chest still burns and the ugly ball still feels scorching hot in your throat and you can't bring yourself to stop, to shut up and think. "Stop doing this. Stop flirting with me and stop looking at me with those hooded eyes of yours and for the love of god, do you really need to lick your lip that often? Why don't you carry a lip balm if your lips are that dry, huh?"
 The cross of your eyes is almost painful, but you have started and fuelled by anger and unreciprocated feelings there’s no stopping your steam. "And now this! Stopping the elevator! What the hell is this supposed to mean?" His lips part as if to answer but without waiting for his response, you plow on, "What! Do you actually have an answer? Really? Let's face it; you think I’m some sort of challenge that needs to be conquered. Another notch on your bedpost. You and your stupid smirks and half-lidded eyes and that damn mole on your nose and god, can you just not—"
 The soft pad of his finger on your lips pauses your rant, leaves them parted and your heart hammering while unsaid words clutter the hollow spaces in your throat, tighten around your vocal cords like a noose until they become their own nemesis. 
 "I broke up with her last night," Taehyung says, and from where you are standing so close to him, his breath on your neck, cheeks, lips is too enchanting, too much like something you had hoped and begged and prayed for far too long now. Breathing out harshly you blink yourself back to reality because you must be hearing him wrong. 
  "Huh?"
 His hand slowly comes up to hold your chin, thumb running over your lower lip with a feather-like touch, "I broke up with her last night, went home and came back early because I didn't want to miss you." He says, and your chest feels tight, palms numb and it's only when his hand gently settles over the nape of your neck and you inhale painfully that you realise that you had stopped breathing.
 "Why?" You rasp out. 
  Don't hope. This means nothing. Do not hope. 
 Something twists in your belly, a thread tightens around your heart, and you know, despite it all, that you are hoping. 
 "Why do you think?" He asks instead, and you stifle the sudden desire to bash his head into a wall. 
 "Don't play games with me." 
 A sigh, his breath dancing on your lips and you barely suppress the tingles that burn down your spine, "I'm not. I don't want to, not anymore." The hand resting around your neck curls, fingers caressing the soft skin behind your ear.
 "What do you want then?" Your words are quiet, hope and longing laced into every syllable that you desperately hope to hide but fail. 
 Your heart hammers into your ribs with so much force you are half afraid it will leave them cracked; splintered just like your love for the man who is touching you, holding your entire heart in the palm of his hands while you wait for it to be crushed. Because it will, it's inevitable. Kim Taehyung is a walking heartbreak waiting to happen. All narrow eyes and long nose and devilish smirks, he is too good. Too good for the woman he was with and certainly too good for you. You would be happy if you looked half as good on your wedding day as he regularly does because he is that gorgeous. And unreal, and pretty and it hurts. 
 It hurts because you can never have him and any second now he will push you away and ridicule you for getting flustered so easily and he will never understand, and god it cuts. It tears at you because despite knowing better, you long for him, his touch, his warmth.
 Maybe even his love. But that is one hope you refuse to acknowledge out loud. 
 Your breaths mingle from where you two are standing so close, and part of you aches to reach out, to pull him closer and wrap yourself around him until you can sync the beat of your heart to his, to nestle your face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in, drown in the scent of that spicy cologne that you associate with him and nobody else. Because it's tempting, oh so inviting and he is so so close.
 You could touch his chest, caress the skin peeking from in between the dip of his low neck shirt and it would be easy, he would let you, you know that too but what about after? How do you come back from holding someone your soul is in love with and then pretend that being with them for one night was enough? How does your hope keep living on in the name of that fragment of love? His arms your shelter for one night and then you are back to being strangers, sharing elevators and bumping into each other at the grocery store, pretending all the while that you do not yearn to visit that one night you spent together whenever your head hits the pillow? 
 "I..." Taehyung struggles, chews the words before his lips form them because this is his last chance and if he loses you now, it's over; he knows that too. The pair of you are done playing cat and mouse. 
 "I know my words don't hold a whole lot of value. I could promise you things, but you won't believe me and that's fair. I get it." He admits, another hand coming up until your face is cradled in his open palms, fingers slipping behind the edges of your ears and you will yourself to not drop your gaze, to look into his eyes and search for...love? Honesty? You wish you could say you know what it is that you are hunting for, but held so close all you can think about is the chestnut brown of his eyes, the black that rims them, the high arched brows and the thin, smooth lips and that mole; that mole that you can only see when you are pressed close, a hair's breadth of space between you two. 
 "But...?" You ask, pray, and yet again, against your better judgement hope.
 "But I love you." He confesses, voice forever rich and deep and you feel the hum of his baritone from where your chest is still pulled tight to his. "My love for you is unlike any I have ever known, and it scared me; it still scares me because I don't know. I don't know what I will do if I ever lose you. I care too much, I—" His grip on you tightens and instinctively your hands snake around his waist, clenching the soft cotton of his shirt, nails biting into your skin as his words thread your hopelessly lovesick heart back together; piece by piece.
 "I love you too much." Taehyung whispers and the ice around your heart thaws, his raw confession lighting a fire in your nerves until you are left buzzing from the high of his admission. "Trust me. Just this once. Please." He is vulnerable in his plea, and for the first time you wonder if you had characterised him wrong. Boxed and stored him like a gift on a shelf without bothering to look underneath the paper wrapping.
 Taehyung doesn't have to beg, he doesn't have to try and persuade anyone, and for all the gibes you threw his way, all the daggered words about him dating only for money, you didn't truly believe any of them. Sure, the woman he had been with for the last few months was older (a voice in your head whispers wiser), but that wasn't because she was, as you would often insist, his 'sugar mama', but instead because their interests aligned. Kim Taehyung is a man of taste, whether it be his fondness for a violin's trill, fascination with modern art, or his love for jazz music. He is an enigma and with no small amount of embarrassment you think back to all the times you have bought a book after he made a passing comment on it, searched the pages and the characters to find some semblance of him.
 Maybe you are pathetic, perhaps you are far too infatuated with this man for it to be healthy. Just maybe...
 "No," Taehyung commands, his voice so determined you’re snapped back to the present, head thrown out of the haze your wandering thoughts had created.
 Seeing your obscure expression and strayed eyes (look away because you can't acknowledge how much he matters), he pushes, one hand sliding down to grip your chin and urge you to look him in the eye. "Don't." 
 Maybe he sees something in your eyes, spots your hidden insecurities, reads you like an open book and dog-ears the pages that hold your weakness. 
 "Don't what?" You deflect, gaze drifting away again as you pretend to not know what he means but secretly long for him to keep pushing, to keep trying—your denial’s a facade to hide all your pleas. 
 "Don't do this to me. To us."  
 "You'll hurt me." You protest, a half-hearted attempt at trying to protect your already doomed heart even as your fingers clench tighter, pull him closer.
 "No, I won't." He speaks with certainty that you don't wholly believe but fuelled by far too much love and longing, you don't protest any further and instead toe closer, rise higher, and breathe in the shaky exhale he lets out when your lips skim the sharp curve of his jaw. 
 "I've wanted this for so long." Unadulterated desire courses through your veins at his admission. Even if Taehyung is lying, even if he leaves you stranded after today, you'll live. You'll live on the high of this moment, the memory of his skin under your touch, the crisp of the cotton draped over his lean torso. 
 It's easier to let go and surrender yourself, easier to lay yourself bare because you have already come too far and there is no protecting yourself anymore—your heart is now his to do with.
 Your hands twine around his waist, slide over the vast expanse of his back like he is yours; as though if you try hard enough, you'll leave an imprint, a sign that he belongs to you. Mark him for the rest of eternity and brand him with your name on his heart. 
 Kissing him is easy, the slight ache of staying on your tippy-toes going by unregistered as you get lost in the sensation of his lips, his sighs on your chin, the tickle of his lashes against the high curve of your cheek. 
 The cradle of his palms around your face is gentle, almost careful, as though you are a porcelain doll and he is afraid one harsh move will leave you splintered. Chest tight, you push down the last remaining traces of hesitation clinging inside your throat and twist to catch his lips instead, licking a long strip from the soft cleft of his chin over to his parted lips, dip into the hollow of his mouth and slide over the soft flesh on the inside before you catch his upper lip in between yours and suck.
 His responding groan has you clenching your thighs and you break the kiss, breathing in to replenish the oxygen that doesn't seem as important when his lips are on yours. When your gaze catches his, for once you don't look away, don't force yourself to stop from swimming in the beautiful, clear pool of his eyes.
 "I love you too." Your admission is quiet, more a careful whisper than anything else, as though any louder and you'll break this spell and things will go back to the way they were. He will come to his senses and realise he doesn't love you after all and then you'll go back to being a pining, lovesick fool, only this time with a broken heart and no hope to cling to.
 His eyes grow soft—gentle in the curve of two crescent moons, and you smile your first real smile, the edges twitching and pulling into a gentle grin before you can bite it down and the answering smile that Taehyung rewards you with has your heart squeezing almost painfully inside your chest.
 "Yeah?" He asks as though he already knows the answer but just wants to hear you say it again, profess your love for him again and you do. You say it again and again, press your lips over every inch of his face and emboss the words onto the smooth, unblemished skin.
 Taking in a shuddering breath, you answer from around the suspended ball of disbelief and love in your throat. "Yeah." 
 When the clothes start coming off it’s a gentle, slow affair, the spaces in between filled with tender touches curious to explore the skin that they had desired for so long and open-mouthed kisses pressing promises of forever and happily ever after onto the naked expanse, leaving goosebumps in their wake.  
 Legs twined around his waist like ivy, you arch off the floor. A tug of your hand and his shirt slips low, and then your mouth is pressing warm, wet, kisses, tongue slipping out and desperately tasting his skin, his sweat— him. You lean back and then he's on you, low, low, low until his lips are close enough to skim the edges of your panties and you buckle, arch and push without meaning to as you ache for relief only he can provide. 
 "You are beautiful. So so beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen." 
 His words are rough, less speech and more growl as he pushes his head closer to your soaking heat and inhales. "Fuck." 
 Breathes turning to hitches, words into gasps, you can scarcely keep your eyes open when he runs a long, slim finger through your folds and circles your wet opening before your walls are pulsing around him, sucking and pulling the finger in as deep as it will go. One and two then three, your cunt can't have enough of his fingers, his heat and him and oh— 
 His lips are velvet against your clit, your body a molten mass of gold moulding itself around his fingers, your sanity and restraint slipping and dripping down onto the carpeted floor from in between the spaces. With the last left strength, you prop yourself onto your elbows and the sight of Taehyung's mouth on your sex is almost enough to send you slipping back down again. His tongue laves across your folds with the desperation of a man parched, caressing every fold, greedily licking away your dripping arousal and moaning out obscenities too vulgar for how early the day is. 
 When you come, it's with a cry that sounds too animalistic to be yours. One that comes from your chest and leaves your back arched like the ends of a boomerang. "Good?" He asks with glistening lips, and you wanna scream, hysterical in your pitch— good? Is there anything better that exists in this world than his lips on you making you come? Again and again, until you can no longer stand the sensitivity? 
 But instead of screaming, or shaking him by his shoulders until it gets through his head, you reply with a spent nod and let your elbows slip. This is what being eaten out by Kim Taehyung feels like. The pleasure coursing through your veins is something far more potent than any you have ever felt before. The blood in your veins thrumming, almost sizzling under the thin layer of your skin. 
 He presses his forehead to yours, rests to catch his breath and with every shuddery inhale you breathe your arousal in, a swipe of your tongue across his glistening lips, and then you can taste it too. It tastes of nothing and yet everything. Coming from his lips, it tastes of what your dreams are built from, like liquified recklessness and yearning and above all —Taehyung. 
 It tastes of him and his smirks and all the kisses you couldn't have and all the kisses you now hope for. 
 His fingers are gentle when they tuck your hair, eyes bright behind the curtain of messy, ink-black strands, "There's a law somewhere that says when you love someone with all your heart, you are unavoidably loved by them as well. Amor ch'a null'amato amar perdona." 
 Your eyes search his, frantically rove all over his face, search the lines under his eyes, pause at the small mole on his nose, and then stop at the sight of the one on his lower lip, the one that your eyes would always drift to every time he'd smirk or grin in the past. Now he's smiling, lips stretched into a soft boxy curve, the mole evident against the edge and you raise a trembling hand, run your thumb across it. Cup his face with both your hands until your vision blurs and then your lips are on his. Locking and licking and your mouth is a leaking faucet of I love you's, hands working to the back of his head and getting lost in those perfectly long, wavy strands. 
 You hope this is the real thing when you wildly take off your dress, rip off his shirt unmindful of the last few buttons that clatter to the floor and undress until the both of you are as bare as you were the day you were born.
 The steel railing is startlingly cold against your rear but before you can wince Taehyung's large hands are on your waist, pulling you closer until all that's on your mind is the feel of him, hard and hot against your dripping heat. His mouth is on your breast, lips sucking marks into the flesh and tying you to him, leaving traces of his presence behind until you can no longer differentiate the ache in your heart from the burn in your belly. 
 Somehow through the haze of want and compulsive need, you collect yourself enough to tell him you're on the pill when he remembers the lack of protection in his wallet, and then he's inside you. The thrust inside is fluid, and you are moaning, keening at your wetness, at how long he is, at how unbearably, entirely full you are. 
 Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, like the last words of a man dying an untimely death, desperate and hurried and like if he takes a second too long he might never get the chance again. The scratch of your nails against his back must hurt, the grip of your heels around his sides must be painful, and still you can't bring yourself to let up; to let go. 
 The air inside becomes humid, reeks of sex and sweat and everything that shouldn't seem so right, and yet does. 
 You come first, hit your peak and crash through it like a ship in a torrential sea, hot and volatile and like something vital that you'll retain even in the afterlife. Taehyung–sweet, sweet Taehyung – helps you ride it out, makes your body sing with the honed practice of a pianist who has spent more decades playing than he can recall. His tongue is on your neck, stroking that one sensitive spot in the hollow of your clavicle while his hand brushes your clit, builds the pleasure and lets it drift, unhurried and soft until you are crying from the overwhelming rightness of it. 
 With a shudder, you finally push his hand away from your quivering heat and bring it to your lips, kiss the bony knuckles and let it rest on your thigh from where he wraps it tight around your waist and drives to chase his own high. 
 Sated you watch Taehyung, catalogue all the features that you had never seen before but up close can. Just in case—just. File them all in a part of your heart where only he resides, a piece you will always come back to, regardless of if the man in your arms chooses to stay or not. You will be selfish with these memories, hoard and treasure them in secrecy until the day you can look back upon them with nothing more than nostalgic fondness. 
 The appearance of a deep furrow on his forehead, between those long arched brows and the breaking rhythm of his thrusts, alerts you to how close he is and you clench. Clench with all the love and devotion you nurture in your heart and hope that somehow it will be enough. If not forever, then at least until you can have your fill, until you can love him for a life's worth and live off on those memories. Live on them like a late mother's half-finished perfume bottle that you take out and sniff on your sorriest days, a push strong enough to keep you going. 
 One more day, then one more and then just one more until you can finally meet him in the afterlife, old and having done all that you had been sent to do. Except for love. You doubt you can ever love like this again. 
 Kissing him after feels like the best kind of heartbreak because you know, somewhere deep in your gut where you house your intuition and insecurities, you know this won't last. 
 Yet you wouldn't take back anything. Your lips form words on Taehyung's shoulder 'i love you so much. i always will', and you tighten your arms around his waist. Anchor him to the present and pray that the defence will be strong enough to keep him with you for a little while more. 
 Just a little.
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a/n: the end is up to your interpretation, you are free to imagine whatever end you’d have liked to see. If you enjoyed reading this please let me know through comments, reblogs, tags or asks. the feedback makes me insanely happy and i love hearing from you guys ♡
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1K notes · View notes
alternateafterthought · 8 months ago
Text
Mother Nature
Ø  Pairing: Tiger Hybrid Hoseok x Lioness Hybrid Reader
Ø  Summary: 
Ø  Genre: Hybrid!au, fluff, smut, heat smut
Ø  Warnings: Smut, nsfw, mild language, unprotected sex (wrap it and stay smart people)
Ø  Word Count: 11k+ 
Ø  A/N: Hey guys… how are you? I hope you are all doing well! So it’s been a really long time since the last time I posted or wrote anything for tumblr!! I understand a lot of you are eagerly waiting for an ARCANE update, and I really am sorry but that series is on a little hiatus for now!! Though I do come with a peace offering, this 11k fic for Hobi was written for a new friend of mine  @scuzmunkie​ a new ARMY!! There isn’t enough Hobi fics out there and I really wanted to welcome her to ARMY with a hybrid fic!! So I really hope she loves it, and I really hope you all love and support this fic as well!!
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Y/N always hated spring, not because of the spike in allergies, or the constant pollen count getting higher and higher. No, it was because every spring she would spark the beginning of heat every month for about a week, sometimes longer.
The longer times were always unassisted and so much worse, the pain she succumbed to when she had to ride out a heat by herself. Those times she did make some type of arrangement with someone, the minute her heat was over, she left. There was no real reason for her to stick around, it was a simple arrangement that normally allowed two friends to not suffer through the painful ritual of spring.
“Hey, kitty.” The deep voice of a certain Tiger hybrid called as he sat down next to Y/N, pushing his nose into her hair in greeting. “You smell good today.”
“Hyung,” Jungkook, the bunny hybrid, slid in across from Y/N with a small smile. “Spring started.”
Taehyung merely nodded, nose in Y/N’s hair for a little longer before sitting back in his own chair, moving his bag in front of him. Like Y/N, Taehyung pulled out his textbooks for their art theory class they had a huge essay coming for. Jungkook, however, leaned back in his chair comfortably, munching away on a bag of chips as his ears flopped around.
“If you’re going to just sit there and eat, the least you could do is get us some coffee.” Y/N looked at the bunny across from her with a small smile.
“I don’t think I need to.” Jungkook smirked at Y/N, watching as her grey ears atop her head flickered, her head tipping to the right in question.
“One large latte with extra cream for the kitty.” Hoseok leaned over Y/N’s shoulder, running his nose through Y/N’s hair. “Also, I got you this, I know you get hungry before heat.”
“Aww, thank you.” Y/N reached her arm up behind her to scratch behind Hoseok’s ears on his head as he nuzzled further into Y/N’s neck. “I definitely like you better than the bunny right now.”
“Glad to see my favourite kitty still loves me.” Hoseok kissed her head before sitting on the other side of her, sitting his own coffee down in front of him. “How’s studying going?”
Y/N answered by taking a large gulp of the milky coffee, only to hear Hoseok laugh quietly at the beautiful Lioness next to him. He easily pulled his own textbooks out, needing to do study on his own classes, already knowing he would have a lot to deal with in the next week or so. Especially from the pheromones breathing off of Y/N at the current moment, Hoseok knew he would have to lock himself away for yet another heat cycle that he would have to watch her go through with someone else.
“You okay?” Y/N’s voice cut through Hoseok’s thoughts, his eyes moving to hers and then down to where her hand touched his own. “Does that pen owe you something?”
Hoseok just kinda laughed, dropping the pen, and holding onto Y/N’s hand that was on his; “Just getting all my stress out now before studying.”
“Pathetic.” Taehyung’s voice interrupted, his eyes on Jungkook who stared in disgust at the pair in front of him.
“I might actually want to study so I don’t get nauseous watching them.” Jungkook threw a chip in his hand back into the bag.
“He always gets weird when she goes into heat.” Taehyung kept talking, making eye contact with Jungkook now, talking as if Y/N and Hoseok weren’t there. “Can’t be a tiger thing, I mean…”
Jungkook nodded as Taehyung pointed to his ears atop his head as if it explained everything, which it did; “Can’t be an alpha thing either.”
Jungkook motioned with his chin to where the rest of their pack walked into the library, Namjoon, their alpha wolf hybrid, held a stack of books before they finally got to their desk. Namjoon took a seat next to Jungkook, taking one look at Y/N and could already smell it on her, nodding once and getting to work on his own studying. Jungkook watched as the more dominate members of their pack, Yoongi, a panther hybrid, and Namjoon, simply smelling Y/N before moving on with their day.
“Must just be a Hoseok thing.” Taehyung concluded as Jin, a bear hybrid, stared at Y/N for all of a second before completely dismissing it.
“What are you guys even talking about?” Y/N finally asked, watching the youngest of their small pack talk as if no one else was around.
“They get weird when it’s exam season.” Hoseok shook his head, finally letting Y/N’s hand go before flipping through his own notes. “Also with your heat coming up, they tend to get a little more…”
“Stupid.” Yoongi offered from across Hoseok, smiling softly at Y/N.
“That’s offensive.” Taehyung whined at the older hybrid.
“Jungkook,” the last of their small pack called, a small dog hybrid named Jimin, called as he walked in.
“Seriously?” Jungkook took one look at Jimin and just knew what he was going to ask. “Can’t you go to her place for the week?”
“Her roommate has already planned for her heat to be there, so I offered our room.” Jimin sat next to Yoongi, picking up Yoongi’s coffee and taking a sip.
“Without asking me… again?” Jungkook looked at the older dog hybrid.
“I’ll let you have the place when you go into rut.” Jimin offered.
“As if you have a choice.” Jungkook sat back in the chair and stared into the older hybrids eyes.
“You’re totally going to regret that, Jiminie.” Y/N laughed as she closed her own books, stretching her arms.
“Well I’d rather lose my bed for Jungkook’s rut then to miss out on the chance to help a certain dog hybrid through her heat.” The dreamy smile that seemed permanent on Jimin’s face only caused Y/N to smile.
“Wow, from that smile alone someone would think you’re in love.” Y/N smiled happily towards him.
“What? I… no… no…” Jimin sounded unconvincing, even to his own ears as he pouted.
“Well, while you try to catch up with yourself, I have to go.” Y/N stood, only to have 7 men turn to stare at her, Hoseok’s hand even reaching out to stop her.
“What? Why?” He rushed, his ears flickering.
“I have to make arrangements.” Y/N smiled towards the handsome hybrid. “I have a test next week and I don’t know if I’ll make it.”
“Oh, right.” Hoseok sat back in his chair, still looking up at Y/N.
“Come by later.” Y/N touched his arm before lifting her bag over her shoulder and the coffee and pastry Hoseok had gotten her. “I want to talk about something.”
“See you then.” Hoseok nodded, smiling as he watched the lioness hybrid walk away from the table and out of the library.
“Still carrying a massive hardon for her then?” Namjoon didn’t even bother to look up from his notebook, instead just speaking.
“What?” Hoseok’s eyes snapped back to his Alpha, staring at the wolf wide eyed. “I don’t…”
“Just ask her on a date, or at least ask to help her with her heat.” Namjoon continued writing, ignoring the confusion on his packmate’s face.
“Or I will.” Taehyung turned to look at Hoseok with a smirk. “It’s always fun spending a heat with a lioness.”
“You know lionesses get really dominate right?” Jungkook laughed a little as he smiled almost too sweetly at his Hyung. “Plus they really like sharing.”
“That’s right,” Yoongi leaned forwards onto the table with a smirk. “Didn’t you spend a heat with Y/N once?”
The growl that surrounded them only caused the boys to smile towards Hoseok, even if every prey in the library whimpered. Namjoon finally looked up from his notes to stare at Hoseok, growling lowly and deeply enough to have Hoseok submit to him. The pack sat for a moment in silence, most of them smirking, but Namjoon keeping his eyes on Hoseok who finally looked away.
“Taehyung, don’t provoke Hoseok so close to mating season.” Namjoon’s eyes shifted to the younger Tiger who bowed his head quickly. “Jungkook, we all know you’d never be able to handle Y/N even on her worst days.” Namjoon looked to the young bunny who sat up a little straighter. “And Hyung, Y/N hasn’t ever spent a heat with any of us, and you more than anyone know why.” Namjoon finally looked back to Hoseok. “Now, you either ask Y/N on a date, or you offer to help her with her heat, and it’s the last we hear about it until next mating season.”
Everyone was so quiet, everyone’s head bowed in submission; “Aww, Joon, you’re so handsome when you get all Alpha on us.”
Jimin’s words only caused the Alpha to blush, resulting in the table to laugh at the younger’s words. Even if he laughed, everyone could see that Hoseok’s mind was completely occupied right now. It was filled solely of the lioness who had plagued his mind ever since he met her nearly 10 years ago.
Later that day, just like he had promised, Hoseok knocked on Y/N’s door, hearing the familiar footsteps. When she opened the door, she pressed her finger to her lips, her phone to her ear, allowing Hoseok to come in. He easily slipped into her apartment, closing the door, and going straight to the fridge, taking out a drink for himself. Hoseok soon followed Y/N’s voice into the living room. He nodded as she kept talking, lifting her feet up to sit on the couch with her, allowing her feet to lay across his thighs.
Hoseok always loved these moments with Y/N, where he could simply sit in her space as they do normal things. He always felt that in these moments there was something so normal about them that it could be something more. As the lioness tail wrapped subconsciously around his wrist, her voice drifting around the room, her sweet scent wafting into his noise.
“Thank you, Professor.” Y/N finally spoke as she hung up the phone.
“One less thing to worry about.” Hoseok ran his fingertips up and down Y/N’s exposed thigh.
“Now, just have to figure out the heat.” Y/N leaned her back against the side of the couch they sat on, closing her eyes.
Hoseok merely nodded, his eyes focused on the tv that was on but muted; “What are you doing about that?”
“I don’t know.” Y/N shrugged, finally looking back up and towards Hoseok. “Do you know anyone who would help me?”
“No options this time?” Hoseok didn’t want to know the answer, even though he asked.
“None that I want.” Y/N smiled slightly at Hoseok.
Hoseok nodded, already knowing that every mating season Y/N would always say the heat partner she chose was by last minute choice. Y/N never told him exactly who it was she wanted to spend her heat with, but apparently, he hadn’t ever spent it with her. Hoseok never liked to hear about it, hear about the woman he was in love with wanted another man to be with her during something as sacred as her heat.
“Hey so I was thinking…” Y/N’s words wondered off, not fully meeting Hoseok’s eyes.
“Hey, what is it? You can tell me anything.” Hoseok tried to reassure Y/N.
“Well I was thinking, did you want to spend heat together?”
Y/N’s words caused Hoseok’s brain to completely stop, it was like a harsh white noise filled his brain. He didn’t think he had heard her right; she didn’t just ask him to help her with her heat?
“What?” Hoseok couldn’t help asking.
“Oh I know, stupid idea right.” Y/N quickly backtracked, shaking her head as she tried to move her legs from Hoseok. “Forget I said anything.”
Hoseok held onto Y/N’s legs a little tighter, not allowing the lioness to get up, but to meet his eyes; “You want to spend heat with me?”
“Well…” Y/N figured; she’d just say it. “Yes. I trust you, more than anyone. I can trust you with my life and it’s getting a little too risky to be spending my heats with people I don’t trust.”
Hoseok nodded in understanding, already knowing that as a female hybrid started to get older, the need, the want to settle down and mate was becoming more. Hoseok had noticed how Y/N was preparing, even if it was subconsciously in her nature to do so, but she was always preparing for her life with her mate. He could tell she was ready for it, to find her mate, start having cubs, building a life with someone who could give her the world.
“What about your mate?” Hoseok had to ask, he had to know if he had a change or not. “You always talk about someone that you never get to be with, shouldn’t you ask that person?”
“Would it make a difference?” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “It’s my heat, right now I need someone I can trust. And I trust you.”
“But you don’t want to mate me. So shouldn’t you find the one you want to mate?” Hoseok broke his own heart saying those words.
“If you don’t want to help me with my heat that’s all you have to say.” Y/N smiled softly, making sure Hoseok knew it was okay.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t, just asking why you don’t wait for…”
Y/N smirked, realising something; “You know nothing about lionesses mating, do you?”
“Um…” Hoseok looked away from Y/N’s eyes, already knowing he knew next to nothing. “Yeah, see I mostly just show up and help where I can.”
Hoseok smiled widely as he listened to Y/N laugh loudly, her head thrown back, her hands holding her stomach. He didn’t like the fact that he didn’t know much about it to be able to help Y/N, but he could make her laugh, and for right now that was okay.
“Wow, I didn’t realise that’s all men knew.” Y/N wiped away a few stray tears that fell as she continued to giggled. “You really need to do research on this stuff, seriously the woman you mate will thank you for it.”
That caused Hoseok to only nod, ‘The woman you mate…’, Hoseok couldn’t just say that it was her. That the woman he wanted to mate, the woman he wanted nothing more than to wake up in the morning to, was her. So he just nodded, the smile on his face not reaching his eyes like it normally did, not as wide either.
“So would you like to just show up and help?” Y/N asked one more time, Hoseok not fully realising how she sounded so nervous.
“Why not?” Hoseok finally jumped at the opportunity, not knowing if it would ever happen again. “All I have to do is show up and help right?”
“Yeah, that’s all you have to do.” Y/N finally leaned back against the arm of the chair, loving the feeling of Hoseok’s hands on her legs. “You should also probably leave me a shirt or two.”
“My shirt? As in the one I’m wearing?” Hoseok dramatically pointed at his chest. “Well, geez Y/N, your heat starts next week, there’s no need to get me naked now.”
“I swear,” Y/N leans over and smacks his shoulder as he laughs. “I just need to familiarize your scent with my heat, you big jerk.”
“Okay, okay…” Hoseok laughed a little, feeling Y/N’s tail wrap around his wrist again as she shook her head, an obvious smile on her face. “I’ll bring you a few tomorrow after my morning class.” He saw the quick flicker of Y/N’s ears and smiled wider. “And you can keep this hoodie I’m wearing now until I bring you more.”
“You’re the best.” Y/N couldn’t help but to lean up and place a soft kiss on Hoseok’s cheek.
Soon enough, Y/N was comfortably leaning against Hoseok’s chest as they binged through an entire season of the newest drama. Hoseok noticed how Y/N would sometimes rub her cheek against his chest, trying to rub her scent onto the hoodie she already knew she was keeping. He didn’t want this to end, Hoseok wanted nothing more than to stay wrapped in Y/N for the next hundred years.
“It’s time for me to go.” Hoseok checked the time on his watch. “I have to be up early for class.”
“Just stay.” Y/N whined softly, digging her nose into his chest. “I’m comfy.”
“Did you want those shirts or not?” Hoseok’s hand came up onto her head, pushing away her hair from her forehead, feeling her nod slightly. “Then I kinda need to go home for the night.”
“Fine.” Y/N sat up on her knees next to Hoseok, her hands going to the bottom of his hoodie. “But I really need this.”
“Just say you want me naked-“
The rest of Hoseok’s sentence was muffled by Y/N dragging the black hoodie over his head, the words soon turning into laughter. Y/N laughed herself as she pulled the material over Hoseok’s head, finally catching his eyes as she leaned over him. For a moment both of them simply sat there, Y/N on her knees next to him and Hoseok looking up at her. The flickering of Hoseok’s ears indicated excitement, maybe even a little nervousness, but Y/N didn’t look into it, only registering the sound of the front door opening.
“Y/N, I’m home.” Y/B/F, a beautiful leopard hybrid, called as she walked in. “Hey, Hoseok.” She called before she even reached the living room, no doubt seeing his shoes.
“Hey.” Hoseok looked over the couch towards the newcomer, pulling Y/N to lean into him.
“What are you two doing?” Y/B/F raised an eyebrow at how the two in front of her sat, holding onto each other.
“Just finished up the drama.” Y/N’s voice was mostly muffled into Hoseok’s chest. “Hoseok was just leaving.”
“He doesn’t look like he was leaving from where I’m standing.” If the smile on her face wasn’t a dead giveaway, then the way her tail and ears moved did. “Well, I’m off to bed. You two have fun trying to decide if Hoseok’s going home tonight or not.”
“Goodnight, Y/B/F.” Hoseok waved as the leopard hybrid swayed up the hall to her own bedroom. “I really do have to go home.”
“I know.” Y/N finally moved to stand up, easily slipping the too large hoodie over her smaller frame. “But I have this so I guess you can go.”
“You’re going to replace me with my own hoodie?” Hoseok pouted, only for Y/N to roll her eyes and help him to stand.
“Come on you big baby.” Y/N started to walked towards the door, Hoseok wrapping himself around her back. “You’ll have to leave now before I make sure you don’t. And that class tomorrow is obviously important to you.”
“Fine.” Hoseok finally detached himself from Y/N, moving to slip his shoes on and move his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow with some more of my clothes.” Hoseok looked at the lioness in front of him, his hoodie drowning her frame in him. “It looks good on you.”
“I know.” Y/N smiled before standing on the tips of her toes to kiss Hoseok’s cheek softly. “And maybe you should do some research on female hybrids heats. Just so you don’t always become some object to help us.”
“I just might.” Hoseok moved to rub his nose against Y/N’s neck, softly biting where her scent glands are, growling deep in his chest a little. “And now your mine for the next 3 weeks at least.”
“3 weeks?” Y/N leaned back to look at the tiger hybrid in front of her.
“Aftercare is very important to me. I’ll need at least an extra week to make sure you’re okay without me.” Hoseok kissed Y/N’s forehead as he walked out the door.
“Maybe you’ll just be the right kitty to take care of a lioness.” Y/N yelled after him into the night air, only for Hoseok to growl playfully at the woman standing at her door.
“You finally ask him?” Y/B/F asked from behind Y/N, who closed and secured the door.
“I’m mostly just glad he agreed at this point.” Y/N smiled, breathing in the scent around her from the hoodie that enveloped her.
“I’m guess you want the apartment next week?” She smiled happily at her friend.
“Could I?” Y/N looked back up at the leopard, following her to where she walked to the bathroom.
“You two have already start to scent the place, not like I can argue with nature.” They laughed a little, Y/N not finding it in herself to be sorry for that little detail.
“You’d be the first to argue with nature.” Y/N smirk as she walked to her bedroom.
“I call first dibs on the apartment next time.” The voice of the leopard followed Y/N as she shut her bedroom door.
When Hoseok finally got to his apartment, he wasn’t surprised to hear his pack already inside and no doubt playing video games. He normally came home to his pack sitting around his apartment where all his roommates and packmates were eating and playing games. So it didn’t take a genius to know that there were a group of people sitting around the living room.
“Hey, Hoseok,” Jin was the first to spot him coming in through the door as Jin walked out from the kitchen, beer in his hand. “You were out there without a jacket?”
Hoseok looked down to the thin shirt and jeans he wore as he toed off his shoes, shrugging; “Not that bad.”
“Are you kidding?” Jin snorted, pointing towards the window with the blinds open. “Storms coming.”
“Oh, he had a hoodie on before he left.” Jimin practically sang from his seat, laid across Yoongi’s lap. “I’m sure he just lost his.”
“Right, lost it at Y/N’s.” Jungkook spoke, even if his eyes were glued to the action of the tv in front of him. “Seriously, Hyung, if she wanted to claim you, you should have stayed with her.”
“Claim me?” Hoseok looked at the youngest, obviously he knew something he didn’t.
“You absolutely reek of Y/N, so much so that I want nothing more than to lock myself away in my room until you leave again.” Jungkook finally looked up at Hoseok, his ears standing tall on his head, his nose twitching. “And that’s just my prey instincts.”
“Do you know nothing of lion mating?” Jin asked from next to Hoseok, pulling his hand back into him and seeming to think twice about touching him.
“Why do people keep asking me that?” Hoseok’s tail whipped behind him, his ears straight on his head.
“Joon?” Jin motioned to Hoseok as he sat next to him, allowing the Alpha to explain.
“Lionesses have the best sense of smell when it comes to mating, they can literally smell if a male is so dominant that he will be able to take care of her and any cubs they have.” Namjoon watched the change of emotions so evident on his friends face. “More likely than not, Y/N can always tell you are a good alpha for her and any future cubs.”
“What?”
“She has asked you to spend her heat with her, right?” Namjoon continued, a small smile on his lips as Hoseok seemed to get a far off, dreamy look on his face before shaking himself out of it.
“How do you know that?” Hoseok folded his arms as he tried not to pout, staring at Namjoon.
“Because the only other male here that’s more dominant than you, is me.” Namjoon smirked now. “And as beautiful as Y/N is, she’s not really my type and I’m not really her type.”
“And canines mate during winter, so right now, you’re the more dominant when it comes to mating.” Jin shook his head at the pack surrounding him, it was a wonder they got this far in life without knowing more about what’s natural to them all.
“I resent that.” Yoongi spoke up, the black ears atop his head flickering as his hand ran through Jimin’s hair.
“You’d have to be the most docile kitty we all know.” Jimin growled softly as Yoongi’s hand scratched behind his ears. “You let Jungkook groom you, not 2 hours ago.”
“Like you all don’t let the kid get away with murder.” Yoongi pouted, only causing laughter and chaos to stir up once again.
“She did ask you though, right?” Namjoon’s quiet voice reached Hoseok’s ears as he sat next to the alpha.
“Yeah, she asked.” Hoseok smiled before looking back up to her. “Said something about wanting to spend it with someone she trusts.”
“Well, now you should make sure to keep her happy.” Namjoon smiled, already knowing just how happy the tiger could make her.
“Trust me, I know.” Hoseok’s smile refused to go away. “I won’t be seeing you guys much tomorrow, after I leave here and my morning class, I’ll be with Y/N. Apparently she needs a few of my things.”
“Take more then you’ll need.” Namjoon commented, only to have Hoseok stare at him confused. “After mating she’ll want to retreat into her den, but she’ll want your scent there too.”
“Seriously how do you know all this?” Hoseok stared in admiration to his alpha.
“I’m literally a Hybrid Med Student, it’s my job to know this stuff.” Namjoon laughed as they watched their small pack continue to play and argue. “I’ve got a book on Lionesses I think would be useful for you. You might want to read it before committing yourself completely to one.”
“I’m already committed, just need more information.” Hoseok smiled widely.
The next day, like promised, Hoseok meet Y/N at a small café on campus, handing her a rather large bag. Y/N looked at the bag for all of a second but then took it from him, the strong scent of Hoseok coming from it was promising to her. The bag was placed between her feet, sitting under her as the two looked towards each other.
“What did you pack in here?” Y/N asked, looking down at the large bag.
“Everything I figured you’d need.” Hoseok merely shrugged, lifting the coffee to his lips quickly. “Also I also figured that during your heat I could just wear those, and they’d end up smelling more like me.”
Y/N smiled towards the hybrid in front of her; “You’ve done some research.”
It was a statement and not a question.
“Namjoon wouldn’t let me go to bed last night until I read like 4 chapters of this lioness book, he gave me.” Hoseok laughed at his alpha’s antics. “It was actually pretty interesting, and I’ve been reading it all morning too.”
“I’m actually kinda proud.” Y/N couldn’t help the small laugh. “I knew I made the right choice to ask you.”
“You trust me, that’s a good enough choice right there.” Hoseok smiled at the lioness before him. “Did you have any classes this afternoon?”
“I have one class at 1:30, after that I’m free. You?” Y/N took a sip of her own coffee, her hands wrapped around the warm cup.
“After this I have work at the studio until around 6 tonight.” Hoseok split the sandwich he had ordered before, giving half to Y/N without a second thought. “You should come after your class. We can have dinner later.”
Y/N couldn’t help the smile on her face at Hoseok subconsciously feeding her, taking care of her; “I’ll text you when I get out of class.”
“Good. Now, eat before I have to go. I already know you forgot breakfast this morning.” Hoseok tried to scold Y/N but it only caused her to smile wider at the hybrid before her.
“I ate…” Y/N pouted, picking up the sandwich.
“Coffee doesn’t count as food.” Y/N could see him debate whether or not to give her the other half as well.
Y/N couldn’t really understand it, Tigers were solidarity creatures by nature, as well as their hybrid counterparts. Yet here was Hoseok, a tiger hybrid and yet he took care of her, of his pack, of anyone he could as a Lion would protect his pride. Y/N had always thought maybe one of his parents was a lion hybrid, or someone in his bloodline was, and yet there was never any. So there must have been something else that caused Jung Hoseok to be the hybrid he was, and Y/N would never question that.
