#Once I figure out how to write fanfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

withleeknow · 16 days

Note

i think you'll do well with requests bc they seem to be popular in the fanfic side of tumblr! but even if it doesn't take off that quick, at least that'll be less overwhelming bc some ppl can be so demanding....anyways, i hope the best for you in this new journey haha 💝

me personally, i'm not very creative so i'll leave the details to the professionals (aka you) but i'd like to req something from minho's pov. i think those type of stories are SEVERELY lacking in the lee know fics department lol 🥲 it could be a childhood friends to lovers where he is pining for oc but he has a lot of self esteem issues and thinks she's not interested in him. also a big softie and just all around head over heels for her. you can add your magic! (if this is even remotely interesting enough to write lol i just want a minho pov tbh shsjjfjdjdj 😭)

light years.

summary: three times minho bites his tongue, and one time you don't let him.

pairing: minho x f!reader genre/warnings: childhood friends to lovers, fluff, angst; kissing, cursing, so much pining i could hurl. could this have been more edited? oh absolutely lmao but i actually don't hate it sooo this is what we're going with :p word count: 4.2k note: to the first anon, thank you so much for your kind words! :') and i'm sorry that this took me longer than expected. i was trying to figure out what i wanted to write for your prompt but then i got the second request with the song and i thought they would go nicely together hehehehe i hope the both of you enjoy thissss

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / request masterlist / ko-fi

I'm not sure what it means to love But I blink kind of slow around you I'm not sure what it means to love But I'll grow wherever you do What that means, I don't have a clue

I'm Not Sure - Margeaux Beylier

One.

Minho is 18 years old, and he doesn't know what love is, doesn't really care for it at all.

While his friends are out there wrapped in the clutches of young love - the kind that blooms with stolen glances in classrooms and sticky notes passed in secrecy, Minho finds it simply unnecessary. He doesn't understand it whenever Hyunjin whines about not having a girlfriend because they're still young, they've got all the time in the world for romance later down the line. It's not the end of the world like Hyunjin laments it is.

Minho has his own life to prioritize. College is starting after the summer and he still needs to figure out how he's going to cope with the absence of his cats once he moves away. He's got dancing and he's got his other hobbies to keep him fulfilled and occupied.

And above all, he's got you.

You're getting ready for your sister's wedding when it happens for the first time. Or rather, when it doesn't happen.

You step back into the room where Minho is waiting for you on the sofa, his gaze resting idly on the screen of his phone, scrolling absentmindedly through his friends' group chat even though he has no interest in whatever they're talking about. You cough lightly to indicate your return after disappearing into the bathroom minutes prior to change into your dress. He looks up upon your soft announcement, and when his eyes settle on you, he swears it feels like an invisible force has collided with his chest and knocked all of the air from his lungs.

Throughout all his years of knowing you, inseparable from childhood until now, Minho has never seen you like this - all dolled up with your hair falling over your collarbones, cascading over your shoulders in soft waves that beckons him to run his fingers through. The light blue dress hugs you beautifully, the silky material catching the light from outside the window every time you shift on your feet under his steady gaze.

"So...?" you ask, moving your arms awkwardly behind your back like you're not sure what to do with them. "What do you think?"

What does he think?

Minho thinks you might just be the prettiest girl in the world. He thinks he must have been an idiot his whole life, to have spent most of his waking hours beside you and not once has he noticed how truly breathtaking you are. He thinks about the feeling that spreads in the pit of his stomach, sends warmth throughout his body and makes his heartbeat race a million miles an hours.

Your best friend blinks slowly as he savors the warmth that he's never experienced before. It's similar to the feeling you get when you're sitting under the shade of a big tree on a summer's day. It's comparable to the satisfied tranquility you get after you've just finished a hearty meal. A little hazy in your contentment.

It's not until you probe with a pointed Well? that Minho realizes he's been staring at you in silence for a few minutes now. He swallows thickly, willing away the words that he wants to say but they get lodged in his throat. He reckons it's weird to verbalize them, because it's not how the two of you function. You don't often utter that kind of sentiment out loud and he doesn't either. Never have and likely never will.

In the end, he bites his tongue. "You look presentable," is what he settles on.

You roll your eyes, then reward him with a laugh.

Minho doesn't care about love. He only cares about you.

Two.

Minho is 21 years old, and he's gotten used to his heart beating erratically whenever he's in your presence.

Three years flew by in the blink of an eye, and graduation is just around the corner. You've always done well in school, straight A student with a track record that most could only dream to have. You put in the hours, you do the work. You deserve everything that you've achieved.

But it's been a challenging few months for you both, being seniors and all. He's had to watch you struggle to stay on top of your classes while also having to slave over a thesis 24/7 until you were sure it was perfect. It reduced you to tears a few times, and Minho was there to hold your hand through it all.

He held you in his comforting embrace when you wanted to give up. He made you dinner when you were too immersed in your schoolwork to notice that you'd forgotten to eat. He was your biggest support system; if it weren't for him, you don't know if you would've made it through.

It's hot outside today, a little unbearable but not uncharacteristic for June. Minho waits in a familiar hallway, the same hall that he's walked past for hundreds of times over the past few years, the same hall that he won't see again once he holds a degree in his hands in only a few weeks' time.

As he sits on an old wooden bench, he bounces his leg as if he's one of the people in the classrooms that line the hall. He doesn't have to be on campus today, but here he is regardless because you're scheduled for your thesis defense this morning. You're in one of those rooms, probably also bouncing your leg from the overwhelming nerves. Minutes feel like hours; you went in there a while ago after he had sent you off with a pat on the head and an encouraging Godspeed.

He's nervous for you, but he's sure that you'll do great. Years of hard work accumulating in what must be the most important moment of your academic journey. You even stayed up all night last night, refusing to sleep a wink just to revise your arguments and talking points.

Minho's head snaps up instantly as he hears a door creak open, the sound of it reverberating throughout the empty hallway like a gong announcing your return from battle. It takes you a few seconds to step out of the room and into his line of sight. He can't see you very well with all this distance between you, but he can still make out the way your frame is visibly shaking with every step you take. He rises to his feet, and you break into a sprint.

He opens his arms wide - a hug of consolation or congratulations, he doesn't know yet - but he still can't seem to brace himself for the collision. You run straight into his embrace, your warms wounding around his middle tightly. Minho feels your tremors, hears your sniffles from where you're pressing your cheek against his shoulder.

"How did it go?" he asks gently.

You start crying then, and he doesn't know if the tears that his shirt is soaking up are those of joy or of grief, but he holds you through it anyway. He swears he can feel every single beat of your heart, hammering so wildly as you're pressed against him like you could sink into him if only you'd push just a little bit more.

"I passed," you say in between sobs. "I got an A."

Minho heaves out the breath that he's been holding ever since you entered that classroom, but it's not like he had any doubt about it to begin with. He hugs you tighter than he's ever had before, and he loves you just the same.

You two must look so dramatic, all wrapped up together in your own little bubble, but who the fuck cares? Although, when another student passes by and coughs, you do break away from him, a little embarrassed for a second.

Even with your hair all mussed up and your flushed cheeks stained with tears, he still thinks you look the same as you did when you were 18 at your sister's wedding. The prettiest girl in the world.

Minho wipes away the wetness on your face with his sleeves, then swipes with gentle thumbs at the moisture that's gathered along your lash lines.

"Holy fucking shit," you breathe out, your shoulders sagging with evident relief, so much more relaxed now that you've done it. "I can't believe it's finally over."

Your best friend can't entirely agree, because he's always believed in you. He's had faith in you since the beginning, since you were mere children laughing and crying together on the playground. You were meant to do great things, this was always crystal clear to Minho.

I love you, he thinks as he smooths a hand over your hair, his chest swelling with nothing but pride and fondness for you. You did so well.

But it's not what he ends up telling you. He swallows it down, washes it away with a dose of regret and longing. He's still not the type to express sappy sentiments, and he's grown accustomed to adoring you only in secret.

"Let's go," he says softly. "I'll buy you dinner."

Minho is still young, he's still got his whole life ahead of him, but he knows what love is now. He knows that it's you.

Three.

Minho is 24 years old, and he finds it hard to make peace with the fact that you're starting to get out there, that you're finally going on dates now that academics aren't taking up most of your time anymore.

To be fair, none of the guys you've seen have been graced with a second date, and Minho thanks his lucky stars whenever you return from a night out and text him a simple Not it. He knows that it wasn't your decision in the first place, that your mom and your sister have been setting you up on blind dates because they want to see you bring a boyfriend home.

You complain about it all the time, whining about how you're not interested but your family is adamant on it. Minho is well aware, and yet, there's a part of him that's a little shaken, because what if? What if the universe miscalculates and the stars misalign just enough in his misfortune for you to cross paths with someone who's absolutely perfect for you? Someone who's a good man that can give you what you've always deserved to have.

He really doesn't know what he would do if that happens. When it happens?

He doesn't know why you're here tonight either, sitting on a chair on the other side of his kitchen island in a pretty dress when you're supposed to be going on a date in half an hour. The guy apparently works for a big record label, some producer that your sister knows through a friend of a friend.

You look indifferent, kind of bored, as you watch Minho makes dinner for himself. "You seem miserable," he comments, taking a quick break from chopping vegetables to glance up at you. You do look a bit miserable, but you're still the most beautiful in his eyes.

You throw your head back and groan loudly, "Because I am. God, I don't know why they keep making me do this. These guys always give nothing."

"Please elaborate."

"They're all boring suits with tedious routines." you say, and as absentminded as your tone is, it sounds a little pointed to Minho's ears. "They don't make me laugh."

Do they not make you laugh, or do they not make you laugh more than I can?

"Then don't go," he snickers, though there's no humor in his voice at all. "These guys sound like duds. Just tell your sister to fuck off."

"Do you mean that? Do you really think I shouldn't go?"

And there's something in your gaze, something so suddenly expectant in the way you're looking at him that makes Minho wonder. If he says yes, would you listen? Would you stay here with him? Would you stay here for him?

I'm serious. Don't go. You can have this and I'll make myself ramyeon. Just be here with me.

You both stare at each other on either side of his kitchen island for an infinite stretch of time. He feels like your eyes are trying to tell him something that he can't decipher, as if they're sending him signals in a language that he never learned how to read.

For a second there, he indulges himself. He pretends that you're only asking because you want to hear him say it. That you want him to put up a fight and not let you go.

But he bites his tongue because it's become a bad habit. A habit that he can't shake because he simply doesn't have the courage to do so. Because if you stay here tonight, looking like that under the cozy lighting of his living room, he might just spill his secrets and he wouldn't be able to take it when reality comes crashing down and you end up telling him that you've never felt the same way.

"I'm kidding," he musters up the words, and tries to plaster on a smile for your sake, even though he's not sure if you really believe it. "You're dressed up anyway. Go and get a free fancy dinner, if anything."

Minho knows what love is, but his love has always lived in the shadows, his longing has only existed in the dark that it terrifies him just thinking about it meeting the light.

Four.

Minho is 26 years old, and he's been a coward for the better part of a decade.

Maybe he's loved you for even longer, but he has spent the past eight years head over heels in love with you, and not once has he done anything about it. Never been able to gather enough courage to ask you out, never even hinted at his feelings for you. He loves you from his place by your side and yet, you've never known.

He loves you the most, but he loves you in the worst way that a person can love another - he loves you in silence.

You're the prettiest girl in the world, and Lee Minho is a pathetic coward.

All these years, he's kept quiet and for what? There's always a spot reserved for him right next to you and yet, it feels like he can only watch you from the sidelines, far away from where it really matters, because he doesn't think he can fit into your life the way he truly wants. You taught him what love was, and love, to Minho, is unattainable. Something he can spend the rest of his life yearning for but won't ever have.

Love hurts. Sometimes, all love does is hurt.

"I would've taken you to a nice restaurant if you asked, you know," he says, putting a chocolate cupcake on the coffee table in front of you before he sits down next to you on the fluffy carpet of your living room. He pulls out a candle next, placing it right in the center of the sweet treat.

Your gaze follows his hand has he lights the candle, your eyes glinting with excitement as though you're a child again and your favorite day of the year is still your birthday. The tiny flame curves and bends, dancing to a rhythm that looks like only you can hear. You watch the candle like it's magic, while Minho just watches you, thinking the same thing.

He watches as you close your eyes and clasp your hands together for the theatrics, then you blow out the flame seconds later with a swift breath.

You turn to him with a smile, "I don't need a nice restaurant. This is perfect."

He blinks, and there's that warmth simmering in his belly again. He first felt it when he was 18, and he feels it now. He feels it almost every moment that he spends with you, and he reckons it's only reasonable, because you're his home personified and love can still be beautiful even when it hurts. There's his heart racing again, but that's nothing new to Minho.

He muses over your words. Perfect. Just one simple word is enough to get his hopes up in a way that it really shouldn't.

Your definition of a birthday well spent is in your cozy apartment, eating takeout pizza with your best friend. Perfect, to you, is him baking you a singular chocolate cupcake upon your request and being with him within these four walls, where his fingers occasionally brush yours when you sit next to each other.

Oh, Minho would follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked him to.

He clears his throat lightly, breaking away from your gaze that's full of gratitude and childlike wonder. "What did you wish for?"

"I'm not gonna tell you. It won't come true then."

Wishes don't come true anyway, he thinks, but obviously he won't say it out loud to you, and on your birthday no less. Instead, he diverts his attention to the cupcake, subconsciously tonguing his cheek as he takes a small chunk of the sweet and offers it to you.

You let him feed you even though your eyes are narrowed. "What was that look?" you ask.

"What look?"

"You had a look."

"No, I didn't," Minho insists.

"Yes, you did. You wanted to say something, didn't you?"

He shrugs, popping a piece of cupcake into his own mouth. The answer is yes, he did want to say something, but if you want to get technical about it, then he's wanted to say something for years now. He asks you the same thing every birthday, What did you wish for?, and you would refuse to tell him every time.

"Wishes don't come true," he verbalizes it this time, with a voice that's lighthearted on purpose despite knowing that you wouldn't take it that seriously either way.

You roll your eyes. "Now you're just being pessimistic."

"What? I'm speaking from experience."

"You've never had a birthday wish come true?"

"My birthday wishes haven't come true since I was 18."

Minho feels your eyes on the side of his face, and when you remain quiet for a beat too long, he turns his attention back to you. "What?"

"How do you know they didn't come true?"

"Because..."

Because you've been my wish for almost a decade now. I didn't use to believe in wishes but I always believed in you. Every year, I wish for you to look at me the way I look at you, but it never comes true. Every year, I wish that you would love me back, not just as a friend, but you never do. You are my wish, but you're also the very reason why I know wishes don't come true.

Then he's laughing, but nothing is remotely funny about this. It's your birthday and suddenly all he can think about is how much it stings to be reminded that you're the only thing he'll ever wish for, and still, maybe this simple wish is absurd enough that the universe will never grant him what he truly wants.

"Never mind," he says. "This whole thing is silly."

There he goes, biting his tongue again. Coward.

"No, what were you going to say?"

"You're so bossy today," Minho pretends to complain.

"It's my birthday. Tell me," you press on, and suddenly he can't find any appreciation for your stubbornness that he's adored all his life. You keep your eyes fixed on him when all he wants to do is hide from you.

What is he supposed to say to you? What can he even say? That he's spent more than a third of his life hopelessly enamored with you? That the second he utters any of this out loud, he knows it will be the end of your friendship?

And Minho can't afford to lose you. Even if it hurts, he would rather let love hurt than live in the absence of you.

"Eat your cupcake," he says instead. "I'll get some ice cream."

He makes a move to get up, and the bad habit further cements its place in his subconscious. He's always running away from you when you're supposed to be the person he can be the most open with. This is how he knows he doesn't deserve you.

But you reach for his wrist and it makes him still, the feeling of your hand sliding downward to hold onto his fingers. He's used to the feeling of your smaller hand in his, used to how he can hear his heartbeat in his ears whenever you lace your fingers together.

What he isn't accustomed to, is the look on your face this very second, akin to the one you wore two years ago as you sat on the other side of his kitchen island, asking him if you should go.

Expectant and hopeful; you're holding something back too.

The words that slip from your lips are ones that he never imagined you would say to him.

"I've waited for you long enough."

His poor excuse of retrieving ice cream is all but forgotten as he stares at you, doe-eyed and despairingly confused. "What is that supposed to mean?"

You take a breath, and Minho wonders if this is how he looked every time he wanted to say something only to back down in the end.

Then it all comes rushing out.

"For a while, I thought there might've been something between us, something more than just friendship. I don't know why I thought that, I just had a feeling. On the day of our graduation, I thought you would finally kiss me or at least say something, but you didn't. Whenever I went on dates, I wanted you to tell me not to go, that I was wasting my time with those guys that couldn't make me laugh because they weren't you. You never said anything, you never did anything. I waited every birthday just like I waited tonight. You're still holding it over me and I'm starting to wonder if you really love me too or if I imagined everything this whole time."

Your voice gets smaller toward the end, almost as if the uncertainty takes over you the longer he remains silent. He doesn't have the words for it, doesn't really have the mental capacity to process all of what you just professed. Years and years of longing, of hoping that you would come running into his arms the same way you did on the morning of your thesis defense, and it turns out that you were always the one waiting for him to reach you.

If you really love me too.

Your fingers start to loosen around his but Minho doesn't let you get away, not now and not ever again. Not when he finally knows that he's burnt up enough of your time just because he was too stuck in his head to see that you were holding a hand out for him all along.

He pulls you into his orbit and he likes to imagine that somewhere out there in the infinite universe, two stars collide when he kisses you for the first time, long overdue but still heavenly nonetheless.

He's crying but you don't seem to mind the tears. You're kissing him back and it's really all that matters. He can't think straight but he adores you to the point that his lungs ache.

"I love you," he mumbles against your lips. The sentiment comes out clumsy, half coherent but wholeheartedly sincere. "I'm sorry. I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you."

You're the one who breaks the kiss first, with your hand on his chest gently pushing him away. Panic instantly shoots through him like a lightning strike. These are the words he's been holding back for years, did he not even say them right? Did he fuck things up yet again?

You brush the tears from his cheeks, your voice so impossibly soft when you ask, "Do you mean it?"

Minho splinters into a million pieces, of course he does.

Your name falls from his lips, sounding like a prayer, like the most tender plea that's ever been uttered, "I love you the most. I'm so in love with you that it hurts. I've been yours for so long and I never said anything. Fuck, I-I'm sorry. I love you so much. I'm sorry. I-"

You bring his face to yours once more, shushing him with a kiss that makes him putty in your hands. You tell him that it's okay, and you kiss him like you forgive him. The world could be ending right now, and he doesn't think that either of you would even care very much.

Because you're the only wish of his life, and you kiss him as though you want to make up for the lost years. Because Minho feels like he's 18 again and you're the most beautiful girl in the world, wearing a smile that leaves him breathless in the most wonderful way possible.

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #lee know #lee minho

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rrxnjun · 10 months

Text

where do broken hearts go? [lmk]

you know what they say about past lovers that can remain just as friends - either they're still in love with each other, or they never were in the first place.

pairing: mark lee x fem! reader

genre: exes to lovers. angst, fluff.

wc: 12k (11.926)

warnings: mention of sex, weed and alcohol, heartbreak, swearing, park jihoon of treasure is one sassy bitch and also accidentally somehow the main character of this fanfic plz dont @ me, inconsistent writing style bc i took 3 months and 3 depressive episodes to finish this fic

playlist: where do broken hearts go - one direction / too good to say goodbye - bruno mars / everytime - ariana grande / closer - waterparks / tornado warnings - sabrina carpenter / survive the night - the boyz

a/n: hey do some of you still remember me..... AHAHA tell a friend to tell a friend rrxnjun is BACK! this fic isn't the ideal vision i had in my mind but we are working on not being so hard on ourselves with our writing so! here we are. i still kind of like it :,)

When you walk up to your best friend’s apartment one day with a tub of ice cream under your arm and the biggest pout on your face, Park Jihoon makes a complete list of things you should do to get over your failed relationship with Mark Lee. And while you think your dear friend has some psychopathic tendencies sometimes, you’d say the list is actually pretty reasonable of him.

There’s something about the five simple steps that makes you wonder if it’s really as easy as Jihoon makes it sound. And while you doubt it– because the pinging pain in your heart makes it seem like the heartbreak is truly going to kill you in a few minutes if you don’t do something about it– you give it a try, because come on… you’d do anything to not feel like this ever again.

Step one – cry it out.

“He was a cunt anyway,” Jihoon mutters as he steps into the living room with two spoons in his hands, throwing one of them to you– while almost managing to hit you in the middle of your forehead in the process, adding a concussion to the mix of problems you have going on right now– and you find yourself furrowing your brows at his hateful comment.

“Why’d you say that?”

“Well, as your best friend, I’m supposed to be on your side, no?” he says as he takes a seat on the sofa next to you, watching as you wrap one of the thick blankets you got for the male around your figure– you bought it mainly for yourself, because his apartment is cold as a freezer and you knew he wouldn’t buy one for you to use in the first place– and shrugs. “Besides, he broke your heart, and any male who does that is a cunt in my eyes.”

“I broke up with him,” you mourn, “so I broke my own heart,” you snicker, despair fully filling you up from the inside– fitting everywhere into your lungs and choking you up from how bad you truly feel. Now, this isn’t your first breakup– you’ve had your fair share of boyfriends in high school (in your baddie era, as Jihoon called it), but Choi Yeonjun from Maths class and Jung Woonyoung, the guy you dated for a total of 2 months over the summer break before he moved away, weren’t exactly boys you found yourself falling in love with. Sure, you liked them, you kissed them and went on dates with them– hell, you even hooked up with Yeonjun once before you realized the relationship truly wasn’t for you– but no one managed to cave into your heart just as much as Mark Lee, your first college boyfriend did.

“But you sure had a reason for it, come on!” Jihoon huffs, taking the tub of ice cream from your hands and opening it for you, since you’ve gotten quite weak from the lack of sleep and nutritions ever since the break up, hands clammy and not cooperating. “You don’t just break up with someone to break your own heart. He did that, that’s why you said goodbye to him,” he says before sitting the enormous tub of ice cream between your two bodies, nudging you to dig into the frozen delicacy.

“Yeah, but–”

“No buts, young lady. We are here to make you forget you ever even dated Mark Lee, so open up, eat the ice cream and focus your attention on Titanic so you can finally cry it out,” he says, and by the tone of his voice, you’d think he’s angry with you. Jihoon has this aura around him that makes you think he’s always at least a little annoyed at everything– but he told you to not mind it and that it’s just his sassy bitch attitude.

He does have a point, though. You broke up with Mark because he broke your heart first– there was no other reason for it. If it was something minor, something small, you were sure you could work on it. You have, numerous of times before, brought up something and had a mature conversation about it– something you always so admired about Mark, being so cautious and understanding when navigating problems in the relationship– but when you bring up the same thing over and over, and it never gets fixed despite him telling you he’ll try harder next time, you think you’re allowed to feel a little heartbroken at his nonexistent efforts. And that’s exactly why you decided to quit the relationship– after a while, you felt like you were putting in more effort than he was, effectively making you feel like he’s not even that interested in dating you in the first place.

First, he just told you he was forgetful. He forgot he promised to pick you up from class one day– and you said that it’s okay, he is busy, after all– and it was the first time it happened, so you didn’t really mind that much, truly. Then, he forgot about the date you scheduled– but it was fine, because you didn’t have reservations anyway, you could change the day to any other day of the week, after all. He kept forgetting the stuff you told him in between the conversations you shared– and it was small things, you understand, but sometimes, you wondered if he was ever really listening to you at all.

Forgetful soon turns not interested in your eyes, and when he doesn’t call you in the evening like he promised he would, when he doesn’t show up to the party you invited him to, because he forgot it was that day, you’re one step closer to calling it quits, because each and every one of these situations sends a sharp pain into your stomach. The last straw was just last week, though– and realistically, it was an important day, as much that you thought the day is somehow gonna fix everything, but the truth is somewhere completely else as Mark Lee forgets about your one year anniversary and never shows up at your doorstep for the dinner you prepared for the two of you like he promised he would.

And it doesn’t click in him two days after either– you don’t even get a text. He got so forgetful over time that he forgot about you completely, and that’s when you took an uber to his place and broke up with him for good.

And even though the breakup was the most painful thing you’ve ever felt yourself go through, Jihoon is right– you’re not the one that broke your own heart. Mark Lee did that for you many times before, and this was just the breaking point.

“Fucking hell, you bought cookies and cream again?” Jihoon huffs when he takes another spoonful of the ice cream into his mouth, eyebrows furrowing at the sweet taste. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you wipe your left cheek as you hum, immune to his nagging by now.

“You know I hate cookies and cream!”

“You know, Hoon, I bought this for myself. When you’re the one that’s heartbroken, we’ll share your favorite ice cream flavor instead,” you mumble, munching on the coldness on your tongue, sniffling a little when your eyes avert to the TV screen.