After parting ways, Y/N waving off a now running Hoseok as he tried to make it to his job, Y/N made the decision to go home before class. There was still another hour before her class started and Y/N needed to do something before then. It was something simple, but her instincts needed it to happen, to make sure her instincts were calmed.
Walking into her apartment, Y/N dropped her own bag with her shoes, taking the larger bag Hoseok had left for her to her room. Emptying the content onto her bed, Y/N smiled widely at the array of clothing options he had packed for her. Shirts, hoodies, even sweatpants and socks sat in the bag, all completely drenched in Hoseok’s scent.
Picking up the closest shirt, a rather large black one, Y/N changed out of her own shirt and into Hoseok’s. The warmth and scent that surrounded her, had her breathing in deeply a few times. The shirt was almost a dress on her, taking the front and tucking it in, Y/N also took one of the hats that Hoseok had stuffed into the bag, pushing her hair back and putting the hat on.
“Y/N, are you already scent marking the entire apartment with his?” Y/B/F called from the living room.
“Not just yet.” Y/N looked herself over in the mirror before nodding to herself, leaving the rest of his clothes on her bed. “Just changing.”
When Y/N got back out to the living room, the leopard only smiled; “Nice shirt. It’s the one Hoseok was wearing last night.”
“Yep. He bought me some clothes over.” Y/N took the drink sitting in front of her best friend. “I just needed to change.”
Y/B/F nodded in complete understand, her nose burying in the shirt she wore; “I’m just glad I don’t have to go out for a while.”
“Have you started marking Jimin’s room yet?” Y/N asked, sitting the drink back down, leaning against the arm of the couch.
“A little.” She smiled widely. “But Jungkook still lives there so I’m trying not to scare the poor man.”
“Wise choice.” Y/N laughed at the thought of poor Jungkook having to find a place to stay for the next week or so. “Hoseok and I will be going out for dinner tonight, so I don’t know when I’ll be home.”
“I kinda figured he would end up staying the week before, so I’ve already talked to Jimin about it, I’ll be staying there from now on.” She smiled up at her best friend who looked grateful. “Just had to come pack some things, even if I won’t really be needing them.”
“Good luck and have fun.” Y/N smiled, getting up to get to class.
“You too.” Y/B/F voice followed. “And maybe tell him you love him.”
“Yeah, yeah… I’ll think about it.”
Y/B/F laugh was the last thing she heard, as she closed the door, wanting to make it to class with time to spare. Y/N now smelled wholly of Hoseok with his shirt on her body and his hat on her head. It really carried the scent of Hoseok over her entirely and she loved it, she could imagine, for the next few weeks, that she was his.
When Y/N was finally dismissed from her elective world history class, she sent Hoseok a quick message she was on her way. He had more than enthusiastically replied, asking her to bring a few snacks for herself, telling her it was still a while before he’d get to leave. Happily, Y/N stopped at a convenience store to buy a few snacks, knowing the ones Hoseok liked and throwing them into her basket along with the ones she wanted.
Even though it wasn’t too far away from the campus or her apartment, Y/N took her car, knowing the clouds that lingered were bringing more rain than they had predicted. The storm that had happened the night before still lingered, the rain stilled drizzled and would get more intense every now and then. It was smart to take her car, that and Y/N secretly hoped that afterwards, Hoseok’s scent would linger in her car, that the feeling of Hoseok would stick to her for weeks after.
Finally getting to the dance studio’s, it was just past 4pm, meaning Hoseok would be in his children’s dance lessons. Saying a quick hello to the beautiful gazelle hybrid at reception, Y/N made a beeline for Hoseok’s small studio. She saw that it was already filled with laughing kids and their parents who all sat against the back wall, watching as the Tiger hybrid taught their children to dance.
Waving at Hoseok in the mirror, he quickly shot her a smile, letting her know he’d seen her, before Y/N took a seat next to where his own bag was. It was where she normally waited for him, sat next to his bag and where the music was controlled from, Y/N helping as much as she could when she was here. It was always fun for her, to watch Hoseok in a natural habitat of his, dancing and laughing, helping people with something that took to his body so naturally.
“Alright, let’s take a 10-minute break, everyone.” Hoseok clapped a few times as the children all bowed to him before running off to their parents, happily.
“Hey, you.” Y/N handed Hoseok his drink as he sat down in front of her, nodding before taking a few large gulps. “How are the little ones treating you?”
“Got me running in circles.” Hoseok smiled widely. “It’s quiet fun what I do here.”
“Oh I know. You’ve been trying to get me to take classes here for years.”
“You can dance, Y/N.” Hoseok took another smaller gulp of water, eyeing the hat and shirt she wore. “You’re also an art student, imagine if you add dance and art together.”
“You’ve been telling me that for years.” Y/N smiled warmly at the hybrid in front of him. “I may just have to listen to you one of these days.”
“Good.” Hoseok’s eyes didn’t, couldn’t leave the shirt she wore. “You already changed into my shirt.”
Y/N nodded, touching the shirt she wore lightly; “This is a heat bond we are forming; I need your scent around me as much as I can.”
“Speaking of heat bonding…” Hoseok’s voice was small, a mere whisper as not to allow any of the children around to hear. “I’ve been reading that book again between classes, and it said that it would be a good idea for me to spend the night at your place. Would you like me to?”
“I would love that.” Y/N nodded, her hand moving to touch Hoseok’s knee for some contact. “Y/B/F told me she will be staying with Jimin for the next 2 weeks. So it would be good if you stayed with me.”
“I’ll have to run home and get a few things first.” Hoseok nodded, placing his water bottle back next to Y/N, leaving his hands to sit on her exposed thighs.
“It’s pouring rain outside and I drove.” Y/N giggled as the rain got heavier on the roof. “We can stop by your apartment before we go to mine.”
“Sounds good.” Hoseok smiled at the woman before him, his hands on her legs as they continued to talk for the quick break.
When Hoseok got back to the second half of his lesson, Y/N settled in quietly, her back against the wall. She happily watched and cheered on the class of young hybrids and humans alike, even talking to a few of the parents that struck up conversations. By the end of the class, it was around 5:30, meaning Hoseok would clock off pretty soon, meaning Y/N could go home and cuddle into the man.
“Excuse me Miss?” A small voice caught Y/N’s attention.
“Yes?” Y/N looked up to see a small group of the hybrid children standing around her, their parents chatting, Hoseok talking to some of the other parents.
“Are you Hobi’s girlfriend?” A small lioness hybrid asked, her tail swaying behind her.
“No, I’m just one of his friends.” Y/N smiled at the group before her.
“You should be.” A small female wolf giggled as she said it.
“Why’s that?” Y/N asked, smiling with the young hybrids.
“Because your pretty.” The same lioness hybrid spoke as Y/N moved forward, greeting the younger one by rubbing her head against her.
“And because my mum says that when we get older, we find our mates…” The only panther hybrid among them spoke up. “And mates always smell like each other. And you smell like Hobi.”
“Because we’re friends.” Y/N sat back on her knees, only to stand up with the group around her. “Friends, or packs,” She touched the wolf’s ears. “Or prides,” Y/N’s other hand ran over the lionesses ears, before looking towards the other canine and felines of the group. “All of them usually smell like each other.”
“Kids.” One of the parents called, everyone’s ears shooting up and over to where everyone stared at them. “Time to go.”
“Bye, Miss.”
A chorus sang as they moved away from Y/N, some of the closer parents, who had no doubt heard the conversation, nodded in thanks to Y/N. They could no doubt smell exactly what it was her and Hoseok were currently going through. She could even tell that a lot of them were keeping a very respectful distance to Hoseok, making sure he didn’t smell like any of them for her. Even if hybrids were half animal, they respected boundaries, such as things like mates and heat bonding, all of them knowing the instincts that would take over each of them.
“So Miss…” Hoseok moved closer to Y/N, a playful smile on his face. “Are you busy at all this evening?”
“I am unfortunately.” Y/N swayed a little from side to side. “This handsome young Tiger is buying me dinner.”
“Lucky man.” Hoseok growled a little before wrapping his arms around Y/N, pushing his nose into her neck. “You still really smell of me.”
Hoseok’s words were met with him biting at Y/N’s neck again, only for her to sigh happily; “If you keep doing that, I’ll never smell like anything except you ever again.”
That seemed to only make Hoseok more excited at the thought, growling again and biting harder into Y/N’s neck. Hoseok just help Y/N, both of them staying in each other’s arms in the now empty dance studio, Hoseok not entirely letting up on little nibbles or licks onto Y/N. It was completely in his nature to groom Y/N, and with her heat so close, Hoseok needed to show her that he could take care of her and still be the alpha she needed if they were to mate.
“Come on, let’s get you home and feed.” Hoseok finally moved back enough to look at Y/N, who simply nodded at his words.
Soon enough, the pair were pulling into the carpark of Hoseok’s apartment building, already seeing the other boys cars all parked. Both of then made it up to the apartment and was greeted by a loud pack once again, they all seemed to be deciding what to eat. Y/N was quick to spot Y/B/F, waving at her and pointing towards the kitchen, which they both headed to with Hoseok telling her he’d be quick.
“How’s your evening been?” Y/N pointed back into the living room where they all talked loudly. “Thought about running away yet?”
“Multiple times.” She giggled, taking a bottle of water out of the fridge to hand to Y/N. “I keep staying though.”
“Wouldn’t have something to do with a certain canine in there who hasn’t stopped looking at you yet?” Y/N caught Jimin’s eye, only to wave at him as he looked away, blushing.
“Not my fault, he’s so cute.” Y/B/F turned to lean back against the counter with Y/N, opening her own water as they both looked into the living room. “What about you? You reek even more of Hoseok… He bit you.”
“It’s not a bad thing, and it’s not like we’ve mated before my heat.” Y/N rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her water.
“It’s just in your nature.” Y/B/F finished, nodding in understanding. “I can’t get him to bit me, even if I ask.”
Y/N leaned in close to the leopard, her lips closer to her ears so only she could hear; “Praise him. Seriously make him feel like the King and he’ll do anything you ask him to do.”
“How do you know that?” Y/B/F smirked as Y/N leaned back.
“What are you two ladies talking about?” Hoseok’s voice caused Y/N to finally turn back around, seeing all of them staring at them.
“Dinner mostly.” Y/N shrugged, as Hoseok moved closer to Y/N, taking her into his arms.
“Well we should go, so we can get some.” Hoseok smiled towards Y/B/F. “Don’t let them boss you around.”
“Oh trust me, as if any of them could.” The leopard smirked over his shoulder towards the dog hybrid who blushed and looked away from her.
“Good girl.” Hoseok winked at Y/B/F before turning to push his nose into Y/N’s hair. “Let’s go.”
“I’ll see you soon.” Y/N smiled toward Y/B/F before her and Hoseok were walking towards the door, Y/N stopping once to lean down to whisper to Jimin. “Big cats, like Panthers and Lions and Leopards, all enjoy when you claim them by biting them.” Y/N stood back up to look towards her friend still in the kitchen then back to Jimin. “Just something to think about.”
Finally back out in her car, Hoseok turned to look at Y/N with a raised eyebrow; “Jimin wasn’t doing the right job as her heat partner, he needed a little push.”
“And so you decided to scar him how?” Hoseok smirked at the woman before him.
“We like to put that mouth of yours to work.” Y/N reached a hand out towards Hoseok, running her thumb over Hoseok’s bottom lip. “He needed to know that biting is encouraged.”
“Now I know what to do for you.” Hoseok couldn’t stop as his hand gripped Y/N’s wrist, moving her hand so he could kiss the pad of her thumb softly.
The week past much the same, Y/N and Hoseok going to classes, meeting every chance they got, going to work. There was now just the added bonus of every night Hoseok would end and start his days with his arms wrapped around Y/N. The deeper they got into the week, the more Y/N would start to whine and seek out Hoseok’s affection, like when they were in the library with the others and she couldn’t stop her instincts in sitting on his lap. They had taken one took at the pair of them, Y/N placing herself into his lap, Hoseok wrapping his arms around her and both of them getting on with their study before they went back to normal.
Y/N loved just how affectionate Hoseok had become, his hands never really leaving her body, she especially liked times when Hoseok would slip his hands under his shirt she wore and touch her skin. Y/N had taken the habit of falling asleep while laying on top of Hoseok, only to be completely under him when she woke up. Hoseok would then spend around an hour every morning with his head on Y/N’s stomach, with Y/N faking a whine to get out of bed, her fingers running through his hair.
The most prominent thought that comes to mind for Y/N was the third night Hoseok had spent at her apartment. He had come home late, tried from classes and work, where he had been helping to rehearse for a massive show coming up. Y/N had ordered food, and they had sat on the couch together to wait, waiting a movie, Hoseok’s hands under Y/N’s shirt again as he ran his fingertips against her skin.
Y/N had moaned slightly, Hoseok’s hand touching the base of where her tail sat; “You can’t touch there.”
“Why? I like those sounds.” Hoseok’s words were followed with him touching the same place, Y/N leaning forward to moan again.
“Oh my god…” Her hand move back to catch his arm, breathing deeply from her early stage of heat hitting her ten folds. “You might not want to do that, unless you plan to start my heat early.”
“We can start whenever you’re ready.” Y/N moaned again as Hoseok’s fingers brushed the sensitive fur again. “But you just got home from a busy day and you won’t be able to keep up with me.” Y/N bought his hand around to her stomach.
“I’d surprised you.” Hoseok instead opted to pick Y/N up by her thighs, bringing her to straddle his own.
“You’ve done nothing but surprise me these last few days.” Y/N breathed deeply, loving how Hoseok’s fingers dug into her skin. “But are you going to kiss me already, or not?”
Hoseok took that as his que, leaning up to connect his lips with Y/N’s waiting one, finally able to taste what they feel like. The sounds that left Y/N’s mouth, only encouraged Hoseok to lean into her more, catching every sound she made. Hoseok groaned as Y/N rolled her hips into his own, Y/N taking the opportunity to allow her tongue to push into Hoseok’s mouth, both of them moaning into each other.
Hoseok hands were once again under Y/N’s shirt, this time helping it up her body to throw it over her head. It had landed somewhere in the living room, neither of them caring as they continued to kiss, Y/N’s hips never once giving up their movements. Hoseok whimpered a little as his hands help Y/N’s hips tightly, grinding hard into her cover core as she threw her head back and groaned loudly.
The only thing that stopped them was the loud knocking at the door, causing Hoseok to swear softly into Y/N’s shoulder. Y/N whimpered, Hoseok catching a few words, most of them being “Please, god, no…” and mostly in that order. Hoseok took a few much-needed deep breaths before placing Y/N next to him on the couch, standing and fixing himself up to answer the door.
Anybody standing on the other side of the door could literally feel just how pent up Hoseok was now.
For the next few days it had happened the same, their nights would end with Y/N on top of Hoseok, both of them kissing each other as if their life depended on it. Their bodies, which always ended with less and less clothes, pressed together, feeling, and exploring each other until they ultimately fell asleep in each other’s arms. Their mornings were just the same, they had to somehow convince each other that they had to quickly finish their days before they’d end up wrapped around each other again. More than one occasion, Y/N had practically dragged Hoseok into the back of her car to make out with him for as long as they had.
The morning Y/N's heat started, was the morning Hoseok had gotten called into work for an emergency. He had tried to explain the situation, could smell Y/N’s heat, could feel just how slick her skin was. But Hoseok needed to be the one to go in, it was his class, his student, he wanted nothing more than to throw his job in and help the woman he loves.
“It’s okay.” Y/N’s soft voice reached his ears, her hand running against his exposed chest. “I’ll be okay until you get back.”
“Are you sure?” Hoseok whispered, momentarily forgetting the phone to his ear as Y/N nodded, a small smile on her face. “I’ll be right in, but I won’t be able to stay long.”
After hanging up, Hoseok leaned down, not being able to help himself as he kissed Y/N, caging her in with his arms. It was a kiss filled with so much promise, a promise that once he was back, he would be completely and wholly hers. A few more kisses and Hoseok cursed softly as he leaned down against Y/N’s neck, biting into her neck, just to hear Y/N moan.
“I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Hoseok kissed Y/N’s neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses up her jaw and back to her lips, giving her a kiss, then another, and another. “Start without me. I know you’ll be a good girl and start without me.”
Y/N whined a little with a soft smile, pushing her trembling body into his solid body above her; “Hurry back so we can play.”
“Oh god,” Hoseok swore again, groaning at the sight of Y/N trembling beneath him. “I’ll be an hour, two hours tops.”
“And I’ll be here…” Y/N pushed against him as Hoseok tried to get off the bed. “Waiting for you… whispering your name… touching myself…”
“You really aren’t going to make it easy to leave you, are you?” Hoseok groaned, trying to pull a pair of jeans on as Y/N softly left a train of kisses up his back, over his shoulder and onto his neck.
“I’m just about to let you leave me in the start of my heat…” Y/N’s teeth grazed Hoseok’s jaw, biting softly. “I’ll never make it easy.”
“Where are your toys?” Hoseok asked as Y/N’s lips pressed against his shoulder again. “I’ll get them before I leave.”
“Top shelf.” Y/N continued to kiss along his shoulder before he stood up, only to see Y/N on her knees, staring up at him.
“God why me.” Hoseok couldn’t help it, grabbing Y/N’s face and pulling her into him, kissing her, which was all tongue and teeth and moans.
Quickly leaving Y/N on the bed, Hoseok opened her wardrobe, easily finding the large box that sat on the top shelf. Taking it out, he took the lid off, having at look at the content of this beautiful hybrids toys. Hoseok didn’t know if it was possible to fall in love with someone even more then he already was, it physically hurt him to have to leave Y/N here like this. But what fun he will come back to, Y/N and her toys were going to be something he enjoyed when he got back.
“You’ve used this?” Hoseok couldn’t help ask, holding up a rather large vibrator, he was impressed.
“That’s my favourite one.” Y/N looked up at Hoseok through her eyelashes, he could see she was starting to sweat.
“Which one would you like to start with?” Hoseok sat it back in her box, offering a look into the box.
“What do you suggest?” Y/N kept her eyes on Hoseok, he could only smile, shaking his head.
“You really are going to be the death of me.” Hoseok leaned down to kiss Y/N again before producing a smaller vibrator for her. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”
Y/N leaned back against her pillows, moaning as Hoseok watched her take her shirt off, only for him to slip into one. Hoseok swore again softly before moving out the door, taking what he needed and securing the door. He placed his head against the door, sending a prayer to whoever listened, that he would be back soon, back to Y/N.
Hoseok had made it in record time, having practically ran back up the apartment stairs, opening and locking the door. He had all but tore his shirt off his chest, leaving it back with his shoes before walking into Y/N’s room where she still laid out. He tried to gather any air willingly into his lungs, which became just as hard as he stared at Y/N, laid on her bed, skin glistening with sweat. Y/N hadn’t realised Hoseok stood at her door, hand on the frame, almost breaking it, as she moaned his name loudly, whimpering as the vibrator just wouldn’t hit the right spot.
“Need any help?” Hoseok asked, just as Y/N started to get frustrated.
“Hoseok-ah…” Y/N whined, trying to move the vibrator as deep as she could, trying to reach the place she couldn’t. “Come play with me.”
He already knew there was no time to be wasted in that moment, Hoseok quick to remove the rest of his clothes, his tail behind him flicking a little faster than normal. Hoseok continued to listen to the sweet sounds Y/N made, his ears pointed towards her, as he finally moved towards the bed. Hoseok moved Y/N’s hands, replacing her smaller ones with his own on the vibrator, barely moving it, earning a few more cries from Y/N as she tried to move her own hips for any sort of friction.
“No… no, no, no, please… oh god… please…” Y/N whined, her body squirming. “Hoseok I have waited for nearly an hour. Don’t torture me right now.”
“I know, I won’t, I promise.” Hoseok took the vibrator out of Y/N, hearing just how wet she was for him, throwing the toy next to them on the bed. “Doesn’t seem like I have to prep you.”
“You left me for so long, I’m so ready for you.” Y/N sat up a little, running her hands down his chest before wrapping her hands around his cock. “So pretty, and hard…”
Hoseok leaned down, his finger under Y/N’s chin, lifting her head to kiss her lips. The kiss wasn’t hard or rushed, but something soft in a moment that could have been messy and forgotten within moments. Though Hoseok was determined to remember every part of this, every inch of Y/N was going to be branded into him mind. So he kissed her softly, catching any moans that left her mouth as she continued to move her hands slowly against his cock.
“Okay, turn around.” Hoseok mumbled against Y/N’s lips. “I promise the first time will be fast and rough, just like you want it.” Hoseok earned a heavy groan that turned into a sigh as his fingers pushed against Y/N’s folds, his fingers coming out soaked. “Then after, I’ll play with you as much as you want.”
Y/N moaned, nodding as her lips connected with Hoseok’s again, biting his bottom lip; “Please.”
Hoseok took Y/N’s hands off his cock, before moving to grip her hips and flip her around onto her stomach. He leaned over Y/N, as she adjusted onto her knees, pushing her ass up towards him in a sweet offering, his fingertips softly moving down her spine. Y/N sighed, a little impatient and yet just happy that Hoseok was giving her so much attention, even if the attention she wanted wasn’t directed where she needed it most.
“Mmm, my beautiful lioness.” Hoseok’s breath fanned over Y/N’s shoulder, kissing it a few times softly, his fingers moving to her clit, rubbing quick circles against it. “I’ll make it all better for you.”
Hoseok moved his fingers away from Y/N’s clit, moving to her opening, experimentally pushing two fingers into her. Y/N moaned loudly, her head pushing into the pillow, her tail flickering, standing tall away from Hoseok. Hoseok moved his fingers roughly, earning pleasurable cries from the lioness beneath him, before taken them out. The slick that covered his fingers glistened against his skin, even more so when he moved his hand to his own cock, allowing Y/N’s wetness to cover him.
Y/N pushed her ass back against Hoseok, the tip of his hard cock mushroomed and an angry red, wanting nothing more than to be inside Y/N’s warm heat. One of Hoseok’s hands took Y/N’s hip, his other at the base of his almost painfully hard cock, the groan falling from his own lips causing Y/N to push back against him again. Hoseok could tell that he was ready, completely, and totally for him, and he couldn’t even figure out himself why he wasn’t pounding into her already.
“Are you ready?” Hoseok placed his head against Y/N’s back, her tail tickling his bare chest, still wanting to make sure Y/N was completely okay with everything.
“Hoseok-ah…” Y/N took deep breaths, her head turned to the side so he could hear the broken cries. “If you don’t get inside me now, I’ll throw you out and do it myself.”
Hoseok growled, biting Y/N’s shoulder as he finally pushed himself into Y/N, the head of his cock breaching the walls of Y/N’s pussy. The relief that seemed to leave Y/N’s body as Hoseok bottomed out in her only caused Hoseok’s teeth to sink deeper into her shoulder. Even if he was too big, even if Y/N was opened enough to take him, Hoseok still stopped any movements and stayed as close to Y/N as he possibly could.
“Move…” Y/N moaned out, trying to create friction, though with Hoseok’s grip on her hips, she didn’t move far. “Hoseok, move.”
Hoseok was slow to move, pulling out of Y/N at a snail’s pace, wanting to feel every part of her as his hips thrusted back in. A few more trusts of his slow pace before Hoseok finally let his mouth go from her shoulder, sitting up on his knees to watch. His eyes were completely fixated on how his own cock, throbbing, would disappear into Y/N, being swallowed by her eager pussy, the overwhelming feeling in his chest causing his hips to stutter. The grip of Hoseok’s hands soon turned feral, his nails digging into the flesh of Y/N’s skin as he pulled out and pounded into her.
The jerking motion caused Y/N’s head to push further into the bed beneath her, one of her hands moving up to grip the headboard, to stable herself from the unforgiving pace. Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat, no scream or moan could leave her lips as Hoseok’s cock hit her g spot, her trembling body gave way to everything Hoseok needed.
He’d found it, and he was absolutely relentless in his assault to the one sweet spot deep inside Y/N.
“God...” Y/N’s voice cried, broken as Hoseok refused to slow the power of his thrusts. “O-Oh… Go-o-o-d…”
Hoseok couldn’t help the smirk that graced his lips, the sight of Y/N falling apart on his cock was something he committed to memory. One of his hands, leaving his grip on her hips, never slowing his pace, moved over the curve of her ass to grip the base of her tail.
It was immediate.
He felt how the walls of her pussy spasm, her entire body trembling.
“You’re gonna…” Y/N could barely form words, even if the only sounds in the room were the slapping of Hoseok’s hips against her ass, and Y/N’s choked sobs that never allowed much of a breath between. “I’m g-oon-“
Hoseok didn’t need her to say anything more, he pulled at the base of her tail in sharp tugs.
Once.
Twice.
The spasms of Y/N’s pussy never stopped, even as she climaxed, Hoseok’s hips never once stopping. His own cock twitched as the walls of Y/N’s cunt gripped him so tightly, even if his movements continued.
Y/N’s orgasm washed completely over her, her body trembled harshly, Hoseok’s hips starting to stutter.
“Cum.”
The word left Y/N’s mouth in a moaning breath, causing Hoseok’s hand to grip her hips again as he pushed all the way in. Hoseok completely bottomed out, spurts of white hot cum coated Y/N’s walls, groaning loudly as his head moved to her shoulder once again. Hoseok bit into Y/N’s shoulder again, this time, definitely leaving a mark that caused a few drops of blood to leave the wound.
The white spots in Y/N’s line of vision barely started as Hoseok pulled out allowing Y/N to roll over in the bed. Hoseok fell down next to her, breathing just as deeply as Y/N was, hauling himself to lay on his back.
The only sound in the sun filled room was the heavy breathing from both Y/N and Hoseok, a layer of sweat over both of their skins. Hoseok reached out a hand, needed to feel some part of Y/N’s skin on his own, finding her hand to intertwin her fingers with his own. The deep breaths they each took, soon started to even out, Hoseok turning his head to look at Y/N whose eyes were still shut.
“You okay?” Hoseok asked, bring Y/N’s hand up to his lips, leaving a soft kiss on it. “I didn’t hurt you, right?”
“Hoseok-ah…” Y/N seemed to swallow first before opening her eyes and turning her head to look at him. “If that’s how you always fuck, I’m going to need you to always call me when you need help.”
That only caused Hoseok to laugh, with what little energy he had left, a laugh was all he managed right now. Hoseok moved closer to Y/N, nuzzling into her neck, pulling Y/N into him, both of them seeming to ignore the large amounts of sweat on their bodies. Y/N leaned happily into Hoseok, the heat coursing between them both wasn’t uncomfortable, nor was the fact the cum that currently dripped out of her weeping opening a bad thing. They both simply laid in each other’s comfort, Hoseok’s fingertips tracing up and down Y/N’s arm.
“Are you going to be okay for a while?” Hoseok asked, softly kissing her shoulder as he continued to breath in her scent.
“I’ll be okay for a while.” Y/N took his hand that had been tracing shapes on her arm, turning herself over to allow him to spoon her. “You just need to stay close.”
“I’ll always stay close.” Hoseok whispered into the back of Y/N’s neck, knowing they’ll both rest before Y/N needs him again.
For the next 5 days, when Y/N needed him, Hoseok was there for her, ready for anything she asked for. There were times when Hoseok wasn’t able to keep up with Y/N, where he was thankful for the box of toys she owned. He had quickly discovered that Y/N was by far the epitome of the girl of his dreams, everything about her was perfect. From the way Hoseok agreed with himself that how she looks in the morning with the sun in her hair, all the way to how she added three teaspoons of sugar to her coffee.
Hoseok now had a favourite part of Y/N’s apartment, a part where he had taken Y/N so many times the past few days. In just the right light of the day, and the soft glow of the tv at night, the large window in the living room became Hoseok’s favourite part of Y/N’s apartment. The first time Hoseok had taken Y/N by the large window, it was early afternoon on the first day her heat started. From that moment on, if he could, he’d have her by the window, pushing her against the wall next to the window, turning her over on the rug in her living room, any way she’d allow him to take her.
“Hey, Hoseok,” Y/N looked up to the man who held her against his bare chest, he had taken to not bothering to wear one over the past week. “It’s the last night, then your free.”
“Free?” Hoseok snorted, shaking his head as his eyes never drifted far from the tv in front of him. “Right, free…”
“What’s that mean?” Y/N couldn’t help but ask, turning further around to be able to see Hoseok’s face.
“No, you’re right. I’ll be free after tomorrow.” Hoseok looked down at Y/N, flashing a quick smile before looking back up towards the tv.
“You sound almost disappointed, like free is the last thing you want?” Y/N couldn’t help saying, turning back around to focus on the tv too, thinking the conversation was over.
“Do you-“ Hoseok cut himself off, opting to run his fingers through Y/N’s hair to distract himself.
“What?”
“Do you really not know?”
“Depends on what you’re talking about?” Y/N leaned into his hand, scratching behind her ear. “I know a lot of things.”
“You really don’t know, do you?” Hoseok couldn’t help the sad smile on his face, Y/N catching it.
“Okay, really, what’s wrong?” Y/N turned completely in Hoseok’s lap, straddling his lap. “Talk to me Hoseok.”
Y/N held Hoseok’s jaw in her soft hands, having him look at her; “I love you.”
“I love you, too. You know I do.”
“No, Y/N…” Hoseok didn’t have to say it, Y/N could see the weight of the words he wanted to say and so he finally did. “I love you, Y/N. I always have, and now after everything I’m… free?”
“Hoseok…”
“It’s why I was so against helping you to begin with, because I knew I’d get to…” Hoseok took a deep breath, putting his hand over Y/N’s smaller ones. “I’ve always been attached to you, I though you could see but…”
“Jung Hoseok… you really are an idiot.” Y/N reached up to his ear, scratching it, to have him lean into it, his eyes wide in confusion.
Y/N smiled softly, shaking her head softly before leaning down to softly kiss Hoseok on the lips. She pressed her lips to his for one second, two seconds, three seconds before he leaned back, more than a little confused. Hoseok leaned his head far enough back that he just stared at the woman on top of him, knowing that kiss was something more. It wasn’t normal, to kiss between heats when a couple wasn’t mated, and yet they had done nothing but kiss and eat and talk and have sex the last week.
“What’s happening?” Hoseok had to ask, the confusion finally getting the better of him. “Really, what’s happening?”
“For years I’ve been trying to tell you, that this,” Y/N took Hoseok’s hand from her face, to place over her heart which beat wildly. “This has always been yours. You just, never seemed to want to see that.”
“And I’m the idiot?” Hoseok pulled Y/N’s head towards his own, kissing her deeply, feeling her hands tangle in his hair.
“Hoseok-ah…” Y/N whispered against his lips, groaning as Y/N’s ground her hips against his. “Let me make love to you.”
“I’ve got you.” Hoseok helped Y/N out of his shirt that she wore, throwing it over the back of the couch as he kissed her again, pushing her hair away from her face.
Hoseok pushed the shorts he wore down enough to pull his already hard cock out, his thumb pushing her panties out of the way. They had done this so many times in the past week that Y/N just moaned into Hoseok’s mouth as he helped her to sink onto his cock. Y/N sighed happily, the feeling of Hoseok’s thick cock stretched her walls so deliciously, his hands helping her to bounce softly on him.
“Say it…” Hoseok pushed his nose along Y/N’s jaw, biting her jaw slightly.
“I love you,” Y/N’s head fell back, moaning loudly as she moved faster. “God, I love you.”
“I love you… I love you… Y/N…” Hoseok whispered those words as if it were a chant that would bring everything he ever wished, and it did.
What neither of them seemed to notice, was the front door to the apartment creeping opening, two very distinctive footsteps moving in. The leopard and the dog hybrid moved further into the apartment before finally seeing the two on the couch. Jimin stopped, only to cover his eyes while Y/B/F stared opened mouth.
“Seriously, on the couch?” Y/B/F’s voice caused Hoseok to try and cover Y/N as much as he could, who stopped moving to stare at the two at the front door. “Your heat should be over and your still having sex? On the couch? We share?”
“Yeah…” Y/N shrugged, trying not to laugh as her best friend took Jimin’s hand and walked back towards the front door. “I’ll buy a new couch.”
“YOU BETTER!” The slamming of the door only caused Y/N to laugh, Hoseok looking up at the woman above him.
Hoseok couldn’t think he could have gotten so lucky in his life, but with the lioness he loved, loves him back, he could think of other ways he could be lucky.
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footyleclerc · a month ago
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hello, since a few of my followers (and the lovely @whoopsallgone!) asked me to do a lestappen fic rec, here I am delivering to the masses! you may have seen a few of these fics in other recs but they’re just so good that they deserve as much appreciation as is humanly possible! so please do show them all some love if you haven’t already :)
lost in your current like a priceless wine • 10,211 w • by shybear_styles
"I might have accidentally told my mom that I have a boyfriend and now she's demanding that I bring you home with me for the New Year. Actually, she said Christmas and New Year, but I told her that you were spending Christmas with your own family..."
The ultimate fake dating fic, and it's set during Christmas! From roommates to lovers, the entire fic is adorable fluff. They've written a few bangers and this one is great too!
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we're fallin' like the stars, we're fallin' in love • 6,330 w • by maxverstappens (@pierlex)
Lando sets Max up on disastrous blind dates that end up with Max falling for the bartender who was the real set up all along.
One of my fave fics ever! The subtle flirting. Norstappen friendship. *BEAUTIFUL* Just really well written, would 100 percent recommend. Special shout out to 'pick apart the pieces of your heart', it's amazing!!
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When Not If • multi-chapter • 5/5 • 11,448 w • by ayuxena
Max and Charles find themselves in quarantine together in the middle of the Swiss mountains. It was all destined to happened. It was just a matter of when and not if.
Such a cute read! The way they spend their time together and the little things they learn along the way, it's as Max would say "simply lovely".
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The Grid: A Comprehensive Guide for Handling your Gay Racer Friends • 6,333 w • by inchidentsdeancas (@dumbass-ultimate)
A view into Charles and Max, in the style of The Office. Featuring a large number of baked goods.
Can't believe this is the author's first time writing. So much talent, it's such a fun read! This embodies the tag 'idiots in love'. Beautifully written. It's a comedic masterpiece!
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take my hand, take my whole life too • 8,414 w • by  footysel (@footyleclerc)
Max is Lando's best man. Charles is Carlos' best man. They now have to plan a wedding together without killing each other.
A small self bump! Honestly, I think it's my best work and the amount of fluff it contains has become my source of comfort.
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at the end of the line (it's always been you) • 6,034 w • by maxricciardo (@maxricciardo)
A glimpse into Charles and Max's relationship after they retire from formula one.
If you follow Gi, you know how wonderful her edits are. This fic rivals her editing skills. Post-retirement lestappen as they figure out their feelings. Brilliantly written!
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i love the way your green eyes mix with that malibu indigo • 11,128 w • by altissimozucca (@altisssimozucca)
Max deals with a break up by spending some time at his Malibu summer home when he finds another distraction in Charles. Getting drunk by the beach, the two begin to catch feelings.
Literally all of Lana's fics are works of art but this one tops the list for me. (seriously, I could make a list just for her. read her lestappen fics, you won't regret it!) Immaculate vibes and great aesthetics. The build up and the angst, just wonderful.
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Charles Leclerc vs Red Bull caps • 6,368 w • by  Ledger_m (@the-last-jedis)
Charles does God's work and tries his best to get Max to stop wearing those stupid Red Bull caps.
Literally what every Max fan would want to do; get rid of those caps and #unleashthehair. It's hilarious with Charles' crazy antics. Very well written and is a great cheer up!
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On the outside, always looking in • 1,803 w • by bonotje (@sleepyverstappens)
The progression of Max and Charles' relationship through someone else's eyes.
The beautiful development is just wonderfully written. The small observations of the narrator are quirky, and it's overall very cute!
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set my midnight sorrow free • 13,439 w • by  PrincessElectra (@princess-electra19)
A view of Charles and Max's relationship through the eyes of one Pierre Gasly, the man who's seen them from the very beginning.
This fic has probably popped up in everyone's fic recs but that's literally because it's such a masterpiece. The development you see. The heartache you feel. Just wonderful in every way! Part 2 is great as well.
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thank you for indulging my choices and getting this far! if you have any more suggestions, let me know. if you know the blogs of the 2 untagged writers, please let me know!
hope you liked it :)
just a massive shout out to all the writers in this fandom, you're all extremely talented and brilliant! keep creating💙
124 notes · View notes
lebrookestore · 8 months ago
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four years, one night
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Pairing: Ten Lee x  female reader
Themes:  SLOWBURN, best friends to lovers, player! ten, fuckboy! ten, fluff, humour, angst, sexual tension, college au, some talk about music 
Warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of sex (?kinda), ten is kind of an asshole, reader calls herself a dumb bitch, bittersweet ending, three kisses, kissing, gets a little spicy in one scene but that’s about it, PG15
WC: 10.8k
Playlist: Dream Launch by Wayv, Never let you go by AleXa, Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift, Young again by Morgan Evans, Without You by NCT U, The Tempest by Beethoven (this looks so out of place eye-)
Taglist:  @danishmiilk @channoticedmeuwu​  @1-800-seo @sweetlyjaem @badwithten @blueprint-han @chicksung
Summary: Ten was a fickle person, he jumped from one person to another, breaking hearts, and getting his own heart broken. The one person who had to pick it up every time? You, of course, and it was exhausting, especially when you had to watch.
day break  [ extra piece based in this universe ]
A/n: hello! this fic is very much self indulgent, but i love it so much. I spent most of the last week working on it and half of it is me simping, and I hope you enjoy it. Thank you to @chicksung​ for beta reading and helping me throughout writing this. As always, feedback would be very much appreciated!
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‘I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong’- Lemony Snicket
~
A loud slam of the door made you flinch, shutting your eyes in exasperation as you knew what was to come. The same thing over and over again, you were used to it. Honestly, it was nothing new, but his stupidity, the obvious was in front of him, but did he listen? Of course, he didn’t.
A figure walked into the room, a mop of messy black hair with brown highlights adorning his head. It was pretty long at this point, his bangs reaching his eyes. Those damning eyes, melting pools of chocolate brown that seemed to bore into your soul. Those eyes looked remorsefully at you now, as he plopped down next to you, wrapping his arms around your midriff and burying his face in your back.
You sighed. “Again?”, you asked, running your fingers through his hair as he hummed a response. “Again”, he repeated, confirming your suspicions. He looked up, his eyes meeting yours.
You hated his eyes.
He managed to make you do anything for him with just a look. They were undoubtedly your weakness, when they looked sad, or when they upturned into a smile, that instantly brightened your day.
“I can’t seem to get it right can I?”, he asked, searching your eyes as if you had all the answers to his turbulent love life. You scoffed, “You couldn’t have been serious about that chick, Ten, you met her three weeks ago, and she was simply a rebound for you” “Thanks for the support”
“I’m being real, not supportive”
He rolled his eyes, pouting. “But I liked her”, he whined. You gave him a pointed look, “Please, You just wanted someone to be with, if not to fu-” “Oh my god, shut up”
You smirked, turning your attention back to your laptop, where the essay you had been trying to write glared back at you. 
“I just want someone who understands me”, Ten continued, still looking at you. You looked at him. 
I understand you, you thought, I’m here
Ten had always been like this, he jumped from girl to girl, getting his heart broken several times because he was too forgiving with it. He wanted to love, he had always romanticized the idea. Honestly, you thought he needed love too, but he was going down all the wrong paths.
And you had to be there every single time to pick up the pieces.
“I know”, you said half-heartedly, biting your lower lip. He propped his chin upon his fist, observing you and your concentrated look. You typed away, desperately wanting to be done with this paper, one you had been working on for about three days. 
“Do you think I’ll ever do something right?”, he asked. You froze, pushing down what you wanted to say. It was hard, having to deal with Ten's endeavors of the heart’ as he called them. The right term would be- doing random shit and breaking girls' hearts', but of course, he refused that catchy title. Sighing, you shut your laptop, knowing you wouldn’t get anything done now that he was in a mood.