And after that, the teasing from your best friend’s side stops. Maybe it’s just because he hates to see you cry– and he rarely gets the chance, if you’re being honest, since you’re pretty good at handling your emotions– but you secretly know that it’s because when he looks back at the TV screen in front of the two of you, the sad part of the movie hasn’t even started yet and the tears are not the result of the movie, but of your own thoughts instead.

Step two – give him back all of his stuff and the stuff he’s given you that reminds you of him. Demand that he does the same.

Now, step two was a thing most couples do when they break up. Realistically, it makes sense– you wouldn’t want stuff that’s not yours just laying around, and also, it’s just bound to remind you of the person you lost. Naturally, you’d want to return it.

“Why does he have to return my things as well?” you mutter under your breath as Jihoon helps you fold all Mark’s hoodies into a cardboard box, alongside with wrapping the little things your ex boyfriend made out of ceramic for you in tissue paper like you asked him to– even though he complained and said that it shouldn’t matter to you if they break, because you are the heartbroken one– but you held those little things too close to your heart to let them get damaged in the first place.

“Because that’s how it works,” Jihoon hums, watching as you throw another one of Mark’s shirts onto the top of his head, shielding his vision. “What, you don’t want your stuff back?”

“I mean…” you mumble, deeply considering of the fact that the thought of getting your stuff back didn’t even cross your mind until now, before you realize your favorite pair of socks is thrown somewhere in Mark’s drawers– the blue ones with peaches on them– and you suddenly have the revelation that while you don’t necessarily need the stuff back, you’d love to wear those socks again. “I guess…” you note as you walk over to Jihoon and take a glance into the full cardboard box, looking over the stuff and chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“It’s like witchcraft, y’know,” Jihoon points out, looking at you with fierce eyes mirroring the stupid idea that just flashed through his brain, “if you don’t exchange the things, a piece of you is still kept at his apartment and you won’t be able to move on.”

And again, Park Jihoon does have psychopathic tendencies, but he may be onto something here. So you listen to him as you nod along and close the cardboard box, ready to drive over to Mark Lee’s apartment and drop off the things you’ve collected from him for the past year. The box includes all of the clothes messily scattered across your drawers and your closet, the picture frame of you two together that you always had on your night stand, the ceramic bowls and a little tiger sculpture he made for you when he took a pottery class with his friend Renjun, and the lost guitar pics you found under your bed and at the very top of your bookshelf from when he used to bring his guitar along and play you songs on rainy afternoons. The only things of Mark’s that you kept were the love letter he gave you for your birthday and the USB with his cover of Justin Bieber’s Off my face on it that he shyly gifted to you on one of your dates; but you would never tell Jihoon that in fear of him getting rid of those most precious memories for you.

It’s good to let go, but you don’t think you’re wrong for wanting to keep something to remind you of the good times. The times you still felt loved by Mark.

“Off we go,” you say, standing up and bringing the box towards your front door, your best friend at your feet. He promised to drive you to Mark’s place– you think he’s worried about you meeting your ex-boyfriend face to face for the first time since the break up, but he said it’s because you’re too broke to Uber all the time, efficiently throwing all the considerate thoughts you were accrediting him out the window– and after a few minutes of the drive, you find yourself standing on the doorstep of Mark Lee's apartment.

Taking a deep breath in and out, almost chickening out with the flood of thoughts and excuses you could say to Jihoon when you come back to his car with the box still in your hands– sayings like “he wasn’t home” or “he didn’t want those back”, the latter stupider than the first– you decide to face your problems head-on and finally knock on the mahogany door, waiting for Mark to answer. And he does– of course he does, because he’s always home, and as his ex-girlfriend of one year, you're painfully aware of the fact– but when that happens, you feel your heart falling all the way down to your stomach, crushing you and suddenly making it hard for you to breathe.

“Um… hi,” he greets you, voice a little groggy, as if he hasn’t spoken in a while– and when you meet his eyes, the deep chocolate orbs you always found yourself admiring and writing silent odes to in your head, you quickly glance away in fear of staring into them for too long and making decisions you wouldn’t like to make.

“Hi,” you awkwardly greet back, clearing your throat and moving a little in your place, shifting the weight from one foot to the other. You're surprised you're able to keep up with the conversation, thoughts running in your brain faster than you can comprehend them, heartbeat ringing in your ears from the unexpected anxiety. Maybe Jihoon was right and you should've taken a shot before coming here– at least you'd have more courage and social skills clearly needed for this kind of interaction. “I… brought you back your things,” you say, finally looking up at the male and chewing on your lips, letting out an awkward, tense laugh when he stares at you with an empty look, “figured you’d want them back,” you add, watching as the male opens his mouth and closes it in what seems to be shock before he presses his lips tightly together and nods at you.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he watches you clumsily hold up the cardboard box to him, ready to leave his stuff there with him and escape as fast as you can, not really minding how you'll get back to Jihoon's car– if jumping down the window of the entrance hall is the fastest option, you're ready to get to it. The truth is, everything is starting to get a little too hard to bear– his familiar scent filling your nose, the hoodie he wore to your first date enveloping his figure, his messy hair reminding you of the many times you brushed your fingers through it in attempts to smooth it down. It’s only been two weeks since you last saw him, but it was starting to feel as if you forgot about him already and were now relearning all the things you once fell in love with again, looking at him in the same light, yet noticing him and all the small details a little bit differently. “Thanks, I… I actually, uh… I have your stuff here too, so if you want it back I’ll– I can just–”

“Y-yeah,” you nod, almost a little too eagerly, “that would be… cool,” you say, trying hard to ignore the fact that he had your stuff packed too, intending to give it to you, and the crashing reality that comes with it, telling you he was prepared to do this before you were and how it’s making you feel kind of shitty.

Mark moves further into the apartment, the sound of him dropping the box to the floor filling your ears before he’s back at the door in no time, a similar cardboard box in his hands that he offers to you with a tense smile on his face. “Wanted to bring it around so I had an excuse to see you, but you, uh… beat me to it, I guess…”

Looking at him as you take the box out of his hands, gaze as if to tell him not to say such words to you when you’re still so fragile to his effect, you only nod and mutter out a simple “Thanks,” before you turn on your heel and intend to take the stairs back down.

“I’ll… see you around, then?” Mark calls after you as you take the first step out– something about it making you feel like it’s the first step out of his life, in a way– and you only nod, because one, you truly don’t know how else to reply to this question, and two, you really, really don’t know if you’ll ever see him again, but you can't bring yourself to say it to his face. Somehow, it would feel like torture to admit it– and you're not prepared for that reality just yet.

Rushing outside and getting into Jihoon's car, you almost feel like you’re on the verge of breaking, and when the male asks you how it went as he’s reversing out of the parking lot, you only bid him a one-word reply before you look through the box on your way home, too impatient to stay back from the memories.

And Jihoon didn’t really think this one through, because the fact that you gave Mark back the things that reminded you of him meant that he did the same, and now all the things you brought along to Mark’s apartment were in the cardboard box, all stained with countless memories and feelings attached to each and every single thing. The artwork you made for him, the little heart-shaped keychain you gave him for his birthday, the plant you gave him that was now long dead and dried out– those were once your stuff, but all in this world with the intention of love being sent out through them to your now ex-lover, and the fact that they’re in your possession again instead of his is not making letting go of Mark any easier.

And maybe Mark was right and he truly was forgetful, because as you rummage through the contains of the box, while you find out your favorite blue socks are nowhere to be seen, surely still buried somewhere in the drawers of his closet, obliterated out of his memory, there’s a gray hoodie sitting at the bottom and it’s surely not yours– it’s his and it was always your favorite, and you always used to wear it at his place when you got cold or when you just really wanted to smell his cologne, and you suddenly don't know if it's presence in the box slipped his mind or if he truly left it there on purpose.

Couldn’t he forget about that too?

Step three – block his number.

The third step comes into place after you accidentally slip out to Jihoon about the phone call you get on a Friday night– more like two hours into Saturday already– and now, most of all, you must admit that your best friend might be right about his advice.

Your phone starts ringing at 2:11 AM, and while you weren’t sleeping– you’ve been having some trouble with dozing off without being overbeared with thoughts lately– the name flashing on your screen shocks you for more reasons than one.

Mark Lee calls you, three weeks after your breakup, in the middle of the night. You haven’t spoken since the time he gave you back your stuff, and even though you’ve done quite a bit of stalking on his social media, you have no news of him or his whereabouts. Naturally, a call from him in the middle of the night startles you and shakes you to the core. He has no reason to call you, so your brain does the math and concludes there must be an emergency– and god knows that even after being hurt by him, you could never ignore him and leave him hanging in a state of need.

So you pick up– with shaky hands and a raging heartbeat, expecting the worst. Listening to the other side of the line, you take a deep breath in and out, bracing yourself for the impact of the words you’re going to hear. The voice on the other side is laced with haziness and his tone is almost a little tired– worn out, even– when he finally greets you from wherever he is.

“Hi,” Mark says, and for a second, your heartbeat steadies itself and the world stops spinning– he sounds okay, and for a moment, you’re grateful to hear his voice.

Humming, as if to collect your thoughts, you clear your throat before you offer him an answer. “Hello,” you greet, “what’s- what’s up?”

“Just wanted to hear your voice,” he says, almost a little abruptly to your question. He doesn't overthink his answer and he doesn't give himself time to think if it's a good idea or not– he just blurts it out and now it's your problem to deal with, when it's there, out in the open. Your palms get sweaty and you start to lose feeling in your fingertips, making you take a few seconds to yourself to process the situation before you decide to finally answer to the strange sentence.

“It’s late, Mark,” you mumble, and you involuntarily wonder if the sentence doesn’t have double meaning– it's too late for anyone to call at this hour, and at the same time, it’s been weeks since your ex boyfriend lost the privilege of listening to your voice when he can’t sleep in the middle of the night whenever he feels like it– and it’s now too late to do anything about it or make it any easier to deal with.

“Shit, sorry,” he chuckles to himself, and you suddenly recognise the laziness in his voice to be the effect of his and his best friend Hyuck’s Friday endeavors; the sweet coating of his voice being the effect of none other than the momentary bliss that comes with the relaxation of his body and mind when he's high. “Didn’t realize,” he concludes, making you shake your head at him in disbelief– not really mattering that he can’t see you in the act.

“‘s okay,” you mumble– and in your perfect reality, you hang up the phone now. In your perfect reality, you connect it to your charger and close your eyes, calling it a night. You fall asleep with no thoughts rummaging through your brain and wake up in the morning to a new sunny day, ready to take on the responsibilities of what’s to come, having productive days ended with smiles and a hot dinner you make for yourself just because you feel like it. In your perfect reality, you protect your own heart. This is not your perfect reality, though– and that’s why you stay on the line, listening to Mark ramble on the other side of the phone, intoxicated and slightly out of it. You wonder if he’ll remember calling you when he wakes up tomorrow. You wonder if he’ll regret it, or if he’ll just shrug his shoulders at the fact and go on with his day, not really paying you much thought when he’s sober.

“I was with Hyuck just now,” he says, and you hear the rustling of his sheets on the other side of the line, making you wonder if he’s washed up and ready for bed, “and– and I remembered how we all used to hang out together, y’know… you with us all– you always clicked with my friends and it was so cool and stuff… and I realized, right, they’re not as funny when you’re not around… but anyways… Jeno’s girlfriend asked about you, ‘cause she didn’t know…and telling her felt so silly, ‘cause they all kept looking at me and I knew they were pitying me, but it was my fault in the first place–”

“Mark–”

“No, it’s true. And it’s cool, I don’t– I don’t blame you, or anything. I just… I dunno, I guess it got me wondering…”

The line goes silent on the other side, and you settle into your own bed, giving him time to continue. When he doesn’t say anything for a long time, you wonder if he’s fallen asleep.

“Mark?”

“Hm?”

“You still there?”

“Yeah. How was your day?” he asks, tone of voice casual as ever, as if he’s forgotten about all the words he’s told you up until now– as if it’s not 2 AM and both of your hearts aren’t breaking at the sound of each other’s voice on the other side of the line.

“It… it was okay, I guess,” you say nonetheless, too hopeless to find a way to end the conversation before he does.

“That’s good to hear,” he says, sighing, “that’s… awesome. You still taking those yoga classes on Mondays?” he asks, and you snicker to yourself– because what kind of question even is that? Who asks that on a late night call, when there are more important things you two need to talk about?

“Yeah,” you lie, still. You haven’t been since the breakup.

“That’s great. Wouldn’t want you to… y’know,” he laughs to himself, “be too sad over this… ‘t was for the better, after all.”

You hear yourself hum– the noise way more stable than your actual words ever could be– and you find yourself feeling silly in the conversation, lying to your ex boyfriend through your teeth; because at the end of the day, you don’t want him to worry about you– because it seems to be the case that he is. And it’s stupid, because he hurt you and you shouldn’t care, maybe you should’ve even show him that you’re heartbroken and that he is the reason behind your pain and the way your life is falling apart, bit by bit, but you don’t find it in you to be so cold and heartless. At the end of the day, you still care about Mark and there’s nothing you could do about it. Turns out that breaking up with him doesn’t magically make the feelings go away– and you knew that, but now you have proof.

“What were you saying before, by the way? You… trailed off at the end,” you say, reminding him of his previous words.

“Oh, that,” he snickers into the microphone again, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he twists and turns in the sheets, “don’t worry about it. It was selfish of me.”

It was selfish of him to call in the first place. But you won’t tell him that.

“What was it?”

“It’s just… I was wondering if I lost you forever, y’know… if there was a chance we could ever…” he trails off again, but this time, you don’t bug him to complete it. You’re not stupid– you know the implication of his words. You’ve known him for a long time, after all– maybe you should’ve predicted this when you picked up the call.

“I mean…” you hum, “you didn’t lose me completely, if that’s– if that’s what’s keeping you up at night. We’re still friends, aren’t we?” you say, and in the corner of your brain, you can’t even believe the words yourself– but if it was selfish of him to call, you think it’s okay for you to selfishly fill both of you with empty promises, just for the sake of not breaking your heart even further.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “that’s– …I’m glad.”

The line’s silent after that, and you wonder if you two have used up the list of words to say to each other this time, if there’s truly no other answer at the end of this conversation. When the situation gets too much for you to bear, the heaviness finally settling on your shoulders and your chest, you finally find the courage to sniffle out a quiet goodbye.

“Good night, Mark.”

“G’night,” he drags out, mind still cloudy. “Love you,” spills out from his tongue, like a bad habit.

He ends the call before you get to say it back. Maybe that’s for the better.

And the truth is, you should’ve really listened to Park Jihoon and blocked Mark’s number after this encounter. But you didn’t– you’re too weak for Mark’s sweet words, finding yourself still hanging on to his saccharine voice and the muffled ramble he has reserved for you only every time he gets high and loses all self-control before calling you on Friday nights selfishly demanding your attention, somehow falling for him like a teenager over and over again despite promising yourself you're gonna move on for real now.

Step four – date someone new.

“So…” Jihoon starts one day, eyes glued to your skull like laser beams, the tone of his voice so incomprehensible you think he’s going to scold you for the actions of your previous days– even though you haven't told him about the midnight calls with Mark and so if he's not going through your phone, he has no way of knowing. Tense and nervous, still, knowing that the impact of his words could either heal you or cut you open like a knife– damn him for always being so brutally honest, no matter how soft his heart is for you– you smile at him with tight lips, crossing your arms on your chest in defense.

“So…?”

A nervous laugh almost escapes your throat. If Jihoon wasn’t suspicious of you before, he surely is now– or he just finds you strange by the way he furrows his brows at you and scans you up and down, taking a second for himself before he sighs and seemingly decides to drop the weird way you’re acting right now, shaking his head and focusing on the task at hand.

“I was thinking… my friend asked about you,” he says, nonchalantly looking down onto his hands and taking the dirt out from behind his nails, as if it’s not a big deal and he doesn’t even care that much. “Choi Hyunsuk from Biology, you know him– shabby haircut, kinda short, failed the class so he has to retake it this year…?”

“I think you’re forgetting the fact that the two of us have completely different majors, Hoonie,” you sweetly smile at him with irony, making him roll his eyes with a sigh before he tries again.

“The guy who ripped his pants at Xiao Dejun’s party last year?”

“Oh, that one! You should’ve said that earlier, of course I remember Choi Hyunsuk from your Biology class,” you nod hurriedly, the gears finally clicking in your brain.

“As if I wasn’t talking about him for the last few minutes–”

“Okay, and what about him?” you cut him off, already tired of his annoying tangent.

“I said he asked about you.”

“I heard that already,” you nod, looking at him with expecting eyes. “And?”

Jihoon stares at you, unblinking, as if you fell on your head and he’s trying to comprehend if you’re still here with him or if you got a concussion and need to be transferred into a hospital. When the contact of his eyes on your skin gets a bit too uncomfortable– you swear his looks could actually kill someone, if he tried enough– you furrow your brows at him in confusion and shake your head in disbelief.

“Why are you staring at me like that, Park Jihoon?”

“Just tryna see if you’re really that stupid or if you’re just pretending,” he mutters under his nose before he sighs again– his favorite activity whenever you’re around, it seems– and speaks up again, tone of voice reminding you of a kindergartener teacher trying to explain why it gets dark in the evening to a bunch of 4 year olds. “You know, when people ask about you, they are usually interested in you, as in, my friend Hyunsuk didn’t ask because you’re nice, but because you’re hot, if you know what I'm getting onto.”

“Oh,” you get out, eyes wide in concern and a little shaken-up, “well, that’s… nice of him, I guess.”

Jihoon only hums at you before he looks around himself and brings out the bag of chips that he left open by his right side only a few seconds ago, not really speaking more about the topic. It’s either he’s waiting for you to get what he’s hinting at, or he’s just waiting for you to get even more confused and ask him about it in a few seconds again– either way, he’s not the one doing more talking right now, because conversations with you, the most oblivious person he’s ever seen, are never productive if he goes too fast.

Chewing on the chips, his eyes go wide when you finally open your mouth and talk more about the topic at hand– just like he predicted. “Why are you telling me this?”

Your best friend swallows before he places the bag of chips back to its original place and turns his whole body so he’s facing you, speaking up again. “I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, you’d like to hang out with him. Like a date, before you ask– because I know you’re gonna ask– and why? – because, again, I know you’re gonna ask– because I simply think you should try to date again to get your mind off the loser you broke up with two months ago,” he says, blunt and honest, answering all of your unsaid questions at once, and before you know it, he has you snickering and shaking your head in disapproval.

“Absolutely not,” you retort, waving your hands in the air to only further show your disagreement with the proposition, “that would just be a massive catastrophe.”

“Why? Hyunsuk’s nice.”

“I didn’t say he isn’t, it’s just…”

“Just?” he probes you, eyebrows raised and questioning.

“I… don’t know,” you nervously chew on the inside of your cheek, aimlessly shrugging. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Jihoon.”

“Because of Mark?” he asks, and the moment his name escapes your best friend’s mouth, the whole room goes strangely quiet– you feel your heartbeat in your throat, the tips of your fingers start tingling and you swear that if you concentrate hard enough, you could feel a bead of sweat drip down your forehead with the incoming stress and nerves only the mention of your ex boyfriend brings you.

“No, that’s not it–”

“Sure,” he nods, sighing to himself– and there it is again, the judging look you so despise.

“You can’t just expect me to date other people a few weeks after my break up, Jihoon,” you exclaim, “that– that wouldn’t even be fair to your friend. You know I wouldn’t be invested,” you explain, and your friend rolls his eyes in frustration, sighing to himself.

“Oh but I know that! And Hyunsuk does too,” he shakes his head at you, “just thought the company of someone else could take your mind off things.”

“I have you,” you try.

“Yeah, but all we do when we’re together is mope about Mark Lee,” Jihoon snickers, “and don’t get me wrong, I’m more than open to bitch about your ex boyfriend and as your best friend, I don’t mind, but the fact that you’d be hanging out with someone else could take your mind off him, because you wouldn’t feel comfortable talking about him with someone else, y’know?”

You shut your eyes closed, a heavy sigh heaving out of your body as you try hard to concentrate and not lose it, and with how Jihoon’s tone gets softer and he’s not as loud with his brutal, yet logical advice, he must feel you getting overwhelmed and accommodates to your needs. “Look, it’s gonna be fun. I promise. Hang out with someone new, feel wanted and hot and pretty again, get some male attention that’s not your ex boyfriend, and you’ll see how it makes you feel. If you hate it, you hate it and you can slap me, I don’t know... If you don’t, you can keep dating around with my friends, and I swear I’ll hook you up only with the nice ones,” he takes your hand into his and waves it around in comfort, making you open your eyes and look at him again.

Seeing the softness and encouragement in your best friend’s eyes, you sigh to yourself. All this time, he’s tried to help you– what if you finally follow his advice? Who knows, it might even help.

Sighing, you squeeze his palm and hover over him to get the stranded bag of chips he’s guarding on the other side of the sofa. “Fine,” you mutter, “but let your friend know that he’s the one paying, okay?”

“Perfect. I'll text him your number, then.“

And maybe Jihoon was right and after dolling yourself up and dressing up in your favorite dress just so you would feel as comfortable as possible, you don’t feel as bad when his friend Hyunsuk picks you up in his white Volvo and chats with you on the way to the restaurant. He makes good small talk and even gets a giggle out of you, the music in his car is low and you find yourself slowly easing into the situation. You don’t remember when the last time you went out with a guy that wasn’t Mark was, but it’s surprisingly nice.

And Jihoon was right– you feel pretty. And when Hyunsuk opens the door for you after pulling up to the parking lot of the restaurant, you even feel wanted. You like the attention, just like any other girl would, and the smile you offer to your date seeps of tender shyness as you get out of the comfortable seat of his car.

The illusion, though, is soon broken as you notice the restaurant he pulled up to. Your smile freezes, your palms get sweaty and you feel your heartbeat rummaging against your ribcage as soon as the idle atmosphere of the restaurant opens up before you. And realistically, you could turn on your heel and get back to the car, tell Hyunsuk that you want to go to another restaurant– but you don’t do it, against your biggest wishes, because you worry that the boy already made a reservation and you don’t want to ruin an evening that’s going well so far.

“Everything alright?” your date checks up on you, seemingly noticing the frown on your face, and when his worried eyes meet yours, it’s sealed– you’d feel too bad for pulling out of the date now. So you only do what you always do best– you put on your best relaxed smile and nod, catching up to him and ensuring him that you’re all okay and you didn’t just talk yourself out of an anxiety attack.

Because you owe it to him and to Jihoon– both of them worked so hard to make you feel happy and help you to get over your ex boyfriend. It’s not Hyunsuk’s fault that he just managed to pick the restaurant your said ex boyfriend works at part-time. He had no way of knowing, and if you’re lucky enough, Mark wouldn’t be on today. He only works here part-time, it’s not like he’s here every day, and as far as you’re concerned, he only worked like two or three days a week when you dated. It would be a weird coincidence for him to be working the day you go there with your new date– you hope you’re not that unlucky.

Hyunsuk is a gentleman. Opening up doors for you, pulling out the chair for you, letting you talk and not interrupting you. He watches you with fond eyes and you almost try to feel bad for the fact that even if this ended well, the poor boy would just end up being a rebound. He deserves so much more, and you start to worry if this date was a good idea after all. Wasn’t it selfish of you to agree to this?

“What do you want to get?” he asks as you open up the menu, and you squint at the prices, mentally taking a note to order the cheapest thing just in case he wants to pay for you at the end of the evening.

“Spaghetti Bolognese,” you blurt out, despite it not being your favorite meal. Hyunsuk just stares at you with squinted eyes, but doesn’t disagree with you. After all, he has no way of knowing that you dislike the taste of the sauce in most restaurants– even though your conscience tells you that Mark knew that and always made sure to remind you about it before ordering for you, worried that you won’t get to eat much that evening– the only thing left to hope is that it tastes good in this particular place.

“Okay, sure,” he nods and puts the menu down, smiling at you before engaging in a comfortable conversation with you. It feels like you’ve known Hyunsuk forever– his personality oddly reminding you of Jihoon’s caused mainly by the fact that the two have grown up together. Everything flows soundly, but you still find yourself anxiously picking at your cuticles as you cautiously look around the restaurant, fearing the fact that you could catch a glimpse of your ex boyfriend at any second.

And maybe you should be a psychic, because those bad feelings were not there for nothing– when you see a waiter walking out of the back and eyeing your table, ready to get your order, the boy is a few inches taller than your current date, raven hair messy, but still a little styled, dark circles under the man’s eyes, and there he is– your ex boyfriend. Mark Lee halts in his movements, wearing his work uniform, eyes wide, a hint of something that breaks you at least in two mirroring in his orbs before he turns on his heel and disappears in the back again. When he doesn’t come back and his co-worker joins you and Hyunsuk at your table with a warm smile, you stop waiting to see the glimpse of him you selfishly desired to catch despite fearing the interaction the whole evening.

You want to fall through the floor and disappear in the depths of this earth. For some reason, you feel mortified. What would he think? And why do you even care about his feelings? A million different thoughts run through your brain and you worry that you’re being too distant from your current date, but Hyunsuk’s warm eyes reassure you that he doesn’t mind.

Piercing the food on your table with your eyes, you try to battle the noisy words running around your brain.