“You haven’t done anything wrong” “Haven’t done anything right either”
You took his face in your hands, “You haven’t done anything wrong, you’re amazing, now stop moping, I’m ordering pizza”
He pulled away from you, sitting up properly. “Can I stay over?”, he asked hopefully. You clicked your tongue, looking at him with an annoyed expression. “Don’t you have your dorm?” “My roommate said he has a girl over, and I kinda want to sleep, thanks” You rolled your eyes, but nodded, picking up your phone and walking into the other room to order.
You heard laughter and looked back to see the boy laughing at something on his phone. Probably a cat meme, or something of the sort. You admired his side profile for a minute, the slope of his nose, the way his eyes shone. He was okay, you supposed, annoying, but okay. No matter how much he tried to justify it, he didn’t care for the girl who broke up with him. He was just fine right now, and had moved on from the topic pretty quickly, and was already smiling.
You also hated his smile. Infuriatingly adorable, one smile would make you want to smile back. You hated it with every ounce of your being, the effect he had on you. 
You hated Ten Lee.
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Scratch that, you didn’t hate the poor boy, you just, despised him?
Nope, you were close friends.
Ironic isn’t it? You had met Ten at a party, where the Dance major was having a lot of fun. You hadn’t seen him before but had heard of him. The boy who jumped from girl to girl as easy as one, two, three. You had no intention of even talking to him, you were content in a dark corner, with a drink.
Nothing ever goes your way. 
The meeting was by chance, he was dared to ask you to dance, you declined, he persisted giving you those puppy eyes. After glaring at him, he sighed, explaining it was a dare, and that he didn’t want to make a fool of himself, and before you knew what was happening, you were awkwardly swaying along to the music with him.
He, regrettably, stuck with you for the rest of the evening, and you ending up liking his company, to the extent where you invited him over the next day for pizza.
The pizza situation turned out to be a thing between the two of you, a tradition of sorts. He would come over with candy, in an oversized sweatshirt looking illegally adorable, you would supply the blankets, and movie nights would begin.
He had a sweet smile and sparkly eyes, which made you question if this was the guy who broke hearts, who was a player. He was like a puppy, it confused you to no end.
“Miss L/n?”, your professor asked, raising an eyebrow at your spaced out figure. Startling, you blinked rapidly, cringing at the situation you had put yourself in. “Sorry”, you apologized, focusing back on the textbook in front of you. You were majoring in Psychology, and while you love the subject, the teacher didn’t like you very much, probably because you had been so distracted the past few weeks, and you hadn’t done particularly well in the midterms.
Needless to say, you were stressed.
The class got over quickly, and you walked out of the lecture hall, deciding to get some coffee before your next class. The cafe was a well-loved one visited by almost every student, and was famous for its chai-lattes, so much so that others also visited it, and not just the students.
Turning towards the on-campus cafe, you spotted Ten already there. His glasses sat at the edge of his nose, giving him an oddly studious look, which was almost laughable. He stood there, holding two cups of coffee, eyes lighting up as he spotted you.
Ten Lee was going to be the death of you.
You walked up to him, taking the coffee which he handed to you, “What do you want?”, you asked suspiciously, taking a sip of the bittersweet drink. You noted the fact he had gotten your favorite, which only worsened the feeling of butterflies in the pit of your stomach. He looked mock offended, and grinned at you, “Nothing!”, he said, “Just wanted to see you”
You rolled your eyes in an attempt to thwart your initial reaction, beginning to walk back to the main campus, for your psych class. Ten walked beside you, holding his sketchbook in his right hand, and coffee in the left.
“Okay, um actually-”
“You want something don’t you?” “I need a reference model”, he said, “So, Y/n, could you please-”
“Oh my god no”, you said, without even letting the poor boy finish, “Last time this happened it ended up with a pain fight and my sweater destroyed.”
“I said I was sorry!”, he semi shrieked, “And this time I need it for a project worth half my grade.”
Sighing, you but your lower lip, nodded tentatively, to which he let out an almost inhuman sound of appreciation, “When are you free?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Nah, I have a date”
You blinked in surprise, and he smiled sheepishly. “Eun-hae asked me out and I said yes so”
“Of course you did”, you muttered bitterly, “You broke up with that other one yesterday”
He seemingly chose to ignore you, “Sunday?”
You nodded and took another sip of the drink you held. He smiled, his eyes forming those endearing crescents that you loved, or hated, depending on what you were going for.
“Thank you, Love you”, he called out, jogging away to his class. You watched him run-walk away, almost dropping his sketchbook. Shaking your head in amusement, you smiled somewhat sadly.
“No”, you whispered, “You don't”
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You didn’t know exactly when you fell for Ten, only that it happened suddenly and you couldn’t deny it. He was idiotic, on many levels, but he was sweet and was there for you when you needed it. 
He was a dance major, and an art minor, talented in both these aspects. You had seen him dance, it seemed like his body moved with the music, it told a story every time. He would illustrate emotion with his dancing. He did that with his art too, each stroke equivalent to a sentence from a story.
Anyone could tell he loved both of them.
You let out a frustrated sound, bending down to pick up the pen you had dropped. You were in your apartment, trying to finish an essay that was due the next day. You longingly glanced at your keyboard, the one instrument that you loved.
Well actually, you loved the piano, but you couldn’t haul your piano from back home to your apartment that you had rented out for your college years, and so you settled for a keyboard. You had loved music ever since you were little, instruments making its way in and out of your house. Your jazz phase consisted of saxophones, and you played the guitar for a bit too. You even picked up the drums for a while, insisting that it made you cooler (because every thirteen year old needed that validation), but you settled back to piano eventually.
You took part in competitions and such, sometimes singing along with your playing as well. 
But you couldn’t afford to even think about playing, until you finished your assignments, which were all marked. They were extensive projects that made you want to scream at times. You didn’t care what Shakespeare meant, nor did you want to conduct a survey about emotions. 
Turning the page of your textbook, you switched tabs to your next resource, ready to jot down more notes for the essay, when you saw a notification at the bottom right of your laptop, which was an email. You clicked on it and let it open.
Your eyes widened, gaping slightly at the screen as you read the email.
 To: y/n@gmail.com
From: admin@royalschoolofmusic.com
Good morning/evening,
            We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into The Royal School Of Music on a scholarship. We have received your application and are impressed by your talent and dedication. Please send us a follow-up email within a month's time to confirm your attendance at our institution.
      TRSOM
 You grabbed your phone, texting your mother about the scholarship, shaking in happiness. It had been your dream to get into the Royal school, but you had initially applied to it on a whim, not really expecting to get in.
You swiped through your contacts, ready to call Ten, who was regrettably your best friend, to inform him of the good news, until you realized-
The school was in another country altogether.
While you knew Ten would be ecstatic about the fact you got it, you had known each other for four years, the entirety of your college career, and leaving for the school would be a bit of a shock. It was definitely not the fact that telling the boy you loved you were potentially never going to see him again that was deterring you from telling him.
You placed your phone back down, telling yourself you would deal with that later, reminding yourself you had an essay to finish.
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Ten tapped his finger impatiently on the table, trying to figure out a way to get out of this date. Initially, the girl he was out with, Eun Hae by name, seemed nice, but as time went on, it was clear she had no personality. 
Now, Ten wasn’t one to judge immediately. He tried to give her a chance, smiling and indulging in the bland conversation, he smiled and complimented her, and was sweet. It was going fine for a first date until of course, she suggested they share a fruit salad.
There were about fifteen other salads on the godforsaken menu, but no, she had to choose a fruit salad, above everything else.
Ten was not having it.
He excused himself, muttering something about an assignment, and went to the restroom of the restaurant, pulling out his phone and searching for your contact, clicking on it.
 [8:39 pm] 10: y/n
[8:39 pm] 10: y/n
[8:39 pm]10:  my precious friend
[8:39 pm] n/n : what now
[8:40 pm]10: I need help
[8:40 pm] n/n: I refuse 
[8:40 pm] 10: I am ofFENDED
[8:40 pm]10: please my date is making me eat fruit
[8:40 pm] n/n: sounds like a you problem
[8:40 pm] 10: I am quivering in fear and this is how you react
[8:40 pm] n/n: I have three assignments to finish
[8:41 pm] 10: I’ll take you for ice cream
[8:41 pm] n/n: deal
[8:41 pm] 10: why has our friendship been reduced to bribery
[8:41 pm] n/n stfu or I won't come and save you
[8:41 pm] 10: I LOVE YOU 
 He quickly sent you his location and put his phone back, getting back to the table and smiling as realistically as he could at the girl opposite him, who was still going on about one of her friends and their doings, while he tried to look as interested as possible.
“So, should we order-”
Right at that moment, you walked in, hair tousled because of the wind and a disgruntled expression on your face. He made an attempt not to smile at your appearance, ignoring the warm feeling he got on seeing you.
You looked around spotting him and storming over, “Ten Lee, what the fuck are you doing here”, you asked, ignoring the girl that sat right opposite him, mock angrily. He caught on, staring at you in bewilderment, noting the hint of amusement in your eyes, “How dare you to do this to me!”
“I-”
“Um, who are you?”, the girl asked, seemingly offended that you had interrupted their date.
You scoffed, displaying all your acting abilities in their full potential, “Who am I? Who are you?”
She blinked in confusion, and Ten used every bit of willpower he had to prevent him from bursting out into laughter. “I’m his date?”
“Un-fucking-believable”, you said, “Ten Lee how could you?”
At this point, Ten was invested in whatever lie you had somehow come up with to get him out of this date. It seemed like you had an entire explanation for it, either that or you were taking the opportunity to scream at him. Both seemed valid.
“How dare you lead this poor girl on!”, you continued, taking a turn, making the girl look scared, “You didn’t tell her did you?” “Tell me what?”, she asked anxiously, leaning forward. You fought to keep your straight face on seeing Ten lean forward too, apparently interested in whatever abomination he committed. 
“He’s gay”, you said with as straight a face as possible, which was hard considering the girl looked so embarrassed, you could see her face go red. Your best friend looked at you incredulously, almost as embarrassed as his ‘date’ was, and mildly amused.
“Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’ll be taking him”, you stated, grabbing Ten’s hand and taking him along with you, out of the restaurant and onto the streets.
“You really-” “Ice cream”, you demanded, smirking at his obvious embarrassment. He gaped at your indignance, but nodded, “At least you got me out of there”
“I’m an actress”
“Fuck off”
“Finals are in two weeks, I still come help and this is how to repay me? Ungrateful”
The two of you took Ten’s car to the Ice cream shop, leaning on the hood as you ate your ice cream, with Ten occasionally stealing bites. You smacked his hand away, glaring at his as he tried to take another.
“I’m literally the one paying for it”, he argued.
“This is payment for saving your ass”, you retorted. He slung an arm around you, ignoring you and taking his phone out, scrolling through Instagram. You leaned into him, the scent of your shampoo making its way to him. There was that warm feeling again, and he didn’t like it one bit. 
Deep down, he knew what it was, but he was too much of a coward to ever try, or even take a chance with it, because he wasn’t one for commitment, and even though he had thought about it, he was, as much as he hated to admit it, scared.
“So can I get another scoop?”
“You have assignments to finish”
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THREE WEEKS TO GRADUATION
~
The lilting tune played through your apartment, your fingers running across the ivory keys in fervor. They clicked and clacked ever so often, which was the one thing you hated about keyboards. The keys weren’t as firm as an upright piano, giving the music an annoying clickity noise.
Most of the time, you could ignore it, but today you were tired, and this piece was particularly difficult. For some reason, you were having trouble playing the accessories, and keeping the piece in time. You played that part over and over again, but it wouldn’t work.
You switched off the metronome in annoyance, you stared at the music sheet in front of you, trying to figure out how the fuck you should play the piece. Your door clicked, and you did your best to curb your annoyance at the fact someone was interrupting your practise time, no matter how hard the piece was.
Like all keyboards, yours was smaller than an actual piano, and looked very out of place in your apartment, which was warmly decorated with all sorts of trinkets and such. One of Ten’s sweatshirts was thrown on the sofa, and for some unknown reason there were three candles sitting on your table.
It was confusion incarnate, to say the least.
You heard the door click, and a girl walked in, smiling at you. It was the only other person other than Ten who had the key to your apartment, Angie. She was shorter than you, but only by a little bit, had a fringe and brown eyes. She was pretty, and easy to talk to, which was probably what drew you to her in the first place.
“Hey”, she greeted, seeing you on your keyboard, “Whatcha playin?”
“An andante”, you groaned, “Why are you here?”
“I have nowhere else to be”, he said bluntly, “Renjun’s at Doyoung’s place or something”, she pulled out her phone, “I’m just here to chill dude, continue playing, I finished two projects and my brain in dead”
Renjun was her boyfriend, who was on the Dance Team with Ten. The two were ridiculously cute, but due to the fact she now had a boyfriend, the two of you spent less time together. You were okay with it though, you understood.
“Isn’t Doyoung with his girlfriend?”, you asked, and she shook her head, “No, she’s at her Chinese class”
You nodded, going back to your piece, placing your fingers on the correct notes when-
SLAM
Your door opened and closed again, and you closed your eyes, praying to whatever God existed that one day, you would get to practise without interruptions. Ten trudged through throwing himself on the couch, next to Angie, who paid him no attention. “Hi”, he greeted you, and you glared, causing him to give you a look of confusion.
“What did I do now?”
“Not your fault, sorry, I’m not getting this piece”
He perked up, walking over to where you were, “Can I help?”, he asked, gesturing for you to move to the side of the piano stool so he could sit next to you. He studied the notes, as you looked at him, admiring his side profile, wondering how someone could be so pretty. He placed his hand on the keys, playing it. He made a mistake but in the place you had gotten. He got the part you were struggling right.
“Here, do this”, he explained, “The notes are after the third but before the fourth count, so you have to play it quickly”
You nodded, trying to play it, not quite getting it but it was getting there. He smiled, his eyes turning into crescents as he grinned at you.
You hated his smile.
It was infuriating, the fact that he always helped you, he was always there. You kept finding yourself falling for him more and more, and you didn’t want to, because you knew how Ten was, and it was making the whole ‘telling him about the acceptance into the music school’ a lot harder.
You thanked him, pushing him off the stool playfully so you could finish your practice session before going back to studying. He made a mock offended look, retreating to the couch next to Angie, who was engrossed in texting someone, presumably her boyfriend.
His hair was messed up, sticking up in different directions making him look ridiculously adorable. You shut down the keyboard, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to practice anymore with the both of them around. You went to sit next to Angie, but Ten’s entire presence seemed to be in your way.
“Move”
“No, I’m comfortable” “Chittaphon Leechaiya-”
“Yeah I’d like some chai”, Angie said mindlessly, causing the two of you to look at her in mild astonishment. She seemingly didn’t notice your gaping looks, still scrolling through whatever she was looking at.
“Did you just reduce me to tea?”, Ten asked.
Angie looked at him, mystified. “It seems so”, you mused. A slow smirk stretched across his lips. He propped himself up on his elbows, his too-long hair falling over his eyes
“I’m flattered”
“What?”
“Tea is hot. I’m hot”, he drawled, waiting for the two of your reactions to his statement.
You smacked him.
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It was your designated pizza day, which meant Ten was at your place. He was currently in the kitchen getting something to drink and ordering the pizza while you sat alone in your living room.
You looked up at your laptop screen, going over the draft of the email you were to send back the The Royal School of Music. Your parents had been extremely proud of you for getting in, and had called you the other night to congratulate you. You heard footsteps, quickly shutting your laptop down, looking up at Ten who walked into your living room from the kitchen.
“Pizza will arrive in a bit”, he said, handing you your drink and plopping down next to you, “Movie?”
“Uh Bridge to Terabithia”, you spouted, taking a sip. You were supposed to be looking for a movie while he was gone, but instead had begun writing the email, so you spouted the name of one of your childhood favorites, that never failed to make you cry. He nodded and you opened Netflix, quickly searching the movie and pressing play.
Ten wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as the two of you sat in silence. The movie played, and even though you had already watched it before, you still found yourself invested in it. Except you weren’t completely focusing. Ten was so close, his fingers brushing against your hips, his breath near your neck. It felt right, like you were supposed to be like this.
That was the thing, it never felt wrong when you were with Ten, it was like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. Except of course for the fact he wasn’t yours. You knew how Ten was, he was the heartbreaker, and you were the one who was always there to pick up the pieces. Still it was nice to pretend that he was yours, because that was all you could do.
Pretend.
He kept talking about how he wanted someone who understood him, who he could be with, not just some stupid fling. He kept repeating the same thing again and again, and it frustrated you to no end, because you understood him and you were right there, but he never saw you. He would flirt with you, he would do everything and yet, he would never even think of you.
You leaned into him subconsciously, biting your lower lip as you stared at the screen in anticipation. He started playing with your hair, twirling it around his fingers, his hot breath on your neck making hard for you to fully concentrate on the movie.
You hated the effect he had on you, he had barely even done anything, but had still managed to make you nervous. He pulled you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Are you even watching?”, you asked, semi breathlessly, “Yes”, he responded, “But I want to cuddle.” You couldn’t argue with that logic, so you relaxed into his embrace, as much as you could. “You’re warm”, he murmured against your skin, looking back up at the screen and humming a random tune. “I’m hungry”
“I think I have some M&M’s on the counter”, you mused, “I’ll go get them”, you jumped at the chance to get up and get away from Ten, who was positively driving you crazy at this point. However, your grand plan was cut short when he refused, “I can go get it”, he made a move to get up.
“Sit down idiot-”, you said, pushing him off you, but accidentally tripped over yourself, falling back into his embrace. He laughed, hands falling to your waist to make sure you didn’t fall. “Graceful”, he snickered, and you glared at him. “I hate you”, you grumbled, “You love me”, he teased, making you almost fall again.
Except this time, his face was dangerously close to yours, and you just stared at him, your mind going blank. His arms were still around you, preventing you from falling. His eyes fluttered down to your lips for a second before he looked back up. He opened his mouth to say something but-
RING
The doorbell rang, startling the two of you out of your trance. You pulled away from Ten, shakily walking over to the door and opening it.
“Pizza?”, the guys asked, handing you the pizza box, “Yeah thanks”, you paid him and walked straight into your kitchen, not giving Ten another look, because you knew that you wouldn’t be able to.
You sighed, shutting your eyes, and trying to collect yourself, before grabbing the M&M’s and walking back into the living room, where Ten was sitting, eyes trained on the screen.
“You missed an entire scene”
“YOU DIDN’T PAUSE IT FOR ME-?”
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The music echoed through the studio, its melody harsh and striking. It was dark, no lights were on, but the mirrors reflected the only person in the room-Ten.
His figure moved with the music, choosing to do whatever it pleased, trying to portray the beautiful piece to its fullest. The higher notes gave it a sort of hopeful effect, a guide. It lead you to believe that it was alright, it was fine. 
The lower notes added depth to the melody, giving it a richer feel. The two played together made it a beautiful piece, with a sort of melancholic feel. He danced to it, telling a story with his body. Ten would do this sometimes, instead of choosing an upbeat song to dance to, he’d take a classical piece, something that he could feel.
There was something in this piece, the Tempest, that resounded within him. It reminded him of you, specifically your friendship with him if you could even call it that. He got that warm feeling again that day when you had almost fallen. He would’ve kissed you if not for the doorbell. 
Ten wasn’t one for commitment, he wasn’t one for standing up first and telling people about his feelings. He played people, he played them like he painted a picture, or danced.
Speaking of which, the piece had suddenly taken a turn for the turbulent, faster-paced, anxious even. It resembled his feelings perfectly, the random urges to tell you, the anxiety for the outcome. He somehow managed to gracefully enact these feelings, making it look like art instead of the confusion he felt.
Maybe he chose this piece not only for himself but for you too.
It was one of your favorite ones to play, you could and would talk about it for days, especially when you had just mastered playing it. It wasn’t an easy piece, with all the nuances and timing changes, but you pulled it off. He could almost pretend it was you playing.
And then suddenly it mellowed down, the piece sounding hopeful as if there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and you could finally see it. A solution, a happy ending to the harsh waves of the storm, a merry end. His moves became lighter and almost joyful, as he twirled and jumped.
It was all an illusion.
A lie to make you believe the storm was over, there was no hope for this story. The harsh melody returned with vengeance, striking down the sliver of longing, any dream of making it out. Ten did his best to keep up with it, but the sudden change of emotions was startling even to him. It had changed so quickly, he didn’t even have time to comprehend it.
It ended on a triumphant note, like a proud win over an enemy, a victory that shone above everything. Ten ended the dance with a pirouette, panting as he tried calming himself down from the intense session. He couldn’t help feeling triumphant as well, the adrenaline of the piece getting to him, yet, he was skeptical.
Because he had a feeling it was the Tempest that had triumphed, and not him.
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You’ll admit: you were not having fun with Psych. You had been studying all day, trying to absorb some of the stuff you had been taught throughout the year. Even though studying human behaviour had always intrigued and interested you, the reason you chose Psych, you couldn’t care less about oxytocin and how attraction worked, nor did you care about how human behaviour was affected by it.
But you had been at it for the past 6 hours, and was tired, so when Angie came along and expressed her disgust and sympathy about your studying endeavors, she hauled you up from the place you had been sitting at for most of the day and instructed you to change and get ready to go or a party.
So you found yourself at a frat party, Angie's arm hooked in yours and music blaring all around you. It was hot and dark, and you could barely see anything with the terrible lighting. You couldn’t tell what song was being played at such high volume, but awkwardly swayed to it anyways, wondering if staying at home at falling down the hole of ice cream and Netflix would have been a better alternative to this.
There were couples making out, and random beer cans everywhere. Everyone was half drunk, and you took this as an excuse to go get a drink. You turned to Angie who was looking the other way. 
“Angie”, you whisper-screamed her name into her ear, causing her to jump, “I’m going to get a drink okay?”, you explained, to which she nodded. “I’m going to Renjun”, she said, walking away and leaving you alone.
Friendship.
You pushed through the crowd of sweaty adults, to get to the makeshift bar that was at the other end of the frat. You stopped occasionally to greet friends, or smile at a random cute boy, but finally made it to the kitchen. Johnny, one of your other friends stood there, inclining his head in a greeting. “Hey, what do you want?” “Are you in charge of the drinks or something?”, you asked, leaning on the island of the kitchen. He grinned at you, shaking his head, “No, but I’m so much I might as well be!”
You laughed, requesting for your drink of choice, which he went to fix for you. You licked your lips, scanning the area to find another friend to latch onto, since Angie had so kindly abandoned you.
“Didn’t think I’d see you here”, a very familiar voice said form behind you, and you turned to see none other than your best friend.
But he looked nothing like what you were used to.
Ten’s hair was slicked back instead of splayed out on his forehead like usual, his eyes seemed darker, probably due to the alcohol. He was wearing skinny jeans, and a blazer with most of the buttons undone, his chest in full view.
Ten looked hot.
“Uh-”, you started like the well read person you were, “Angie dragged me”
He smirked, “Of course she did”, he took a seat on one of the stools, legs spreading as he leaned back. You looked away, trying your hardest not to stare at the boy in front of you, who was making that mission increasingly harder with every little thing he did.
Johnny came back out, offering you a smile and your drink, which you took from him, returning his smile. He handed a glass of something you couldn’t make out to Ten, who took a sip, keeping it on the island. “You don’t seem to be having fun”, he observed, hands finding your waist and pulling you closer to him.
This was a normal thing, but this time it felt different. It wasn’t the same innocent gesture. “I just arrived idiot”, you scoffed. He smirked, “You can look at me you know”, he teased, and you could feel the heat rush to your face. You turned your gaze to him. Currently you were in between his legs, and your mind was a mess.
The first thing you noticed was his tattoo on his right arm which you had seen before. The next was one you hadn't seen before, and rightly so, since it was on his chest.
“Done staring at me?”, he said with a smirk, and your eyes snapped up to his, holding his gaze. If you hated the effect his eyes had on you before, you positively despised them now. He was staring at you through a half lidded gaze, licking his lips. Even without any alcohol in your system you felt dizzy, but not a sick way. Ten was driving you crazy, with his hands on your waist, eyes on you and just everything about him in the moment.
“You’re pretty”, he murmured, looking up at you, eyes falling to your lips, “Did you know that?”, his voice was deeper than usual, sending shivers down your spine. “I-”
“Hmm?”, he sounded absent minded, like he wasn’t even listening to you, which was great considering you didn’t even know what to say. He pushed you a little, standing up himself, now looking down.
“If you didn’t know, I think you are”, he said, face closer than any friend’s face should have been. You breath hitched in anticipation. “Ten?”, your voice was small, quivering almost under his gaze.
He was so close, painfully close. If anyone asked you how you got into this position in the first place, you wouldn’t be able to explain, not quite knowing yourself. 
“Y/n, I need you for a second”, Angie appeared from nowhere, freezing when she saw the two of you in that position, “Um- I can leave-”
“Hey Ang”, Ten greeted, moving away from you. You missed the proximity, as much as you hated to admit it. You blinked hazily at your friend who had so conveniently interrupted whatever you had going on with Ten. You silently cursed yourself for getting so out of it. “Here, I think Arya is calling me anyways so”, he pushed his hands in his jeans pockets. He glanced at you, before walking away and out of the kitchen.
Would he have kissed you?
You looked over at your friend, who was still staring at you like she had seen a ghost. “Did I interrupt something?”, she asked, eyes wide. You felt embarrassed, taking a step back as if you were trying to walk out of the whole situation. “I’m not sure”, you said, “What do you need me for?”
“I need you to hold my drink, I need to go to the bathroom, Renjun is drunk as fuck and I trust you”, she explained, handing you her glass. You nodded, “And maybe can you watch my dumbass of a boyfriend please?”
You snorted, agreeing and walking to the main area of the party that was unfortunately the most crowded. You spotted Renjun on top of Donghyuck, practically choking the latter boy who was laughing for some reason. You could see why Angie went to you for her drink. Walking over, you tried to help Mark, another one of your friends, in separating Renjun and Donghyuck from initiating the 77th hunger games on a friday night.
After somewhat succeeding in pulling the two away from each other, Angie had arrived, choosing to ignore her wasted boyfriends antics and taking her glass back from you. 
You remembered you had left your own drink back in the kitchen, and so you backtracked your steps to said place, when you saw it.
Ten was standing with a girl, her hands around his neck. He was saying something that made her giggle, throwing her head back in laughter as he grinned happily. You froze watching the scene unbeknownst to Ten. You didn’t know what you were feeling for an entire minute until it hit you.
You were hurt.
It was a pricking sort of feeling, like a rod prodding at your heart. It was like a warning, telling you to look away before it pierced your heart, but you couldn’t look away for some reason. It was like your mind was mocking you, telling you keep watching, to realize you never had the slightest chance with Ten.
You weren’t special, whatever flirting he did with you he did to everyone, anything that had remotely happened wasn’t even mentionable, because you were like every other girl in the crowd, and it fucking hurt. It hurt to see the boy you loved not give you a moment's thought, not even give you a chance.
That night you went back to your apartment alone, leaving Angie to deal with her boyfriend. You had never felt this horrible before, it had never escalated to this level of hurt. This type of hurt was different, a dull ache reminding you of what an idiot you were to have ever hoped for more.
You hated Ten for several things, his eyes, his smile, the way he could make you giddy by doing the simplest things. But in the moment, you hated yourself more.
You hated yourself for loving Ten Lee.
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‘Don’t call me kid, Don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you’ve made me. You showed me colours you know i can’t see with anyone else’
~
You sat on a colourful rug, holding a book up, and surrounded by several other books. You were in a sort of greenhouse, the walls and roof were made completely off glass, and the light streamed through, giving the scene a sort of whimsical aura.
This was the place ten has chosen to paint you, standing behind his easel and and focusing on the canvas, occasionally looking up at you. There were flecks of white and pale blue paint on his face, and he looked whimsical in a way as well.
You sat there, ignoring the warnings in your mind that told you to stay away from Ten for yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You showed up to the venue right on time, and did your best to not seem any different. You spaced out, eyes focusing on a random word on a page. Ten had promised he was almost done with it, since the two of you had been at it for quite a while now.
His lower lip was caught between his teeth in concentration, hair messed up from the amount of times he had run his hand through it. He stepped back for a second, inspecting his work, a dorky smile stretching out on his lips.
“It’s done!”, he said, “Some fixing, but I can do that later, get your ass here!”
You get to your feet, placing the book on one of the piles of them around you and walking towards him, biting down your own smile at this enthusiasm. You walked behind the easel, your eyes falling on the painting.
It was gorgeous, the colours complimenting each other. The depiction of the light rays was so soft, yet it was there shining down on the main part of the picture- you. He had painted you so prettily, almost fairy like in the midst of the scene. You stared at the painting in awe, unable to think of words to describe it.
“So?”, he asked hopefully, his eyes searching yours for some sort of reaction. You looked at him, then at the painting, then back at him, wondering how he could’ve made it look so fanciful, something out of a disney movie.
“It’s beautiful”, you whispered, your voice not daring to go any louder. He smiled placing his palette down and standing next to you. “It’s not hard when the subject is beautiful”, he said nonchalantly. You froze, silently telling yourself to calm down, to not react to it, that it wasn’t anything to be noted. Yet something in you clicked, shifted into place.
You were angry.
You were furious at Ten, with his pretty smiles and wishful eyes. You hated it when he flirted with you, because he kept leading you on, you hated it when he looked at you like you were the world, because it was a lie, it was all a fucking lie.
“Don’t”, you said, voice shaky. He stared at you in confusion, which only irked you more.
“Don’t”, your voice betrayed you, breaking. He looked alarmed, reaching his hand out, “Hey, Are you okay-”
“No, I’m not okay”, you hissed, slapping his hand away, stepping back. Your mind was clouded with a feeling of helplessness, helplessness at not being able to tell him how you felt, how you hated what he did, how all you wanted was something you definitely couldn’t have. He looked bewildered at your seemingly sudden outburst.
“Stop fucking playing with me”, you said, “I’m not this”, you searched for the words, coming back with nothing, “Stop complimenting me, calling me sweet nothings, making me believe-”, you sucked in a breath, feeling the tears build up in your eyes, years of pent up frustration finally making their way out of you. 
You looked up at him, he still seemed to not be following, “Y/n, I don’t-”
“I’m in love with you”, you choked out finally, the words seeming to tie you down, rather than set you free like you had once hoped. “I’m in love with you”, you repeated, Ten could hear the rage in your voice, washing down on him like the waves of the Tempest, harsh and real. “And I hate myself for it”
Your voice was softer, much more mellow now, like it was tired. A single tear trickled down your face, and you looked up to see a stunned Ten, eyes wide at your state. He said nothing, instead just looked at you, as if you were a different person all of a sudden. It wasn’t a pretty sight, you crying and him standing there like a statue, not a word escaping his lips. 
The air seemed to be colder all of a sudden, biting into the exposed areas of your skin. There was that aching feeling again, that pricking of your heart, the silent ‘i told you so’, that your mind seemed to be playing on repeat. You brushed the tears away from your face furiously, feeling stupid all of a sudden. 
“I’m going to go”, you muttered, grabbing your things and walking out, not caring if you looked idiotic, and not staying to listen to any pathetic response he gave you. 
Ten watched you leave, cursing himself for being such an idiot to you. He didn’t mean to hurt you, he was in love with you himself, but he would never admit it. He hated himself for it, because he knew what he had done. He had flirted with you, had played you, but it was only because he thought the two of you never had a chance. 
He hated himself because it was him, after all this time, who had destroyed that chance.
You sat in front of your computer, back at your apartment, trying not to cry again as you stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the send button. It hurt much worse than you expected it to, his silence had made everything all the worse. But you were tired of him going back and forth. You were tired of having to pick up the pieces every time when he broke another girls heart, or someone else broke his.
You had nothing to lose this time. So alone, in your room you pressed send, signing of your future, sending the email to The Royal School of Music.
Alone.
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Finals week passed in a blur of stress crying, all nighters and excessive reading of things that you had read a million times before, and if they hadn’t already gotten into your head, they would never. Which prompted the stress crying.
It was a vicious cycle.
You barely stepped out of your apartment, other than to actually take the exam. All your time was taken up in studying, occasionally eating, and studying again. You also didn’t see Ten that much, other than a glimpse, but immediately swerved away, not in any mood to deal with that confrontation as of yet.
Somehow, you managed to make it to the end of the week, without completely going mad. You made it out of finals, and was technically done with your college career altogether, which was crazy to even think of. You had spent the last four years of your life in this hellhole to get to where you were, and you had made it.
So seeing yourself in front of the mirror a week later, donning your cape and cap over your clothes, you smiled for the first time in two weeks. It was the day you finally graduated and went out into the world as a person with a degree. 
Granted, you were slightly pissed at the fact you had spent four years, and paid an enormous amount of money for a sheet of paper, but at the moment, you couldn’t get the fact that you were finally done with it out of your head. You were happy.
The ceremony started off slowly, the principal calling the names of the students in alphabetical order. You saw Ten walk up and take his degree, a broad smile on his lips. You saw Angie take hers, almost tripping over her cape, earning a laugh from the principal, and fond looks all about. You saw Renjun and Donghyuck hugging instead of at each other's throats for once, and Mark randomly beat boxing for no reason.
You went up on the stage, taking the degree and smiling, realizing that your vision was hazy. Tears of happiness had made their way to your eyes, and you blinked them back, thanking the principal and smiling at the crowd. You walked off, going to stand with your little group of friends.
Later on, Angie went off with her boyfriend for a celebratory date, Renjun and Donghyuck decided to crash at Marks place, and you? You decided to walk through the campus one last time, before you never returned. You were done with college and this place wasn’t yours anymore. It held a sort of nostalgic feel all of a sudden, walking under the arches and admiring the architecture one last time.
You were holding your cap in your hand, after finding it on the ground somewhere after the throwing of them. Your cape was folded and hung from your arm as you walked through, deciding to go get some coffee after you were done.
Lost in your own thoughts, you bumped into someone, dropping the cap., “Sorry-”, you begun you apologize for your absent mindedness, crouching to pick up your cap when you saw the person you had run into.
Ten.
You silently scowled, cursing whatever above that had thrown the two of you together at the very moment, and cleared your throat uncomfortably, looking away. “Hey”, he said breathlessly, looking you up and down. He looked great, he always did, you couldn’t deny the fact no matter how much you were trying to hate him.
“Hi”, you said curtly, “I have to go”
“Wait”, he reached out, grabbing your hand, “Can we talk?”, his voice was tilting towards the hopeful side. It reminded you of your own foolish hope, and you didn’t like it one bit. “No”, you said, “I have to go”, you repeated for words, crushing any hope.
“No- Wait, please, Y/n let me explain”, he pleaded his case, his eyes striking through yours, stirring up some sort of sympathy. Your mind was telling you to go, to get out as fast as possible, but your heart softened, as it always did with him.
“Explain what?”, you chuckled bitterly, “You’ve made it pretty clear how you feel Ten. I was stupid”, your words were hurting yourself, but hurting him too, because he knew it wasn’t your fault.
“No Y/n, you-”
“I what?”, you hissed in question. He spluttered, discouraged by your disinterest in whatever he was trying to tell you. You wanted nothing more to get away from him in that moment, but he seemed to want to stretch out your time together as much as possible. It annoyed you, and made you sad at the same time.
The more time you were with him, the more you could feel your heart break.
“I love you”, he said quietly, “I know I’m a terrible person for leading you on and not realizing earlier, but I love you.” You froze, standing there and staring at him. He looked back, not daring to break your gaze. Instead of joy, which was what you had expected to feel if he ever uttered those words, you felt angrier.
“Please Y/n”, he said, “Just give me a chance?”
You stayed silent, contemplating your choices. “How long have we been friends?”
“What-”
“How long have we known each other Ten?”
“Four years, but I don’t see-”
“We have been friends for four fucking years. I was there for every heartbreak, every date, every girl. I stood on the sidelines, I listened to you, I have you advice when you needed it, I comforted you when you cried. But you? You never gave me a chance!”, you exclaimed, “Not a second glance, not a single chance.”
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, taking in your words and trying to think of something to justify them, but he couldn’t, he knew you were right.
“So yes”, you voice quivered, “You are an idiot. You’re an idiot for never realizing my feelings when i made it PAINFULLY obvious”, you took steps back, trying to calm yourself.
“I can't believe I”, you scoffed at yourself, your own idiocy, “I can’t believe that three out of four years I was in love with you, but I guess that’s what makes me the dumb bitch.” You looked away, the words you had wanted to say since forever finally out of your system. He stood there, just a few steps away from you. But then, why did it seem like he was miles away?
“I’m sorry”, he said weakly, “I hate myself for what I did, but Y/n I”, he paused, shutting his eyes in frustration, “I’m in love with you dammit, and I don’t expect you to forgive me for what I’ve put you through but, can we-”
“No”, you said, “We can’t”
“Y/n give us a chance, please”
“You don’t understand!”, you said almost feverishly, blinking back tears, “I can’t Ten”
“Why not?”, he asked, walking closer to you. You took a step back from him, looking at the boy you loved with remorseful eyes. “I’m leaving Ten. I’m leaving for a music school in another country.”
He blanched, any hope withering away, like a dead flower, dried with the summer heat, like a lone boat in the midst of a storm. You let out a pathetic sob, realizing that you couldn’t ever have Ten, no matter what.
“I’ll be gone before we could ever be”
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The world was never fair. It came at you with things you wished never happened, you wished you could change, or would have handled better. Like a storm on an unsuspecting sailor, it’s waves crashed down on you, and you were unable to breathe.
Life was the tempest, with it’s harsh tremors, it’s sudden soft waves that lead you to believe things were going to be okay. It’s highs and it’s lows, the good times and the bad. You found it ironic, the fact you were playing your favorite piece of all time, and it reminded you of reality.
You had always viewed music as an escape from reality, but now you were starting to connect the two, using music to let both the worlds connect. Your fingers flew across the keys, the climactic melody thundering through your apartment.
Finishing the piece, you let out a sigh, taking the music sheets and placing them back in your folder. Shutting the keyboard down, you cleared up a bit, settling down on your couch. Cracking your knuckles, you pulled out your phone to mindlessly scroll through Instagram as one did to pass time.
You seemed to do that often, now that you were officially done with college and had a bit of time before you left for The Royal School of Music, approximately three weeks, you honestly had nothing else to do with your time.
And so, you indulged in the world of reels and other videos that didn’t necessarily add anything of worth to your being. Time seemed to trickle by slowly, much slower than you would have liked. 
Your flight to the country in which the school was in had already been booked, your registration had been completed, and you had even found an apartment to rent over there. Some of your belongings had already been sent for shipping, leaving you with the bare minimum. You had even sold some stuff, because cross country shipping was expensive, and you had gathered quite a few things over your four years staying in your college area that you definitely didn’t need.
It seemed as if everything was set, you were ready to leave everything behind.
Your doorbell rang, it's obnoxious ringing sound making you wince out of annoyance. You got up from your spot on the couch reluctantly, and walked over to the door to open it.
You were met with a slightly disheveled looking Ten on the other side, hair slightly messy. It had been yet another week since you had seen him, not have been in contact since graduation day, and suddenly here he was at your doorstep. Before you could even say anything, he pushed his hand out, thrusting a pizza box in your face.
“I know you don’t want to see me, and I don’t blame you but”, he took a deep breath, “You’re going, and it sucks, but I’m happy for you, so i brought pizza, for old times sake?”
You blinked in surprise, your hands on their own accord and taking the box. As if he could sense you were skeptical, he rambled on, “Just a movie and pizza, then I’ll leave I promise.” Everything inside you screamed at you to say no, but the words left you before you could even comprehend your mind's thoughts.
“Okay”
You opened the door more, walking back into your apartment, opening the box and taking your laptop to search for a movie. He closed the door after himself, taking a seat beside you on the couch, but not touching you. It was like there was a wall in between the two of you, and you couldn’t break it down.
You weren’t sure if you wanted to.
“There’s a new season of His Dark Materials”, you thought aloud, “We could binge that.”