It’s easy to say you’re over someone when you don’t see them. To have them in front of you, meet their gaze and acknowledge their existence and still be able to nod and say that you’ve moved on, is something completely different.

Were you ever convinced that you were over Mark Lee in the first place, though?

After all of this– the months of following Jihoon’s advice, although making a few mishaps along the way as you continue to pick up Mark’s calls on Friday nights, snoop around his socials and let your mind wander to places it shouldn’t, overthinking everything and making you wish the relationship never ended in the first place– it’s time for the last step of it all. The last, most crucial part of this whole moving on process– the most important one, if you may.

Step five – avoid him at all costs.

Sounds easy, right? After the four previous steps, you’d already cried plenty about the lost months with your ex-boyfriend. You’d already given him back all of his stuff, not tying yourself to him with any material memory. You’d already gone on a date with someone new, choosing to distract yourself instead of letting yourself feel the emotions. After all the previous steps, this one’s supposed to be the easiest one. The one you’re supposed to want to do, after all. The break-up wasn’t messy, but it was still painful– it’s only natural for you to not want to see Mark ever again, right?

Wrong.

Because you never listen to the advice you’re given. That just wouldn’t be you, would it?

And so when Mark Lee calls you one day and tells you that he has a free train ticket to the Bukhansan stop, explaining that he was supposed to go hike there with Donghyuck who canceled on him last minute because of an assignment due midnight, you don’t really hesitate much before you shoot him a short text saying that you’re down and get ready for the short hike.

When you meet your ex boyfriend at the station, his figure slightly slouched up until the moment his eyes meet yours, you feel the quiet tension in the air. You’ve seen each other a few times before this meeting– on a party you went to with Jihoon, at the campus when you went to class one morning, your ex boyfriend walking you towards the Art building, hell, you’ve even met in the grocery store, all accidental and making your heart leap in your chest with tension. This time, though, you’re here completely intentionally, just to hang out with him, and something about the fact makes a dull pain shoot all through your intestines, a sensation so uncomfortable you try to hide with a tight-lipped smile.

“Ready for the hike?” he asks, adjusting the bag on his back, playing with the straps with clammy fingers. You can’t help but notice how he looks just like a little boy, in his little world, shielded from everything. He seems to have taken a protective stance, and you hate how the air between you shifted from how you two used to be when you were dating. Mark seems scared. Nervous. On top of his feet. Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to this at all.

You’re already here, though. Turning around and leaving wouldn’t really work right now, as you take a step towards the train that’s just arrived, humming to your ex boyfriend in agreement. Taking a seat on the place Mark’s pointed to you on the train ticket, you try to loosen up your muscles and get as comfortable as you can, clearing your mind as you gaze outside of the window.

“How have you been?” he asks, clearing his throat.

Pressing your lips into a tight line, you turn to him as you search for an answer. “Better,” you nod, voice quiet. “You?”

Mark hums, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Good, good,” he lies through his teeth, “I’ve seen you at the restaurant the other day,” he hints, and you battle the sigh that’s begging to cut out of your throat. You don’t know where he’s going with the sentence. It’s not a question– only a proposition, barely even that– and you could ignore it with a nod of your head, you could pay it no mind as you see the bitterness in his gaze and the slightly self-conscious averting of his stare. You don’t know where he’s going with the conversation, but frankly, you don’t know where you are going with your answer either, as you shrug to him in a casual manner and peep under your breath.

“Yeah,” you say, “that was just… Jihoon’s friend from uni, I suppose,” you complete, and the sentence hints at nothing– it doesn’t clear out the confusion, it doesn’t outright say anything that could make Mark believe that it was just a casual hang-out with a friend, but still, you see the boy visibly relax as he nods to you and offers you a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh,” he hums, looking out of the window, past the profile of your face. The change in topic is sudden and sharp, but also welcome as he falls into a casual conversation with you, and suddenly, you’re reminded by the Mark you once knew– the guy you’ve once called not socially awkward, but so social that it’s awkward– as he talks to you about his day and rambles on about the weather. “It’s good that it won’t rain today, I bet the view will be nice.”

Locking your gaze with him for a brief second, you lick your lips and point your eyes towards the ground. It’s good that it won’t rain today, as opposed to last time you two went to the Bukhansan trail. You wonder if he remembers.

Before you have a chance to mention it– and in all reality, you won’t, no matter how bold you could be feeling at the moment– the train comes to a stop at your station and you hop out of the carriage, ready for the hike.

It’s easy to forget how messed up things have gotten between the two of you when you walk alongside with your ex boyfriend, laughing at his silly jokes and gasping at everything he shows to you with a pointed finger, finding yourself admiring the sound of his giggle when he spots a squirrel pass your path somewhere near the top of the hill. The trail is almost empty at this hour, since the two of you have decided to go in the late afternoon, and you find your soul to finally be at peace after so many weeks, you finally feel relaxed in the nature, one with the wind and the gentle sound of birds chirping lullying your running thoughts to a rest.

You realize that this is just what you needed all this time. You needed to get out and walk for some while, to tune out yourself and to accept the fact that you’re still here, for another day, and something about that is still a blessing. Watching the back of Mark’s head as he walks a step in front of you due to the narrowness of the trail in this area, you smile to yourself. It’s easy to forget just how much you were hurt by him when he heals your soul with such a simple gesture. It’s easy to forget you were hurt when he seemingly tries to put all the broken pieces back together, glue them to where they were in the first place, when things were easier and you both didn’t have so many things to worry about.

You reach the top just as the sun starts setting over the horizon, and there are only a few people scattered across the peak, sitting on their own picnic blankets and gazing into the distance. The hues of the sky paint the world in a different color, the oranges, pinks and muted purples playing with your heartstrings as you come to a halt and crouch down and feel the presence of another soul mirror your actions only a meter away to your right, his gaze glued to your side. The view is beautiful, but the feeling of being watched isn’t ignorable anymore, and so you turn to your companion and raise your eyebrows at him, wondering if he has something to say.

You don’t know how you’ll be able to come back to your life after this and pretend you still don’t want to spend every passing second with the man on your right. You don’t know how you’re supposed to ignore the ever so growing love for him– even though after being so disappointed with the past, the feelings should be decreasing, not doing the opposite– and frankly, you don’t even want to think of going back to the way it’s been for the past few months. And so you don’t– you allow yourself to indulge the moment, to ignore the pain that’s about to come, just so you could hold another beautiful memory to your heart and enjoy the moment before it hurts you to think of it tomorrow morning.

“It’s even more beautiful than the last time,” Mark hums, but his eyes never leave your figure– if you were still dating, you bet he’d come out with a cheesy line about how you’re prettier than the view, or something. “It didn’t rain this time around, thank god.”

Gazing at him, you shake your head in disbelief. Scoffing, you play with the grass between your fingers. “You remember that?”

“Yeah,” he hums, “I remember a lot of things.”

The sentence makes you bitterly chuckle. He knows why you’re reacting the way you are– and you have every right to. He claims to remember a lot of things, but the ones important to you, the ones you wanted him to remember, he failed to save into his memory. And that’s eventually what made you break up with him, at the end of it all.

At your reaction, he sighs and drags a hand across his face, seemingly realizing the weight of his own words and just how ridiculous he must have sounded to you right now.

“I- That-” he stutters, shaking his head, “that sounded stupid right now, considering… everything… Didn’t it?”

“Kind of,” you nod, not wanting to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, voice suddenly raw and serious, so different to the tone he’s been using with you the whole afternoon, “I don’t- I can’t remember if I said that back then, when you- when you… broke up with me, but I really am sorry, Y/N. You didn’t deserve that, and I am in no way shape or form trying to make this about me, but I hate myself every day for the way things turned out and if I could go back to that day, I’d do so many things differently.”

The sky in front of you deepens in reds and you taste iron on your tongue, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you’ve managed to bite on your lip too hard in the midst of the conversation. Tearing out stems of grass with your clammy fingertips, you focus on the clouds running through the sky, calculating your next response.

“Okay,” you nod, not giving him much else. The answer perfectly encapsulates the way you feel on the inside right now– you don’t know if you’re ready to accept his apology, if you’re ready to let go of it and act like you weren’t hurt or that none of it ever happened, but you listened to him and you internalized his words. He is sorry. He knows he was in the wrong. And you were aware that he knew all of this before– hell, you’d even go as far as say he knew it the moment you knocked on his door that day and told him it was over– but hearing it from him surely moved something inside of you to a more comfortable place.

“I-” he starts, voice breaking making him clear his throat before he continues, “I don’t expect you to forgive me. And I know I shouldn’t have expected you to still be my friend after all of this, and that- I shouldn’t have even called you so many times and approached you at the store and stuff, but um-” he mumbles, shrugging to himself, “I guess I just couldn’t stay away from you. And again, I don’t expect you to forgive me, I don’t expect you to do anything, really. So… yeah…”

Snickering at his aimless monologue, you shake your head in disbelief. “Mark?”

“Yeah?” he stares at you, eyes a bottomless pool of emotion.

“Why did you invite me here today? What was the… point, I guess?” you ask, hugging your knees to your chest as the breeze makes goosebumps appear all over your body.

Mark offers you a sad smile, head leaned to his right as he shrugs, and this time, his eyes don’t leave yours as he spills the truth into the air. “I guess I was just feeling selfish today,” he hums, and the sentence makes you cringe with the memory of his first call to you after your break up, “wanted to spend time with you.”

“Here, of all places?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “told you. I was feeling selfish.”

Snickering, you look away, staring at the sky again. The colors are starting to blend together into a deep, dark purple– the horizon darkening as the sun starts to say its final goodbyes to the day. You sigh to yourself, yet feel no bitterness or terror at his words. Somehow, you understand. Somehow, you get him a little too well. Somehow, you think you knew the moment he texted you today, and somehow, you think you felt it in your bones when you didn’t say no, although you could have. There’s calmness in your soul when you nod at the implication of his words, leaning back on your elbows and plopping your bottom to the ground, sitting at the dusty surface.

“You said you didn’t expect anything out of me today, Mark.”

“And I don’t,” he says, voice soft.

“And you brought me here to remind me of the last time we went?” you stare at him, a hint of a bitten-back smile playing with your lips. “Because you’re selfish?”

He nods, not escaping your gaze. “To remind you of the last time we went. To show you that… I remember, I guess. And that I still care, just like the last time. If not more.”

“Mark, you can’t just say all of this and expect nothing out of me right now,” you mutter.

“Actually, I can. Because that’s what I’m doing. I’m just… laying it out in the open, and what you do with the information is completely, completely up to you,” he explains, and you find yourself chuckling at him, the atmosphere instantly lighter as you hear his voice in its usual casualness, talking to you as if he was just unpacking what went on in class today, and not the starting and the end of your one year relationship.

And he’s right. What you do with the information is completely up to you, and the next steps and the progress of your relationship with Mark Lee is also completely in your hands. You could turn away and never talk to him again, you could curse at him and tell him that it’s too late now and he missed his chance, but if that was the case, you wouldn’t be here in the first place. He wouldn’t be inviting you to this place, lying about his roommate canceling just to trick you into going, and you wouldn’t be blindly accepting the invitation, wanting to see where the afternoon brings you.

“So you still care about me?” you hum, looking at him from under your eyelashes, noticing his slouched-over pose as he looks back at you over his shoulder.

“Always have,” he admits, “never stopped. Despite not really… acting like it in the past few months.”

“Why’d you stop acting like it, then?” you ask.

A sigh escapes his lips, his head turning forward before he leans back and sits cross-legged on the ground, more comfortably now. Shrugging, he answers the question. “I guess I just got too caught up with different things. And don’t get me wrong, you were always my priority, always, but I was all over the place with everything and my mind just couldn’t… there were too many things to keep up with and I couldn’t stay up to date with everything,” he says, “and I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s an explanation, and it doesn’t make it better or undo the pain I’ve caused you, but it’s… at least you know it was never because I’d care about you any less.”

His eyes bear into yours with such honesty you think the weight of the world will crash on you any minute, and suddenly, the whole situation seems so much clearer.

And you wouldn’t take it back, you wouldn’t undo the breakup or do anything differently, because at the end of the day, you think it was needed. Perhaps the time apart was what he needed as a wake up call and what you needed to shield yourself from hurting more.

“Stop me from saying it if you… if you don’t want to hear it right now,” he hums, voice barely louder than a whisper. There seems to be a silent communication between the two of you, a connection of some sort that brings out the strange telepathy, but you just nod at him, a gentle smile playing with your lips as you understand exactly what he means, telling him that it’s okay and that you don’t mind– you welcome, you need to hear him say it again.

Licking his lips, he turns to you fully, facing you. There’s not a hint of nervousness in his body, having done this a lot of times before, and then it happens– the repeated confession, confirming what was there the whole time, never leaving even when the times were rough.

“I love you,” he says.

And isn’t that all that’s needed?

A year is a long time with someone. Somehow, you wouldn’t want the time to go to waste. At the end of the day, if love is still present, isn’t it worth trying? One more time?

“And you still don’t expect anything from me?” you ask, gazing at him softly. “You don’t expect me to say it back?”

“No,” he breathes out, shrugging. “I just needed to get it off my chest.”

“Because you’re selfish like that,” you nod, teasing him.

“Because I’m selfish like that,” he agrees, breaking out into a slight grin.

Looking at the sky, now completely dipped in dark purple, you sigh to yourself at the turmoil of the conversation. You don’t say it back– although you feel it, you know it’s in there, playing with your heartstrings and clenching the muscle in the palm of its hand– you know love is there, deep inside, for the man that’s currently staring at you as if you hung the very stars appearing on the sky there yourself, stolen them from your own eyes and gluing them there selflessly, for everyone to see. You don’t tell him you love him back, you don’t tell him you forgive him or accept his apology. You don’t worry about what tomorrow will bring you, what your brain is going to tell you when you come down from the hill and get home, lay in your bed and overthink. You let the worries escape you, letting fondness and calm envelope you in a tight hug instead.

“Okay,” you nod, watching the boy next to you look at you with curious eyes. You take his hand into yours and place it on your thigh, playing with his fingers for a heartbeat before you meet his eyes again and smile. “I won’t say it back, but for all it’s worth, Mark… I’m glad you remembered.”

And that’s all he needs– there is love, there is fondness, and there is the silent confirmation that all you need right now is just a bit more time.

Where do broken hearts go?

Somehow, you think they hold on to the place where it all started. Somehow, you think your heart never went anywhere– it stayed on this hill, waiting for you to pay it a visit and pick back up everything right from where you left it.

“It doesn’t seem like a good idea to go here today, Y/N,” Mark laughed behind you as he looked up to the sky, the dark clouds shielding the sun that had been previously shining down on your hiking figures, casting an orange glow on the strands of your hair.

“Well, there’s no turning back now,” you shrugged, turning to him and grinning as you tugged on his hand, grip strong as you dragged the boy up the trail, your sneakers fast against the dirty ground. “We have finals starting next week and it’s gonna be too cold to go after the exam season is over, so we gotta go now.”

“I kind of regret telling you that I’ve never been here before now,” Mark sighed, but followed you nonetheless, breathlessly following your excited stride. It was October, the leaves on the trees were welcoming the two of you in shining colors, and the wind kissing your skin turned a bit chilly in the evenings– courtesy of the warm hoodie Mark shyly lended you when you shivered for the first time, adoring the way you, his friend, looked in the light gray fabric. Something about you wearing his clothes made the boy a bit hopeless about the day. Maybe he’ll have enough courage to confess his feelings to you, he thought. Maybe, despite the first raindrops falling on the skin of his bare arms, this evening will have a happy ending for you and him.

“Oh, please,” you squinted at him, continuing to run up the hill– thank god it wasn’t that steep, serving both of you as the perfect hiking difficulty, “even if you wouldn’t have, I’d drag you here anyway. It’s like, my favorite place to go in Seoul, haven’t I told you before?”

You have, Mark thought. But he was okay with hearing it again.

You squealed when the raindrops got heavier and the rain started pouring faster on the two of you, and Mark found himself laughing at your running figure. He was right behind you, praying that you don’t slip on one of the rocks and break your leg on the hiking trail, but he encouraged you with sweet comments and a hand on the small of your back as he watched the tip of the hill appear right in front of his very eyes, your body coming to a satisfied halt when you reached your destination.

“Tada!” you grinned at him, twirling a little like a ballerina, showing him the place with outstretched arms. He tried hard to observe the place, but his eyes stayed glued to your excited figure, gaze bearing into yours as you looked at him, amidst a little flustered, with sparkly orbs and a bright smile on your face. Your hair was a mess, his gray hoodie enveloping your body was slowly growing darker in color from absorbing the rain, and your sneakers were getting a bit muddy from walking around the place. He wanted to remember this moment forever, he thought– this version of you, the smiley expression on your face, the carefree and excited nature of your step.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” you exclaimed, jumping around and nearing the boy, but as you went to take his hand to drag him around the top of the hill once more, your feet slipped and you fell forward, a surprised squeak battling its way out of your throat.

Your whole life flashed in front of your very eyes in that moment, embarrassment spreading down your neck at the fact that you were about to fall face first onto the ground in front of your crush of a few months, before your body collided with a soft, yet firm mass engulfing you closer. A pair of strong arms steadied you against his chest, and when you looked up at your friend, you swear all words were taken out of your dictionary, the sight leaving you speechless.

“It is,” he gaped, eyes bearing into yours. Mark was agreeing with you, but something in the back of your head was telling you that he didn’t really admire this place as much as you did– his curious gaze was always plastered somewhere completely else.

That place being your face, of course. And your eyes, your cheeks, the mess of your bangs, and occasionally– screw that, almost always– your lips. Much like in that moment, a few centimeters away from his face, so inviting he thought it would be a crime to contain the urge.

And so he didn’t– he didn’t control his feelings and the ever-so growing yearning for you, as he silently leaned towards your face and captured his lips with yours in a firm, yet short kiss.

He looked at you with a nervous tint behind his gaze when he leaned away, the sight of your wide eyes staring at him making a slight flush grow on his cheeks. You looked so beautiful in that moment– flustered, surprised, with messy hair and lips still apart– and he was relieved to not find a hint of a displeased emotion in your expression.

“Okay, so- well-” you stuttered, laughing to yourself, “this didn’t go as I planned, but I guess I’m happy as long as the final result is the same,” you hummed, standing on your tippy-toes and pressing your lips against him once more, this time letting yourself enjoy the moment fully, mouth moving against his in a careful, yet excited rhythm. He tasted like the strawberry candy you offered him on the bottom of the trail and smelled a bit like rain, the mixture always staying in the depths of your mind as his warmth enveloped you in comfort and a feeling of home.

“The final result being…?” he asked when you pulled apart once again, a dazed expression overtaking his sharp features.

“Us,” you shrugged, “like this,” you clarified.

Mark laughed at that, hugging you closer to his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, listening to the sound of raindrops washing away the top layer of dirt off the rocks on the tip of the hill, hands sneaking around his waist and enjoying the way they wrapped around him so tightly and so comfortably. You in his hoodie, in your favorite place, standing in his arms. It was raining, but it didn’t matter.

“Mark?”

“Hm?”

“If we ever get lost, or something happens… bring me back here, okay?” you mumbled close to his ear, lips gently glazing the skin of his ear, making goosebumps appear all over your new lover. “I’m convinced that this place could fix everything.”

“Even us?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not allowed to ever leave me now, what would there be to fix between us?” you smacked his shoulder, snickering to yourself.

“You never know,” he laughed, “what if I accidentally mess up somewhere along the way?” he asked, threading his fingers through your hair, smoothing down the wet mess.

“Okay then,” you hummed, “even us.”

Staring into your eyes, letting the moment play out by itself, Mark swore he’s never felt more at peace. He wondered if it was the effect of the place, the rain, or just your sheer presence. “I’ll remember that,” he giggled before he let go of your body, petting your head as he took a hold of your hand, tugging you down from where you came from, “now let’s go home before we catch a cold.”

Nodding, following the man as you both carefully, yet fastly made it down the trail, you enjoyed the way his hand fit into yours and the way you knew that after this, you can’t ever come back to being friends with Mark Lee. He was all yours, completely, utterly yours, and you knew in the back of your head, that you were his– and nothing will ever change that.

You would always come back to the hill with him. It felt ridiculous to think about you two ever having to fix anything between the two of you back then, but even in that moment, you knew that for him, you’d keep trying. As long as he does– as long as he remembers.

Where do broken hearts go? You guess they always come right back to the place they come from– and they leave glued back together every single time.

You guess your heart never really left the hill.

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airbendertendou · 1 year

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i can’t die! [i’m all in.] ♡ chishiya shuntaro

anon requested : Hi Author! Can you please write (if it's okay) a fanfic about chishiya, Where the reader was chishiya's girlfriend before the borderline, they were supposed to meet in somewhere but the meteorite fell just before they did, and they meet again for the first time in the jack of hearts game? I know this isn't very detailed and I'm so sorry for that ;-; thank you author

song inspo ; coin by iu

synopsis : seeing your arranged boyfriend-of-sorts in the borderland’s is nerve-wracking. especially when he sees you’ve befriended a serial killer.

gender neutral reader, [name] used in place of y/n, platonic!banda - he might b ooc but idc <3, reader wears an oversized cardigan

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

— ♧ ♡ ♢ ♤ —

“Will you get out of my way?” You shove the tall male to the side playfully as you fasten the collar around your neck. Banda’s eyes met yours and you grinned mischievously. “This place remind you of anything?”

“You’re so funny,” he replies blandly. The prison around you is cold and you’re thankful for the cardigan you’ve kept all these weeks. You follow behind Banda as he walks up the stairs, eyes on the floor as you anticipate your newest game. “Jack of Hearts — what are you expecting?”

Thinking the question over briefly, you speak monotonously, “Russian roulette, probably.”

“I wouldn’t be so lucky.”

Eyes are on you both as you walk into the main hallway. A girl in a blue dress catches your attention, then a sweet looking guy in yellow and overalls. Your eyes drop to the floor again as the automated voice goes over the game and the rules. A subtle nudge against your shoulder catches your attention. Banda speaks without moving, “you and me?”

“That’s what I was planning, doofus.”

Your gaze drifts around the room again as people begin to pair up. Banda wanders off, exploring the area you’re locked in indefinitely. A white hood catches your attention, eyes following down their figure until you’re met with analyzing eyes and a familiar smirk. Your lips part, “Chishiya?”

As if he can hear you, the man tilts his head at you before walking off with his chosen group.

Banda has collected a new person to join your duo — the stranger looks you over before grinning shyly. The hair on the back of your neck stands up, distrust crawling up your spine as you smile back. Meeting Banda’s gaze, you knew he was just as wary.

The killer — because that’s what he was in the other world and this one — slinks up next to you slyly. “See anyone you know?”

“Maybe,” you’re looking around once more, observing the way everyone interacts. Inclining your body slightly to the right, your eyes meet Chishiya’s. “Him. We were… together, in the other world. Something our parents agreed on.”

Banda lets out a mischievous snicker before leaning closer to you. “How cute. And he hasn’t come to say hello? Pity.”

You glare his way, wedging your elbow into the right side of his ribcage. The timer goes off then and you scamper over to an empty cell to give your card suit. As you exit your cell, Chishiya is idling in front of you curiously. He sways before speaking, “you know he’s killed people, right?”

“At this point, I haven’t met anyone here who isn’t a murderer.”

The blond hums before his gaze drifts, landing on something over your right shoulder. You know it’s Banda, looming behind you as he usually does. Chishiya looks to you again and speaks before his group comes to collect him. “I look forward to your survival.”

You find yourself in the cafeteria, stuffing snacks into the pockets of your cardigan for later before grabbing a drink and something to eat right then. Banda is sitting against the wall, staring ahead at Chishiya as you sit beside him. A pack of cookies lands in his lap — Banda doesn’t flinch as he peels the snack open and begins to eat it.

“Do you have to stare?” You mumble. Matsushita hadn’t returned from his bathroom break yet and you found relief in his absence. Another chip is placed in your mouth as you glare at Banda — he was still staring Chishiya’s way. “You have a crush on him or somethin’?”

Before he could answer, a body is slammed next to yours. Looking down, you see a man sweating and crying as another looms over him menacingly. Banda slides up beside you, whispering a small, “lie to him.” in the man’s ear. You look away from them and see Chishiya looking at you again, judgment clouding his eyes as you don’t speak up against Banda.

You grumble, “already startin’ shit and we just got here.”

“The game had to start sometime.”

As time passes, players dwindle slowly until the number hastens. There are only six of you left now — Chishiya’s partner couldn’t handle the pressure of the games, it seemed. Banda and Matsushita tell you your symbol — “club.” — before Banda breaks away from your group. You can feel the former’s eyes on you as you take sips from your drink, unnerving every inch of your skin. He interrupts the silence with a brutal curveball. “He’s lying to you, Banda. Your symbol is spade.”

“Why would he lie to me?”

“Maybe he thinks you’re the Jack,” Matsushita grins. Then he shrugs and leans against the wall beside you. “Or maybe he’s the Jack and is just trying to get rid of you. Who knows.”