It was so easy, being with Ten. Like falling back into a routine you had missed, a habit that had been cultivated. It was natural, him by your side, eating pizza and searching for a movie or series to binge. It was a tradition for the two of you after all, and even though you had stayed away from Ten for your own heart, it felt so good to do this again. You had missed it.
“Sure”, he agreed, taking a slice of the pizza, the stringy cheese not breaking, “We may need plates.”
You shook your head at his comical state, placing your laptop down and walking into your kitchen, opening the topmost cupboard to get the plates down, when you realized you couldn’t reach it. Now usually, you would just get a stool or something to climb on top off, but that would mean going back out there and admitting to Ten that you were short.
That was not acceptable.
Of course any grand plans of somehow getting the plates down without Ten knowing had been thrown out the window when he himself walked into the kitchen, “Are you making the plates or something? What’s taking so long?”
He spotted you, hands stretching up, leaning over the counter. Ten smirked, walking over and taking the plates down himself, “Someone’s short”, he snickered, to which you glared, “You’re short too dumbass.”
“You’re shorter”, he teased, taking the second plate down. He was standing in front of you, directly facing you as he placed the second plate of the counter top. You stared indignantly at him, and he caught your gaze, holding it. It was the same Ten you had known since you entered your campus, the same Ten you met at that party.
The same Ten you were in love with.
His eyes shifted from yours to your lips, realizing how close the two of you were. His hand raised up to your face cupping it. You subconsciously leaned into his touch, eyes wide, waiting for him to do something, anything.
His eyes searched yours for an answer, some sort of indication that he could go ahead. You knew that nothing good would come from this, but you couldn't help but nod your head a little too fast, and fisting the end of his shirt in anticipation.
He kissed you. 
His lips moved against yours softly, hesitantly, like they were scared you would disappear if he went any faster. It was nothing like you had ever imagined (believe me, you had imagined), but it was better. It was like a culmination of wanting had been poured into the kiss, and you didn’t want it to stop.
You could’ve sworn time had stopped when he kissed you, the world around you seeming to fade away. You could feel your knees going weak with the overwhelming feeling, the flutter in your stomach growing. If you hadn’t been holding onto the end of his shirt so hard, you would have collapsed into him.
“I’m sorry”, he whispered against your lips, pulling away, cupping your face, “I know I’m an idiot”, he confessed, and you resist the urge to agree, “I know I’m an idiot but,”, he stopped again, resting his forehead against yours. “One night”, he whispered, voice shaky now, “Will you be mine for just one night?”
There was something fragile in his voice, like he was afraid of your answer. You looked up, looking at those eyes you hated, but loved at the same time. You silently agreed, pressing your lips to his again, kissing him once more. His hands dropped down to your waist, your hands wrapped around his neck as you stole another long awaited kiss from him.
The plates were long forgotten about, instead the two of you stumbled back into the living room, hands not leaving each other. The back of his knees hit the couch, and he sat down, taking you with him. You sat on top of him, breathing heavily. 
He pressed his lips to your forehead affectionately as you leaned into Ten, not ever wanting the moment to end. “I’m tired”, you whispered, all the years of pining and wishing he was yours suddenly weighing you down. 
“I know”
“This isn’t going to end well is it?”
“I don’t know”, he mused, rubbing your back comfortingly. You looked at him once again, like you had done many times before, except this time he was yours, for how long? You didn’t know. You didn’t want the night to end, the prospect of losing him again already making your stomach pit.
“I love you”, he said, and you didn’t say it back. You didn’t have too, you had said it many times already, you had told him. Instead you kissed him again, getting drunk on him. 
The rest of the night was spent this way,lazily kissing, cuddling, and eating pizza straight out of the box since neither of you wanted to get up again. Ten held you like you were the world, and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The two of you forgot about the serial you were supposed to binge as well, too caught up with each other to even care.
He told you about how he got scouted for dancing by an entertainment company, you filled him in about The Royal School of Music, about how you were so glad College was over even though you would miss it. He made you laugh with his stupid jokes, and it felt like it had always been. Somewhere along the line, the two of you fell asleep in the dead of the night, or almost morning, tangled up in each others arms, happy.
You woke up on your couch alone, your apartment lonely and silent. You looked around sleepily, your eyes catching a glimpse of the clock on your wall, which told you it was already noon. You pulled your knees to your chest, feeling out of place. Something was missing.
Ten.
Ten was gone, nowhere to be seen. You tried thinking back, wondering why he was gone, until you realized - one night was over. Like he had promised, he was gone, not yours anymore, and you weren’t his. You shivered, realizing that there wasn’t any blankets or anything on the couch, yet you couldn't seem to get up.
It hurt. You wanted to cry and scream, the realization that he was gone, before you could even fully have him sinking it. It felt so unfair, the fact that you could never really ever have Ten, someone you had loved for four fucking years, for more than a night.
You took in a shaky breath, looking to the end of the sofa, which is when you saw it. It was Ten’s painting, the one of you in the greenhouse, supposedly reading the books. On the top a sticky note read ‘The Tempest’. You brushed your finger over the painting, taking it in. He had left it here for you, and it was the one thing you had of him. At the bottom, it was signed in his handwriting.
‘10’.
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“널 다시 만나면 네 손을 잡고 말해줄 텐데 I will never let you go”
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fin.
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bay-did-nothing-wrong · 16 days ago
Note
Hey I wonder. What would happen if the Turtles’s crush was dating someone for a long time but here’s the twist: that person was working for the Foot and was using that person to get close to the Turtles. And the Turtles’ crush doesn’t know about it, of course. It may be a little angst but I’m trying to get ideas for my fanfics and I would like to read from your version.
Oh, this sounds super interesting. Lemme see what I can do.
Genre: Angst, some fluff near the end
Word Count: 3665
Note: I wasn't really going anywhere with these, I pretty much let the story lead me and its not EXACTLY what the ask was but I feel its close enough. I hope you like! And as per usual, Raph's is longer ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Also, do tag me on your fic if you ever get around to doing it.
The Spy (GN!Reader finds out their boyfriend is a Foot Clan spy and the turts have to deal with that)
Leonardo
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Mood Song: Fun. - All The Pretty Girls
God, you felt so stupid!
How could you fall for the oldest trick in the book?!
That sweet boy you met in a coffee shop by accident once and who you instantly fell for was a spy for the Foot. Because of course he was! Good things just don't happen to you, at least not without a caveat.
"Hey." there's a voice you usually love to listen to but which you now dreaded the sound of.
"Hi." it felt inappropriate, your response, after everything that had just happened this type of casual tone felt forced.
"How are you feeling?" his steps were so quiet that you hadn't realised when he'd walked through the room and sat on his bed next to you.
How were you feeling?
Well, apart from betrayed, stupid, and just absolutely devastated, you felt a crushing amount of guilt.
You just shrugged, eyes still pointing at the soft blanket he'd covered you with.
You'd led the Foot Clan to the turtles.
What was wrong with you?! How could you not see the writing on the wall? How that man just seemed to mold into whatever you liked? How he adopted all the mannerisms, quirks, interest and personality of a certain someone? How he failed to tell you anything too specific about himself as he let you tell him everything about yourself?
How could you not see that he was trying to replace Leo, so you could let your guard down?
You should have spotted the red flags immediately, the moment he started talking about Japanese Warfare and History, or the weird amount of blue he was wearing, or the fact that he was into martial arts, or that he was homeschooled and had three brothers. Any one of these would have been a total coincidence on their own but all of them in total should have flagged up and you were an absolute moron for not realising it.
Or was it because you didn't want to realise it.
After all, that was one way to be with Leo, even if it wasn't really him, just a discount version of him.
A tough, cool texture brushed at the bottom of your chin, pushing it upwards, and there was Leonardo. Those clear, crystalline eyes with that razors-sharp focus stuck to your own gaze.
"It's not your fault."
Of course he knew what you were thinking. He was your best friend, after all. Isn't that what started this mess in the first place?
But he was wrong. It didn't ofter happen, but it was bound to happen eventually.
He was wrong.
It was entirely your fault.
It was fully your fault that you fell for that man's tricks, and not only that but you encouraged him to do them more. It was fully your fault that you let him into your life willingly, because in hindsight you supposed this man was in for the long run - he was a spy after all - but you were so willing to buy into this fantasy, that you could have your cake and eat it too, that you just rushed head-empty into a relationship with him.
It was fully your fault that you became careless the moment you became a couple and now, look at where you ended up.
And instead of doing the decent-person thing and trying to apologise to the Hamato clan, trying to make it up to them, comforting them - here you are, being taken care of by Leo, like you were the fucking victim.
And what were you supposed to say to make things better anyway? 'Sorry I nearly led the enemy to your doorstep and risked your and your family's murder. Good thing your brother has security cameras and tracking devices all over the city or this would have gotten out of hand!'
"(Y/N), none of us blame you for this!" he rarely ever raised his voice at you, but you felt he realised he was not getting through to you, "You could not have known he was a spy."
But you could have.
You could have known there was only one person that caring, yet strick; emotional, yet stoic; someone who was capable of so much but showed very little of it. Brave, and, generous, and kind, and still somehow so humble.
You should have known.
"I think..." you only realised you were sobbing once your throat betrayed you, hiccuping, shrinking, burning, just as your eyes were, but you muscled it down - that's the least you could do, "I think I should go."
Subtle worry and anger disturbed the oceans in his eyes, the shift was minute but it was there.
It almost seemed like he was sad in that moment, but realistically what would he be sad over? And why was he being so coveting in that very moment? Had this been one of his brother, he would've ripped them a new asshole, he would've handed their assets to them! Rightly so, but still.
"You're not safe out there. You're not going anywhere."
Well, you couldn't stay there either, the guilt was going to eat you alive, you had to go. You had to leave. You had to keep running from your problems lest they'd catch up to you and tear you to shreds.
"I'll stay over with a friend. Don't worry."
You tried to fake a smile at the end of that, and thank God you couldn't see yourself, as it probably looked like a grimace.
You grabbed your bag, jacket and keys from the floor, jumped off it so quickly you saw stars and bolted out of the Lair.
Or tried.
Something grabbed onto your wrist before you could leave the room and pulled you back into a solid surface. Thick, powerful arms wrapped around your midriff and shoulders.
"You're not going anywhere." and that was a command, "You're staying here. With me."
What's gotten into him? He was never usually that forward with physical touch and he'd rather show what he meant than say it.
And show, he did.
You could feel warmth coming from somewhere near your neck and instinctively lowered your head to give more space.
"Do you know how terrified I was that something could happen to you?" soft, warm, slightly damp lips touched ever so softly that sensitive skin of your neck, "That every next second we couldn't get a hold of you was torture?" his warm breath hit you in small waves, heating you up on the inside, hoping to expell the freezing cold fear and panic from the day, "I was scared I'd never see you again."
And you were terrified something would happen to him.
Through the solid plates of his plastron, into your back you felt his heartbeat. It was off the charts for him. It felt like the stomping of an army, the banging of battle drums, like the ground was under a destructive storm, looking to raise all life with the ground until there was only silence.
And yet you've never felt more safe.
"Tell me something."
That wasn't an order. That was a plea. One that, even if you didn't feel immense crushing guilt, you would fulfil, because you owed him so much.
"Did you ever..." he seemed to not want the answer, or worse still, be scared of it, "Did you and him..."
"No. I couldn't. It didn't feel right."
But this did.
His warm, protective arms around you, so close to you, for the first time in forever.
"Good."
Til this day you didn't know how he found the heart to forgive you, but you were glad he did.
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Raphael
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Mood Song: Galss Animals - Heat Waves
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap
Rhythmic, soft steps hit the concrete in front of you, creating a quick pace for your heartbeat to compete with.
Everyone who knew Raph knew he had a temper. They knew he could be grumpy, yelly sometimes, other times he even just burst out of nowhere. Most of his social circle have seen him hit, crush, break, smash, scream, and fight with whatever the source of his distress was. What they didn't know is that that was the better option.
The worry was when he turned silent. Because his silent anger was far more catatonic.
Pompei, you'd called it once - a silent, deadly force of nature, just sitting, stewing, brewing under the surface, waiting for a moment to bleed out crushing, drowning, burning all within its reach.
And there you were, at the lip of the vulcano, waiting for the fire to come.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
He was usually so silent in his steps.
Deadly silent.
But in his pacing, his anger only intensified, overriding all his training, all his years of practice.
Your heart was about to burst out.
Of course, you didn't want to be on the receiving end of Raphael yelling, no one did. The problem here is, you deserved it. You deserved far more. You deserved to have him cut you off completely. But you weren't gonna tell him that.
"What..." you could hear the strain, the dam desperately trying to hold back an incoming flood, "... we're you thinking?"
And that was a good, tough question.
What you were thinking is that you could replace him.
What you were thinking was that a random guy who'd waltzed into your life less than a year ago, could take the place of someone you'd known for years, who you trusted with your life, and who had trusted you with his.
Trust that you evicerated with your reckless, shameless actions.
How do you respond to that?
"I don't know." that was a lie too.
Like you'd lied that things weren't serious between the two of you, when you'd been so emotionally-invested in that relationship. You also lied about many of the things he told you about himself, so the boys wouldn't think he was suspicious.
And of course that was one of your largest mistakes. Had you told any one of the Hamato clan who this man told you he was, they'd have clocked him immediately.
But then there was the shame you felt.
What? We're you gonna tell Raph that that guy was virtually the best replacement for him you could find? Well, while you're at it, why don't you tell him that knowing him for years, having had all sorts of memories with him, having all of that emotional infrastructure between you, him having saved you more than once, had led to the birth and growth of your feelings for him.
"Bullshit." he hissed, seething.
He knew you too well.
What now?
You could just get off the bench and get the fuck outta there...
No, that won't do - he's much faster than you, and you'd only make yourself look worse.
"I wasn't thinking, okay?" you hardly mustered a whisper, hoping that the statement would just diffuse into the air, like smoke form an open fire.
"No shit." he'd stopped pacing.
You were exclusively looking at the floor, so you only saw his feet facing your way.
He was looking at you.
Fuck!
"What'd ya lie about?"
What?
The question startled you so much, you instinctively looked up at him to gauge his reaction.
"What?"
"Ya heard me. What did you lie about?"
Shit, he was over-enunciating. That'd only happened once before and that was a shit show in its own right. Not like this one though.
So he knew?
Well, yeah, of course he knew, idiot. He knows you!
Your own anger at yourself was rising, and when added to shame and guilt, lit a couldron of bile and sulfur somewhere deep within your soul, and fuck me, did it burn.
"A lot."
In hindsight, he knew that too.
Of course he did.
"That's why ya tell yer friends this shit, (Y/N)!"
"Well, I don't want you as my friend!"
Fuck!
Here you are making things worse!
"What?"
Jesus, the hurt, the genuine pain on his face, could have, and should have killed you on the spot.
"So, what , you didn't want me as yer friend so you tried to get my family killed?!"
Here come the magmatic floods of Pompei. You might as well say what you have to say before the fire hits you.
"Of course not!"
"Then what!?"
"I lied because-"
"Because what?!"
"Because he's not you!"
Sniff. Sniff.
When had you started crying?
And why the fuck was he so quiet?
"What?" his voice was so much calmer than what it had been just seconds prior.
Sure, you hadn't worded it great, but he seemed genuinely shocked.
But how? He knew you. He knew when you were lying. How had he not noticed when you'd made up reasons to stay and be with him? Or when you'd tried to force an 'Eww' when Mikey said you were like an old married couple sometimes? Or when the topic of relationships would come up and all you'd say is 'I've got my eye on someome'.
Out with it already. He hates you anyway, what's there to lose. You at least owe him that.
"He showed up one day at work, and..." fuck this was embarrassing, "just walked in with the kinda confidence I'd only seen once before. He was like..." hopefully, he'll see this as your confession; hopefully, he'll realise just how powerful of a presence he is; hopefully the next person that comes round here won't betray his trust like you had, "... so charming. And strong. And gentle. And he would listen to me ramble about the NCAA..." deep breaths, he's listening, you don't wanna fuck this up anymore than you'd already done, "and in him, I saw... You?" it sounded like a question, because you couldn't whether you were an idiot or just sounded like one.
"Me?"
"Yeah, you." sniff, sniff, "I though, well, what a way to keep my friendship with Raph but be with him too. All win, no risk." there was a forced chuckle at the end of that and you weren't certain as to why it came out but you felt it may make things worse. Like you weren't taking this seriously.
"What are ya talkin about?" his pitch and tone were escalation back up.
"You know what I'm talking about, Raph!"
"You calling me a liar?!"
"What? No!"
"Then tell me!"
"I'm in love with you, asshole!"
Silence again.
Tap. Tap.
A warm hand softly touched your cheek, as if to prompt you to look at him. But you couldn't.
"(Y/N)?"
Well, you couldn't just not look at him, when he said your name so tenderly.
It wasn't until your eyes settled on his the floodgates truly opened.
But not the ones you thought of.
His eyes were glassy, almost teary, round with shock and curiosity, his brows were lifted as if trying to shield him of potential deceit.
"What?"
Oh, my God! How many times did you need to spell it out to him?!
You knew he wasn't stupid - sure, brash, and reckless, and impatient, but not stupid - so him failing to accept your obvious affection for him wasn't so much an intellectual issue as it was his severe lack of self-esteem, forcing him to doubt your words.
"I'm in love with you. And I have been for years now." somehow even after years of yearning, the flavour of imminent rejection tasted oddly bitter-sweet, "That's why, when he posed as diet-you, I didn't want to believe something was wrong because that was as close to you as I could get. That's why I lied, so that you wouldn't spot any potential red flags and take away my only means of, in a backwards way, being with you." the tension was so high, that you felt the need to insert a joke in there, just to maintain your own sanity. "And, by the way, he was such a shitty kisser that we never even made it to bed."
Well, that half a joke. You never did have sex with him. You tried. But couldn't. Because as much as he posed and acted, as much as he postured and tried to impress you, you couldn't forget that he was not Raphael, and never would be.
That same warm hand that was stationed in your cheek moved down to your neck and before you knew it, hot rough lips landed on yours.
Your breathing quickened, your eyes widened and all you could see was Raphael with his eyes closed, so close to you, that you could count his freckles. But you had no interest in doing that at the moment.
As his mouth pressed onto yours, hand holding you steady, your arms did the natural thing and snaked over his shoulders and the lip of his shell, but not before letting your hands feel up his strong arms, shoulders and neck - the rough textured skin there, every singular scale, the raw power under, with his muscles and tendons pulling and flexing to encompass you perfectly.
It felt right.
At a point you had to pull back but it'd felt like forever until you could get your breath back.
"Nothing like the real thing."
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Donatello
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Mood song: Imagine dragons - West Coast
"I don't understand."
Neither did you.
How had you fallen for such a shitty impersonation? And why? It made no sense to you.
Or at least that's what you told Donatello.
In your head, it made perfect sense.
You couldn't have what you wanted so you settled for whatever was available. And wouldn't you know it, the Foot Clan had just sent a spy to you who was trying to fish out the Hamato family.
And you, the moron, fell for it.
"You're so much smarter than this."
But were you really?
If it's so easy to fool you, were you really that smart?
And here he was, Donatello, the most intelligent man you've ever met, and will possibly ever meet, trying to make some sort of sense from your illogical actions.
And he was only doing that because acknowledging that they were illogical would mean that they were emotional. That would hurt.
You didn't know what he was thinking but you had your suspicions.
He probably thought that he used some sort of hypnosis on you to take your guard down, and get information on them.
But the fact is you let him in willingly.
You had to tell him, no matter how ashamed you were, no matter how embarrassing admitting this out loud would be. You owed him the truth, if not for nearly getting his family killed, then for all the years before that.
"There's nothing to understand, Don." you shook your head in disbelief and disappointment in yourself, because you were all too willing let the impostor into your head and heart, "He acted like he cared for me so I could lead him to you. And I fell for it." there were the facts. The inevitable truth that you had fallen for the biggest scam there is and this one nearly killed the closest thing to a family you've ever had.
As those big shiny golden eyes stared at you unblinking, you realised he was refusing to accept your explanation.
Surely there was something else! Some other answer, he did something to you, he forced you to comply with him, something!
"But... Why?"
You were seriously getting frustrated with his questioning. It was not a complicated thing to understand. It was tough to deal with emotionally, sure, but the facts were simple.
"Why what, Don?! Why did I let myself fall for his nonsense? Why did he turn out to be a liar? Why the Foot would send a spy to pick at the weak link? Isn't it obvious?!"
His eyes were near empty. There was none of his usual curiosity, none of the drive, none of his characteristic tiredness. They were just empty.
"No."
No, he wasn't calm. He was detached. He simply was not there.
"Hair of the dog that bit you."
His brow pulled together, and that seemed to have brought him back momentarily.
"What?"
"Oh, my god, Donnie!" the floodgates had opened, his pushing - strategic or not - seems to have worked, "It's you! You're the reason I fell for his bullshit! I was trying to get you out of my head!" your throat burned from the rapid shift in volume and pitch but that was the last of your worries.
Replacing one addiction with another, some fucking adult you are.
Your breath was chasing you through the emotional tornado you were in, but it seemed to come just short of catching up.
"I was desperate to get my mind off you. And at some point you showed up and..." you didn't think you could make it any clearer.
"You mean... you... like me?"
That's what he picked up on?! Not your complete disregard for logic, not the irresponsible way in which you handled your relationship, not even the fact that this whole thing could have devastating consequences? This?!
"Yes? Obviously, Donnie?! Everyone knew!"
"Then why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I thought there's no way you didn't know! Like you're the smartest person I know, there's no way you didn't notice my blatant flirting and when nothing happened, I took that as my que to stop."
You were screaming at that point, and what your words were saying was devastating - it wasn't his fault that any of this happened, like you were trying to imply.
You hated yourself in that moment. You were the embodiment of everything you hated in people, and that added more frustration to the already hit swirling pot of bile in your tummy.
"Well, we both misjudged then."
Thick arms wrapped around you, your head fell onto the rough plates of his chest and you could feel your pulse synching up to his.
"Never again."
tagsgsgsgsgs:
@shadow-ninjas @exovapor @memes-in-a-half-shell @turtle-babe83 @tmntspidergirl @the-second-circle-of-shell @mikeyshulagirl @mysticboombox @angelicdavinci
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alwaysanoriginal · 6 months ago
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hey char, mind to share your fave stevebucky headcanons? 👀
Oh I LOVE that you asked me this :’)  Thank you!
I honestly have so many if I really think about it because I love them so much and I think about their dynamic so much that I have so many favorite things... but here is what I think of off the top of my head:
• Steve was color blind before the serum, according to canon. I have a headcanon that Bucky used to try to describe colors to him. I wrote a mini fic about that here.
• Bucky was drafted for the war, but didn’t tell Steve. Steve sort of assumed that Bucky enlisted, and Bucky never wanted to correct him. How could he? Steve wanted to enlist so badly, and Bucky didn’t ever feel like he could admit that he didn’t have the same drive to want to ~fight for the country~ like Steve did. He didn’t want to disappoint him and he was afraid Steve would think he was a coward. So Bucky just... never told him that he was forced into war. It was never his choice to fight for the country. If it was up to him, they would’ve stayed home together and stayed safe and never fought at all.
• They were always physically rough with each other, in the sense that they'd wrestle as boys all the time, and Steve loved that Bucky never treated him as fragile. Buck knew he could take it. Even after the serum, they'd still scuffle a bit like kids, finding a bright spot in a war-torn world. They’d be awake in the trenches on lookout, having soft conversations in the night, and shoving each other after one says something stupid or makes a bad joke.
• Steve is bi, and Bucky is gay. Bucky was consciously aware of his feelings for Steve way, way before Steve was aware of his for Bucky. In the 30s, Bucky has a bit of a reputation for ~dating around,~ but not in a rude ladies’ man kind of way but rather his reputation is “Bucky Barnes is a real charmer. He’ll show you a good time and he’s really sweet, but he never pushes your boundaries.” Some women wishes he’d push their boundaries, but he doesn’t. He’s taken so many women out on dates because he never lets it get super serious, since they’re not who he wants and it’s mostly for appearances’ sake, especially since he and Steve live together. He definitely enjoys hanging out with women, and treating them nice, but most of the time his motivation is to try to set up double dates–half because Steve deserves to find a great girl to date, and half because a double date means Bucky can selfishly do a date activity “with” Steve and not have it mean anything. Meanwhile though, Steve gets jealous as hell and testy about Bucky dating all the time, but he’s oblivious to the fact that it’s because Steve wishes Bucky would be with him instead.
• Their first kiss was when Steve was 16 and Bucky was 17. I’m not necessarily saying that’s when they actually got together, but something significant happened between them at those ages... maybe they kissed because they were drunk, or it was so Steve’s “first kiss” would be someone he knew and it was for “practice.” And then they both never talked about it again, because they’re idiots and were afraid to ~ruin things~ between each other. That’s why Steve says “Rumlow said ‘Bucky’ and all of a sudden I was a 16-year-old kid again, in Brooklyn.” That’s why “seventeen” is one of Bucky’s trigger words as the Winter Soldier. It checks out, because Bucky is a little bit older than Steve.
• Steve doesn’t fully admit the depth of his own feelings for Bucky to himself until he finds out Bucky’s been captured by HYDRA. And then he tears Europe apart to get him back. He’d have done that anyway, obviously, but... the prospect of losing Bucky forever is really what makes him realize how much he can’t handle that concept. Because he’s in love with him.
• After Bucky “dies,” Steve gets more reckless, and that’s part of the reason he put the plane in the ice and didn’t try to survive: he didn’t want to live in a world without Bucky in it. This is supported by canon. And so I headcanon that, after Steve finds out about the Winter Soldier, one day he abruptly realizes that he could’ve died in that plane crash and never known Bucky was alive and brainwashed and suffering. He thought Bucky was dead and he wanted to follow him, and he could’ve left Bucky even more alone in the world without knowing it. When Steve realizes how close he came to leaving Bucky behind like that, he throws up. It horrifies him to think about it.
• They each have a pair of dog tags where one says “Steve Rogers” and one says “Bucky Barnes.” They swapped one tag each, so that they’d have a matching set, because while they couldn’t list each other as “next of kin,” they wanted tangible evidence that would show other people how important they are to each other. So people would know: tell him if something happens to me.
• Their Brooklyn accents come out / get heavier around each other, especially if they’re bitching about things or arguing.
• Bucky is a complete sci-fi and fantasy nerd–which is now confirmed canon, and I love it. In particular, I like to headcanon that he loves to read paperback sci-fi novels, and discount romance novels. He unironically enjoys them, and he leaves them allllll over the place. One of the things they love to do is Bucky will sit around and read while Steve will sit around and draw/paint, and half the time Steve gets distracted sketching Bucky’s facial expression he makes while he’s reading.
• Bucky is also a pop culture gremlin. He will try and often get interested in pretty much anything and everything, without rhyme or reason. In modern day, he and Nat will watch trashy reality TV together–sometimes to make fun of it, sometimes to get invested. Steve thinks they’re insane for that. And sometimes Bucky will like one niche thing but then for very specific reasons he dislikes another similar thing. It makes sense to him, even if Steve doesn’t get it.
• Steve tends to be pickier with the kind of stuff he enjoys. He’s always had Strong Opinions™️ on everything, including and especially art. Put him in a museum and he’ll have a lot of thoughts on all of it. He doesn’t judge things or hate on other people for liking things he doesn’t like at all, but he won’t get hooked on a movie/show quite as easily. The one exception is animation, which he absolutely adores, and he goes on a wild binge of all kinds of animated content for awhile–shows and movies–because the various art styles and uses of the medium to tell crazy stories just fascinates him.
• Easy access to so much music is one of their mutual favorite things about the 21st century. Bucky often gets into individual artists’ entire discographies and becomes a fan, whereas Steve often gets into a handful of specific songs from a wide range of various people. Like... Bucky will often love an entire album, and Steve will often love 2 songs specifically more than others. But even with that, Steve loves collecting vinyl records–both old and new ones.
• Bucky has a fantastic singing voice even though he’s shy about it, and he tends to hum along to music when distracted or working on something else–especially while making something in the kitchen. 
• Bucky likes technology more than Steve; Steve likes physical stuff more than Bucky. Bucky loves to take photos and videos of things all the time, hoarding digital memories in a way that’s precious to him, knowing that they’re “safe” and accessible anywhere. They lost so much of the objects that they loved a century ago, and photos were scarce, but now... there are endless ways to have pictures. When Bucky was recovering in Wakanda and Steve was on the run, Bucky would often text Steve photos–sometimes without captions–to wordlessly share bits of his days with him. He’s got a good eye for photography, except for when he takes the photo equivalent of shitposts to make Steve laugh. Regardless, Steve gets his favorites printed–some of Bucky’s photos, some of his, some of their selfies–so they also always have something tangible to hold onto.
• Bucky calls Steve “sweetheart” sometimes, just to be a little shit–and he means it. It makes Steve turn red every time, without fail, but he secretly doesn’t mind it.
Okay I’ll stop hahaha. Those are the main ones that come to mind for me all the time when I think of them! 
Thank you again for asking :D  This was so fun to write all in one place!
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rebeccccccaaa · 8 months ago
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ʙɪɢɢᴇsᴛ ғᴇᴀʀs
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ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: (ANON) Heyyya I saw that you were taking requests! I love your writing and could I maybe get a fic where the reader is slightly new to the avengers and they’re at one of Tony’s parties and someone tells the entire team how she’s always felt that no one could lover her and somehow Bucky reveals his feelings for her and it maybe ends in smut or fluff? Thank you 💗
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: Smut 18+, Bucky gets upset and it’s kinda hot ;), insecure!reader, fluff
ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Thank you for the request darling! I tweaked it a bit but i think i did alright… Anyhoo enjoy!!
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“Quite the party, Tones. Really one up yourself tonight didn’t you?” Nat said after everyone cleaned up. It was around one in the morning, Everyone that Tony invited to yet another extravagant party had finally left.  Leaving you and the rest of the team for a small little after party,  as per usual  according to Nat.
You joined the Avengers not long ago and you had yet to be invited to one of Tony's parties.  This was the first of many to come and boy, did those fantasies get fulfilled.  Guests dressed to the nines occupied every corner of the room, it was almost too crowded for your taste. 
But now here you were settled on the couch with the rest of your teammates laughing and giggling about stupid things that happened during the party. 
“Hey, you had fun,” Tony pointed sternly at Nat, who simply shrugged with a devilish smirk. 
“So what now? Because I don’t know about you guys but I am not tired at all,” Clint groaned.
“Truth or dare?” Nat said.
“What?” 
“Truth. Or. Dare,” she repeated.
“Dare,” he challenged.
“Lift Thor’s hammer,” she mocked, considering the last they all tried it no one succeed and a robot crashed their party.
“Alright,” he grunted, standing up.
“Tony, got any robots that wanna kill you this time?” He laughed.
“I don’t think so,” Tony looked around, making everyone laugh.
“What happened last time?” you whispered to Bucky. 
“I have no idea, I was in hiding after I almost killed my best friend,” he whispered back.
“I’m so sorry,” you had a shocked look on your face.
“It’s ok, doll. We’re all fine and dandy now,” he winked, making you feel flustered. 
Bucky had the one you felt most friendly with. Nat too but you usually spent most of your time with him. He was just so nice to you and not to mention how incredibly charming and handsome he is.
“Had enough?” Nat said.
“Bitch,” Clint grumbled before sitting down after having failed yet again to lift Thor’s hammer.
“Who’s next!”
You guys went back and forth giving dares to everyone, from making Steve and Bucky have a beer chugging contest, to asking Vision if he had a dick, you know being a robot at all, to you taking three shots of tequila with no chase, ultimately failing and almost dying.
“Ok, we’re doing too many dares; I’m running out of ideas,” Nat laughed.
“Y/n, truth or dare.”
“Truth, I guess,” you said.
“What’s… your biggest fear?” a collection of ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ah’s’ echoed.
“Oh, well uh… clowns,” you chuckled, not really wanting to reveal you real fear; you felt it was kinda stupid.
“Clowns? Bitch, please. What is it for real?” Nat scooted to you.
“Um… well, uh-”
You took a deep breath.
“Being unlovable,” you whispered.
“What? We love you, Y/n. You’re family now; we all love you,” Steve spoke up.
“Yeah we love you,” everyone chimed in. 
“I know it’s stupid,” you said, shaking it off.
“It’s not stupid if it’s your biggest fear,” Nat said rubbing your back.
“I guess what I mean is… You know that love where you just think about that person and your palms get sweaty, you start feeling hot, your stomach kind of erupts into butterflies. And it's just because you thought about them. You see their smile and you want to smile too. You see them laugh and it's music to your ears; and all you can think about for the rest of the day is how you can make that person laugh again. And when you touch them, your fingertips start to tingle. Your body turns cold and then they leave and then your body turns really hot and you get super sweaty. That kind of love is so intimate between you and that person. I've never had that and I'm terrified that I never will.”
Everyone looked at you with their full attention. They never really thought about it because they’ve all loved someone. Steve felt that way about Peggy, Tony with Pepper, Nat and Bruce felt that way with each other, Thor had Jane, Clint was married and had a family, Wanda and Vision. It was just you Sam and Bucky and it was obvious you three had never been in love like that.
“How can you say that?” Bucky broke the silence.
“What?”
“How can you be afraid you’ll never be loved? Y/n, any man, woman, anybody would be the luckiest person alive to call you there’s. You are so special and unlike anybody I’ve ever met. I see you smile and it’s like a work of art. Your laugh is the most precious thing I’ve ever heard. Everytime you touch me I can’t help but wish…,” he paused, remembering there were other people around.
“You’re perfect and anyone who can’t see that is goddamn fucking idiot,” he huffed. Bucky didn’t give anyone time to process what he said before he left the room to his own.
“I think I’m done… for the night,” you whispered walking out. 
“Yeah good night guys,” Nat followed you out. 
Everyone scattered and went to their rooms, tension still in the air. You went to your room and thought about Bucky’s words. It felt like there was something between you two but it was exactly clarified. You changed into sleepwear and decided to talk to Bucky real quick before bed.
“Buck?” you softly knocked on his door.
“Hey,” he said, awkwardly opening the door.
“Can I come in?”
“Of course,” he opened the door wider and closed the door behind you.
“I thought about what you said, tonight.”
“Yeah, I didn’t mean to upset you or make you uncomfortable,” he scratched his neck.
“I’m not upset.”
There was a moment of silence between you.
“Y/n,” he spoke up.
“Yeah?” 
“I like you,” he said bluntly.
“So when I heard you say you didn’t know if you were unlovable I got kinda upset because well,” he trailed off.
 “Really?” you asked, smiling softly.
“Yeah, I get it if you don’t-”
“No! I do, I do. I like you,” you laughed. Bucky breathed out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He walked closer to you until he stood toe to toe with you. Your stomach fluttered like you wished it would for so long before . You felt hot and resisted the urge to reach out and touch him.
“You’re so beautiful, Y/n,” he cupped your face.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked.
“Yes, please,” you responded.
You melted ainst Bucky when his lips touched yours. You felt unsteady and reached forward to holding his waist, smaller than you originally thought. He walked slowly forward until your knees buckled and you sat on the bed. 
You fell back and pulled on top of you making Bucky’s hips settle between your legs. His rough hands felt gentle moving slowly up your body under your shirt. His hands brushed the curve of your breasts making you gasped lightly. 
Bucky lips traced your jaw line and you moved your head back giving him room to nip at your neck. Your hands instinctively went to hair and you moaned softly at Bucky's lips on your neck. 
You slightly pushed him off of your body and lifted his shirt. Bucky lifted his arms not without a chuckled and discarded to the floor. You moaned at the sight of his muscular torso, your nails lightly scratching him make his abs tighten under your fingertips.
You practically tore your own shirt off before throwing yourself to him kissing him hard. He laughed wrapping his arms around your bare torso bracing himself from falling on the floor with his feet.
“You’re so handsome, Bucky,” you giggled.
“And you’re so gorgeous,” he responded.
You both rid of your bottoms and you laid back for Bucky to hover over you. His eyes were lustful, nearly black, as he stared hungrily into your own. Your skin raised, chills running down your spine. Bucky kissed you as he lined himself with your entrance. 
Up until this moment you hadn’t realized how wet you were, arousal practically oozing from you onto your thighs. You peeked in between your bodies and was taken back by his impressive size.
“Is it gonna fit?” you looked up at him.
“Of course. But if not, well there are plenty of ways to give my girl pleasure.”
“Your girl?” you smirked.
“Hell yeah, doll. I didn’t almost reveal that I’ve been waiting to get my hands on your delicious body for nothing.”
“You’re too funny,” you kissed his nose.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his face softening.
“Yeah.”
He pushed himself in sliding easily from your slick. You closed your eyes and moaned as did Bucky, throwing his head back slightly from pleasure.
“You feel fucking amazing, baby,” he groaned.
You just moaned feeling incredibly full. You squeezed his shoulders allowing him permission to move and he resisted thrusting animalistically because you felt so velvety. You felt so warm and perfect; like you made for him and him for you.
“Fuck, Bucky. Harder please. Fuck me hard.”
“You sure honey?” he questioned not wanting to hurt you.
“Yes, please!”
He grabbed your hands and brought them over your head thrusting into like a maniac. Your back arched causing Bucky to hit an entirely new angle making you moan louder. 
“God you sound so fucking pretty. Those precious little sounds from me fucking you stupid,” he whispered lowly in your ear. 
“Fuuck!” you drew out. Your legs wrapped around Bucky pulling him closer chasing your orgasm. 
“Look at that, baby. Look how your pussy’s taking me,” Bucky grunted. 
You looked down to see the lewd image of Bucky going  and out of you repeatedly. It was so eroctic however, and you moaned before finally feeling the tightened coil in the pit of your stomach burst. 
Your back arched once again and your arms wrapped around Bucky’s neck after he let go reaching his own high too. You both moaned before settling in silence; your body trembled under him and Bucky breathed heavily into your shoulder.
“Fuck, that was unbelievable, doll,” Bucky laughed.
“Yeah, man. You’ve got a good dick,” you smirked.
“If you let me, I want to take you out. On a real date,” Bucky said.
“I’d love that,” you smiled. 
You two fell asleep that night and woke up in each other's arms. Bucky took out to breakfast, then lunch, and then dinner. You guys didn’t like the food at the restaurant too much so you used Tony’s card that you snuck out and went to McDonald’s dressed highly inappropriately, better dressed for Tony’s party than this. 
Nonetheless, it was perfect and that fear you had long disappeared for everyday bucky made sure you knew he loved you. And of course you did the same.
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formidxble · 7 months ago
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summary: you and chan follow a routine every night. tonight’s different. 
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pairing: bang chan x female reader 
word count: 3.1k
genre: angst, like Extreme Angst™️, college!au, established relationship
warnings: a lot of swearing, toxic relationship, mentions of sex ( oh and btw, this is not beta read. we die like men)
note: omg? finally? i got to write something and now i’m posting it on here? confidently??? who is she, we don’t know her! enough jokes though, this is my first fic ever that’s going to be posted on this platform, so i’m excited! constructive criticism and feedback are welcome 👉🏻👈🏻. 