You hum, tilting your head playfully. Of course you don’t believe him — strangely, you hadn’t doubted Banda since you got here. “What a waste. After we stayed allies for so long, he’d choose to get rid of me now?”

Matsushita’s eyes widen briefly at the new information before he snickers. “What a waste, indeed. Guess he doesn't cherish your friendship after all.”

Walking away from the liar, you find yourself alone in the cafeteria. Well, you thought you were alone — Chishiya announced himself by reaching beside you for a pack of crackers. “Running around without your guard dog now, hm?”

“You can't talk,” you respond. “All alone, lingering around here like a ghost. Spooky.”

Your back is to the shelf of food as Chishiya begins to crowd your space. He hums while pouting his bottom lip, looking everywhere but you. “How’d you end up with Banda anyways? You were on your way to meet me.”

“We made a deal,” you shrug. By the tilt of your voice and raise of your eyebrows, Chishiya knows you’re lying. He stands quietly, taking one step closer to you. “Okay, fine. I threatened him and demanded we team up.”

“Of course you threatened a murderer.” Chishiya lets out a laugh just as the five minute warning echoes around the prison. He tugs on the cardigan you’re wearing, eyes softening at the sight of the worn fabric. “Think this is mine.”

“It might be,” you push off of the shelf and side-step the blond. You catch a glimpse of Chishiya’s symbol and are opening your mouth before you can think. “It’s diamond, by the way. Your suit.”

“Yours is club.” You nod in confirmation and it piques Chishiya’s interest. “Someone tell you different?”

“Matsushita tried to say Banda was lying to me. But, Banda knows better,” you glare. “I’ll break his kneecaps if he tries to kill me.”

Chishiya’s quiet laugh seems to echo in the desolate cell. It’s all you can think about — all you can remember as your fingers dance along the knit cardigan you’re wearing. After this — if you survive this game — you want to go home. You want to go back with Chishiya and watch that movie you were supposed to meet at.

It’s no surprise to see Matsushita being cornered by the three others. He did freak you out — and he tried to get you killed. You eye his frightened expression lifelessly before speaking. “Can we take those snacks downstairs with us? I ran out of food a few days ago.”

— BONUS —

You’re sitting beside Chishiya’s hospital bed as the news begins. Absent-mindedly, you hand him a slice of the fruit you were eating as the news reporter begins to speak. A picture of a convict pops up along with the news story. “...Banda is still missing. We are asking everyone to be cautious and be safe. We’ll have the week’s weather up next.”

“You know…” you narrow your eyes at the picture of the man. Something about him looks familiar — it sends a tingle of awareness through your mind the longer you stare. “I think I could take that guy in a fight.”

Chishiya turns his head to you stiffly, furrowing his eyebrows. “He’s a serial killer, [name].”

You shrug, “I could do it.”

— ♧ ♡ ♢ ♤ — this wasn’t really fluffy or romantic but i wanted to write a goofy n playful reader so <3 might b posting an aib series soon, so keep an eye out for that! forever taglist : @straysugzhpe & @star2fishmeg <<33

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

#chishiya x reader #chishiya imagine #shuntaro chishiya #aib x reader #alice in borderland imagine #alice in borderland x reader #aib imagine #chishiya oneshot #chishiya fluff #banda x reader #banda imagine

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samandcolbyownme · 4 months

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Summary: Anon request - "so can you maybe write a fanfic where the reader is in a relationship with Colby, but he cheats on her at a party, so to get him back, she cheats on him with Jake but when he finds them in a room getting busy he decides to join"

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, mentions of drinking and smoking (weed and cigarettes), arguing, mean/hurtful things being said, Colby cheating on reader, reader getting even, threesome, choking, biting, hair pulling, scratching, rough unprotected sex, cream pieS, just filth

HUGE disclaimer: I KNOW Colby is a sweetie and wouldn't do any of the things I'm about to write, same with Jake so please don't take any of this serious. I'm already hurting writing them as assholes but also kinda excited. I also made up some people to make the one shot go smoothly - enjoy!

Word count: 7.2k | not edited

Part two

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

"Y/n. Are you about ready? With the traffic we're going be late." Colby peaks his head inside the door, smiling when you turn around, "Yeah. I'm ready."

"Wow." His eyes move up and down your body, "That dress looks amazing on you."

You can feel the heat in your cheeks riding up, "Oh.. thanks." He walks in, hands sliding over your hips, "You picked a good one." He presses his lips to your forehead, "Now come on. I can't wait to show you off."

Your hand slides into his as he pulls you towards the doorway. The last few days, something has been off.

Something in your gut telling you not to go to this party, but you didn't want to upset Colby. You knew he was looking forward to this for a while now, so you pushed the feelings away and went anyway.

As you're in the car heading to the party, Colby glances over at you, giving you a smile, "Are you excited?"

You shrug, the feeling in your gut returning, "Yeah." You smile with a nod, "Kind of."

"Kind of? Do you not want to go?" He frown slightly and you shake your head, "No, I want to. I just have this weird feeling that I can't seem to shake."

"I'm sure you'll be fine when you get drink or two in ya." He lays his hand on your knee, hand gripping the wheel as he takes off from the red light he was stopped at.

"Yeah, let's hope." You laugh slightly and look out the window. As you pull up, you can already tell it's going to be a packed house party.

"Maybe that's why." You mumble and Colby looks over at you after he parts, "What's why?"

"There's a lot of people." You look at him and he chuckles, "It's all people you know, baby. Now come on." He gets out, walking around to open your door.

Everything was going good.

"Ayooo." Sam yells from across the parking lot, Kat hanging on his arm, "Hey, y/n!" She waves and you wave back, taking Colby's hand into yours as you walk towards them, "How are you?"

Kat nods, "Better once I've gotten a drink." You nod, "I know what you mean." You walk in with the small group, looking around as the music fills your ears and the smell of weed fills your nose.

"This is going to be so much fun." Sam kisses Kat's cheek, "I'll go get you a drink." Colby looks down at you, "Whatcha want, babe?"

You smile, "Surprise me."

"Ooh, livin on the edge. I like it." Colby kisses your head and jogs to catch up to Sam.

"You two seem to be doing very good." Kat smiles and you nod, "Oh yeah. Never a dull moment, you know." She laughs, sitting down on the small couch, "Yeah, with Colby you never know what to expect."

You didn't really think that applied to your relationship, but you'd soon figure it out.

"Ain't that the truth." You laugh and look over as the boys walk back with the drinks, "Here you go." Colby hands you a drink and you sip it, "Mm. That's good."

"Fruit punch and vodka." He moves next to you, laying a hand on your back as he continues to talk to Sam.

You look at Kat, "We may as well be dating because it sure seems like our boyfriends are boyfriends."

She laughs and looks over at Sam, laughing harder as he looks at her, "Who has a boyfriend?" She points between him and Colby, "You guys."

Colby laughs, "I mean.. I don't mean to brag or anything but.." you all laugh and you shake your head, still sipping on your drink.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

A little while later, you're inside, standing in a group with more people, Jake, Johnnie, and a few others you know well.

You've had a few cups and you were feeling tipsy, you had a small buzz going on. You were giggly with Kat and few of your other friends.

"Need another?" Colby asks and you look down at your half full cup, "No." you look back up at him, "I'm still good for now."

He nods, knocking back the rest of his, "Be right back." Colby walks away and Kat grabs your arm, "We should totally be partners in beer pong."

You nod, "Oh my god! Yes!"

She turns to Sam, "When Colby gets back, bring him over to the pong table so we can play against you guys."

He nods, "Okay. Where'd he go?" He looks around and nods when he sees him getting another drink, "Found him. Okay we'll he over."

Kat grabs your hand, pulling you over to the already set up table, "Okay, which end do you want?" You look and point to the other end, "That side."

You both move to the other end, perfecting the set up of the cups as they walk over, "Alright." Colby says with a smirk, "Who's ready to lose?"

"You guys apparently." You smirk, eyes on Colby, "Losers have to shotgun."

"Deal." Sam and Colby say in unison. Sam rolls a ball over, "Well shoot for who goes first. Good luck babe.”

Kat picks up the ball and tilts her head, "Thanks, you'll need it." She shoots her shot and makes it. Sam makes his and makes it.

"Alright. Our turn." Colby picks up his ball from the water cup and moves it around in his fingers, "Go ahead, babe."

You smile and shake your head, focusing on the cups. You make yours and Colby misses. Sam smacks his arm, "Dude. What the hell."

"Sorry. I was distracted." He winks at you and you roll your eyes as you smile, "Mhm."

Halfway into the game, each teach has two cups left and you've drawn a crowd, mainly for commentary on the playful and flirty trash talking.

Although, you're kind of distracted by Colby looking past you occasionally. You can tell he's looking in your direction, but not at you.

And that's not like him.

You glance behind you, seeing a girl with a smile plastered on her face. You follow her gaze and you know exactly who she's looking at.

You take a deep breath, focusing on the second to last cup - making your shot.

Kat shoots, missing hers, giving the guys a turn.

Colby shoots and misses, usually you'd say something to tease him but at this moment, you don't want to risk saying something that might actually embarrass him.

"What? No trash talk?" Colby holds his arms out to his sides and you just shrug. Kat nudges you and leans in, "Your whole mood just changed."

"I'll tell you then." You say as you catch the ball before it bounces off the table. You sniffle, holding the ball up to take your shot.

You miss and let out a sigh, "hurry up and end this game for us Kat."

They all laugh like you said a joke, but there was nothing funny about it.

Kat makes her shot, giving the boys each a redemption shot, which they both miss. You grab your empty cup, walking away from them as you make your way to the alcohol table in the kitchen.

"Hey. What's going on?" Kat follows you, walking up to your side, "You just got like really mad."

"Is it that noticeable?" You cringe and sigh, "Sorry."

"Whoa. Hi. Its me. Kat. I just won the game for us. Why are you-"

You cut her off, "Colby wasn't looking at me."

"What do you mean he wasn't looking at you?" She looks at you confused and you glance to the door, looking down at your full cup, "The girl behind us. He was looking in my direction but he wasn't looking at me."

"I don't think.." she shakes her head, "No. there's no way Colby would do that. Say something to him. Talk to him."

Sam and Colby walk through the door. Colby is silent as he nods his head for you to come off to the side. You take a silent breath and walk over, avoiding eye contact with him.

"What's going on?" His stare holds on you and you continue to stay quiet. He looks over at Sam and Kat, "Give us a sec guys."

They leave the kitchen and he rubs your arm, "Hey. Talk to me."

You look up at him, "Who were you looking at during the game?"

He looks at you confused, shaking his head slightly as he tries to comprehend what you just asked him, "Who was I what? What do you mean? I was looking at you."

You shake your head, clearing your throat as you try not to let the tears take over, "The girl.. behind Kat and I, she was watching you."

"Jake was standing behind you doing weird motions to try and throw me off." Colby laughs, "I can even go get him and have him-"

"No." You shake your head, "That's fine. I believe you."

"I only have eyes for you, y/n. You know that." He tilts your chin up, rubbing it gently with his fingers, "I love you."

You smile, nodding while his hand is still on your chin, "I love you." He leans in, pressing his lips to yours before leaning back, "Come on. Let's go watch Jake and Johnnie fuck shit up."

He lays his arm over your shoulders and you walk out with him.

Throughout the game, Colby would yell stuff to Jake and look down at you, rubbing your back as he smiled at you.

Maybe you overreacted?

Maybe you needed another drink.

You finish what's in your cup, "Do you need another?" Colby hands you his empty cup, "Please." He kisses your cheek and you smile, turning to go towards the kitchen.

"See." Kat says walking next to you, "Everything is fine. Plus, if he was looking at her, he was probably looking at how awful those extensions are."

You laugh, "Yeah, they are god awful aren't they?" You make the drinks, swirling them around a little to mix them up before you guys head back out.

Everyone is cheering as you walk up to Colby, "What happened?" Colby takes his cup, "They just made both balls in one cup which means they automatically win the game."

"Oh shit. Good for them!" You watch as Jake slowly spins with his arms out to his sides. He accidentally hits Johnnie in the head and you can tell he tells him not to stand there.

You laugh and shake your head as they walk up to you guys, "So. Who wants to play the winners?"

You look at Kat, "Why not?"

She laughs, "Alright. Well give it a go." She walks over to the table with you and Sam and Colby move closer to talk.

"Ladies first." Jake rolls the balls over the table and you smile, "Awe, how sweet of you ladies to let the prettier ones go first."

Jake's jaw drops and Johnnie looks at Jake, "You couldn't have just shot for the first turn? Idiot."

You and Kat laugh, making each of your shots and Jake stares at the table, "Oh fuck." He looks at Johnnie, "I think.. we're screwed."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"And that's game." You look at Kat, "We're good at this."