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tagged ❤️: @popisdead @hanflix
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist
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it’s become routine at this point. 
when chan sees your room’s light turn off, it’s a signal that your roommates are now headed to bed and that you’re ready to come out and meet him. it’s been a busy few months for the both of you and the nights were the only time you two could meet. he’s a business major working on his business proposals for the semester and you’re a performing arts student, preparing for this semester’s art production. saying it was hard to make time to see each other was an understatement. nevertheless, you two made sure you still met, may it be only for a few minutes. some nights you were lucky, being able to meet for an hour or so. nights were reserved for chan and for chan only. 
after putting on your coat, you reached out for the door knob as you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. “are you coming or not? i’m freezing” you sigh softly.
the first few nights were fun, you have to admit. impromptu grocery shopping for the both of your food supplies for rest of the week, a few make out sessions here and there, and sometimes, leading to even more if you both were lucky enough. it gave you a high you never thought you would ever come down from. whenever he kissed you after a long day, you felt as if the weight on your shoulders fell off, even for just a moment. whenever chan held you in his arms and told you it was going to be okay, your chest loosened, even for just a moment. chan was the calm in the chaos and when you were in his car, holding his hand and feeling his lips lingering on yours, he provided the needed break you longed for during the day.
but, as the days and weeks passed by, the nights became shorter and quieter. rides became quicker and the good conversations slowly turned into mere small talk. no longer would he give you soft touches, no longer would he ask how your day went, and no longer would chan look at you the way he did before. no more i love you’s, no more second glances when he dropped you off at your dorm during the early hours of the morning. you excused the change of behavior as the result of your fatigue in school. the change was expected, you always told yourself.
it’s become a mantra now, something you repeated to yourself as you lied in bed at night, a routine. a routine. 
you close your eyes for a moment as you twist the doorknob to open the door. you focus on your phone again as soon as you got out of your dorm. “coming."
you spotted chan’s car a mile away. before, he would put the window down to greet you, a soft smile spreading across his face. now, you were faced with the car’s tinted windows, your reflection staring back at you as you wrapped your fingers around the handle of the car door. you heard the lock click. 
“hey,” you mumbled. you heard a soft hum in response. you quietly put the seatbelt on, relaxing your back on the seat as you stared ahead. chan was on his phone, seatbelt off. light from his phone illuminated his features. the bags under his eyes were a little bit more prominent than the last time you noticed. you wonder if he’s been eating, getting enough sleep, but you weren’t in the position to ask now. not when frustration is starting to boil in your chest.  
you didn’t know if you should call him out. it was his way to unwind as well, but then again, he was there to pick you up for a short date. this was the only time you both had for yourselves, yet here he was, texting away on his phone. this shouldn’t annoy you as much as it does now because chan does this whenever he was waiting. 
“hey,” you repeat louder. chan looks up from his phone, an eyebrow raised. 
“yes?” he asks, turning his phone off. the two of you are surrounded in darkness, with only the light from the lamp posts outside lighting the interior of the car. 
“what do you mean, ‘yes?’ are you serious?” chan furrows his eyebrows at your words as he straps himself in. he turns to you, blinking. you suck in a breath. 
“this is the only time we get to spend together and you’re on your phone? are you ser—“
“i’m sorry. there,” he breathes,  “can we move past this? i’m not in the mood to fight.” he interrupts. you open your mouth to say something back, but you’re cut off by the movement of the car. 
the air inside the car was heavy, heavier than usual. sure, you and chan had a couple of unresolved fights the other nights and sure, you spent you early mornings crying over him, but it should have been resolved with the few kisses he gives you, right? then why are you so upset now? chan makes amends, tells you he’s sorry for raising his voice, for ignoring you the whole day. he was busy, right? of course he’ll end up not texting you. he kisses the pain away, even though he’s the reason for said pain. he talks his way out and if he avoids the topic of the fight, you wouldn’t mind. that was the routine. but not tonight, apparently. 
“you’re always not in the mood.” you whisper, crossing your arms in front of your chest. you watch the trees outside of the car starting to blur as chan’s driving sped up. this night will end as quick as it started, you thought. you hear a sigh beside you. 
“i just—“ chan starts, “i can’t fight anymore, y/n. i’m tired.”
“and you think i’m not?” you answer back, looking at the man beside you, “god, we never talk anymore, chan. all we ever do is fuck the pain away and—“
you’re cut off by the sight of chan’s knuckles slowly turning white on the steering wheel. you almost don’t see the way he clenches his jaw. he pulls the car over at the side of the road and for a second, you think you two will be able to finally talk about your issues, the problems that were never muttered, but still plagued your relationship. god knows you wanted to hear from him, anything— fuck, just anything to finally resolve it, fix it. to finally end the routine you both had. but that hope shatters as soon as his mouth opens. 
“what do you want me to say? we’ve been okay, we’ve been fin—“
you let out an exasperated sigh, eyes meeting his, “we aren’t fine, chan, we haven’t bee—“
“what do you mean?” chan questions. he removes his seatbelt to turn to you. a gentleman he still was, even though you knew he was avoiding the topic. again. “fuck, what do you want me to say? i was on the phone. how does that merit a full blown argu—“
“it’s not about the damn phone!” you exclaim, finally feeling the frustration in your chest blow over. 
were you going crazy? why didn’t he see the changes? doesn’t he feel the frustration? were you the only one feeling this way, then? does he feel that everything was okay or were you that good at acting that everything was okay, that nothing was wrong? you run a hand down your face as you try to collect yourself.  the car became quiet, as always. chan was never really vocal about things like this and let you do the talking. maybe this is why issues were never resolved. 
“then, what is it about?” chan mumbles, eyes never leaving your form. you let out a soft scoff.
"what is it abou—are you kidding me? are you fucking with me?”chan raises an eyebrow in response, furrowing it afterwards. he lets out a sarcastic laugh after a few beats of silence. he shook his head as he turned to face the road again. 
“is this fight going to last all night? if so, i’d rather just drop you off,” he starts to put his seatbelt on, "we can continue our date when you’re not this moody."
and at that moment, your world nearly stops. the silence in the car was loud and the tension, if you could see it, could be cut with a knife. his words echo in your mind as the car starts moving again, chan preparing to make a u-turn to go back in the direction of your dorm. 
“not...this...moody?” you repeat to yourself. chan nonchalantly hums in response. 
you couldn’t even look at this man anymore. it was as if you didn’t know him anymore. he carried the name of your boyfriend, but was he really the chan you knew? the chan you knew won’t be able to say these things to you, let alone treat you like this. you feel like a deer in headlights, shocked at how everything led up to this moment. and to think that the turning point of your relationship was something as simple as chan being on his phone. you closed your eyes as you tried to fight the lump forming in your throat. 
“so, what am i supposed to do?” you ask. "just go home and think about what i did? what i said?”
chan shrugs. he shrugs. you couldn’t believe how he didn’t take this conversation seriously. was it because you’ve been in this exact same situation before? sure, fights have been frequent, but were they frequent to the point that chan just straight up ignored them? to the point that he never brought the topics up again? no effort to try and fix it?
was he that tired that he was willing to let everything pass? let you suffer in silence? 
“stop the car,” you whisper shakily. chan doesn’t listen, though. he never does, he rarely does. he never listens anymore. 
“chan, please stop the car,” you feel stupid begging, but that does it. he stops the car again, your dorm building in sight. his knuckles start to turn white again, but he closes his eyes this time. you hear him take a sharp inhale through his nose. 
“i can’t fight anymore, y/n, please, just...we can fix it tomorrow, whatever it is.”
you let out a soft sob at his words. “chan, you always say that, god, you always say that.”
chan grips his steering wheel tighter. “yes, i do, but we always fix it. we always end up fixing it.”
“no, we fucking don’t!” you scream now, releasing the frustration that has been clawing to come out, “no, we don’t fix things, we fuck it away and we pray that things magically turn okay in the morning, but it never does! it never fucking does!”
chan stays quiet, eyes drifting to the car floor. you wish you could know what he was thinking. you wish he would talk to you, tell you what he really felt instead of just sitting there. god, were you tired. you were tired of pretending things were okay when they aren’t. you were tired of telling yourself it would be fixed, that the relationship would go back to normal, but it never does. and you just somehow have to live with it because that’s how it is with you and him. that’s the routine, right? and even though you hated it, you tolerated it because you loved him. but people will reach an end point, one way or the other. you can’t help but feel that this was yours. 
“loving you is so exhausting, chan, i—“ your voice cracks, “i’m supposed to be content with this treatment? you and i not talking the whole day and then meeting at night just to make up for lost time, have sex, and pretend that everything’s okay, that the fights have not gotten out of hand, that we’re going to be ok—“
“we are going to be okay, fuck, it’s not that easy,” chan mumbles, “i’m trying, y/n, but i can’t give you everything you need, not anymore.”
silence fills the car and it engulfs the two of you. 
"what changed?" you sob softly, tears now slowly flowing down your cheeks. it was okay, a few weeks ago. days became busier, tasks became heavier, but did that mean that your relationship had to deteriorate the way it has been? 
“nothing changed, please, y/n,”chan breathes, not turning to look at you, “we just got busier and—"
“we weren’t like this, chan, we used to talk about things. w-we used to...talk. we can’t even do that now? am i asking for too much? i shouldn’t be begging for your time, chan, please—“you cry out softly. “why am i always second to you, chan? i try to be the best for you, chan, please.”
chan lets out a shaky breath as he tries to find the words to respond with. “y/n, it’s not y—“
“spare me the bullshit. spare me the "it’s not you, it’s me”. at least, be honest with me.” you say firmly, wiping away the tears on your cheeks harshly. 
“i...i just don’t feel like i’m ready for this yet, okay? i want to fo—"
your feel something in your chest. a pain you’ve never felt before. chan’s words become a blur as you feel your back hit the seat. 
you’re taken back to a time in your childhood when you were trying out the jump rope your friends had. being the idiot you were, you jumped in time with the rope and it tangled on your feet. you ended up falling on your chin, scraping it in the process. the pain rang through your skull and for a while, you couldn’t move, tears merely streaming down your cheeks. and to that that one time during one of the art productions in university, you ended up falling off of the stage. of course, it wasn’t anyone’s fault, but maybe if they turned on the lights before lowering the stage, you wouldn’t have broken your ankle. you remember how worried chan was, but most importantly, you remember how much it hurt. you couldn’t walk and if you tried, it would shoot pain up your leg. 
adding all the pain you’ve felt in all those moments, it wouldn’t amount to the pain you feel now. 
not ready? not ready after 3 years? how could he say that? this was the man you saw your future with, someone who was supposed to be your soulmate. that was him, that was chan. the nights you shared, the words you uttered, were all those fake? were all those just to make everything feel okay? 
not ready? 
not ready.
the words echo in your mind like a broken record. were you supposed to beg him to stay? beg him to be ready when he just admitted that he wasn’t? as you turned to look at him, you didn’t see the chan who loved you. instead, it was the shell of the man who used to love you, care for you. fuck, was love supposed to hurt this bad? you feel your heart starting to crack even more.
if this was love, you didn’t want it. not anymore.
“drop me off,”you mumble after a deafening silence, voice shaking as a sob threatens to come out of your mouth. chan turns to look at you, finally. you don’t meet his eyes anymore. you, instead, just look straight ahead. if he wasn’t ready for a commitment, even after 3 long years, then you were not about to beg him to stay. chan opens his mouth to say something, but you notice that he just swallows his words. he turns to look in front of him as he pushes on the gas again to drive back to your dorm. if he wasn’t ready, then he wasn’t ready. there’s no point in trying to convince him he is. the next best thing is to leave and let him figure out what he needed to figure out. if he needed space, he could have told you. what bothered you the most is the fact that chan’s always been about communication, but somehow and somewhere along the journey, he changed. maybe that’s just how it goes. 
when he pulls up in front of your dorm building, chan turns to look at you again, eyes scanning your features. “i’ll see you tomorrow, then?”
you shake your head, eyes closing as you tried to fight the urge to cry again. the question he asked has always confused you. it was always like this, that even after a fight, he expects to see you again, the same time, the same place. you were tired and it didn’t help that you now knew why he wasn’t acting the same— he wasn’t ready to commit to you, even after all this time. 
“i’m ending it here, chan."
“ending what?”
ending the routine, ending the cycle, ending us. these words rang through your head and you didn’t know which to answer. was he acting aloof so that he could get off easily? that maybe you’ll let him off again because he somehow can’t understand what was happening? you swallowed. 
“us, chan, i—i can’t go on like this anymore,” you pause. was this what you really wanted or were you doing this to prove a point? you weren’t sure, but one thing’s clear, you had to do this, not only for him, but for you. you can’t subject yourself to this cycle anymore. you had to break it sooner or later. “when i get out of this car, we’re over."
chan’s car became a place of love and security in a world full of uncertainty and chaos. it was where you both spent time together when you needed a break, when you needed to be together. now, it was a place of loneliness and despair. it became a place full of resentment and unresolved issues and you can’t help but wonder how chan will be able to sit in his car again without thinking of this moment. before he could respond, you were out of the car. 
in the back of your mind, you hoped that he would call you, run after you. beg you to stay, tell you that everything will be fixed if you just gave him time. you prayed in your head desperately. if he did so, you know you’ll come crawling back to him. if he showed some sort of care, some sort of longing, some sort of initiative that he wanted things to work out, that he wanted this as much as you do, then maybe you’ll come back to him again. that’s how it always was, right?
right?
behind you, you hear the car drive away.
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lexosaurus · 2 months ago
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How do you get people to follow you and your schedule??? How to make a fandom schedule??? How are you so influential??
i could answer this sort of meme-y like "lol i post stupid things" but if u actually wanna know how to throw a proper event, here are some tips:
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1. if you're a small blog, collaborate with other blogs. the first time i picked up an event, i probably only had like half the followers i do now. so i buddied up with multiple blogs to get as much reach as possible. it can be fun to work with other people!
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2. make your shit look nice. if you're making an actual calendar, make sure it's colorful and fun, but also legible. this is actually hard to do, especially if it's a 31 day calendar. when in doubt, post the prompts again below the image calendar.
also, this is kinda an aside, but if you wanna make a fun calendar using images online, make sure you filter your google searches by the image copyright. dont be that asshole who makes an art event and...accidentally steals art to promote it.
if you're lazy and are just making a post, still organize the post in a way that's fun. whether that's using emojis, paragraph lines, etc., have your post be pleasing to the eye. if it's just a bunch of walls of text, people aren't gonna read it.
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3. make an event that's unique. the classic dannymay calendar event is cool and fun, but it can be oversaturated. i think events work best when you take that prompt-style familiarity and find a twist or niche to it.
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4. give people an easy way to engage in the event. whether you make a discord, make a separate blog for it, or just throw up a hashtag and pin the post to your blog. it doesn't matter so long as the event has its own easy way for people to find the content. ---
5. establish in writing the level of participation required. whenever i throw events i CONSTANTLY get asks/DMs of people worried that they won't be able to participate every day and can't do the event, or they're posting late, etc. if your event is like invisobang and is very intensive, say so. but if it's like dannymay or side hoes week and is pretty much a "do what you want," say it and reiterate it every time someone asks. because you never know who's lurking and may want to post something but doesn't think they're "good enough."
(funny story, i actually never tried phic phight till this year because i knew i couldn't make more than 1 or 2 fics for it. turns out u can literally not write anything and still score points for your team, and even if you don't get points, you're not shamed or banned from future phights. so that made me really excited to try the event out, and i loved it!)
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6. engage with people's content during the event. i make a queue system, i read and comment on fics, i follow blogs, i reblog stuff all the time, i always try to leave nice comments in the tags at the very least. i like to let people know that i see the effort they're putting in and i love and support it. positive encouragement is one helluva drug.
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anddd yeah that's all i can think of. keep in mind that different types of events require different amounts of work. i prefer to run "hands-off" types of events where i do a bunch of prep beforehand, but then once the event actually starts, aside from checking the tag every day, i don't do much. but some events, like phic phight or truce, require a LOT of work before, during, and after the event. so if you know that you can't handle that, then just don't do it. it's the exact reason why i had to step away from truce last year, and honestly it's better to pull away before than to get into an event and realize you're in over your head (which has happened to me before and it's no fun i promise).
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otromeru · 7 months ago
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Mammoneru
Mammon x Neru (OC)
I was having an art block so i decided to continue writing this fic that i left unfinished last August. I am not a writer so I’m only doing this for fun ;w;
Content warnings - some angst, violence(?), insecurity, lots of fluff and cuddles, she/her
Summary - Mammon had a nightmare and went to Neru for comfort
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Neru was already tucked in bed after a long day of classes and spending time with the brothers. She's exhausted at this point and all she wanted to do now is to bury her face in her warm pillows, bundled up in her blanket and fall into a deep slumber. Her breathing was slow and her eyes were getting heavy. As she was about to enter dreamland, she could feel a slight dip in her bed. Two arms wrapped around her waist from the back and warm air tickled her neck.  
"Wha...?"  
"It's me..." the stranger said. Took Neru awhile to realize it's Mammon. The demon always visits her room late at night to either ask her to join his money-making schemes or hide him from Lucifer after causing trouble. But this night was different. He quietly came into her room and join her in bed. Did he have a nightmare, she thought?  
"Are you okay...?" She whispered.  
"Yeah. Just wanna sleep with ya" he replied. The hands on her waist were getting tighter as he tries to pull her closer to him. They can both feel the heat radiated from each other's bodies. It was nice and warm.  
"Did you have a nightmare...?" Neru asked again. This time Mammon took a while to reply. It was as if he was thinking of something.  
"N-Nightmare? Do ya think i'm a kid being scared of some stupid nightmare?"  
"Just checking..." Neru stifled a yawn before turning to face him. Her eyes were hazy and yet she tried her best to keep them open just to see his face. Even when he tries to deny it, his facial features always tell the truth. The brunette stare at him for a moment, trying to read him like a book. Neru's room was dark. There were only lightly dim candles that were hanging on the wall and yet it was enough to see him clearly.  
He looks worried. Slightly sweating and she can sense that he was feeling anxious. Not sure if it's because of them laying together in bed or because of something else but it doesn't sit well with her seeing him in this state.  
"Do you... wanna talk about it...?" Her hand softly caressed his cheek. It was as if he was some delicate China doll; One wrong move and he'll break. Despite being a demon, Neru knows how emotionally sensitive he can be and she doesn't mind it at all. In fact, it's one of the many reasons why she loves him. Mammon's face turned various shades of red thanks to her sudden gesture. Feeling her soft hand on his cheek and that sleepy look on her face really took everything for him to not lose control. She was too cute.  
"Can you hold me?" He avoided the question and Neru noticed. He must have gone through something bad or really embarrassing so she doesn't want to push the question any further. She nodded and open her arms wide, allowing him to wrap his arms around her torso and bury his face on her chest. Neru’s free hand gently stroke his head as a sign of assurance and their legs intertwined beneath the sheets. It was calming to be this close to each other. No talking involved. Just them enjoying each other’s presence.  
They stayed in that position for a while and Neru could feel her eyes slowly shut but again, her slumber was interrupted by Mammon’s voice.
“Neru...?”
“Hn?” Neru hummed. Her eyes remained shut as she waits for her boyfriend to continue.  
“Ya... ya won’t leave me, right?”
That sudden question made her eyes open again. Did she hear him correctly or was it her mind playing tricks with her while she’s drowsy? Neru tried pulling away to look at him but Mammon kept her locked in his arms, not allowing her to move or to see his face.  
“Don’t!” he whined as he shook his head. “Just stay”
“Mammon, what’s wrong? Seriously, talk to me. Is there something bothering you, sweety?” she asked, worry laced in her voice. He’s acting like a little kid. Well, he always acted so immaturely despite being thousands of years old but this time it was more than just him being immature. He was being needy.  
“How can I help you if you won’t tell me what’s wrong? You know you can trust me, right? You can tell me anything, I won’t judge” she assured him as she placed a soft kiss on the top of his head. The white-haired demon remained silent before pulling away to let her see his face. His sapphire eyes averted her gaze not just because he was embarrassed with how he was acting but also because he couldn’t stand to see the worried look on her face.  
“Yer right... I had a nightmare” he finally spoke. “.. and you were there”  
Neru nodded as she listens intently. “What was I doing?”
“Nothin. Ya just l-laid there on the cold floor... t-there was blood everywhere but I didn’t know whose is it” Mammon’s hand gripped on Neru’s arm as he tries to recall that terrible nightmare.  “You just wouldn’t wake up no matter what I do and I felt so fucking helpless”  
After listening to his explanation, Neru came to a realization. It wasn’t really a nightmare. No, it was more of a memory. She recalls the incident that happened before between her and Belphegor, and how she saw what it seems to be her double; dying before vanishing in Mammon’s arms. What he claims to be a nightmare was perfectly similar to that incident. Don’t get her wrong, she knows how scared everyone was when they thought she died but right after that incident, everything just went back to normal. Everyone, including her, moved on with their everyday lives ignoring the fact that she “died” and only focused on her being alive.  
Neru subconsciously bit her lip as she lost in her thoughts. After all this time... Mammon is actually traumatised by that event?
“Neru...?” Mammon called, snapping her out from her thoughts. “Are you okay??”
“Ah, I’m sorry. I’m fine” Neru smiled apologetically and runs her thumb on his cheek. “Listen, I won’t go anywhere. I have you, don’t I? Even if you’re not there, I will do whatever it takes to come back to my first man”
The white-haired demon blushed but the look in his eyes doesn’t look like he’s convinced. Even an idiot like him knows what she said isn’t always possible. The feeling of uncertainty was never a problem for the avatar of greed. Everything was a gamble from the start and he just live his life without any solid plans besides trying to get filthy rich. It’s not as if life is short for him but for Neru it’s totally different.
She shifted her position and laid on her back as she stared at the candles lighting the walls of her room. “Mammon, it’s okay to be afraid... there’s nothing wrong with it. In fact, I’m afraid too but I feel like there’s no point of being scared of something that we’re uncertain of”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean why waste time being scared of the future when we can just enjoy and be happy with what we have now? Why worry when we can use that time to make memories?”
“I used to think that way but...” Mammon paused as he tries to rearrange his thoughts. “I... I really, really don’t want to lose you, Neru”
She could feel her face flushed. Hearing those honest words coming out from his mouth made her heart melt. It’s times like these that made her fall even harder for this greedy demon. Without thinking much, the brunette laid on her side to face him before taking his hand and place it on her chest.
“W-What are ya doin??!” his eyes go wide, surprised at her sudden gesture.
“Can you feel that? I’m here, aren’t I?”  
Mammon can’t stop looking at his hand on her chest and her eyes and back to her chest. He could feel the heat radiated from her body and how her heart is beating in perfect rhythm with his own heart. It’s a sign that she’s there. It’s a sign that she’s alive.
“Mammon... just know that regardless of anything, I will never stop loving you.”  
The demon could feel his heart was about to burst out of his chest. How can those simple words make him feel so happy? When was the last time someone treated him as gentle as her?  
“This suck” He sighed in frustration before pulling his hand away from her chest. He cups her face in his hands and leans his forehead against hers. “Now I need to hear ya say that again until I’m satisfied”  
Neru giggled and nodded as her face is being squished.  
“I love you”
“Again.”
“I love you”
“Nope not satisfied. Again.”
“I love you so much, Mammon” Neru smiled widely as she let out another giggle and with that, the greedy demon pressed his lips to hers, possessing, owning her in a way she could never have imagined. Mammon kept his eyes half open, sneaking a guilty peek at her every time he came back for air, just to make sure this wasn’t a product of his imagination. It wasn't one kiss, it was twenty, leading one into another. Noticing how Neru was struggling for air, Mammon pulled away. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear as he stared deeply into her purple orbs.  
“You’ve made me fall head over heels for ya so... you better keep your promise or I’ll never forgive ya!”
Neru couldn’t help but chuckle at his lil threat. He’s too adorable that it’s bad for her heart. She grabbed his hand and curled her pinkie around his to seal the deal.
“I promise!”  
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arahir · 7 months ago
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I'm really getting into this one fandom and stumbled upon the community of anti's spamming their typical puritanical "you're scum of the Earth if you think XYZ" BS. I just want to write about fictional characters, but their posts put me in such a funky mood. It's my first time in a fandom with such opinionated and active anti's and I don't know how to stop letting their negativity mess with my creativity. I just want to enjoy content and write fic, man 😭 but I keep thinking of how much trouble I'm letting into my life if I release certain content. Any advice to stop the anti-anti's from influencing me?
How to Enjoy Modern Fandom: A Guide
i’m gonna take this seriously because i know it’s something a lot of people struggle with and let’s face it: modern fandom kind of sucks. people are extremely loud, extremely opinionated, extremely loud about being opinionated, and have just spent a year doing nothing but being more loud and more opinionated and more wrong than ever before, so...
1) limit what you see. this is the old “curate your space thing” and it’s tried and true. fandom is a total mess and the internet allows--forces--you to view the stream of conscious thoughts of every person who has ever had access to a keyboard and a wifi connection. so: mute words, and be smart about it. i mute words like “fandom” “shippers” “antis” “proshippers” and so on. i very liberally turn off retweets from people whose stuff i’m not vibing with. back in the heyday of vld i limited all my notifications to followers which absolutely insulated me from anything i didn’t want to see.
2) don’t go looking for stuff you don’t like. this is not me talking about shitheads looking at your stuff. this is me talking about you looking at their opinions. you never need to see it. don’t go in the pairing tag without putting a hashtag in front of it. you never need to know what a 14 year old in fuck knows where thinks of what you enjoy. you just don’t. i think of it as a respect thing: had i had access to the internet at that age and the ability to immortalize my worst opinions, i can only pray that the adults in those spaces would have done me the good grace of ignoring me. “some of them are older” yeah but i still don’t care. i don’t invite them into my mind or space.
3) don’t engage. this is so much easier said than done. i still violate this now and then, but i swear to you that it is never worth it. you are never going to change anyone’s opinion. what it will do is expose everyone who followed you for your support of a specific ship or content to the basic opposite of what they followed you for. don’t do that to your friends and followers, and don’t do it to yourself. it is literally not worth it ever on any level. even if you say the perfect words, they will still make you anxious if you’re anything like me, and i regret it every time.
4) step back as often as possible. we’re all on the internet a lot these days. if i see something i don’t like about a ship i do, i close the tab and open a webcomic or a book, put my phone down and go outside a moment, watch some tv, talk to a friend. literally anything but absorb that energy. fandom is my fun time and i know from personal experience those vibes will stick with me if i let them so i just don’t. public fandom should, i think, be 10% of your fun time if that. scroll for art, scroll for a cute headcanons from your friends, get distance as soon as it stops being fun for even a moment. 
5) find friends and consider limiting your fandom experience to them. i now exist almost entirely on a private twitter. i don’t really want my every thought to be broadcast to thousands of people i don’t know. i use my main twitter to post fic, rt fanart, occasionally reply to people who reply to my posts, and nothing else. otherwise all my fandom is a few good friends i’ve made over the course of the past few years and most of whom i know irl now. it’s really freeing. i literally don’t care what anyone thinks of the things i like because i know i can call at least one person on discord and scream about that ship with them for a few minutes and that’s worth more than anything to me. 
6) if you do get attacked... dm it to a friend to clown it. turn off notifications from non followers. actually close out of twitter. actually go outside and eat something and drink some water. i swear to you, the anxiety response from an attack on the internet is so outsized and bizarre because everyone’s opinion is projected at the same size. the literal only way to get past it as fast as possible is laugh at it, ignore it, get distance, keep doing what you love even if it has to be out of spite for a minute.
7) other tips: find out what your ship is called in another language and save that search so you can find good fanart and 99% less drama. western twitter fandom skews young. even if they aren’t being assholes, i kind of don’t want to hear what a minor thinks of xyz character’s sexual habits. on that note, keep in mind that harassers are mostly super young. it’s never a good look to fight a child and i find that most of what i see from them is a lot more tolerable when i remember they’re bored teens. i’m not excusing their behavior but much as i would not wrestle a child in the bread aisle for saying my shirt is lame, i will not fight an actual child on the internet lol. there are only assholes and non assholes on the internet. don’t buy into antis vs proshippers stuff. anti is a self-styled short term for “someone who harasses others over fake stuff” and proship is an even stupider term for “person who doesn’t think people should be harassed over fake stuff” so don’t use either. it’s literally all fake and so silly to me. you’re either having fun or you’re not. have other things going as much as possible. kind of redundant with what i said before, but to stay sane, i always have a webcomic or book open in another tab to scroll to because it reminds me i can get endorphins from stuff on the internet other than twitter. i just really try to limit how much time i’m ever exposed to any opinions on twitter lol. 
i’m not gonna say fandom is supposed to be fun because i think you know that already. these are all the ways i’ve kept it that way and stayed writing over the past few years and some terribly stupid times. i hope any of that helps!! stay having fun and congrats on finding a new ship!! that’s always exciting to me lol <333
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kbuufoetdibupo · 9 months ago
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Fave ML Fics of 2020
Inspired by @anna-scribbles tagging me for the 8 favorite things I’ve done this year, I decided to make it 8 favorite fics other people have written instead :) 
White Lies Over White Nights by meirencollector Teen/Oneshot/8,806 words There’s so much going on here—roommates AU, snowed in, drinking and truth-telling games, post-reveal pre-relationship and the pining! Absolutely delicious. It explores each side of the lovesquare so seamlessly and effectively, using flashbacks to contextualize their truth-or-drink game so you get this little peak into what their relationship is like based on how they answer (or don’t answer) questions, and then get the explanation via flashback. It’s a really interesting way of telling this story and it takes you through all the facets of their relationship really eloquently.
Kiss shy by emsylcatac @emsylcatac Teen/Oneshot/3,031 There’s something so incredibly compelling about idiots in love and nothing portrays that idea better than this fic. Marinette is ready and prepared to finally kiss her boyfriend of three weeks right on the mouth. A little confused as to why they haven’t kissed yet, she has a plan, she’s built up the confidence, and she’s going to follow through. This piece is engaging and lively, sparking interest immediately and keeping that interest with quippy dialogue and our favorite duo being cute and dumb :) What’s more fun than post-reveal misunderstandings?
leonard bernstein by Reiaji Teen/Oneshot/10,445 Realistically, I could talk about everything Reiaji has written at length because  every single piece is brilliant and beautiful and fills me with so many emotions. If I could live in someone’s writing, it would be theirs. This piece is special in so many ways; Adrien is adorably head-over-heels, Marinette moonlights as her own wingwoman, they leave each other sweet little presents and notes, Adrien’s relationship with every character is so deep (there are some lovely Adrino friendship moments that are truly perfect), and the romance of it all is so natural and beautiful, it’s impossible not to love. It’s one of those fics that you keep going back to because the writing is so devastatingly beautiful you don’t want to leave.
Graine de Toi by komorebirei @komorebirei Teen/Incomplete/5-11Chapters/21,961 This fic, taking inspiration from Kimi no Na wa (which is reason in itself to give it a read) is really elegantly done. Getting to see Adrien and Marinette’s lives through the lens of the other is a really interesting twist on how we’ve been introduced to these characters in canon. It encourages the reader to view the characters in a different kind of way and the explanation for why they swap bodies is different from any other body swap AU I’ve seen and lends itself more to the plot in a very compelling way. The author does a perfect job keeping Marinette and Adrien’s individual voices very recognizable and their reactions to situations are so distinctly them it’s a joy to watch them try and blend into the other’s life.
Old Wounds by PlaPla @amiraculousplatypus @aplayfulplatypus Teen/Incomplete/4-?Chapters/7,124 This fic has such an interesting premise: No one remembers anything about superheroes or villains or the miraculous except for Marinette, so she has to work through a lot of emotions and traumas on her own. You get a vision of two realities, the one Marinette remembers from before and the one she’s living through now, and the way scenes are sometimes shown side-by-side perfectly demonstrates the kind of inner turmoil she’s working through. There’s a lot of angst and some parts are written so heart wrenchingly, it’s impossible to not ache alongside her. 
Eventually by ominousunflower @ominousunflower Gen/Oneshot/7,093 Such a wonderful encapsulation of the Ladynoir dynamic in a single conversation. It really explores the depths of the emotions Ladybug and Chat Noir feel and the complexities of their lives. The “eventually” of the fic is so well done and sweet and I think really captures the beauty of pre-relationship Ladynoir. They’re written with such care for each other—both of them doing their best in a rough situation and their interactions are so sweet. It’s a wonderfully crafted piece, their dialogue is honest and believable and you leave the fic feeling refreshed and light.
hey cutea by emilieee @e-milieeee Not rated/Oneshot/6,238 An incredibly fluffy and fun reveal fic, the connection is made by Adrien and Chat Noir’s unique boba preferences. There are puns, shenanigans, a seriously amusing setup that follows through with just the right balance of sweet and stupid—it’s everything you could want in a oneshot. Ladybug and Chat Noir have such a good dynamic and I love the way Adrien’s written when first ordering—he’s overwhelmed and a bit panicky and thinking through things too much and not enough and that’s incredibly relatable.
like poles of a magnet by maketea @rosekasa Teen/Complete/8Chapters/12,074 I’m horrendously picky with enemies AUs because while they have the potential to be amazing and complex and gorgeous pieces of writing, I’m always a bit wary of how Ladybug and Chat Noir’s personalities are portrayed. Worry not. This AU (tagged as enemies to friends to lovers) is just so stunning in every way. It’s gorgeously written, each sentence is beautiful (like insanely so, you have to wonder how someone could write so many perfect lines back-to-back) and some are just hauntingly brilliant. If you’re looking, there are so many motifs and examples of symmetry that make this fic so satisfying to read. It’s a work of art.
Wishing you all the best in 2021 and I encourage everyone to reflect on their own favorite fics of 2020 and perhaps make a rec list of their own to let some writers know how much they’re appreciated :) <3
Previous rec lists 2018   2019 (part 1)    Halloween 2019     2019 (part 2)   2020 (part 1)
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changbeanie · a year ago
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youngblood ↠ lee minho
◦ genre: college!au, best friends to lovers!au; angst, fluff
◦ pairings: reader x minho
◦ word count: 17.4k
◦ description: lee minho crashes at your apartment four out of seven days in a week, but you’re the crashing for him.
◦ warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol, suggestive, slow af burn
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◦ a/n: hello after 4 months of not writing !!! self-quarantine brings out the best in me (due to lack of responsibilities) & here’s the fic I’ve been working on for the past week; I hope you like it :)
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one.
Lee Minho tells you that he drowned his AirPods during that one campfire social by the beach and that he can’t afford to buy a new pair because he’s a dirt poor, money-starved college student who survives solely off of Shin Ramyun and its complementary mushroom flakes.
You know this because 1) he’s mentioned it before during the ten-minute break of your three-hour-long marketing lecture and even got the professor involved in a heated discussion about Apple’s obligation to make all of their product lines waterproof for maximum customer brand loyalty, 2) the past several calls with him have been staticy and demonic sounding, and 3) he actually FaceTimed you during his grocery trip last weekend and asked whether he should buy two five-packs of Shin Ramyun or one. You said one, but you’re pretty sure Minho’s too fucking weak to pass up on that two-for-one deal.
So here you are, grocery shopping on a Friday night (because you’ll never wake up early on a Saturday morning) and listening to your best friend wail about his misfortunes through the phone as you’re slapping every watermelon you come in contact with.
“Can you buy me Girl Scout cookies on your way back?” Minho asks when you’re picking out what flavor of ice cream you’re having next week when you decide to cram for finals. It’s a coping mechanism, you convince yourself.
“No? Can’t you walk down to the market and buy it yourself?” You ask pointedly, creasing your brows disbelief. “That’s not something a broke college student would ask for. Five dollars a box? Please. I could buy two dozen eggs to last me a month.”
“But I want to stay in bed and finish the paper due tonight,” he whines. “How do you sleep going around and crushing little girls’ dreams like that?”
You make a grab for the ice cream sandwiches on the third refrigerator shelf; there are six individual bars in one box—okay, so you’ll have at least some self-control and not devour the entirety in one sitting. “With earplugs and a sign outside my door that writes ‘DO NOT DISTURB’ in a fat, red sharpie,” you tell him. “And don’t act as if you’re not already out of bed. I know Fridays are your barhopping nights with Chan.”
“Can’t anymore. Chan’s got a group project, and his team members can’t meet until 11 PM because this one guy has lacrosse practice until then,” Minho concedes with a sigh. “Oh, and I have a paper due midnight.” He says it like it’s no big deal. Like it’s an afterthought. You’ve taken that class before; that paper is worth twenty-five percent of his grade.
“Who the heck has lacrosse practice at 11 PM? Everyone knows that the university’s too cheap to turn on the stadium lights.”
“Beats me,” he says, and you hear shuffling on his side of the call. “I hate this stupid essay. I could have been at Johnny’s frat party tonight. They even brought a whole rodeo inside the bar!”
You scoff and toss a loaf of wheat bread into your basket. “Right? Too bad you decided to procrastinate and cram your paper on a totally party-able Friday night,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “I need to check out now. Call you back later.”
“Wait!” Minho exclaims, nearly bursting your eardrums. “Aren’t you going to ask if I want anything?”
“What does my grocery shopping have anything to do with you? Do you live with me? Are you a parasite? Because I would lock you in the basement and let you starve to death,” you accuse, lining up in the self-checkout line. Wow, people (you) are so misanthropic these days… the cashiers might lose their jobs.
“Hah! You don’t have a basement,” he counters, “I’m standing outside your apartment complex.”
You let out a deep sigh and step out of the checkout line; now you have to feed him. “What happened to ‘I’m too fucking busy working on my essay’?” you mimic him.
“I brought my laptop.” You can practically see him grinning and bouncing on his toes outside your apartment complex right now. “Plus, everyone knows you’re not doing anything on Friday nights besides watching The Bachelor and crying when your favorites get eliminated.”
“Bro, reality TV… these bitches be throwing each other under the bus,” you mumble as you pick up a frozen pesto pizza for Minho. You never really understood his penchant for frozen pizzas, especially not since you live beside two pizza chains. “I live vicariously through the drama.” 
“Yeah, you almost threw hands at your TV when Jillian got eliminated. I swore Jisoo lost ten years of her life when the remote control missed her TV by a hair.” He’s talking about the time where you and your roommates decided to invite a few of the guys over, and you made an executive decision to make everyone watch The Bachelor (Felix high-key loves it). And when Jason decided to Not Give Jillian the rose, you lost all your cool.
While you’re still at the frozen dinner aisle, you toss in a pack of frozen chicken nuggets for late-night snacking. Who knows what you’ll crave during the middle of next week? “Listen. That woman did not go through The Bachelor and The Bachelorette consecutively to not find love. Homegirl may be married now, but at what cost!”
“You’re so dramatique,” Minho muses, pretending to be his visual arts professor who had a little too much fun during his trip to Paris. You know this because you scrolled through Minho’s Instagram that one time and saw a post of him pretending to be a mime—you’ve never touched his phone since. “Hurry up. I feel like I’m feeding mosquitoes out here.”
“Well, I hope they have a feast tonight!”
“Ooh, so you think that I’m a whole meal?” he gasps loudly. “Ballsy. I like it.”
Minho doesn’t hear what you have to say next because you’ve already hung up. 
But on your way out, you see girl scouts doing their little memorized pitch of why you should buy their overpriced (though decently delectable) cookies. Reluctantly, you hand the smiling girl a crisp five-dollar bill and throw a box of Thin Mints into your tote bag.
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two.
The first thing Minho does when he enters your apartment is set the oven to preheat at 550 degrees. For his frozen pizza. Because God forbid he starve.
“What’s your paper on again?”
“Surveillance capitalism,” Minho groans and shuffles through your kitchen cabinets for something to place his pizza on. “Why? Do you want to write it for me?”
“You fucking wish,” you dismiss with a chuckle. “I’m not about to make myself sad tonight.”
He grabs a pair of crocodile mitts from your drawers and holds them up to your face, snapping the jaws together like he’s a fucking five-year-old. “Says the one who’s about to cry over a Nicholas Sparks movie. I see your Netflix history,” he supplies unhelpfully. Can you blame yourself for wanting to cry for no apparent reason once (a week) in a while?
“Maybe you should open your own Netflix account then–oh wait, you can’t. Because you’re a parasite,” you say, eyes widening. Okay, you can’t help but reference the Oscar-winning movie when it comes to Minho, even if he was practically dying during that one scene. Everyone and everyone’s parents know about that scene. Longest scene ever.
“But I’m your parasite,” he beams, lips curving up, makes him look like a cat. A very annoyingly cute cat with stupidly good hair.
“I would starve you.”
Minho grabs the bright green box of Thin Mints from your tote and smiles like he’s come home from war; he raises an eyebrow skeptically. “I thought you said Girl Scout cookies were overpriced and would rather buy two cartons of eggs.”
“I have enough eggs?” you shrug, holding your breath at the sight of your empty carton. Shit, you knew you forgot to buy something.
“Thin Mints are my favorite though.”
You clear your throat and proceed to restock your fridge with produce and milk. “You’re not the only one who likes Thin Mints. How narcissistic of you to think that way,” you say primly. The fridge is empty because a few of your roommates went home for the weekend. Not for long though. Jisoo usually comes back with thousands of side dishes and bags of rice cakes that her mom packs for her, so she won’t have to cook a day in her life.
“Wasn’t Narcissus like the most handsome dude in Greece?” He wiggles his brows and adds, “Are you calling me… hot?” 
You pretend to not hear him because yes. Yes, he is attractive—hot, if you may. Like when he runs his fingers through his hair, brushing it back to reveal his smooth forehead with perfectly made eyebrows every single time he feels frustrated about homework. Or when he’s feeling philanthropic and decides to help you carry Big and Heavy boxes for your student council meetings (because no one ever shows up on time), completely showing off his gains from gyming with Chan and Changbin. But in no way shape or form will you tell your best friend that he’s hot and send his ego flying off into a parallel universe where Alternative Y/N also has a fat crush on him. Nope. Not in a million years.
“For your information, Narcissus was also the same guy who fell in love with his own reflection and got big sad when he couldn’t be with himself.”
Minho looks not at all sympathetic and says, “Yeah, but could you hand me the pizza?”
“Do you only care about food?” You hand him the box regardless. Your apartment’s so old that you sometimes end up having an irrational fear of the oven and how it might explode when you’re in the kitchen. Jisoo calls you paranoid. Lisa calls you stupid. Minho straight up doesn’t care because he’d rather be blown up than starve himself.
“No,” he says with a huff, wincing when the hot oven heat waves hit his face, “I care about you too.”
You don’t show it, but you think your heart skipped a few beats–
“Because you buy me food,” he finishes, dusts off his hands after he shoves the pizza in the oven.
–in anger.
Minho sets the timer for eight minutes and makes a beeline for your living room, catapults himself onto your leather couch like he’s a grenade, sound effects and all. He takes Lisa’s pillow with a horoscope palm reading stitched onto it and tucks it behind his head, his foot dangling off the side because he’s a few inches too long for your three-seater couch.
“Please tell me you’re not about to take a nap.”
“And miss you sobbing over Dear John? What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t record that and post it on my Snapchat story?” he asks with faux concern. He makes you sound like a sappy romance movie junkie (only on occasion!); you sort of hate him.
“A good best friend,” you deadpan, walking over to where he’s getting cozy on the couch.
Minho drapes an arm over his eyes, finding the lamp too bright for his liking (because he lives in a cave he calls his room). “You know I prefer showing up unannounced at your apartment and surprising you with my holy presence,” he says calmly, voice smooth. 
“Wow, I must be so blessed. Aren’t I lucky?” you chide, taking a seat beside him on the carpet, knees pulled tight against your chest. 
You will never forget the night he came banging on the door of your shared apartment, batshit drunk, at 2 AM and demanding that you open up and buy him donuts. You only rush to open the door to get him to shut the fuck up—because the neighbors will complain to the landlord about your questionable activities past midnight—and drag him inside by the collar. Drunk Minho ends up eating the last of your toaster strudels thinking that they’re square donuts, and you end up texting Woojin a series of angry texts asking why he couldn’t bother driving an extra three minutes to drop Minho off at his own apartment.
“You are The Lucky One,” he grins smugly.
“Please stop using Nicholas Sparks references on me, I will not hesitate to kick you to the curb.”
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three.
“How’s that essay going?”
“Uh huh,” Minho says, dismissing you with a wave of his hand and the other reaching over your lap for another handful of honey mustard pretzels. 
Your face makes a scowl when you look over to his laptop, neglected and throw off to the side, to see that he has written his name (not even his full name, just “Minho”), his section number, tomorrow’s due date, and a title that says “tbd :D” in parentheses. “Bitch, you haven’t even started,” you say, pointing at the screen.
“Shh, John’s about to go off to war. What if he never comes back?”
Shutting your eyes, you press your temple against your fingers, kicking yourself for forgetting how crappy of an attention span your best friend has. “I think everyone knows that he comes home from war. All of the movies end happily!”
“But it’s not the same! You know what happened to his father!” Minho exclaims, leaning his head back to shove a handful of pretzels in his mouth, chews obnoxiously like he’s totally pissed at the filmmakers.
“Yet here you are, rewatching the movie instead of working on your paper that is due in three hours,” you say, leaning onto the sofa arm.
“I’m a CS major,” he clarifies knowingly, “This class won’t affect my major GPA. It’s just some elective I need to fulfill a requirement. Who knew there was so much writing involved? Ugh, I should have dropped it during Week 5.”
The battle scene flashes on the television screen and casts an orangey glow on Minho’s face, makes him look like some sort of god. But whatever, it’s not like you’re admiring the bridge of his nose and staring at his long fucking eyelashes or anything. “Why did you take marketing then? CS majors don’t usually have minors,” you ask him.
“Because I get to spend time with my wonderful best friend that is you.” Minho glances over at you and makes brief eye contact. 
You want to etch this moment into your brain permanently and slide it into a photo book for you to revisit ten years later when you’re married to someone who isn’t Lee Minho. Even though you shudder at the thought of marriage and commitment, you can’t help but wonder what it feels like to be someone’s and have them be yours.
“Shut up. You just want a GPA booster,” you point out.
“What can I say? C++ takes a toll on your mental health and tanks your GPA. Not everything is as easy as Java,” he sighs.
“Hmm, I love it when you speak Python to me. So sexy, please continue.”
Your best friend scoffs, not having the heart to tell you that all three of the aforementioned are actually different languages. Then, Minho’s phone buzzes in the pocket of his sweatpants, and it’s a Snapchat notification from Chan. You peek over, and it’s an unimpressed selfie of Chan with no filter, eyebags on full display, that reads “walked halfway across campus to find that the taco place is closed… huge L”. You chuckle for good measure, watching as Minho snaps a picture himself stuffing his mouth with a slice of sad, lukewarm pizza. 
“Why are they working on a project on a Friday night when there’s the whole weekend?” you wonder.
“His group mates are big lacrosse players. They have a game this weekend, so they want to finish it by tonight.”
“You CS majors are kind of nerdy,” you note. You picture Chan and a couple of buff dudes with gear surrounding a small round table on the first floor of the library, and there’s just a bunch of energy drinks, empty coffee cups, and nutrient bar wrappers littered around them. They’re pulling an all-nighter, coding in complete silence, occasionally nodding off and discussing a few main points here and there. But you know Chan, he always pulls through and gets an A on every project he’s ever worked on; no wonder all the girls (you) have had a crush on him at one point.
Right then, the front door bursts open and an unusually happy-looking Lisa walks in. You know something’s up because she always looks rough after class, and the last time she was this happy was when her professor got food poisoning and all her classes for the next week were canceled. Morbid, but understandable. “Guess what?” She hums, swinging her arm over your shoulder.
“You dropped out of college.”
Lisa sneers and throws a pillow at Minho’s timely comment. “No, fuck you,” she scowls, points a finger at him accusingly. “I’m going on a date tomorrow!”
“You said you were done with dating apps! Remember that time your last Tinder date asked you to pay for his Airbnb because he got kicked out of his apartment. He didn’t even pay back the twenty dollars he owed you for his meal!” You splutter, grabbing her shoulders forcibly. Maybe if you shake her hard enough, she’ll reconsider and raincheck the guy with some lame excuse.
“No, no. This guy’s from my CS class, so why not?” Lisa removes your hands from her shoulders and holds them between her own like she’s about to give the most heartfelt speech of her life. Like it’s she’s getting married and making you her Maid of Honor. 
Minho freezes and gasps, “No way. Whose heart are you going to break now?”
“Yours. If you don’t shut up and let me finish my story.” 
“Okay, so what happened?” You interrupt before Lisa actually decides that she wants to go to jail and strangles Lee Minho to death. Really, she’d do anything to get out of attending lecture.
“You know we have weekly coding assignments, right?” You nod, and she continues, blatantly ignoring Minho in the background because he’s rolling his eyes to the moon. “I was asking him about my code because I’m a dumb bitch, and then he asked me whether or not I wanted to run his code. I say yes, naturally, since he’s smart. And guess what he did?”
Minho narrows his eyes in disgust and props his chin on your shoulder, glaring your roommate down. “Don’t tell me he added an extra line of prompt asking you to go out with him.”
“Yes! And like, it's a free lunch… so I can’t say no. Plus, he put so much effort into this. I’d actually feel bad if I rejected him,” she explains with steady eye contact. That’s a fat surprise—Lisa might not break his heart this time. You always knew, deep down, she was soft for grand romantic gestures. 
“That was the most fucking nerdy thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” you state, “I stand corrected… CS majors are extremely nerdy.”
“But it’s so cute!” Lisa lets out a high pitched squeal and basically collapses on top of you. Then, she sits up straight and remembers that her arch-nemesis, Lee Minho, is also present. “What’s he doing here again?”
You shake your head helplessly. “Being a parasite, as per usual,” you breathe.
“Save that slice of pizza for me and consider tonight’s stay free of charge,” she tells Minho as she stands up from the couch, ready to run into her bedroom and change into jammies. 
Minho smiles fakely. “You know, I never liked you.”
“I’ll hook us up with boba orders. Woojin’s closing tonight.”
“Because I love you! More than I love Y/N.” Nice save.
“The fuck?” You say, pretending to be extremely offended, clutching your heart and all. Like it hurts more than one of the top ten anime betrayals. But you know he’s always like this. You’d be like this too. You would drop him in a heartbeat for a jasmine green tea with cheese foam.
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four.
The previous night, you texted Jisoo if you could sleep on her bed because your twin size bed is too small to fit both you and Minho’s fat ass. She texted back “knock yourself out”, so it’s fair to say that you have the best roommate ever. 
Minho ended up turning his paper in (sans proofreading) at 11:59 PM, one minute before the Turnitin deadline. As a reward for finishing a whole research paper in less than three hours, he decided to gift himself a brand new pair of AirPods to replace the ones that Han Jisung trashed when he tossed him into the ocean. And like the good best friend you are, you even bought him an AirPods case cover; it’s a little lame, but you got him a strawberry milk one to match your banana milk. It’ll arrive in a few days.
Currently, your beauty sleep is rudely interrupted by your alarm that you forgot to turn off the night before, the one at 10 AM for your 12 PM class. You see, that two-hour gap is very much necessary considering you require time to force yourself to wake up, scroll through Twitter and stalk Jungkook (your husband), respond to messages, think about life/have a mid-college crisis in bed, actually manage to get up and change into presentable clothes, wash up, and then rummage through the fridge to see what’s edible before the bus leaves.
But today’s a Saturday, and waking up to the sound of your annoying alarm is not a pleasant one. You crack open one eye to see that the room’s still dark, to see Minho snoring softly on your pillow, your mom’s ugly floral duvet thrown over his head with his feet peeking out the ends of it. You groan, rolling over and swiping randomly on your phone screen to turn off the alarm.
The noise, however, causes Minho to shift in his sleep as he stretches his limbs out like a starfish, a hand punching through the air. He pulls the blanket away from his face and takes a deep breath. He turns to his side and looks up at you, hair disheveled as he squints through layers of sleep. 
“Sorry, I forgot to turn my alarm off,” you whisper apologetically. “You can go back to sleep.”
“S’okay. I usually get up around this time to work out before class starts,” he mumbles back. Minho rubs the sleep away from his eyes and sticks his entire leg out. You almost giggle at the sight of his checkered pajama pants and baggy t-shirt combo. The shirt is yours, from that one time Lisa brought you to a strip club, and you managed to win a free t-shirt (and lap dance) during trivia night; you gladly accepted the t-shirt but gave Lisa the honors of experiencing a lap dance. To this day, you still crack up when you listen to Poker Face.
“What a beast,” you waggle your eyebrows tiredly before falling back in bed. “Today, the student council and I have a meeting planned for next Friday’s Yule Ball event. As secretary, I need to have everything arranged by Monday to start setting up on Tuesday.”
Minho nestles his face into your deflated pillow and stares ahead like a confused animal. “So far you have…”
You shut your eyes and mentally run through the spreadsheet you’ve been compiling for three weeks now. “I have 3RACHA for music, Woojin on bartending Harry Potter-themed drinks, and Hyunjin and Felix working on decorations. The president, Seungmin, is managing check-in and social media presence, and other board members like JenLisa are securing the ballroom and helping with decorations. Jeongin is working with me to have all the shit running smoothly and picking up the slack, especially with the university’s dining hall… these workers are so lazy! You’re working on the photobooth with Rosé because she needs help carrying props. Jisoo will help with check-in, but I might need all hands on deck if more than five hundred students decide to attend,” you share, and now Minho looks more lost than ever.
“Ooh, is there Firewhisky?” Minho decides to ask after the massive spiel you delivered. He never quite gets the point, does he?
“No alcohol. It’s an on-campus event,” you comment, rolling your eyes. “If you want alcohol, just raid Woojin’s fridge or something.”
“Damn, that’s so much to do. No wonder Seungmin’s been extra mean this week.”
“Yeah. We’re all meeting for lunch today, but like… there’s still so much to do. And will we even have everything ready to go by Friday? We still have to paint all the house banners and hang the lights. Who said Hogwarts needed to have four houses? Why not just Gryffindor and Slytherin?”
Minho laughs aloud at that and says with a loopy smile, half sitting up and half reclining on your fat Gudetama plush. “You, my friend, are a Ravenclaw,” he feels the need to tell you. 
“And I am more than ready to transfer houses and be a Gryffindor,” you say enthusiastically, clapping your hands together.
“So I could be the Draco to your Hermione?” He drawls, a hand coming up behind his head to prop it up. Minho knows about your unhealthy obsession with Dramione fanfiction (best to ever exist by the way). The Romione ship is just… subpar. No offense.
“No,” you snap, “So Chan could be the Draco to my Hermione.” 
He sees the wistful smile on your face and nearly throws the Gudetama plush at you. “You still like him? It’s been what? Three years?”
“No! You know everyone has liked Chan at one point! I bet you even liked Chan at one point,” you accuse, crossing your arms in front of you. Jisoo’s bed is too soft, so your back’s all sore now.
“I mean… when he drives me home after our bar hopping dates and buys me carne asada tacos on the way back… let’s elope and move back to Australia,” Minho mumbles dreamily, proving your point. Bang Chan is like everyone’s ideal type, kind of annoying really. You sort of feel sad for whoever has to date CB97 and deal with girls (and boys) throwing themselves at him. 
Then again, Minho’s no different. He’s just less outgoing, less engaging in college events, but he still has the occasional admirer who would give up a kidney for him. Too bad your best friend’s the most misanthropic person on earth and doesn’t give two shits about most people outside of his social sphere. Minho’s almost “tsundere” for lack of a better word, and boy do girls dig that.
Sluggishly, you kick off your blankets to head to the kitchen to make two cups of cold brew with soy milk. It’s a routine at this rate. “I hope he feeds you to the man-eating spiders as a late-night snack,” you add before yawning.
“Did you just call me a snacc? Because you know I am, babe.”
“You’re so annoying,” you whine with an exasperated sigh. “Seungmin’s picking me up at 11:30. What are your plans for the day?”
Minho’s scrolling through his phone as he’s still blinking the sleep away, brown hair, soft skin, all bundled up in your bedsheets like he belongs there. He looks decent. More than decent, actually. He’s just an unfairly beautiful piece of shit. “I have dance practice with Hyunjin at noon, and then we’ll swing by to see what you guys need help on?” he says with an eyebrow raise, turning to look at you.
“Well, aren’t you benevolent today?” You snort, walking to your closet to fish out a pair of leggings and one of your many massive hoodies. 
“Magnanimous, if I may.”
“Shut up,” you chuckle, “Coffee will be on the counter. Food, wherever. You know my apartment better than I do. Just tell Lisa to lock up before she goes on her date.”
Truthfully, you sort of want to stay in bed with him. Just lounging there without a care in the world. Free of college responsibilities. Knowing Minho, he’ll give you an extensive movie review of Joker or something, and how much Joaquin Phoenix deserved that Oscar for losing that much weight (healthily, of course) to get into character. And maybe you’ll even gather enough courage to wrap your arms around his torso, and maybe he’ll do the same. 
Maybe he wants you to be his just as much as you want him to be yours.
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five.
Rosé and Seungmin send out at least a thousand university emails. It’s not clout, you swear.
Your infallible marketing strategy targets students who have expressed even the slightest bit of interest in the Harry Potter franchise, and thanks to surveillance capitalism, you’d like to say you’ve narrowed it down to at least a good fraction of the population. The ballroom capacity is only seven hundred, but you think that it’s safer to have more guests than not enough guests; plus, things always come up, especially on a Friday before a long weekend.
“Do we have all the materials yet? We have enough funding for backup?” Seungmin asks as he stretches his arms over his head, leans back in his chair for a well-deserved five seconds. You feel the strain in your back too—it’s been seven hours since your last saw Minho. The lamp fixtures in the boba shop flicker on as the sun sets, golden light streaming through the glass windows. In less than a few minutes, the sky will be dark.
“Four hundred feet of fairy lights just came in. The university’s helping us hang that shit up because they don’t want to be responsible for our deaths. I have poster boards, spray paint, glitter, and other art supplies. Tablecloths, linen, sustainable utensils in the supply closet,” you narrate through your laundry list of things to do. “Blah, blah, blah. The dining hall will have all the food and the drinks for the bar supplied. Also setting up and cleaning up is their responsibility… I think we’re almost good to go.”
“Okay, how many workdays are you thinking? Also, it’s nearing finals week, so be mindful of that,” Rosé reminds you.
You tap your pen on your chin, thinking rather deeply about this. “We’ll work hard on Monday and Tuesday. Rest Wednesday. Finishing touches on Thursday and before the event on Friday. Our schedules all vary, so we’ll just visit the venue and pick up slack whenever we can.”
“Hey, the North Ballroom is close to all our lecture halls too. My classes are easy this semester, so I’ll be there pretty often,” Seungmin proclaims, and it sounds like music to your ears. Ah, as expected of Mr. President.
“Wait.” All your heads turn to Jeongin. “If this is the Yule Ball, are we allowed to go as students from different academies? Is that an option?”
Rosé laughs at the younger boy’s question. “I’m going as Beauxbatons. You’re welcome to join me,” she smiles and finishes up the last of her Hokkaido milk tea. Rosé is such a Beauxbaton, you can totally see it already.
“Um, no thank you,” he wrinkles his nose playfully. “I’m a Ravenclaw.” And this prompts the vice president to make a noise of disapproval. She knows that ninety percent of the attendees will be basic and go as Hogwarts students.
“Ooh, who are you texting?” Seungmin sings in your ear. “Is it a certain boy whose name sounds just like a celebrity’s name?”
“You mean Jeon Jungkook?” You gasp loudly, pretending that he actually found out about your “love affair” with the International Playboy Jeon Jungkook. “I mean, we’re long-distance right now… but yeah. It’s steamy.”
Seungmin looks wholly unimpressed.
“It’s Lisa,” you reply dryly. “She ditched today’s staff meeting for a date with a CS boy. She’s texting me her location in case she gets killed.” 
Seungmin doesn’t seem fazed by your morbid answer. It’s because first dates are always risky, especially if you’re not familiar with the other person. That’s why you never go on dates. No, not when you’re sort of in love with your equally dateless best friend. 
Speaking of said best friend, you hear the wind chimes at the front entrance, and Lee Minho (and Hyunjin) walks into the boba shop after dance practice just as he had promised. 
Breaths fraying. 
Sweaty. 
You hold your breath when he comes up behind you and lands a hand on the back of your chair, following up on the staff meeting.
“So, I got the Eventbrite app installed on my phone already. I’m ready to scan everyone at lightning speed because it’s all GA. None of that VIP checklist type of special treatment.” Hyunjin takes a grab at Jeongin’s winter melon milk tea and makes a face. “Um, this is not sweet at all? I’m ordering another,” he says on his way to the cashier.
“VIP checklist?” Minho quirks his head, not understanding the lingo.
“All the tickets are general admission this time, so there are no VIP guests. In the last event, we had college deans participating, so some students wanted to pay extra fees to sit in the front row for the panel speakers. It was also a lot more work to execute because VIP guests require wristbands,” you explain, not quite looking him in the eye. “The Yule Ball is just an excuse for students to dress up and have fun, so no VIP!”
Seungmin feels the need to scoot over and show him the number of emails he sent out, and Minho leans down dangerously close to you just to take a better look at the small ass font he has on his spreadsheet. His soft breaths tickle the side of your ear, and you can practically feel him breathing through his lungs. Kim Seungmin, you did this on purpose!
Rosé must have noticed your distressed expression because she kicks you underneath the table and waggles her eyebrows like a complete pest. “What,” you mouth, expression stern. You’re not in the mood to play footsies with her.
She does a silent chef’s kiss and points at Minho, who is very sweaty and very hot. 
This reminds you of the time where he randomly picked up an entire box of Sprinkles Cupcakes after a workout (yeah, must have been a tough workout) and asked if you wanted some. You said yes because, duh. It’s free, it’s cupcakes, and it’s Sprinkles Cupcakes—so he drives to your apartment complex and meets you in his car. The only thing you could think of that night was how much you loved banana nut cupcakes and how yummy he looked.
You shudder back to reality when he casually rests his hand on your shoulder while standing back up.
“So I think the meeting has adjourned?” Seungmin suggests, packing up his laptop that is running low on ten percent. “We’ll keep in contact over the weekend to work things out. But get some sleep before we start prepping next week, you’ll need it!”
“I’m riding home with Hyunjin, so I’ll wait for him.” Jeongin fumbles for his belongings and stuffs them in his backpack before giving the rest of the team a small wave. He runs up to Hyunjin, who is waiting impatiently for his order.
“I’m taking Rosé, so Minho and Y/N?”
Lips in a tight line, you can only nod in agreement. “Yeah, sounds good to me,” you manage to say, voice no louder than a squeak.
Rosé swings her purse over her shoulder and blows you a stupid kiss (which you proceed to crush with the palm of your hand, earning a silent gasp from her) before she follows Seungmin to his car. You begin to tidy up your belongings when Minho asks you about your dinner plans.
“What? You want frozen pizza again? Didn’t you have that yesterday?”
“I can’t think of anything else I want to eat!” Minho cries out, lips cracking into a smile because he knows that you’re so fucking done with him. He once had pork belly for five days straight when he sprained his ankle doing a backflip. What a loser. Could have asked you to meal prep for him or something. But he was too damn prideful after you specifically told him not to do acrobatics on a slippery dance floor.
“I’ll make you ram-don and fulfill your dreams of being my parasite,” you tease, nudging his arm. “Your treat though. I already paid for your pizza.”
Minho’s eyes light up like stars. “You’d make that for me?”
“Yeah,” you tell him. 
You’ll even get him the moon if he wants.
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six.
You and Minho end up raiding the Asian supermarket. 
Ram-don only requires three ingredients, but when it comes to splurging on food, neither of you have power over cute packaging and timely BOGO deals. You, a business major, should know better than to succumb to the pressures of monopolistic competition in a capitalistic society. But instead, you toss the last three bags of seaweed chips into your cart, clearing the shelf and getting rid of the store’s inventory. Business is a cycle.
“You love me for my money,” Minho frowns as you’re skipping down the alcohol aisle. 
You reach up to grab two bottles of strawberry soju. “Of course. We’re friends with benefits,” you say mindlessly, and you feel dirty looks coming from the lady a few beer cartons away.
“Who would want to be friends with benefits with you? All you do is stay at home and eat,” he snaps back, stifling a laugh. 
“Um, that’s sort of the point of friends with benefits in this day and age. Do you know how rare sugar daddies are? What are the chances of me finding a hot, rich CEO at the prime age of twenty-five with a business empire at his feet? I’ll never be able to snatch reservations at a Gordon Ramsay restaurant and be featured on Hell’s Kitchen.”
“Even if you did. What are the chances that he’d pick you over a go-go dancer? What qualities can you offer to the market of potential sugar daddies?”
You hate the fact that Minho is now a declared marketing minor. “I can cook, on good days. I can hold great conversations. Yeah, communication is key in a business partnership,” you insist.
“Wow, what the heck would you need communication for? Are you going to make spreadsheets of the times that you’re going to meet?” Minho questions and decides that two bottles of soju are not enough. He adds a peach flavored one to the cart.
“Yeah! If he’s Jeon Jungkook and tragically busy! I need to make sure that my man has time for me!”
“He’d rather date Jimin than date you.”
You pout. You know he’s right. Even you’d rather date Park Jimin than date yourself.
“I thought you said you were broke,” you say when he adds one of those gigantic packs of rice crackers, the ones the size of a machine gun, to the cart. 
“Just got my paycheck,” he shrugs, “It’s not even for me. I don’t eat bland, tasteless shit. Chan wants it because his mom just sent him five jars of peanut butter, and he can’t get rid of it… do you want a jar? I can grab one for you.”
“I think I’m good,” you tell him, chuckling to pretend like you’re okay. Like the fact that he just got his paycheck and offered to buy groceries for his roommate isn’t the cutest, most wholesome shit ever. Like his sudden thoughtfulness doesn’t make your heart stop all at once. Like you’re not mentally combusting at the sight of his stupid attractive face debating on which cut of beef he wants for the ram-don.
Minho ends up picking ribeye (because it’s the cheapest), and soon enough, you’re leaving the supermarket with five bags of unnecessary junk. But what’s college if you haven’t fucked up a few times? If you haven’t drunk until your head is in the toilet. If you haven’t accidentally skipped a lecture (or more) because of a hangover. When would you ever be able to do all of these things if not now?
Like a gentleman, he pops open his trunk for you—when all the groceries are loaded, he starts the car.
You really like his car. 
It’s different from Chan’s car, which by the way is a poor excuse for a college student’s car. It’s too pristine, too clean to the point where you feel bad for sitting on the leather seats after a long day of classes and work. You feel like you’d dirty them, and Chan might end up resenting you for hurting his baby.
Minho’s car is familiar. It’s sleek and clean just like Chan’s but not excessively; there’s still leftover straws from his many boba runs and free napkins from Chipotle. If you look hard enough, there are a few cracks on the jade pendant that hangs from his front mirror. His mom says that it will keep him safe, and it’s cute how he keeps it there despite complaining to his mom every single time he goes over a speed bump. When you lean your head back on the passenger seat, there’s the Pusheen headrest you gifted him two years ago for Secret Santa. One look in the backseat and you can still make out the stain from when Changbin spilled a bunch of spicy rice cakes because he sneezed a little too hard (and forgot to ask for a lid). It took Minho a week to get most of the stain out, and to this day, he still doesn’t trust Seo Changbin with anything edible or spillable while being in his car.
“Wait, you still have this?” You hold up a post-it note that reads “buy yourself something nice ;)”. You wrote it the time you went to the ATM by campus to retrieve cash for his broke ass who decided that he wanted another tattoo on Friday the 13th. 
“Hmm?” Minho glances over at you as he’s reversing out of the parking lot. “Yeah, why? Do you want it back?” he jokes.
“No. I just thought you would have tossed it by now.”
You think that he’s too focused on driving because he doesn’t respond. Your phone’s Bluetooth automatically connects to his car, and you let your songs shuffle—“Riptide” by Trivecta begins to play.
Maybe it’s not his car that you like. Maybe it’s the memories made in his car. The kind of memories you’ll fondly look back at fifty years from now with a nostalgic smile on your face. With a series of “what if” questions swimming through your mind. With probably two cats by your side.
Actually, maybe it’s not even the memories.
Maybe it’s him that you like.
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seven.
"Don’t you think that you’re missing something?”
“Like what?” Chan asks, looking up from his array of Tupperware. He’s meal prepping for the entirety of next week like the epitome of a gym rat.
You cross your legs, sitting on the counter. “So you’re just going to have chicken breast and string beans for the rest of the week? No carbs? Don’t y’all need carbs to function?” you ask, picking up a string bean with a pair of chopsticks from his hot pan. Could use more pepper.
He stares at his half-empty containers for a hot second. “Fuck. I need to cook rice.” Chan rummages through his cabinets for a bucket to rinse his rice in. “Don’t you have anything else better to do besides watch me cook?” he questions.
“I mean, I would make myself a banana smoothie. Too bad Changbin broke your blender,” you tell him casually. “How long does it take Minho to shower? At this rate, we might as well just UberEats something.”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you join him to kill time?” The corner of his lips raise as he’s washing his brown rice like a nuisance—you hope he forgets to press cook and leaves his grains of rice sitting at “warm”.
“Haha, very funny,” you respond sarcastically. It’s not as if Chan doesn’t know about your humongous crush on Minho anyway. “As if your tiny shower could fit two people.”
Chan takes the pair of chopsticks from your hand, preventing you from taking more of his string beans and chicken. “You should try it out and tell me,” he teases, sending a greasy smile your way, because he knows you’re thinking about it now. Chan’s proud of planting that seed in your brain.
You want to fucking uproot that seed and leave it out to die in the sun.
“I hate you.”
“Because your heart’s too busy loving Minho.” 
And you can’t even fight back because he’s right. Bang Chan’s always right about everything. Unfair.
Minho’s phone buzzes on the counter, and out of pure boredom and aggravation, you decide to check it because it’s probably an email from the university reminding everyone to pay tuition and burn more money–oh, it’s just Han Jisung.
(8:37 PM)
jisung bb: yo, hyunjin’s bday coming up
jisung bb: wtf do I get him?
(8:38 PM)
lino: you should get him the penis plush with a bowtie on it
lino: bc he has bde
jisung bb: LMAO BRO
jisung bb: AIGHT that’s sick 
jisung bb: what are you getting him then?
lino: the nerdy self-development book he’s been wanting
lino: oh, this is y/n btw
(8:39 PM)
jisung bb: um, am I interrupting something ???
lino: he’s showering so I’m just waiting for him to finish
jisung bb: join him and kill two birds with one stone ;)
lino: bitch you DO realize that he’ll see this chat right?
jisung bb: no, you would delete it
lino: TRU lol
(8:40 PM)
lino: shit, I think he just finished… imma go delete
jisung bb: TTYL, BE SAFE :)
lino: STFU 
“My phone’s filled with cat pics, if you’re wondering,” Minho says when he walks into the kitchen, a towel draped over his neck, droplets of water falling from his hair onto his white t-shirt. He looks so effortlessly radiant in this mess of a kitchen with only one light bulb that works. This should be illegal. He should be arrested. 
You’re just about finished deleting the messages when you answer, “Oh, I know. You only send me pictures of your cats and use them as really bad reaction memes. I was just stalling time to keep my mind off the fact that I’m starving and pissed at Chan.”
“What did Chan do to piss you off?” Minho chuckles, coming up beside you. He’s about eye-level, now that you’re sitting on the counter. When he laughs, his eyes crinkle into crescents—your heart goes haywire.
“His entire existence pisses me off,” you snarl, flashing the boy a glare.
“Did you break Y/N’s heart?”
Chan scoffs rather loudly, too loud for your liking. “Me? As if. Whoever has Y/N’s heart must be a total hunk,” he says, and you hope he stops talking right there.
“I thought you said you were going to cook me ram-don?” Minho asks with a jut of his lower lip. He plants his hands on either side of you and leans forward, trapping you against the counter. This happens and you get a splendid, 1080p vantage of his Face and long fucking eyelashes. As a result, you’re trying to keep a straight face as you control your heart rate. As a result, you are also trying to moderate the heat rising to your cheeks, like you’re working in the engine room of the Titanic and throwing ice cubes into the chambers to prevent steam (doesn’t work btw). And as a result, Chan is having the time of his life chopping up overcooked chicken breasts, pleasantly enjoying your misery.
“Can’t cook if you don’t move,” you mention, sounding less confident than you would have liked. He takes a step back, and you immediately hop off, making a grab for the spare chopping board and slab of ribeye steak. “Help boil water or something.”
Chan ends up slicing the meat because you don’t trust yourself with a knife after what Minho did.
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eight.
Turns out Lisa’s date didn’t meet up to her expectations. 
The guy’s great, apparently. He planned the entire day: from sushi, to cat cafe, to movies, etc. The conversations were courteous, none of that “how much do you make?” or “do you want to come to my place after?”—it's safe to say that it was a pretty decent date.
“So what’s wrong?” you ask her over the phone. You’re lying facedown on Minho’s full-size bed, propping your chin up with the back of your palm.
“He’s too nice,” she sighs, the sound of the apartment door unlocking on the other end. “He responds to my text in seconds and seems really keen to set up another date. He even suggested rock climbing. I don’t rock climb!”
“Maybe you should give him a chance. He did put a lot of effort into this date,” you mumble. You see Minho shaking his head on the bed, drinking soju through one of Changbin’s metal straws. He’s watching Love is Blind on Netflix, but you have a feeling that he’s enjoying your phone conversation more.
Lisa gives an exasperated sigh this time. “I know… but you know my type. I just don’t want to lead him on. He’s a good guy… just not my guy.”
“Let him down easily, and thank him for the date! At least, he wasn’t the guy who made you pay for his lunch and asked you to book an Airbnb for him and his dogs.”
“Right? I just met you, and it’s not my fault that you forgot to pay rent. I’m still waiting for that Venmo.”
You giggle when you remember that incident—it was during Valentine’s Day when she called. You were sitting on your dining room table and watching something on Disney+ (your friends back home have come to a consolidated consensus that it’s a crucial asset to a college student’s survival kit). And when Lisa called, you almost spat out the entirety of your dinner on your laptop screen, right on top of your Mushu icon. “That was an eventful Valentine’s Day,” you snicker, rolling over onto your backside. You hear Minho take a sharp intake of breath when you almost knock over his bowl of barbeque chips.
“Fuck you, bro. I called you because I was scared for my life! I don’t want the police coming up to our apartment doorstep and asking you for a testimony because I’m dead and found in the bushes,” she exclaims on the phone. You wince when she raises her voice.
“No more Tinder, Bumble, Coffee Meets Bagel, East Meets East…”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I deleted all of them already.”
Your eyes widen. “And?”
“And I’ll thank him for the date but won’t agree to a second one,” Lisa mumbles; she sounds like a child after being scolded by her parents for accidentally painting the apartment wall or something. 
“Good girl.”
“Where are you? Snapchat says that you’re not home. Are you dating someone behind my back?” She bombards you with a series of questions—you really need to turn off your Snapchat location. If she looks hard enough, she’ll see your Bitmoji chilling with Minho’s Bitmoji… wait, she’s friends with him too. Great, you’ll never hear the end of it now.
You sit up and clear your throat. “No. I’m with Minho. We’re watching Love is Blind on Netflix,” you tell her responsibly. Like you’re afraid to get caught. Though you shouldn’t be. It’s not like Minho’s your dirty little secret or anything.
“Hoho, love is indeed blind,” she snorts, “You’re not coming home tonight?” You can practically see her wiggling her perfectly arched brows in glee.
“Maybe… stop making it sound so bad!” You retort, bouncing on the bed for added emphasis. Minho looks as if he’s about to kill you because you almost knocked over his soju bottle. It’s his fault, only rookies drink alcohol in bed.
“I’m not! I think Woojin got off work. I’m going to ask him to buy me cheese corn dogs now. Bye!” And the phone conversation ends there because she hangs up for food.
Your best friend looks over at you, bored. “Did she break someone’s heart again?” Minho asks.
“Yeah. Poor kid.”
“Would you ever go on a dating app?”
You scoff in response, a dismissive wave of your hand. As if you could ever sell your information to the dark web and give creepy stalkers the opportunity to track you down via satellite signals. “No. I would prefer not to die. Isn’t it so much more wholesome to fall in love in person? People are so manipulative online these days. Online dating only works for a selected group of people. That’s why there’s such a bad reputation around it,” you say calmly, hand reaching for his bottle of peach soju.
Minho tilts his head and takes the soju bottle away; you narrow your eyes at him. He asks again, “Then why haven’t you fallen in love with anyone in person yet? You have a bunch of eligible bachelors surrounding you. Example one–Seo Changbin.”
That’s because I’m in love with you, stupid. But you don’t tell him that.
“Changbin’s too chonky for me,” you lie. Changbin’s fine and a great friend. Maximum boyfriend material. But he’s not Lee Minho. There’s a chance that you might fall for Changbin in an alternative universe where Minho doesn’t exist, but sadly, it’s not this universe.
“Han Jisung.”
“The same guy buying Hyunjin a penis plushie for his birthday? No, thank you,” you chuckle for good measure. You didn’t think Jisung would take it seriously... but the more you learn. “I’m okay with being single. Too busy with my studies to fall in love.”
There’s an unreadable expression on Minho’s face, one that seems almost lost. Like if you were to look into his eyes, you’d see a large expanse of dark matter. Just dust particles floating listlessly in nothingness.
“Plus, I’m too busy taking care of my parasite that is you.”
Minho cracks a close-lipped smile and rolls his eyes; you like it when he smiles. “Look who’s the parasite now,” he says, fixing his gaze on your reclined figure that is sipping soju through a fucking metal straw.
“I mean… I can sleep on the couch if you want. And big spoon Felix if Changbin brings him home tonight,” you offer, resting your chin on your hand. Changbin always brings Felix to his apartment (he practically lives here) because Felix makes it known to the world that he hates dorming.
“No. My bed is big enough for the two of us.”
Okay, this is normal.
Breathing is optional.
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nine.
You’re in charge of the Ravenclaw banner with Jeongin, a fellow Ravenclaw, when Jisung marches in the North Ballroom and shouts, “Guess who bombed his ochem midterm!”
Nobody guesses. In fact, Rosé shakes her head and focuses even harder on calligraphy-ing numbers for the table placards. And Seungmin looks like he’s about to toss a sock at him—that would be bad. Not for Han Jisung but for the underpaid university worker hanging lights on top of the ladder that Seungmin is securing.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” you chide as he saunters up beside you. “Though, Kim’s TA probably had the easiest time grading your exam.” You dip your paintbrush into a tub of dark blue paint, preparing to trace over the sketch of the Ravenclaw banner you referenced off Google Images.
Jisung takes off his backpack and hops onto the stage ledge, grabs a spare brush to begin tracing the raven in the center. “Nah, she was entertained. Look! I even played a game of Hangman for her,” he announces, flipping to page three just to show you a stick figure missing an eye.
“How thoughtful of you,” you say with the most sarcasm. “What were you trying to spell?”
“Here’s your chance to give the class a fat curve.”
He makes you speechless sometimes… but never in a good way. You quickly change the topic to prevent yourself from losing brain cells. “So why aren’t you with the other Gryffindors?”
Jisung looks over to the other side of the stage where Changbin is sprawled on top of a giant piece of poster paper and attempting to sketch a lion onto the canvas; he’s looking hard at his Samsung but not making much progress because Gryffindor’s have the most intricate design. Hyunjin is there too. But he’s being useless and looking at shades of red and yellow despite the fact that you’ve already picked up the tubs of paint from the craft store. “I think they have enough hands,” he mentions casually, earning a glare from Jeongin.
“Go,” the younger boy bosses.
Your friend points a brush at Jeongin, threatening him. “If Changbin kicks my ass for messing with his design, which you know for a fact that I will because he’s not very gifted at drawing, I am going to hurt you,” Jisung announces. He doesn’t sound very confident, however. He mumbles something about wishing he was a Slytherin before he drags himself towards the challenged artist.
“I think we’ll have all the banners finished by tonight.” You can say this confidently because Woojin and Felix are nearly done with Hufflepuff’s.
“Yeah. Centerpieces will be done by tomorrow, and if not, we’ll just pick up on Wednesday. Right on schedule,” Jeongin tells you, one hand steadily tracing the banner. You want your kids to be just like him when they grow up. If you ever were to have kids that is.
“I love you, did you know that?”
He smiles sheepishly. “Not as much as you love Minho,” he chimes in. Miraculously, it’s like everyone knows about your crush on Lee Minho but Lee Minho himself.
You press your lips together, crossing your arms. Minho’s so ugh. He’s not even painting the Slytherin banner right, but you know for a fact that they’ll be okay because Chan’s always out to save his ass. Minho’s just smiling and saying “oops” in a stupid cute voice when he intentionally paints green onto all of Chan’s fingers. Such a nuisance. Ugh.
“Y/N! You’re getting blue on the raven!” Jeongin accuses and stands up to make a big scene out of it. God, why did he have to take that drama course? Why is visual arts a GE requirement for a biology major like him?
“Calm down… I’ll just paint black over it,” you explain, hoping he’d shut up. Everyone (and Minho) is looking in your direction; you feel your cheeks grow warm.
“What a rookie move, Y/N!” Minho shouts from the Slytherin work area like an actual Slytherin. One more word and you’ll sock his face like what Hermione did with Draco. “You literally have one of the easiest banners!”
The truth is—you’re not a terrible artist—you’re just distracted. And you shouldn’t be because you see Minho’s face every single day. If anything, you should be accustomed to it by now. Inured. But why does your heart have to beat that much faster when he’s nearby? Not to mention that he’s already walking towards you to mock your mediocre craftsmanship.
“I’ll fix it, you fool. Focus on your own banner,” you respond harshly.
“We’re practically done,” he laughs, and Chan gives him a thumbs up. 
“Go help Jennie with the tables.”
Minho looks sort of hesitant. “Um… Jennie flipped me off earlier because she asked if her new cardigan looked good on her, and I said no.” This prompts you to look over at Jennie, who is securing tablecloths onto every single university-branded round table with Jisoo. He’s right—she could do so much better.
“Take five. When Seungmin’s done with the lights, you can help him decorate the bar,” you tell him, trying your very best to paint the banner and not fuck up (because Jeongin might start yodeling or something).
“Hey, I want to ask you someth–”
“Y/N! Emergency! We forgot to buy glitter!” Rosé calls from across the ballroom as she holds up two readily Mod Podge-d placards in the air.
 You shove your paintbrush into Minho’s hand. “Crap. Here, paint this. I need to run to the craft store,” you say, hopping off the ledge of the stage to save your vice president.
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ten.
Thursday evening rolls along, and the university’s North Ballroom has officially transformed into the Yule Ball at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It’s nowhere near winter (or Christmas), but Jisung has somehow managed to convince his ochem professor to let him borrow three Christmas trees for the stage backdrop. You’re not sure what the trade-offs are for his final grade if he damages them, but he seems pretty okay with a solid C. This addition ties the entire venue together, in your opinion. String lights and LED icicles hanging from the ceiling, intricate centerpieces on every table, bar and DJ equipment all set up and ready to go. You think your gang of cranky, sleep-deprived friends did a pretty solid job on this venue.
“Alright, team. The tech people will set up the picture booth and dance floor tomorrow, so we’re done for the night,” Seungmin tells everyone. “Please go home and get some rest!”
Rosé adds before everyone starts to peel themselves off the unfinished dance floor. “And make sure to have a good night’s sleep so you’ll look hot at the ball tomorrow!” 
At this rate, everyone’s just exhausted and wants to sleep. The past few days consisted of ASB members running in and out of the ballroom, 3RACHA frantically hooking up all their equipment while trying to maneuver wires around ladders, and a lot of (alcohol-free) cocktail testing because who the heck knows what Gillywater tastes like. 
Jeongin leans his back again yours, and his hair tickles the crown of your head. “This dance floor will literally light up tomorrow. It’s going to be so cool,” you comment, patting your hand on the floor. Despite being beat after hours of running across the ballroom and tending to details, you think that it’s worth it. College is sometimes worth it.
“I mean, I guess,” Jeongin groans, attempting to scoot himself away from Changbin, who is trying to suffocate him in a hug. “Ew, gross. There’s glitter all over your hands!” And that’s the last time you see Jeongin (on Thursday) because he sprints back to his dorm, turning back to throw a peace sign back at Changbin.
“Please don’t try to hug me,” you say to him.
“Excuse me? I’m not trying to get my balls cut off by hitting on Minho’s girl.”
In less than a quick second, you punch his shoulder, earning a groan from him. “Don’t say that! He could have heard you,” you whisper threateningly. God, if he weren’t preoccupied with Woojin and Lisa nagging his ear off about some CS project, he could have overheard Seo Changbin’s loud ass voice.
“But it’s fucking true,” Changbin laughs in disbelief.
“No, it’s not!”
“Then why are you getting mad at me?”
“I’m not fucking mad at you!” You cry, standing up to pick up your backpack. “It’s just… don’t say shit when it’s not true. Don’t try to get my hopes up when I’m already confused.”
Changbin scoffs as if it’s a knee-jerk reaction, no sympathy whatsoever. Some friend you have. “I don’t really think that you’re confused,” he says.
“What?”
“I think you know exactly how you feel about Minho. But you’re just too scared and stubborn to confront him because you’re afraid of losing what you already have. So you’d rather live like this and micromanage yourself to prevent your feelings from showing,” he tells you, motioning his head towards Minho, who’s laughing along with your housemate. “I know you want validation. Maybe that’s what he needs too.”
“Can you stop doing that?” You ask bitterly. It feels as if he took your diary (imaginary, because you don’t have the time to write) and flipped to the page with all your qualms about Lee Minho. Narrates the list like he’s giving a product pitch for Apple. 
Changbin laughs aloud this time, his head thrown back dramatically. He tosses his car keys in Chan’s direction before he responds, “You mean being a good friend? Who genuinely cares about your love life? And taking time out of my busy day to talk to you?” 
“As if. You just don’t want Lee Minho to cut your balls off.” You turn to him as you glare into his deep brown eyes. Hostility aside, most of the gang has left, and it’s mainly just your housemates and Changbin’s.
“Because I need them?”
“Wow, that’s good to know.”
Lisa clicks her tongue in your direction and turns off the lights in the North Ballroom. “Alright, time to say bye to Bin. We’re gonna head back now,” she calls out, bumping fists with Chan and Minho on her way out. Jisoo’s probably napping in the car already; it’s going to be such a hassle to wake her up.
“I hope you become broke after renting your tuxedo,” you say in lieu of goodbye.
Changbin just pats your shoulder. “I hope you trip over your dress and fall on top of a certain dude whose name rhymes with Pee Winho.”
“Splendid,” you deadpan. 
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Chan smiles when he gives you a side hug. “Get some sleep and stop watching sad pet videos at night. It’s all over my Instagram feed.”
Chan’s the only nice one in your friend group. And you don’t mean “nice” in a bad way either; he’s anything but boring. He’s just a genuinely interesting person to be around, knows how to hold meaningful conversations, isn’t afraid to stick up for his friends. He’s great—it’d be so nice if you could fall for him again.
“I’ll try, buddy. Get those eyebags taken care of,” you tease, nudging his side.
Minho is right next to him, standing there with an oversized university hoodie that covers his mid-thigh and his Adidas joggers that he solemnly swears by. He carries his backpack on one shoulder, defeated and tired, like any junior year college student who can’t remember his carefree high school days and can’t look forward to graduating because he still has another year to worry about. 
He is beautiful.
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eleven.
“Damn! Who is she?” You holler from your bed when Jisoo struts out of the walk-in closet in a full-length, pastel yellow gown trimmed with lace and florals. She gives it a twirl and fluffs up layers of tulle. She looks like Belle. Stunning.
“Wait, why are you sitting down?” Jisoo scolds you immediately. “You’re going to wrinkle the tulle, you dumbass.”
You stand up, narrowing your eyes at her and straightening your gown. “Wow, I compliment my roommate for being hot stuff, and this is how I’m being treated in return?” you inquire, feigning a hurt expression.
“Your roommate also spent an hour last night steaming your dress and avoiding all the polyester stars because they will burn!” Jisoo reminds you, referring to the embroidered stars on top of your sheer black tulle. 
For a person who’s not very dressy, you sure are picky about this particular dress. Your housemates have all purchased their dresses weeks prior to the ball, and yours barely arrived at your doorstep two days ago. But you tell yourself that the stress was worth it. By no means are you a fashion major, but it makes it seem like you can fucking dress yourself. It’s this gown with two layers: the top is sheer tulle with capped sleeves and patterned with gold stars and moons, and the bottom is a strapless, midnight blue dress made with silk; the waist is cinched with a gold ribbon. How very Ravenclaw of you.
Fondness bleeds into your expression. “I would die for you, Jisoo. I really would,” you tell her seriously before cracking a shit-eating grin.
“Yeah, yeah. Save it for Minho.”
“I would not die for him!” You declare with the passion of Kim Woojin, first in line at the new fried chicken place on campus. “I would die with him, bro.”
“Whipped,” she says, fixing up her gloss in the mirror. “Are you ready to go? Minho says he’s picking us up at five.”
You tilt your head, furrowing your brows. “Minho? I thought Woojin was picking us up.”
“I mean, he was supposed to be our ride. But Seungmin needed him to run some errands because we ran out of soda. So he’s most likely at the market right now cruising the soft drink aisle in a pricey tux,” Jisoo casually mentions. Like it’s no Big Deal. Like that fact that Lee Minho is driving you to the ball is no biggie. 
Truth is, you’re not ready to see him. And you are most definitely not ready for him to see you.
“Um… can Lisa drive me instead?” you ask nervously, chewing your bottom lip. This isn’t even prom, you shouldn’t be this nervous. You also shouldn’t be picking at your dress because the metallic thread is delicate and expensive. 
“No, she left with Woojin already. He’s her date, remember? He asked her on Wednesday.”
“What? Why is Woojin her date?”
Jisoo widens her doe-like eyes and looks at you concerningly. “Y/N, it’s the Yule Ball. It’s a ball! And you didn’t think to ask anyone to be your date? You’re the fucking secretary! Who are you going to dance with during the staff dance?”
You’re panicking at this rate. Not because you don’t have a date but because you’ve never seen Jisoo lash out like this until today. You must be an idiot. “I forgot! I was too focused on getting stuff together and actually planning the ball! Um… I’ll ask Seungmin? He’s the president, he won’t say no to me,” you blurt, distressed.
“Hello? President and Vice President are the first dance? Pick someone else.”
You search through a mental list of the eligible bachelors that you know. Chan is too busy DJ-ing (sorry ladies and gentlemen). Changbin has managed to find a date who can deal with his whiny ass. Woojin, Seungmin, Hyunjin, and Jeongin also have dates. Jisung and Felix like to keep their options open like the tryhard playboys they are. 
There’s no hope now.
“I’ll just pretend to use the restroom or something. University food usually gives you food poisoning,” you decide, dodging her stare.
“Are you sure that everyone you know has a date? Like everyone you know.”
“Mhmm,” you drawl, furrowing your brows. “Do you want to dance with me? You don’t have a date.”
Jisoo deadpans. “I have a boyfriend, Y/N. He doesn’t need to ask me to be his date.”
“Can he not share?”
“You’re being ridiculous right now,” she informs you as she packs her belongings into a small clutch—you stand and watch her.
Just because you’re dateless, just because your options ultimately boil down to Minho, just because you’re desperate and he’s your best friend, doesn’t mean that you’ll ask him to be your date. It’s too risky. What if he already has a date? What if he has someone he wants to ask to the dance? You have no right to depend on him to be your date. It’s not like that. It’s not like with Jisoo and her boyfriend where it's an unspoken rule. With you and Minho, there are no rules. No rules that are meant to be broken.
“I’m not,” you state. “I’m going to pay Jisung five bucks to dance with me.”
“And that’s not ridiculous?”
“At least I’m not the one, posting a selfie of myself on Twitter, and asking Jeon Jungkook to fly his ass over here to ask me to the Yule Ball!”
Jisoo crinkles her nose, she looks disgusted. “Oh my god. She really did that?”
“Yup. Tagged the band’s Twitter handle and all.”
“Aren’t you jealous?”
Of course not. Jeon Jungkook would never ask a fan to the Yule Ball. Or any ball. It’s unrealistic. You’ve never been jealous because of him. You don’t know him as a person nor do you care for him deeply like the way you care about Jisoo or your other friends. 
The only time you’ve been jealous was during your sophomore year. Minho offered to study with you at the library (you ordered Chinese takeout and all) but canceled last minute because something “urgent” came up with his dance partner, a pretty senior girl. That night was lonely; you ate all that orange chicken by yourself on the fifth floor. You didn’t respond to Minho’s texts for an entire day until Chan mentioned that his dance partner had sprained her ankle during rehearsal and needed a ride to the hospital. And he was also kind enough to mention that she’s in a very committed relationship with the captain of the football team. You ended up doing the Walk of Shame to Minho’s shared apartment with a burrito bowl and ice cream—you never want to experience jealousy again.
Ugh. But what if Minho already has a date? You don’t want him to hold her hand and put an arm around her waist? Jealousy stinks.
“Very,” you say.
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twelve.
“Hello ladies,” Minho greets, rolling down the windows as soon as you exit the apartment complex. He wiggles his dark brows. “My name is Lee Minho, not the actor, and I am at your service.”
“You’re not even going to open the door for us?” Jisoo snorts and gets into the backseat, leaving the passenger seat open for yours truly.
“It’s because we’re not paying him,” you tell your roommate. “And we shouldn’t even need to. He eats and sleeps at our apartment for free half the time.” 
Minho fixes his collar in the rearview mirror. As if it were crooked to begin with. “I pay you with my company and clean your fridge for free. That yogurt was going to expire, Jisoo. Aren’t you glad I finished it for you?” He questions her, referring to the time where Jisoo’s dad bought her a pack of vanilla-flavored Yoplait, and she got so sick of it to the point where she was offering it to students during ASB tabling.
“So very thoughtful of you,” she chides.
You have to force yourself to enter the car (and stop drooling). You’re not used to seeing Minho without some baggy sweater over his Adidas sweatpants and his worn-out pair of indoor slides that he likes to wear everywhere. Instead, he’s wearing a black dress shirt with a forest green tie, silver rings lining his fingers and hair tousled in that wet, effortlessly-styled kind of way. His blazer is on the armrest, and it’s black with matching forest green lapels; how very Slytherin of him. He looks very couture vogue, like that suit was tailored to fit every inch of his body. He looks rich, expensive. He looks like the fucking love of your life.
“You clean up nicely,” you say to him. Greatest understatement of the year.
“Of course. I can’t have my best friend outshine me during the Yule Ball,” he explains, giving you a lopsided smile. “You look nice tonight–”
“Save the compliments for later! Seungmin’s spamming the group chat because the turnout rate is insane. There’s a line that wraps around the fountain and down the stairs!” Jisoo urges Minho to floor it, which you’re a little grateful for. 
At least this way, Minho doesn’t have to see you mentally combust. 
His Spotify playlist goes on shuffle— “These Nights” by 88rising begins to play.
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thirteen.
The North Ballroom looks so magical that it almost seems surreal. Like you’re half-expecting to see Sir Nicholas’ ghost float by and show you his decapitated head. Seems like the university knew that this was going to be the Event of the Year because they even provided a complimentary chocolate fountain for the guests to enjoy— this is what your tuition goes towards. Plus, you’re very grateful that most of the attendees actually made an effort to dress up extravagantly, dresses and suits and all. They all look like Triwizard champions.
“I’m glad I sold my soul to make this event come to life. Especially during my last year,” Jennie says, finally taking a seat beside you and slipping her heels off. “Best idea ASB ever came up with.”
“I know! Aren’t you sad to leave college?”
“If you put it like that, then yes?” Then, she runs her hand through her curls and makes an unpleasant face as if to say “then again”. “But you know how I’m the TA for the class on the internet industry, right? For the video projects, one group’s film had a bong in the corner of the room. Like, what am I supposed to do with that information?”
College is the best and worst four years of your life, they say. “Though you are severely underpaid, you should grade on the contents of the video and not let extraneous factors affect you.” You’re never going to be a TA; you might cry if anyone decides to roast you on Piazza, even if the kid were a freshman. Big stress.
“Ugh. You sound just like Professor Bae. I’m getting food. Any recommendations?” she asks. Jennie’s been working check-in with Hyunjin ever since the event started two hours ago. You’re not sure if the light snacks will fill her.
“Everything is… dining hall food but on silver platters. I can ask Rosé to order something more substantial. That’s what club funds are for, and we really racked up this year.”
Jennie shakes her head, chuckling. “Rosé is too busy running her ass around and making sure everyone is recycling. I’ll just go stuff myself with chocolate before the staff dance.”
“Don’t get chocolate on your dress though!” You shout through the music, and she’s already halfway to the buffet table, tiptoeing barefoot across the carpet with a lump of dark green fabric in one hand. Jennie gives you a thumbs up.
Hyunjin appears beside you with a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries and s’mores. “Want some?” he asks over a mouthful of fruit and chocolate, no manners whatsoever.
You grab a skewer and begin to eat obligingly. It’s not every day that Hwang Hyunjin brings you food. “Check-in was that bad, huh,” you say, eyeing his plate filled with desserts. He usually complains too much about getting bloated to reward himself like this.
“Sho bad,” he emphasizes while chewing, eyes rolled back as he heaves a sigh. Hyunjin picks up Jennie’s heels and sets it to the side, sitting down on the staff table. “Students and faculty get in for free, but outside guests need to pay. You think I don’t recognize a fake ID? Do they think I was born yesterday or something?”
“Fake student ID? I’m dead,” you snicker. “This isn’t even a nightclub… this boosts my ego as secretary so much. Don’t tell Seungmin. He might just faint.”
“Since you’re secretary, why are you sitting here like a loner and not out there doing something?” Hyunjin says it like it’s a bad thing. It’s not your fault you can’t DJ like Chan, bartend like Woojin, or take pictures as well as Seungmin. Plus, you’re still stressing over not having a date for the first dance. “And why do you look so bothered?” he adds, dunking his marshmallow in more chocolate.
You frown particularly at the way he worded that. “I fucked up and forgot to ask someone to the first dance. And none of you even bothered to remind me? Or even ask me? Didn’t you ask Jennie, like, yesterday night?”
“Hey! Half of us would have probably asked you… but like… you’re kind of off-limits.”
“What? What do you mean ‘I’m off-limits’?” you ask, scandalized; your heart pounces a little. 
Hyunjin’s first order of business is to set his food down and clasp his hands together like he’s a business professional and about to give you a daily report on the stock market. Not a pleasant way to start the morning, by the way. “It’s an unsaid agreement. Minho is legally your single, bachelor best friend. Therefore, he’s obligated to ask you. I don’t want to mess with that agreement and have to deal with the consequences of my head getting bitten off,” he tells you honestly. 
You would rather listen to him give you a report on the crashing stock market. Because your heart’s the one crashing now. Because, fuck the legal agreement, Minho hasn’t even asked you to the first dance! “Hyunjin! He hasn’t even asked me! He probably asked someone else, like that girl he’s talking to right now,” you hiss, pointing across the room to where the photo booth is.
“That’s your marketing professor, Y/N.”
“Oh, that actually explains a lot. McGonagall's costume and all.” 
Hyunjin crosses his arms proudly. “See. I know Minho, he doesn’t have an interest in other people. He’s practically stalling just for you to ask him because Slytherins are cowards. Who the heck talks to their professor during an event?”
“Lee Minho does. Product positioning is his kink.”
“I have no interest in what his kinks are, unlike you! Shut up and go ask him already! The dance is about to happen,” Hyunjin says, standing up to scan the ballroom for his date. “Where’s Jennie? She needs shoes to dance.”
“You’re so unromantic,” you scoff. Of course, dancers. “She’s stuffing her face at the chocolate bar. If you drag her away right now, she might hurt you.”
Hyunjin grabs her heels and takes the chance; he’d rather get a fistful of marshmallows thrown to his face than miss the first dance. You, on the other hand, would rather miss the first dance.
The lights begin to dim.
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s give a special thanks to the ASB Student Council for making this magical night happen! Grab your partners to the middle of the dance floor and pull them close for this song, you know who you are!” Chan announces from the stage. 
You feel called out, like he’s directly staring at you and telling you to step up your game.
Taking a deep breath, you stand up and grip the sides of your dress, half-walking and half-searching the dark ballroom for your best friend before Chan starts the song. You swear Minho was just there a few minutes ago–
“–Hi, Y/N. Jisoo told me you didn’t have a date,” Jungwoo says, interrupting your train of thought. You remember that he’s from your film class; you sort of don’t recognize him without his satchel and hipster, Urban Outfitters-esque outfits. Jungwoo looks even better tonight; very Hufflepuff of him to wear a mustard yellow scarf with a suit. “Um, so I was wondering if you’d like to dance with me?”
You gape, eyes wide open. You don’t know how to respond… but the dance is going to start any second now. “I, um, I alread–”
“–Hey! There you are!” Minho greets and wraps an arm around your waist. “Sorry, Y/N. There was a line in the men’s restroom because one stall didn’t work properly. The janitors don’t get paid enough, do they?”
“Oh! I didn’t realize Minho had asked you already!” Jungwoo exclaims, chuckling at his own mistake. 
Yeah, you didn’t realize either. 
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fourteen. The acoustic version of “First Time” by Seven Lions and SLANDER begins to play. It’s a terribly soft song—you hate Chan for playing it.
You don’t even have a second to apologize to Jungwoo and remind him about the film discussion meeting next Thursday before Minho is grabbing your hand with his own and pulling you close to him. He holds one of your hands out and places his other on your waist, resting it comfortably on your dress. As naturally as you can, you rest your hand on his shoulder.
“Men’s restroom? Bullshit,” you whisper playfully to get rid of the nerves. “I saw you talking to Park beforehand. Were you kissing up to her?”
“You already know,” Minho says, swaying you against the soft piano acoustics. Everything’s perfect. How the light shining on the hanging icicles make Minho look like he’s glistening, how he’s holding you close like you’re all he has, how his palm is warm against the small of your back. It must be because he’s a dancer—it feels just right. 
So don't stop now
I'm falling for you, I can't lie
I wanted you to stay…
“I thought you were going to ask someone else to the dance,” you tell him, eyes cast down at your heels. 
“Well, I didn’t.”
His words tug at your heartstrings, and when he pulls you closer at the bridge of the song, everyone on the dance floor disappears until it’s only you and him. You can’t seem to focus on anything but him. Everything is so potently him — you can even smell his Dior cologne he tried way too hard to buy during Black Friday (not that you’re complaining). And his eyes? Cosmic. If you looked close enough, you think you can see all the galaxies in his starry eyes. 
Oh, feels like we're falling for the first time
Oh, this is exactly what it feels like
You shift nervously against him; Minho’s face is dangerously close to yours. “You know I wouldn’t have said yes, right? I was looking for you,” you confess. “It just didn’t feel right to dance with anyone but you.” 
“Sure, liar. You were going to pay Han,” he responds with a straight face despite the amusing glint in his eye.
“He was my safety backup… because I was scared to ask you,” you confess, “You know I wouldn’t have paid him! I love money too much.”
“I guess.”
I, I knew that you were worth it
I, don't know if I deserve this
You, have given me a purpose
You, yeah you were always worth it
Minho leans a little closer, locking eyes with you. “Why were you scared?”
“Because it’s not like Jisoo and her boyfriend,” you say, and he cocks his head in confusion. “Just because you’re my best friend, doesn’t mean that you have to ask me to the dance. There’s no legal or ethical agreement binding you to me. You could have asked someone else… because you have no obligation towards me. So yeah, I didn’t want to ask you and crush your dreams of asking someone else. Because I know you’ll say yes to me. Because you’re my best friend.”
Your heart becomes all erratic at the confession. Sure, it’s not even a full-fledged, flower-bearing, tear-jerking confession, but it’s enough to strangle the life out of you. He makes you feel like the female character of a trashy, high school teenage romance novel published in sans serif font (which lacks even more qualification), and you hate it, you really do. But if it’s with Minho, then being irrational and dramatic is fine.
“Is that it?”
“Yes? That’s why I was scared.”
He moves both of your hands to his shoulder and wraps his arms around your torso, clasping his hands on the back of your waist. The sound of your thumping heart drowns the chorus. “No. I meant, am I only just your best friend?” he clarifies.
“W-What else would you be?” you stutter, puzzled at his response.
“Does this mean nothing to you?”
“Minho, what–”
Wordlessly, Minho leans down and presses his lips against your parted ones—you gasp into the kiss. The feeling of his mouth on top of yours sends your head and your heart pounding, hands clenching the fabric of his tuxedo. You seize up at the kiss at first, almost stiff, before you cave into him and draw him closer with a hand on the nape of his neck. You can feel his lips captivating yours, feel his breath mixing in with your own, feel his heartbeat racing against your palm. Minho tilts his head and kisses you fervently, swallowing each and every one of your qualms away, like he’s been waiting to do that all night. He holds you close like you’re his. And you hold him close like he’s yours.
Feels like we're falling for the first time
The first time...
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fifteen.
If there’s one thing you are especially horrible at, it would be dealing with your feelings, namely your feeling towards Lee Minho. Because you can’t seem to face him or give him a proper response after the kiss.
“Minho!”
“Wha-where?” You blurt, snapping out of your trance and looking around the room frantically only to realize that there’s no one in the coffee shop but a few office workers. No one’s ever awake this early on a Saturday. Not even you. But you haven’t slept a wink since last night.
“In your dreams, dumbass,” Woojin snorts, rolling his eyes. “I’ve called your name three times already. You’re so fucking whipped for him.”
If it weren’t for the fact that he bought you this very Vietnamese coffee that you are drinking right now, you’d tell him off. Instead, you resort to burying your face in your palms, a deep sigh emitting from your lips. “I haven’t slept since last night, Woojin,” you tell him, “I’m just… I don’t know what to do.”
“Do you know how much I want to sleep?”
“It’s not my fault that you’re taking the opening shift.” If anything, he should be thanking you for spending time with him during his fifteen-minute break.
“You want to date Minho,” Woojin states matter-of-factly.
You feel uncomfortable at the mention of Minho’s name. At the way Woojin reads you like you’re an open book. Like you’re transparent and made of glass and he can see into your heart and the depths of your soul. Like he knows how stupidly feeble your heart is and how your best friend means everything to you, more than anything this fucked up world has to offer. Not to be dramatic, but yeah, that’s Kim Woojin.
“So? But to risk everything? You know nothing will ever be the same if we break up, right?” you say back, feeling your voice crack at the thought of losing Minho entirely. 
“And you think ignoring him after the kiss isn’t a stab to the heart?” Woojin acts as if you said “I don’t” and left him at the altar. “How would you even know if you didn’t try? How much longer are you going to tiptoe around him and act as if you don’t see him as anything more than a friend? It’s 2020, Y/N. Maybe it’s time to stop neglecting your feelings,” he finishes.
You tense up instantly and a deafening silence descends.
It’s not as if you and Minho had been best friends since the womb; frankly, you lived a solid eighteen years of your life prior to knowing him. You got into college with the mindset that it would be the best and worst four years of your life, and eighteen-year-old Y/N was right. It’s a fucking shitfest of exams and debt, but free alcohol and good company make up for it.
You met Minho on the first day of orientation when you asked him where the check-in was. He took an immediate interest in your fat cat plush after you’ve expressed that you couldn’t sleep without it, even if orientation was just one night away from home. Minho looks kind of different from before, better if you had to choose. When you first met him, he looked lost, hands stuffed into his gray hoodie as he dragged himself along with a massive Nike duffel bag. Three years later, you don’t recognize that kid anymore. Minho grew into his features as he started making use of the “free” gym that the campus demands you to pay a recreational fee for, he no longer gives two fucks about people who waste his time, and he radiates confidence in himself and his endeavors.
The best part was, you got to see that transformation.
Since orientation, he has planted himself in your life (like a true parasite), woven himself deep into the crevices of your heart and bones. It’s seamless, it’s effortless. It’s as if your lives were meant to collide and intermingle like all the stars have miraculously aligned for you to find him on this lonely college campus where people barely converse with one another. Minho has become a part of you unknowingly, and you wouldn’t know what to do if one day, you wake up, and he’s gone. Truly, it would be a Black Mirror type of universe if he disappears; you’ll be on your phone, wondering how life would be like in a world where he isn’t a clever simulation of your brain.
The human brain is capable of many things: Einstein and the Theory of Relativity, Newton and the Three Laws of Motion, and whoever invented french fries in Belgium… geniuses. But even if you used up your last standing brain cell to simulate Minho’s smile—his lips that have a crooked curve and his eyes that light up softly like waltzing stars—it wouldn’t work. Nothing is as devastatingly beautiful as the actual thing.
Your heart is so screaming loudly for him, but what’s holding you back?
“You know, you can’t give everything an outcome before it even starts,” Woojin tells you, “If that were the case, I would have dropped out of college.”
Woojin’s right, as he usually is. 
He was actually on the fence of dropping out of university to enroll in a community college and pursue a minimum wage job to pay back his student debt. However, due to several dreadful days of locking himself in his room and drowning his sorrows in Hot Pockets, he decided to stay and give college a second chance. Now, Woojin is one of the selected few to participate in a paid music production internship all the way in Hollywood. What a star!
“But you didn’t. You’re basically ballin’,” you smile, feeling like the bits and pieces of your heart and coming together. 
Your friend laughs bitterly, throwing his hands in the air. “I work two jobs, Y/N.”
“If I bought an expensive car, you best bet I would become a stripper.”
Woojin scowls (because he’s not a stripper but a barista), and his coworker tells him that his break is over. “So, if I want something, like a car, I’ll work hard until I can get it. Relationships aren’t all that different,” he replies. “You already have his heart, just make it last.”
That’s a good piece of advice. 
Minho wasn’t your first (you don’t remember his name), but you want to love him like he’s your last. He’s worth it, you decide, and life’s too short to miss opportunities. You want him to crawl up to your apartment past midnight demanding square donuts. You want him to confide in you and trust that you’ll be there for him even if you’re cramming for a final and running on five Monster drinks. You want him to hug you so tightly until there’s a trail of cat fur on your leggings. You want to make him smile because he only deserves happiness and nothing short of it.
“Okay, I’ll pay Lee Minho to become my stripper,” you declare with the willpower of a soldier fighting for independence.
Woojin raises his eyebrows at your confession. “He might willingly do it for free. If he’s in the mood for it.” 
“I love free,” you say wistfully, earning a flick on the forehead from your barista friend.
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sixteen.
You know you’re nervous when you’re pacing like a crackhead at the front gate of Minho’s apartment complex at 10 AM in the goddamn morning. The neighbors walking their dogs must think that you’re crazy—well, maybe you are kind of crazy for this guy.
Minho’s apartment is so stinking old that it still has an intercom system; you feel like you’re paying your grandparents a visit. With shaky hands, you punch in the numbers 3-2-5 and an excruciating noise follows. Seconds later, there’s a groggy “what” on the other end of the line. It sounds like a hungover Changbin.
“Hey, dude. Can you get Minho to come down? I need to give him something–”
“Bitch, get up! Y/N says she needs to give you something! Maybe some cake or her virginity!” Changbin bellows on the other end. The line falls flat and so does your heart rate.
You are speechless. Flabbergasted. Appalled. You are this close to sprinting home. 
Cake? That’s okay. Cake is yummy and can be bought. Virginity? Tempting… but that’s later on in the story... if everything works out. You really should have known better than to trust boys. There’s no telling what a smelly, hungover Seo Changbin can say or do. Either way, you’re ruined. Minho will see you as a creep and regret kissing you and never set foot in your apartment again… you want to turn back time and redo this.
You’re about to beat yourself (and Changbin) up and consider banging your head against the brick wall to end your misery when Lee Minho steps out of his apartment, walking down the stairs with a bedhead and slippers. Even in a big hoodie and fuzzy pajama pants, he is perfect.
Your heart gnaws at the sight of him, and it hurts more when you see how sleepless he’s been. How his eyebags are almost as prominent as Chan’s. There’s a fading imprint on his face; you think he’s been tossing and turning all night and fell asleep on his headphones. 
“Hey,” you breathe out, taking small steps towards him when he opens the massive gate, iron rails scraping against each other. 
Minho stops walking and stuffs his hands in his pocket, stares at you with forlorn eyes. He watches you stop when you’re standing right in front of him. “What?” he asks coldly with an indifferent expression. If he notices the nervous flicker in your eyes, he doesn’t comment on it and you’re grateful for that.
“I’m… uh, I don’t have cake,” you mention, voice quivering. There’s an apology lingering at the tip of your tongue, but the embarrassment and impending fear run rampant in your mind. Catches the breath in your throat. Locks your jaw. 
“Okay,” he says, and silence comes crashing in. You feel like you’re sitting in the dilapidated ruins of a city, post-earthquake, and waiting in agony for the aftershock. It’s so deadly silent that you can’t focus on your thoughts through the thundering of your heart.
Minho looks tired. His eyes are more glossy than usual, probably from yawning due to lack of sleep. His jaw is defensively tight and that doesn’t sit well with you, because you don’t remember the last time he’s been ticked off like this. He looks regretful. For a moment, you feel a little pathetic for approaching him.
“That’s not what I came here to say,” you mumble quietly, “I’m… um…”
Without warning, you go on your toes and reach for his lips, hands resting softly on the sides of his face. At the kiss, you feel Minho’s body stiffen in surprise. To your relief, he then softens and surrenders to your touch. A weight lifts off your chest.
You are breathless when you pull back, dizzy.
“I’m sorry for ignoring you yesterday,” you tell him, and you can tell that he’s listening because he’s looking at you ardently. “I just needed some time to gather my thoughts. That kiss meant everything to me. Because you sort of mean everything to me.”
“Since when?” Minho tilts his head, lips arching—he’s testing you. 
You think hard about this. “Since freshman year? When I discovered a corpse in my dorm and had to evacuate for a day until my roommates came back from spring break,” you reply thoughtfully, searching his gaze with keen eyes.
Minho’s hands find your face, and he cradles your cheeks before squishing them together. “It was a dead cockroach,” he corrects.
“Yeah. A big corpse,” you feel the need to inform. “Are you pissed off at me?”
Minho gives you a little smile, that signature raise of his lips, before leaning down and closing his eyes until they disappear in the shadows of his full lashes; you guess that’s his way of saying it’s okay. Minho holds you close with fingers entangled in your hair, controlling the kiss, his other hand gravitating towards the tapers of your waist. He kisses you because he can, and it makes you feel all weak in the knees as he tries to steal the breath from your lungs. There’s something about kissing Minho, the familiarity of having his chest pressed against yours and his arms wrapped around you that feels normal and right. Like that one term you learned in lecture: infrastructure. Like wifi and coffee. Something that is so prevalent and taken for granted that you don’t realize it until it breaks down—then your life is in shambles.
If there’s one thing you know (and will finally admit to), it’s that you have always wanted to kiss Lee Minho. From that very day since the cockroach passed away in your dormitory and you slept on his Twin XL top bunk. And if there’s one thing you wished you knew earlier, it’s that the same boy will always kiss you back.
Woojin is right, you are so whipped for him. And he might be too. He just hides it better like the true Scorpio he is.
He presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth before trailing his lips to the shell of your ear and whispers, “What did you want to give me again?”
“Cake?” you suggest, feeling goosebumps forming on your skin.
“The other one.”
“Only if you pay me.”
Minho brushes it off with a chuckle; you think your heart just did a massive cartwheel at the sound of his laugh. “Cash or card,” he replies, tucking your hair behind your ear, his fingertips tickling your skin.
Without hesitation, you tell him, “Cash.”
“Oh my God. You’re dirty.”
Only then, he seems to notice the shopping bag you’ve been holding onto since the crack of dawn. Minho gasps out loud dramatically. “You bought me two boxes of Thin Mints? That’s ten dollars. It could buy you two months worth of eggs!”
“I hate how I throw away money for you,” you mutter under your breath. “So annoying.”
“Five bucks if you give me another kiss.”
You jump on that offer.
When Minho smiles into the kiss and the sunlight catches the flecks of gold in his brilliant brown eyes, you know that no amount of money in the world could buy the time you have with him. Life is short. Politics is a messy hellhole. The world might end because of global warming and sea-level rising. You are just a negligible being floating in the expanse of the ever so powerful cosmos with no legacy. But with Minho, standing right beside you, right in this very moment, you feel invincible because he loves you wholly and fiercely and loudly. You love how his heart loves you more than there are stars in the galaxies and will love you until the final demise of the universe. Until the waves come crashing into skyscrapers and fire sweeps the plains.
Even if the sky falls and the earth crumbles, you think you will be okay if Minho is by your side.
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ps: if you’ve made it to the end, thank you so much for reading & don’t forget to like + reblog :D this fic is lazily proofread, so excuse any mistakes; happy 2020 & stay safe + healthy !!! see you in the next fic ^.^
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ihni · 5 months ago
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Harringrove Feedback Fest: Ihni recs FICS (<10K, complete)
I am loving the way this fandom spreads love around for the Harringrove Feedback Fest (you can see my other rec lists here), and the time has come to rec some FICS. For this list, they are on the shorter side, less than 10K but complete works.
This list is by no means complete. It’s just a random list of fics that I love and like, and I am very sure I have missed like, hundreds of others. That said, here we go:
all these to me by @lymricks is a perfect example of the boys having to share a bed, and I have always been weak for the fics which contains food ... and Billy can cook in this one! And because of lymricks, of course it’s PERFECTLY written. (Also, while you’re at it, check out it does ripple, because it’s bite-sized and have the most delicious misunderstandings with a side of happy endings.)
@flippyspoon has a whole library full of wonderful Harringrove content, but if I have to pick one favorite? It’s got to be The Favor, simply because it’s so goddamn charming and genius and ... fun! Always worth a re-read when I’m feeling down. <3 (To balance that one out, let me rec a story by flippy that made me ugly cry, complete with tears and snot; Dear Billy. No one dies, but JESUS. Ugh, my heart.)
Being a whumper, there’s a special place in my heart for fics about bruises, so against violet by @brawlite, where Billy reflects on bruises and hickies, is right up my alley. I love this fic, it’s so beautifully written.
If you’re feeling like reading a little flayed!Steve content with Billy handcuffed to a radiator, BOY do I have a rec for you! The Ghost in You by @lemonlovely remains one of my alltime faves, and I keep returning to re-read it (it goes with this piece by @saberghatz, if you want visuals!). And once you have discovered Lemonlovely’s PERFECT writing, and want more, let me direct you to Raise a little Hell, with the boys being BOYS in detention.
The Pleasure, the Privilege is Mine by @eatingmoonflowers lured me in with monster fighting, caught my interest with yellow paint, and broke down the door to my heart with brave love confessions. I can’t recommend it enough!
Another favorite is We'll Become Who We Meant To Be by @missroserose. Their writing is just *chef’s kiss* in general, and this one is my absolute favorite story by them. Just, how the boys are written and how the words make art. I love. <3
And then we have Of Fists and Firsts by @ohmybgosh with an adorable first kiss seen through someone else’s eyes. This one is hurt/comfort heaven. <3
midnight confessions by @gothyringwald is the sweetest thing, and has so much blushing - and I LOVE these blushy boys! The boys are fumbly and trying to figure out what they are to each other, and I love it.
A fic that made me cry (but oh, oh, such lovely perfect ending, don’t worry!) was Hard Road: A Comic Series by Steven S. Harrington by imperfectabstraction. Just, this one ripped my heart out, and then carefully wrapped it in cotton and put it back in my chest. If you haven’t read it, please do. So good.
The Road Trip prompt by @platypanthewriter made me, an aro person, sigh in happiness over ROMANCE. This is just ... so LOVELY. So romantic. Like a movie - it makes me YEARN, and it makes me feel the BOYS yearning. If you haven’t given it a read yet, do so. Your heart with soar.
Little Red Corvette has been recced before, and will be recced again, because it’s amazing (Billy’s scared and protective and desperate, Steve is freaking out, and Hopper is not getting paid enough to deal with this shit). But it’s by @heck-in-a-handbasket, so of course it’s great!
Rarely have I read anything creepier than He Needs by immortalitylost. Creepy in a good way! This created such a vivid image in my head - the whole scene, the feeling of it, the sounds and smells - it’s definitely one that I recommend people read. It’s like a painting, but with words.
@lazybakerart is one of my favorite artists in this fandom (and the world), but they have also been blessed with a talent for writing! Their story no longer one raindrop he is the endless sea is one that hits hard. In fact, I got stuck on that one when I made this rec list, because I felt a sudden need to re-read it. Again. Because they write the boys - Billy - so lovely and raw. It hurts so good.
mullets are stupid anyway by @drawacharge ALSO hurts in a good way. There’s just something about Billy’s hair being cut when it isn’t his choice that HURTS, but oooh, it grows and becomes so so good. One of my faves, for sure.
Did someone order Harringrove with a side of Murlexi? Good, because @prettyboyporter‘s got your back! Take a Sad Song and Make It Better is wonderful, if you ever wished that the boys were subjected to Murray’s particular brand of matchmaking.
@cherrydreamer is one of my favorites - authors, yes, but also people. Everything they write turn out amazing - fluff and angst and romance and whatever it is they do - and I grin to myself every time I get to read a new story by them. So have several recs: Spring Break, where the boys are outcasts and ruthless and raw - but gain an understanding, and why not just be outcasts together? Cocktober 13: Choking AKA Biting Off More Than You Can Chew because innuendos and cocks on sticks and boys at the fair <3 And Cocktober 10: Demon AKA BBQ Wings for Satan? because it’s my absolute favorite demon!Billy Story, and of course Steve managed to mess it up just right! XD But honestly, anything Cherry writes is A+
***
And BONUS RECS - fics that have SEX in them (more than just a little, too)! (Bet you didn’t think I’d rec THOSE, did ya? :p)
Perfectly Unnatural by @imneithernor is something so unusual as an a/b/o fic where much of it is smut - and which I LOVE. It’s so prettily written, and the tension between them is so tangiable and - come on, they’re on the Camaro. I can’t resist the Camaro. This is soooo good.
@sky2fall wrote In the Mirror, Lovely, and freaked me the fuck out. This fic made me go and cover the mirrors in my apartment, and I still get the chills when I read it. It’s WONDERFULLY written horror, and mostly smut. You guys will love it.
And lastly, I guess this is straight-up porn, disguised as a fic. But oh, it’s written in a way that paints a picture in my head, and I love the way the words flow. It’s poetry, it’s art ... and also yes, porn. brainless, by ShipperTrash140109. I printed it, to be able to keep it forever. That should tell you how beautiful it is.
That’s it for now! Not because I have run out of fics to rec (NEVER!), but because I told myself I would keep it short ...
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extravaguk · 10 months ago
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santa&prada
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part of my opposites attract! series. 
ksj / knj / myg / jhs / kth / jjk
pairing: rich!jimin x reader
summary: Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.
wordcount: 5k
genre: smut - angst(? - fluff (? idk u tell me
rated: m 
warnings: a christmas fic in late november, cursing, a huge misunderstanding lmao, i call jimin ‘park jimin’ too many times bc i felt like it, car sex, oral (f recieving), some good ole spanking, (kinda) rough and unprotected sex, a lil of dirty talk, spit kink. thats about it. just an excuse to write jimin fucking you in a car. jimin is not as bad as oc thinks srsly.
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The first time you meet Park Jimin is through mutual friends. On a firday night on December, with white, red and green lights decorating the streets of New York, filled with the typical hustle of the masses doing last minute Christmas shopping, the freezing weather impacting your body temperature, cursing yourself for choosing tights, a skirt and heeled boots that are too pretty but too uncomfortable to wear.
You had never considered yourself a particular enthusiast of Christmas festivities. You guess discovering Santa Claus was, actually, your parents before the rest of the kids in your class was one of the many reasons that made you grow up too soon and therefore, not allowing you to fully enjoy the month of December. Or maybe it had nothing to do with Santa, and more to do with your parents deciding to get a divorce a day before Christmas Eve. A traumatic event for seven year old you, but completely forgotten and overcome by twenty-four year old present you.
Growing up each Christmas suffering the consecuences of a shared custody would have probably had a disastrous effect on anybody else, but not you. Although the separation was a tough reality to accept at first, fortunately your parents were always capable of raising you in an environment full of love and affection, just like any other kid. And you prided yourself on having moved on from those circumstances a long time ago (even if your therapist disagreed and blamed many of your behaviors on it. Whatever.)
To put it simply, December was just not the month for you. It was just another month, like the remaining eleven of the year, except Mariah Carey's voice was heard every five minutes everywhere you'd go and people gave each other presents as if it was only during that time of the year when they remembered their loved ones. 
The only thing you could thank Christmas for were the well deserved two weeks of holidays our work allowed until the new year's arrival. Fifteen days of rest, peace and baking those gingerbread cookies that Seokjin died for and that you sincerely denoted as nauseating.
You truly had no idea what exactly you did wrong that night. You don't know if it was something you said, or something you did, but what you did know was that Park Jimin pursued a silent and personal vendetta against you that continued nowadays.
"Here are your disgusting cookies, you filthy animal." it might have been that very first sentence you said when you entered the bar and reunited with your friends that didn't cause a good impression. "Shit, it's cold as fuck. My nipples are harder than my life." or maybe it was your selection of words while you waved every familiar face hello until you stopped to look at the only (pretty. too pretty, as well) one you had never seen before.
"_____, it's Chrismtas! Santa Clause will only bring you a lump of coal if you keep cursing like that!" Lisa laughed while she kissed your cheek and made space for you to sit next to her. "Oh, by the way, this is Jimin. A friend of Namjoon. He's a newbie!"
Park Jimin was stunning, you had no trouble admitting that. You weren't blind, you weren't stupid, and you could go as far as theorize that his dark eyes, his light and always immaculate styled hair, his sharp jawline and those plump lips as red as cherries must have been sculpted by Satan himself.
Fuck, you were even sure you'd be on your knees in front of Park Jimin in an alternative universe begging for his dick inside your mouth. But in the universe where you and the real Park Jimin reside, he would never come near you unless somebody was aiming a gun into his skull.
You're not precisely sure what it was, but a brief exchange of glances and an evasive and sligh shake of hands with Park Jimin was enough to make you feel ashamed and withdrawn for the rest of the night.
If Jimin wasn't even able to drop a polite "Nice to meet you", he sure as hell wasn't able to pretend you even existed.
Even the small talk you had tried to engaged with him about his shiny pair of shoes went terribly wrong.
"Oh, are those Dolce and Gabbana?"
"Dolce and Gabbana are homphobic, racist and sexist, so no" the grimace on his face should've been enough to make you regret speaking to him in the first place , but the snarky voice of his made you want to run away and hide from him until next Christmas.
In reality, you swore you didn't care. Seriously. Other's opinions were never something that could easily bother you or keep you awake at night. You had always turned a deaf ear to the cruel children that made fun of you due to your parent's divorce, you had always ignored the amount of men that never considered you "ladylike" enough (what the fuck did that even mean, anyway? what exactly made a lady and what didn't?), and you had always disregarded any envous comment surrounding you.
So, fuck Park Jimin! You had said to yourself. He's just a well mannered rich boy. Somebody who didn't resemble you in any aspect. A stupid, pretentious, spoiled boy who's had everything he's ever wanted in the palm of his hand, unlike you. Who the fuck cares what Park Jimin thinks? 
But apparently, you did. 
You would have never placed such importance to whatever it was that roamed inside Jimin's head if his appearances in your group of friends hadn't been so recurrent.
Because each time you were forced to see Jimin's face, you were also forced to experience a strange knot of discomfort and humilliation growing in your stomach in his mere presence. It's not like Jimin did anything specific to make you feel that way. He might not even do it on purpose, or his intentions might not be entirely evil. Maybe he simply didn't realize how he always avoided being by your side like the plague, or how his body immediately tensed and he balled his hands into fists everytime you were less than two feet away from him, or how he would look at you from the corner of his eye everytime you decided you speak, almost as if he was waiting for you to shut up to finally let out the air he was containing inside his lungs in relief.
Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.
And with time, you couldn't help but attribute that disdain and hostility that Park Jimin always directed at you to the many undeniable differences that constituted each of you. Park Jimin, with his impeccable and always well ironed Prada shirts, his spotless trousers, jewelry that probably costed more than three of your annual salaries, and always emanating that Givenchy fragance that screamed "wealth!" every rare occasion you could experiment his presence next to you. Exactly two years after that first meeting with Park Jimin, you hadn't been able to avoid reciprocating that feeling of contempt towards him. Not when you were the only victim of his arrogance. Everybody loved Park Jimin, and Park Jimin loved everyone. 
Except you.
Clinging to your glass of Don Pérignon and finishing the rest of the liquid in one go, you try to snap out of your own thoughts, reminding yourself to return to the conversation you're currently having with Taehyung about a pretty waitress that he's met during one of his art exhibitions (or at least that's what you think you caught him say) and forcing yourself by all means to stop observing the friendly and kind smiles that Park Jimin was shooting to those present from across the room and that you will never be able to achieve. 
"_____? Are you even listening to me, darling?" Taehyung's voice is what makes you finally look away from the dumb blond standing on the opposite side of the room, blinking a few times before clearing your throat. 
"Sorry, Tae." letting out a sigh, you try to brush back and put in place the strand of hair that escaped the intricate hairdo you had tried and so miserably failed to do yourself to try to fit in and hopefully impress such environment of preppy and privilaged people (ahem, Park Jimin)  falling on your forehead as best as you can. "Just been really stressed this week and I'm on another planet. You know how I feel about Christmas. I think I need a new flute of . Or five."
Taehyung sends you a look full of empathy and places one of his hands in your shoulder, squeezing lightly in a comforting way. "I'll get you another one. I'll be right back." You quickly interrupt him though, to prevent him from standing up before you.
"No, really. I'll go. I need some fresh air anyways, if you don't mind." And of course Taehyung doesn't mind, so you get on your feet as graceously as your tipsy state allowed you to (who told you it was a good idea to drink three glasses in less than thirty minutes of the extremely expensive champagne Taehyung had brought to the Christmas party he had organized and why did it convince you it would appease your anxiey?) and make your way towards the table where the rest of the bottles are. A table dangerously close to the conversation Jimin and that friend of Lisa (whose name you don't remember) were having.
Both are with their backs turned and, honestly, you take a silent moment to thank God or whatever is up there because the last thing you need right now is yet another awkward interaction with Jimin, so you try as best as you can to refill your glass of champagne to get out of there as soon as possible, praying to make your exit going unnoticed.
But no. Because the stars and the universe loved to align to make you suffer! They love to play with your karma and they love making you damn that one day you didn't help that lady cross the street. They love making you regret buying those plastic straws. They love making you feel guilty for hacking your neighbour's Wifi when you run out of money to pay for yours. Because the moment you try to take a hold of the bottle in your hands, it slips out of your grasp, and you're watching in slow motion how the sparkling berverage ends up spilling all over the extremely expensive (or so you assume. Balenciaga maybe) suit pants Park Jimin decided to wear that night.
Everything is kind of blurry and you can't even hear anything. You can only watch as Park Jimin turns around, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, until his eyes find you, the bane of his existance and immediately recognizing the culprit of his now drenched piece of clothing. And you can watch as, once again, his gaze turns almost black and narrow lightly as to reprimend you for what you've caused. But of course he doesn't say a word. He has nothing to say. He doesn't even look surprised. No. Because obviously, Park Jimin knew that if there was somebody in this room willing to ruin his night, it would be you, and only you.
"Shit!" you're the first one to break the strained silence, but that only makes Jimin flinch. "Shit, shit, shit. I'm so fucking dumb! J-Jimin, I'm so sorry, let me just go grab a paper tow-"
"Don't." his voice cuts through you. Literally cuts through you. Because it's not often that Park Jimin decides to aim his words at you, but everytime he does it holds the same frigid tone. Like knives trying to painfully stab your being. "Just, don't."
In reality, you don't know a lot of things and you don't know what causes what happens next. You don't know if it's the specific time of the year, you don't know if it's your internal stress, or if it's Park Jimin, his voice, or the fact that he will never like you. But it's instant. They way something compresses your chest, and suddenly your eyes are not glaced by the alcohol but by something wet that threatens to flow. You would never admit to anyone they're tears.
So, shutting your mouth and swallowing the uncomfortable feeling of anguish in your throat, leaving your flute forgotten on the table and grabbing the bottle instead. Without saying a word, your feet start moving up the stairs of the ridiculously enourmous house Taehyung owns towards the first free and empty balcony you can find. Free of people and free of Park Jimin.
Closing the large window behind you, you allow yourself to close your eyes and take a deep breath; the icy temperature outside immediately welcoming you. Although the hairs on your arm stand up and you know you're probably going to catch a cold (because the dress you've chosen for the dinner is not at all appropiate for such winter climate), at least the tension in your body seems to disappear while oxygen keeps that ugly feeling in your heart at bay from continuing to choke you.
With shaky hands, you take a big gulp straight from the champagne bottle. Fuck Park Jimin. No man will ever have the power to make you feel what you're feeling right now.  Fuck Park Jimin. And fuck his beautiful face and his ability to make you tremble and fear looking like an idiot. Fuck his fancy clothes and his perfect manicured hands and his marvelous but frigthening presence. 
Knock knock.
The sound makes you jump back from the window, hand grasping your chest while you turn around, coming face to face with the man in question.  Your first instinct is to ignore him. But that thought is already out of the way when it's him the one who struggles with the window lock before opening and taking a step towards you. You step back as he steps in, raising your head up high and puffing your chest. Because your second instinct is to tell Park Jimin to go fuck himself.
"_____, I would like to-"
"You would like to what?" Jimin looks taken aback at your harshness. Alcohol has always been a weapon of mass destruction in your system, provoking words to flow too easily and without filter out of your mouth, more than they already do when you're sober. Especially when it's mixed with the frustration you've been harboring inside of you for two years. That's why when the words start to come out, they won't stop. "To make me feel like shit one more time? To look at me with that fucking conceited face trying to make me feel like you're better than me? Or would you like to ignore me once again as you always do everytime we're in the same fucking room to make sure I know you hate my mere existance, even if it's just the two of us right now?"
The steam leaving your lips due to the accelerated beat of your heart blurs his face for an instant while he looks at you dumbfounded. The silence and his expression makes you scoff, an acidic smile adorning your face while you take another sip of your drink because even with such a stupid face, he still looks delectable with his white shirt and ruined pants. You turn around, removing a tear that you hadn't even realized had fallen during your speech and that, frankly, you were hoping he hadn't either. You would blame it on the cold, anyway.
This time, a gust of wind running through you from head to toe, making you forget of Park Jimin's presence looming behind you, reminding you it's still December and the fabric of your dress is doing nothing to conceal you from the cold.
But before you can do anything about it and blame yourself for being dumb and not taking your coat with you before deciding to step into balcony, Park Jimin surprises you once again, this time by placing his navy blue blazer over the naked skin of your arms.
Your back straightens when you feel his warm breath caressing the back of your neck, at the same time that a voice you have never heard Park Jimin use with you echoes in your ears.
"I really don't hate you, _____. I..." Jimin wets his lips. His body trembles, but it's not due to lacking his own coat, while his brain hurriedly searches for words eloquent and adequate enough to explain voice his thoughts. "I like you very much, _____."
Scoffing again while you shake your head, you push down with all your inner strenght the incipent fluttering of butterflies in your stomach that Jimin has managed to cause in just a matter of seconds. It's probably the longest sentence you've heard from him in two years, and you don't exactly understand why your body is reacting the way it is. But you're also not willing to give Park Jimin the satisfaction of knowing that. He doesn't deserve it anyway. So with all the courage you can muster, you turn around with your hands clenching.
And even though being at such short distance from Jimin is a bit overwhelming and unexpected for you, the irritation still making your blood bubble is enough to not let a man as handsome as him derail you from your current circumstances.
"Well, fuck you Park Jimin. You certainly have a funny fucking way to sh-" his hands cradling your jaw that pull you closer to him and his lips that silent you roughly, but with surprising care. Only for a moment. A moment in which your body betrays you and make you melt into hir warmth. But his voice, low and sinfully husky, murmurs against your lips. 
"God, that mouth of yours..." he goes back to attacking your own lips, this time more firm than before, snatching a sigh from you. The sound has his tongue asking for permission into your mouth, and with your body betraying you once again, you part your lips to allow him in. It's him who whimpers this time, while one of his hand moving until it reaches the bottle in your hand and letting it drop carelessly onto the floor, ignoring the sound of glass shattering and the future scolding you'll get from Taehyung. Instead, he sneaks that same hand on your waist, pulling your body flush against his, fingers digging onto your skin. "It's been driving me crazy for two years. Two years, _____."
He mumbles between kisses and swipes his tongue against yours, while he stars walking the both of you until your back meets the nearest concrete wall. 
"Two years of having to hear the incessant filthy words that leave your mouth..." his own stop their movements and you catch yourself before begging him to reattaching his lips to yours, enjoying instead the path of wet kisses and bruises his lips traile from your chin to the pulse of your neck "...and trying my best to hide the painful boners I get whenever you're nearby." 
With your eyes shut, your hands are back in motion, ignoring the voice in your head reminding you he's still an asshole and finding their way between Jimin's soft golden strands of hair. He hums in appreciation, sending goosebumps all over your body. "So, s-so why not do anything about it sooner?" you say, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe properly.
You feel Jimin's body tensing before you and he ceases the movement of his lips against your neck. Breaking away, your heart stops, afraid you might have ruined the moment. But Jimin's in search of your eyes, eyebrows very lighlty raised, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place. You don't know for how long you stare at each other until Jimin comes out of the trance, eyes descending over your flushed cheeks, the very same color as your lips and the soft flesh of your neck until they reach your cleavage, the glimmering fabric encasing your breasts, taunting him the same way they had been doing all night long.
"You scare me so much..." and then, one of his hands repeats the same journey his eyes just did, until he touches your shoulder, right under his own blazer. "Everytime I look at you, all I can think of why the hell a girl as real as you like you would even glance my way." he slides the strap of your dress slowly tentatively, just enough for you to stop his advances if you chose so. You don't. "You're smart in ways I could never compare, so funny it makes me jealous, and so pretty it leaves me speechless. You're...You're everything I'm not."
His voice resonates in the atmosphere, and you would love to blame it on the cold again for how your body has reacted, but your body heat has increased so much since he started kissing you that it would be stupid not to admit that it's just the effect that Park Jimin has on you tonight. You're sure he would've had the same effect if it had happened before.
Your now uncovered breast doesn't even has to suffer the consequences of the icy wind, because one of Jimin's arms quickly comes around you to hold your body against his, lifting you ever so slighty until your erect nipple is at the same level as his mouth and his lips are enveloping it in their warmth. You gasp his name, and that encourages his teeth to tug softly before his tongue stars moving in circes. 
"My God, you're so perfect." Your head spins while you hold onto his shoulders as tight as you can, the undeniable heat roaming all over your form, hips involuntarily rutting his incipent erection poking your abdomen. "Been thinking about this since that night we first met." Looking for relief, Jimin mirrors your movements without ceasing the administrations on your chest, as one of his hands lifts one of your thighs to wrap around his waist, closing the short gap remaining between the both of you. 
"Ohmygod! F-fuck, Jimin," trying to form coherent phrases is almost impossible, not with Jimin finding a slow and tortuous rythm with his hips, his clothed cock rubbing against your core. Something shifts in the air, because Jimin stops abusing your nipple with a loud pop, and shuts you up by pressing his mouth onto yours in an urgent, dirty and desperate kiss. You could almost hear him swearing, while his hand keeps your jaw in place.
"S-stop talking like that, ______." his voice, inaudible, and his face now hiding in the crook of your neck, the thrusting of his hips speeding up, more and more frantic this time. The hand not holding your thigh against his hipbone reveals your other breast, hand covering it and giving it a light squeeze before tugging at your unattended nipple between his forefinger and his thumb while his tongue and teeth mark the skin on your neck. 
"Hell, I've been dying to stuff your mouth with my cock to prevent you from such foul language," the soft whimpers leacving your mouth coax him into taking the hem of your dress and bunching the fabric until his fingers easily find the place in your body calling to him the most through the lace.  It's immediate, how his fingers dampen at the first touch, surprising the both of you, and how your body jolts and an embarrassing sob escapes your throat. "How-how are you this wet? Holy hell, I could just slide right in..."
And as he says that, one of his fingers pull aside the fabric of your underwear and glide into you, so easy. You insides burning while he fingers you, another finger being added with his thumb rubbing circles on your nub. And fuck, you're not sure if you're just too horny and Park Jimin is a magician with his hands, or maybe it's the way he keeps mouthing at your chest and whispering how soaked you are, but you don't think you've ever been so close to cumming in such a short period of time.
"W-whats stopping you?" you manage with a voice that doesn't even resembles yours, but before your hands can even make work of the zipper of his trousers, he pulls his finger out from your center, causing you to whine in protest.
Jimin licks his lips, eyebrows framing the dark expression that his eyes ooze. Although the desire in his eyes is more than evident, it is also evident the faint hesitation in them. Because Park Jimin doesn't do things this way. Park Jimin was raised in a world of correct manners and conservationism. A world that has taught him when and how to act. And as badly as he is dying to fuck you against the wall of Taehyung's ridiculously inmense house, he also wants to do the right thing. 
"Let me take you on a date." 
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Park Jimin has been spoiled his whole life. Being born in a well-off family has always provided him of everything he had ever wanted and more. From the innecessary number of toys Santa Claus left under his Christmas tree every year since he was a baby, to his fisrt extravagant sports car at the age of eighteen. Park Jimin has never been a greedy or needy man. How could he, when he's had everything he's ever wished in the palm of his hands. He has never missed anything in his entire life. Hasn't missed a roof over his head, warm food on his plate or brand new designers clothes each week. 
It has taken him two years to control himself. He still remembers that night he first met you, just like he remembers every single time you both had coincided in the same place at the same time. He remembered your scent, had memorized your figure over your pieces of clothing and had tried as best as he could to keep a distance from you because he knew you would never give him the time of day. How could you? You probably despised everything he was because he was definitely nothing like you, and that thought intimidated the fuck out of him. He was a mess everytime you wear nearby. Never relied on his voice because he knew he would stutter if you ever spoke to him, could never trust his eyes because if he ever looked at you he was afraid he wouldn't be able to look away. 
And everytime you spoke, shit, that voice of yours always cursing here and there left him wondering how would you sound in a different setting and if you would still be that badmouthed. More specifically, between his sheets. So he did everything he could to minimize your interactions as much as possible. He just never thought he would come across as such a jerk. It was never his intention to hurt you, and seeing you cry that night (although you denied you did, over and over again) seriously made him realize he wanted to make things right. 
He was trying really, really hard to keep it in his pants, to be the same well composed and controled Park Jimin he had mastered himself to be. 
But that damn dress.
After seeing that little black dress hugging your figure when you started taking off your coat at the restaurant, the brief flash of thigh tights that you accidentaly (or not so accidentally) had blessed him with by crossing a leg over the other, that exposed collarbone calling his name and those heeled sandals with straps wrapping around your ankles, reminding him of the snake tempting Eve, Park Jimin was sure he needed to dig into that apple more than anything he has ever needed before.
That's why he surprises you right after you both finish the second course meal by telling the waitress you won't be having desert, at which you look at him somewhat indignant. But the look he shoots you is enough to make you understand if somebody was going to have desert tonight, it would be him. In his Mercedes. 
"I'm gonna-" you gasp, fingers tugging at the soft strands of his now ruined blond hair, his head between your thighs and your legs thrown over his shoulders. His hands have a grip of the meaty flesh of your ass, holding you firmly againt his mouth as it works wonders on your clit. You're sure it hasn't even been ten minutes since Jimin had opened your legs in the backseat of his car, not even bothering to take your underwear off, simply moving the fabric aside before diving in, and you already feel yourself on the edge of an orgasm.
"I know." voice vibrating right into your core, he slows down his administrations, tongue carefully and delicately lapping at your folds while he enjoys the feeling of your fingers loosening their grip and fondly brushing his hair back. You meet his eyes as he pushes a finger inside your core and your whole body twists in agony. 
"N-no!" 
Jimin stops immediately, lifting his head and focusing his concerned eyes on you. He's about to ask you if he's done anything wrong, but you're fast to roughly pull him up by his hair until his face is leveled with yours. You answer him by kissing him and he returns the kiss with the same eagerness, and now it's your hands that are looking for his cock, palming him through his pants.
"Your dick. Inside. Right Now." you punctuate each phrase with a kiss and he only stops kissing you to pout.
"But I wanted you to cum on my tongue." but still, he's putty in your hands when you undo the botton and the zipper. "Wouldn't you rather me fucking you in my bed, where we're more comfortable?" you notice the slight quivering of his voice when you slide his trousers and boxers down, just enough to pull him out. 
"You can eat me and fuck me as many times as you want tonight, tomorrow and whenever you'd like, but right now..." none of you contain the moan in unision that leaves each of your mouths when just the head of his lenght comes in contact with your entrance. "I really can't wait anymore." brushing your lips over his, you lower your voice. "Wanna get on my hands and knees for you."
Park Jimin has tried to do things the right and appropiate way throughout all his life. He's been a professional from a very young age on how to be in charge of his emotions, his desires and his impulses. Always well mannered and well composed. 
But it's in this moment that Jimin comes to the realization that the only thing that has ever made him lose his mind and self control, is you. Seeing you like this, ass up, grinding your drenched and still thong clad cunt all over his precum dripping lenght, he can't control the way his hand bunches the fabrick of that damn dress over your waist, then flies to your right cheek, a sharp sound of skin filling the air, tearing a gasp from your throat.
"God, I'm-I'm sorry. Couldn't help mys-"
"Do it again."
And he does, the palm of his hand now leaving a reddenning print on your flesh, making you jolt back involuntarily, aligning yourself to the head of his cock and like he had hoped, he slides right in. Not all the way, because Jimin is sure he would cream inside you too soon and he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did. He wets his lips, clenching his jaw and dropping his palm one more time, hand more steady and purposeful. 
"You like it rough?" voice hoarse and a hand beside your head holding himself, your back to his chest, twitching beneath him as he soothes the sting with his free one. 
"I like you rough." turning your head slowly to peer at him from the corner of your eye, your hips moving on their own accord trying to take him deeper. Your head is suddenly pulled back harshly, Jimin's fingers tangling in your hair as his own hips close the remaining gap between your bodys in an abrupt thurst. You squeal, Jimin's cock finally filling you up to the hilt just like you wanted him to be, the pleasure making your arms wobble and finding it harder to mantain your balance. 
Jimin's breath fawns over your ear, his tongue darting out to suck on your skin sending chills down your spine. "You're such a dream." he groans, torturously sliding out of your core that's gripping around his shaft for dear life. A whine of protest escapes your lips and he tightens the hold on your hair in response, diving right back in. You fall forward, your arms' strenght betraying you as his thrusts find a new rhythm. With your eyes closed shut, you try to muffle the sound of your voice with the back of your hand as Jimin's lips place soft kisses to your exposed shoulder.
"Don't be quiet." he stands straight, the pull on your hair arching your back in such a enticing way it was Jimin look away for a second, cock buried inside of you and his hips faltering. "Been dying to have you like this for so long."
Another clap of his hand against your right cheek, and a particular stroke of his dick that has you mewling as your climax approached again. "S-so good, Jimin. Oh my god."
"You're gonna cum for me?" his fingertips leave bruises on your skin and the windows of his Mercedes are foggy, just like your mind. You can't concentrate on anything that's not Jimin's cock sliding in and out and how much you wished this had happened way sooner. "Gonna cum for me like a good slut?"
Park Jimin always takes his time. Always does things nice and slow to assure the best outcome possible. 
But he can't contain the acceleration of his hips against yours as your walls clench impossibly tight around his cock, your orgasm finally taking over . Can't contain himself from falling forward again, hand twisting your head in his direction and his mouth searching for yours in a fiery and messy kiss. And he most definitely can't barely contain himself from cumming when your you ask him to spit in your mouth. 
"You're gonna kill me." he breathes, removing himself off you and quickly maneuvering you on your back, his dick finding its way back inside you. Picking up right where he left off, skin slapping against skin in an obscene melody, he collects a considerate amount of saliva in his mouth before dropping it into your welcoming tongue, watching you swallow with a smile he hopes he'll be the only one to see in the future. 
And that's what has the last bit of his self restraint slipping from his fingers. He somehow manages to rip the top of your dress down, fabric tearing until your tits are free and his mouth is attacking your nipples, white strings of his release panting your walls, some of it them oozing out that he fucks back right into you. 
It's between ragged breaths, kisses and tender carresses that Jimin promises you more dates in the future and new dresses that he can't promise not to savage apart again.
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mirjam-writes · 13 days ago
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Good Omens Fic Rec: The Ineffable Game
The Ineffable Game by WorseOmens ( @worse0mens )
Rated: Not Rated (no sexual stuff, but some graphic violence)
Fandoms: Good Omens, Sherlock (BBC)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley, John’s onesided crush on Aziraphale and later Implied Johnlock.
Words: 65 002
Summary (by the author)
Sherlock and John are no longer the only crime-solving disaster duo in London. After Sherlock unknowingly wrongs a demon, he finds himself with two mysterious rivals in the detective scene. For Crowley and Aziraphale, it's just a bit of fun, but they end up learning more about human nature than they bargained for.
(BBC Sherlock/Good Omens crossover; The Ineffable Husbands try their hand at consulting detective work)
This is at least third WorseOmens’ fic I’m recommending, but they just manage to write stuff that delights me (I happen to love Outsider POVs), and this is also the best Good Omens/Sherlock crossover I have read! This has two sequels which handle a lot more epic themes, but this first one is my absolute favourite and I have reread it multiple times.
It all starts from something utterly insignificant. Sherlock does something only a little stupid, which annoys Crowley. Aziraphale and Crowley make a plan to annoy Sherlock back, and suddenly things start getting out of hand rather spectacularly.
Sherlock’s confusion over Aziraphale and Crowley is so delightful to read! His deductions are so close, as close as a human who adamantly refuses to believe in anything supernatural can get, but for that same reason also so wrong! And John thinking Aziraphale is ex military (he kind of is) so they have shared experiences (well not really) and getting confused about everything. Aaaa! This is the kind of stuff the best GO outsider pov fics are about! Sherlock is the perfect character for this!
At first they compete over cases, then they end up working together on some of them and finally Sherlock starts digging into Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s past and ends up with even more confusion and wildly wrong ideas. My face hurts because I grin and smile so much when reading this piece of art!
The fic changes from SH&JW pov to A&C pov and back, so it’s not completely outsider pov, but even from A&C pov Sherlock’s bafflement over them is so fun to read! And of course the husbands have to tease him a bit about it, because well of course,
For Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s part this is an established relationship fic, and I really love how they are depicted here. It’s not just a bed of roses, they have their disagreements, problems and insecurities, and they even fight sometimes, but they work through them, they respect each other and the story gives a strong feeling that nothing or no-one can come between them. But that is of course not obvious to SH or JW, who, at some point, also question their relationship based on insufficient data. That, of course, also gets a bit out of hand, when at one point SH and JW fully believe C has murdered A (which couldn’t be farther from the truth).
All in all, a perfect outsider pov fic combining two of my favourite fandoms. 
The epilogue ties the story so neatly with the Sherlock canon and Sherlock’s fall that I refuse to believe this wasn’t exactly what happened. 
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lowlokikey · a year ago
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The Green-Eyed Monster: Part 1
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Requested by @slutforthegubes​: smut fic that's mgg x female reader, maybe something where he is on set of a movie and he has to film a sex scene and she gets really jealous. then they go back to his trailer and have some rough sexy times.
A/N: This is my first time ever writing smut so hopefully you guys enjoy and this is also my first request! And please let me know what you think and if there were any warnings I forgot to mention also going to post a part 2 later in the week since this one got away from me and is already at 2k words.
Taglist: @slutforthegubes
Requests are open!
Category: SMUT (NSFW)
Couple: Matthew Gray Gubler x Girlfriend!reader
Warnings: Smut, cursing, chocking, degradation, oral sex, penetration, Daddy kink.
Word Count: 2,018
******
“Jealousy is all the fun you think they had.” 
- Erica Jong
You loved whenever Matthew invited you to set for Criminal Minds especially when it was for the episodes that he directed. Those were his favorite, you loved to watch his eyes light up as he told the actors what emotions they should be expressing for this particularly scene and when he told the cameraman to pan the camera down as the actress wept and fell to her knees. You loved to see your boyfriend in his nature element, he was born to be an actor and you were there to support him in every single acting job and adventure that he embarked on.
But this, you did not love to see.
Matthew had just invited you on set for a Netflix movie called Horse Girl that he had a small role in, you loved to see him work so of course you agreed to go with him, without even knowing what scene he was about to make you watch.
He knew you were the jealous type, right, RIGHT?
You knew the struggles of maintaining a relationship among actors, you being one yourself, but after 3 years of dating you had gotten use to the crazed teenager fan girls for the one and only Dr. Spencer Reid. Though you never experienced the feeling of jealously whenever you visited him on Criminal Minds because Spencer didn’t have many sexy scenes that you could have gotten jealous from.
But this ohhh, you had the slightest of inklings that Matthew knew exactly what he was doing when he invited you to set that day. You knew that he wanted to watch you squirm. Push your buttons to where you were at the point of walking off the set, but your legs betrayed you as you couldn’t help but watch the scene that unfolded in front of you.
That chain, That Stupid Fucking CHAIN
He just had to wear it to set that day. You watched it dangle back and forth as he relentlessly pounded into Alison Brie, his co-star, a sight that you were accustomed to. (Although it was always you that he was pounding into not some actresses) You would usually tug on it as he pounded into YOU, curses slipping from your lips as you felt his fingers rub circles on your clit, begging you to “come for daddy” which you did like the good girl you were for him.
You think that that’s what pissed you off most about watching the sex scene. The thought that you should be the only one to see him like this, the only one privileged enough to watch him as he experienced euphoria, the only one able to make him come undone.
You couldn’t stop yourself from raking your eyes up and down his shirtless torso, a sight that you swore you could never get enough of. You lifted your eyes back up to look at his face, loving the way his stubble perfectly accentuated his chiseled jawline. The one that you would tease him about, telling him that he was like a work of art, joking that his jawline was sculpted by Michelangelo himself. And those lips that you told him were gifts from Aphrodite herself.
You adored this man
As soon as the director yelled “CUT” you smiled gently at Matthew and gave him two thumbs to tell him that he did a great job, too good of a job in your opinion. You turned on your heels away from the sound stage and began to walk to Matthews trailer.
You were ashamed of yourself for getting jealous from his acting but also by the fact that you were extremely turned on right now. To the point where you could feel your arousal through the thin fabric of your leggings. You began to mumble curses at yourself as soon as you entered the trailer, slamming the door shut behind you. How were you going to explain yourself to Matthew when he asked you why you practically ran away from set?
Oh, I’m sorry that I”m acting like the spoiled little brat that I truly am
I’m the only one you should be destroying, not her
Not Her
Knocking you out of your thoughts, was a gentle hand being placed on your shoulder, who you immediately recognized as your loving boyfriend Matthew. Which only made you feel worse about running off of set. You turned to face him, your cheeks flushed from both embarrassment and arousal, you couldn’t place the look on his face, but as soon as your saw his plump lips turn into a smirk and you locked eyes with him. You saw how dilated his pupils were, you knew exactly how he felt.
Turned on
It was like you two didn’t even have to communicate with words, because just with a couple of seconds of staring into each other's eyes you knew exactly what was in store for you.
You began to choke slightly as he applied just the right amount of pressure against your throat as he pushed your front against the trailer door. Releasing his grip on your throat, he raked his hands up and down your torso till they landed on the curve of your hips.
“Jealousy is an ugly color on you” he whispered in your ear as he roughly thrust his impressive bulge into your backside leaving you a whimpering mess as he bought one of his hands up from your hip back to your throat, squeezing tightly exactly like he knew you loved.
“Do you know how embarrassing it was for me to see you run off of set, getting questioned by Alison, wondering why you didn’t want to meet her,” he began to shout into your ear, tears beginning to prick at your eyes as his hold on your neck tightened. You couldn’t even muster out a response (even though you knew that whatever you said wouldn’t dissuade him from giving you the punishment that he had in store for you) before he spoke again.
“No, of course you don’t because you were just acting like the selfless, fucking brat that you are! Isn’t that right y/n...” Wanting you to respond he softened the grip on your throat just enough so you could whimper out those words.
“Yes, daddy”
“Good girl at least you know how much of a fucking brat you are.” He lowered his voice this time now gently saying this into your ear as he bought his right hand up from its position holding your hips in place to stroke your hair before he removed the hand from your throat to spin you around so that you were now facing him.
He began to wipe the few tears that fell from your eyes and gave you a gentle peck on your lips raking his eyes up and down your body with concern, making sure you were okay before he continued his assault.
“Now are you going to be a good girl for daddy or am I’m going to have to punish you” he simply stated as he made direct eye contact with a glimmer of lust and darkness in his eyes.
“I will be a good girl for daddy” you gladly said back to him. Even though you did love his punishments. Right now all you wanted to do was worship this man, to tell him that no other women could make him feel as good as you did.
“Good choice princess, now why don’t you get on your knees and put that pretty little mouth to good use.”
Before the last word even came out of his mouth you were on your knees massaging the outline of his cock through the fabric of his jeans. Licking your lips you could feel how hard he was, which turned you on even more.
He began to undo his belt before you even got the chance to, you are way to entranced in stoking him through his jeans. As soon as he got his belt undone he tossed it behind him, not having a care in the world where it landed.
You helped him push his pants down to his ankles not caring right now about taking them off.
You brought one hand up to grip his shaft while the other one was pressed against his thighs. You licked your lips once again before you began to kitten lick the tip of his cock, the grunts that fell from his lips were the only thing you needed to hear from him that told you that you were doing a good job.
As soon as you brought your mouth directly on his tip, finished with teasing him and licking up his pre-cum, his hand was on the back of your head making a makeshift ponytail with your hair.
He roughly forced you to take him down his throat, clearly fed up with your teasing. Which only allowed you to moan against his length as you began to choke on his cock. He released the hold on your head slightly as you began to bob your head up and down his length, stroking whatever length couldn’t fit into your mouth.
You opened up your eyes to gauge his reaction and a moan fell from your lips when you were might with the sight of sweat beading on his forehead as he threw his head back in pure bliss. Another moan fell from his lips as you gagged on his cock. He bit down on his lips in between every moan. He was absolutely breathtaking.
Matthew began to set his own pace as he began to thrust into your mouth, you slacked your jaw to allow him to fit better and rested both of your hands against his thighs. Your eyes met as he threw his hand forward to look at you, a whimpering mess with tears streaming down your face and spit running down your chin. But to him, it was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. Upon making eye contact with more groans fell from his mouth, and the grip on the back of your head tightened, signaling to you that he was close.
“Now that’s my good girl letting daddy fuck himself with that pretty, little mouth.” With every word muttered he thrust deeper into your mouth hitting the back of your throat every time.
But before he came Matthew pulled you off of his cock, grabbing your hands from their position previously gripping his thighs which left crescent shape marks at which he giggled at.
As you stood up wobbling a little bit from the numbness of your legs after being dormant for so long, he held you in place as you wiped the spit from your chin. When you were finished cleaning your face up, he once again brought one of his hands up to rest against your neck, like the necklace that you could never leave home without. He roughly kissed you with so much dominance and passion.
You were aggressively making out, you let him win the battle of your tongue's fight for dominance as his hands made their way behind your knees as he picked you up and sat down on the little couch that the trailer had.
Since you were straddled on his lap you began to grind your clothed pussy against his bare cock, moans began to fall from both your mouths as you threw your head back a slight giggle falling from your lips of how good this felt.
Before you could even try to get yourself off he gripped your hips holding them in place and stopped your grinding. A whimper fell from your lips as you pouted, which would have normal pissed him off but with how turned on he was now he couldn’t even think of punishing you. 
He brought your lips back up to his and muttered into between kisses that you were both wearing too many clothes and that if you were going to cum it was going to be with his cock buried deep inside of you and when he commanded you to.
Part 2 coming soon!!!
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