Kat laughs and nods, "I'd say so." She looks at Jake and Johnnie, "Good game, fellas." She grabs her cup and walks away.

"Let me know if you wanna get screwed again." You laugh and pick up your cup, walking to go find Colby. You see Sam and Kat, but don't see him anywhere.

"Where Colby?" You look at Sam and sip your drink. He shrugs as he bops to the music, "Last I knew he was with a few people taking shots."

"Taking shots?" You scoff quietly and roll your eyes as you take a long drink, "Nice." You walk around, looking all over for him, but you still don't see him.

"Hey, have you seen Colby?" You ask Mason and he shakes his head, "No, sorry." You nod, moving back through the crowd.

You go back to Sam and Kat and lo and behold, Colby is standing there with two shots in his hands. He turns as Sam points to you and he smiles, clearly a lot drunker than when you left him to play another game of pong, "Hey baby! I got you this!"

You take the shot class from his hand, "What is it?"

He takes his, "Just take it."

You sigh and take it, almost gagging when you feel the burn of tequila in your throat, "Oh my god. Colby! That's teq-uila."

You lay your wrist over your mouth and he purses his lips, "Fuck, sorry. You don't like tequila, sorry. I forgot."

You give Kat a look and she nods, "Why don't we go dance?" She nudges Sam, obvious that she filled him in on why there was tension in the air with you.

Sam nods, "Yeah, Colby. Let's go shake some ass, brother." Colby laughs, "Fuck yeah. Let's do it." He reaches for your hand and you take it, smiling slightly.

You make your way onto the dance floor as Yeah! by Usher starts playing.

"This is my jam!" Colby yells out as he grips your hips, moving his own and you can't help but laugh. Sam watches in horror as Colby dances and Kat covers her mouth to not laugh.

"Go Colby!" Sam yells, waving his hand in the air, "Go Colby!"

Soon everyone around you was cheering Colby on, chanting, "Go Colby! Go Colby!"

the song ends and you shake your head, laughing as he walks up to you, "why didn't you dance?" You lay your hands on his chest and you laugh, "You were the star of that song, babe. Good job though."

He laughs and sighs, "I need another drink, do you?" You nod, "That would be nice, do you want me to come with you?" He shakes his head, "No because I'm going to make you a surprise drink."

"No tequila please." You yell as he walks away and your attention is turned to Jake pulling Johnnie onto the floor and dancing around him like he's a stripper pole.

"These two fucking kill me." You say to Kat as you laugh. She nods while laughing, "Poor Johnnie."

Everyone starts cheering for Jake and he eventually starts laughing as walks off, leaving Johnnie to stand there clueless on what to do.

He soon walks off and you look over towards the kitchen, "What's taking him so long?" You mumble to yourself. You look to Kat, "I'll be right back."

She nods and watches you walk away. You walk into the kitchen - no Colby, but what you assume is your cup sitting there because it has the same color lipstick you're wearing printed on the lip of it.

"What the fuck?" You sigh, walking over to make your own drink. You turn around, looking side to side beside walking back out.

"Hey." You stop Jake and he looks at you, "What's up?" You look around, "Have you seen Colby?" You look back at him and he looks around, "I seen him go into the kitchen but not after that."

You nod, giving him a quiet, "Thanks." As you go to walk away, he grabs your arm, "Is everything okay? I've been picking up on some tension."

You laugh slightly, trying to make light of it, "You can feel that?"

"Honey, you can Scooby doo cut that shit like a pie and serve it on a glass plate." He tilts his head, laughing at his own joke, "Yeah. I can."

"Scooby doo that that.." you laugh, "Yeah that's what I was afraid of."

"Come with me." He turns and walks towards the sliding glass doors and you give one last look before following him when you don't see Colby.

"Have a seat, miss. Talk to therapist Jake." He sits down and pulls a cigarette out of the pack. He extends his arm out and you shake your head, "I'm fine."

"Suit yourself." He lights it and takes a drag, "Now, when did, whatever is going on, start?"

You laugh and let out a sigh, "When we were playing beer pong. I swear he was staring at a girl who was standing behind me. But I talked to him and he said you were also standing behind me doing stuff to distract him."

Jake stares at you for a few seconds, "I was force feeding shots to Johnnie. I meant I came in towards the end but I wasn't standing behind you guys. I was more off to the side."

You clench your jaw, "Huh.. okay. Well that makes sense as to why I didn't see you then."

"What girl are we talking about?" He crosses his leg over the other and rests his elbow on the arm rest of the chair.

"I don't know who it is. All I know is that her extensions are horrific and she should sue her hair dresser." You raise your brows and huff, "She has brown hair, it was half up, half down. Wearing, I think a pinkish purplish two piece dress thing."

"I think you're talking about Casie. And if you are.." Jake takes another drag, "You don't have anything to worry about. Colby can't stand her."

You nod, "Well, that's a good thing.. I think." You finish your drink and crinkle the cup in your hand, "I just.. okay. I had this really weird gut feeling about coming here tonight and I just.."

You sigh and look at Jake. He leans forward, "Colby would be the absolute, most dumbest mother fucker in the world if he did anything to ruin your guys relationship."

"Yeah." You nod, laughing as you convince yourself that you're just causing a bigger thing within your own mind, "You're right."

You sigh and stand up, "Thank you, therapist Jake."

He smiles and holds his hands out, "Anytime. Anytime."

You walk back inside and something is off. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself that it's just you, you can't shake it.

You walk into the kitchen, making yourself another drink before walking back out. For some reason, something tells you to walk to the back of the house.

As you round the corner, you stop in your tracks. Your hand crushes the liquid filled cup, a constant stream falling out of the split sides.

Colby has that girl against the wall, hands on her hips as his tongue is in her mouth. She opens her eyes, smirking at you as he starts to kiss down her neck.

You see her mouth, "uh oh" and giggle as Colby leans away. He looks at her then turns his head, eyes going wide as he realizes that he'd just been caught ruining the once perfect relationship.

You turn, walking away before he even steps towards you.

"He- whoa. Hey. Hey." Kat holds onto your arm as she stumbles with you, "y/n. Hey. Wha-"

"Colby was kissing that girl. Kissing down her neck while pinning her against the wall." Your anger bubbles up more as you repeat what you just saw, "Fucking asshole."

Kat is as a loss for words and you sigh, "I need a minute." You pull your arm away from her and she immediately rushes to Sam to tell him the awful news.

You go outside, walking down towards the cars as you try to hold it together. You bend down, laying a hand on the back of a car.

It just so happens to be Jake's car.

"There better not be puke on my car." He laughs slightly as he leans out of the door, quickly coming to the realization that you are in fact not puking.

"Hey. What's going on?" He gets out, bending down to get to your eye level. He brushes hair from your face and drops his hand, "He didn't."

You look at him and nod, "Mhm. Had her.. pinned up again the wall.. kissing on her neck. She was absolutely loving the fact that I caught them. Exactly what the bitch wanted, too."

You scoff, looking away as you shake your head.

"I'm- fuck. Im so sorry." Jake drags his finger over the rocks, "Can I do anything?" He shifts forward, resting on his knees, "What can I do?"

You look at Jake, locking eyes with him, "I-" you stop yourself from saying something you might possibly regret later, but right now, you weren't looking to flip out on Colby.

You weren't looking to be made a fool in front of the hundreds of people that were here.

You were looking for revenge.

"I want.. to get him back." You keep your stare on Jake and he shrugs, "I mean, if that's what you want to do.. then go talk to him. Get him back, girl." He laughs slightly and you shake your head, moving closer to him, "No.. I want to.."

Your eyes jump back and forth from his lips to his eyes before grabbing his blank tank top and pulling yourself into meet his lips with yours.

At first he's shocked, leans away and stares at you. He licks his lips, a slow smirk growing on his lips, "Yeah, fuck him."

He cups your face, pulling you back in to kiss him. Your lips move with his, moaning quietly against his as you feel a sense of power wash over you.

"Do they have empty rooms here?" You lean back, tilting your head and he raises his brows, "Oh, you want to take this all the way?"

You nod, "Only if you're okay with it."

"I've done worse things. I'll meet you upstairs." He quickly gets up, shutting his car door and makes his way inside.

You slowly stand up, looking around to see if anyone saw what just went down. Luckily, you didn't see anyone, but a part of you wishes someone had.

You wipe under your eyes, your mind on one thing right now.

Jake waiting for you upstairs.

As you walk in, rounding the corner, you run into someone. You step back looking up and instantly shake your head as you see Colby looking down at you.

"No. Mm. Not doing this here." You go to walk around him to the stairs but he grabs your arm, "Please.. can we just talk?"

"Talk? You want to talk?" You scoff, "okay. Fine. Let's talk." Your voice isn't quite a yell, but it's enough to get the attention of the people that are close to you, "let's talk about how we are now obviously not who we used to be."

Colby stands there, looking from everyone staring then back to you, "Y/n."

"You wanna know why we aren't who we used to be? Because you had to go.." you step towards him, "..and fucking cheat on me."

Colby frowns at your voice cracking, "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? For what? Not remembering that you have a girlfriend?" You lay a hand on your forehead and sigh, "You know what. Fuck you. Fuck you." You push him slightly, "How fucking could you?"

The tears are now on the verge of winning and your heart shatters more when you see Kat standing there with tears in her eyes.

Colby is silent. Unable to find the right words to say, not like there is any.

"Now, if you'll excuse me." Your voice goes almost silent as you walk away. Quickly making your way up the stairs case.

All of the doors are closed and you just pick one and walk in, shutting the door behind you. You turn around and jump slightly when you see Jake sitting on the bed, "Long time no see."

You laugh slightly as you wipe under your eyes, "I just slightly lost it on Colby."

"As you should." Jake tilts his head as he leans back, holding his body up with his arms extended behind him, "Should have clocked him too while you were at it." Jake bites his lip, "Now that would have been sexy as hell."

You laugh slightly as you walk over to him. You stand in front of him, looking up and down his body as you slowly move to straddle his waist.

He moves one hand forward, placing it on your thigh, "What do you want to do here, y/n."

You slowly push his tank top up his abdomen, "I think you know what I want to do." You look up at him and he nods, "Yeah." His hand drags up and down your bare thigh, "I think I have an idea."

You lean forward and his hands move to your ass as he lays back. You flip your hair behind you and lean in to kiss him.

The slow make out quickly turns into a heated, full of passion and revenge make out.

His hands slip under your dress, squeezing your ass as you grind down on his growing bulge. Your voice is quiet, "Fuck me, Jake."

He can't help but smirk as you kiss back his jaw and down his neck, "please." You beg in a whimpered tone, "I need you."

He rolls over, laying his body over yours and your hands immediately move to help him undo his pants.

He frees his cock, pushing your legs open more with his hips.

He pushes your panties to the side, running his fingers up and down your folds a few times, "Shit, you really want this don't you?"

You nod, "I've always found you hot. I can admit that now, right?" Your smirk goes away as soon as he pushes his fingers inside of you.

You whimper, trying to moan quietly as he slowly pulls them out and pushes them back in, "You're so much hotter to me now."

He leans down, lips crashing onto yours as his fingers work in and out. You lay your hand on his cheek as you reach down with the other one, gently wrapping your hand around his cock.

He pulls his fingers out and leans up, spitting into his hand so he can coat himself before rubbing the tip against your pussy.

He watches his cock go into you before leaning back down, lips brushing over your cheek as you moan, "Fuck." Your nails dig into the skin his tank top doesn't cover and you drag them outward, "Jake."

He groans lowly into your neck as he starts to slowly thrusts his hips. He kisses up, making his way back to your lips. Your fingers lace in his hair, tugging slightly as your leg lays over his back, "Yes, yes, yes!"

You were so in the moment you didn't hear the door open then close. You look over Jake's shoulder, smirking when you lock eyes with Colby, "Uh oh."

Jake leans up, looking at you confused before he follows your stare and quickly gets up, covering himself.

Colby's stare is on you.

"What the fuck is this?" He points between you and Jake and you shrug, "What the fuck was that downstairs?"

Colby sighs, "That wasn't.."

"What? Wasn't what it looked like? Because, correct me if I'm wrong but.." you sit up, "That definitely looked like you were cheating on me."

"It was a fucking kiss, y/n. I didn't put my fucking dick in her."

"Yeah, but I bet you wanted to." You lift your hand and drop it, "That was the goal, right? From the moment you stared at her through me at the pong table?"

He shakes his head, "No. none of it was planned okay."

"Then why were you kissing down her neck, pulling her closer to you? Doing all the things you do to me?" You cross your leg over the other, leaning back on the bed, "I am just so.. fucking mad at you. I wanted you to feel how I felt."

Colby stands there in silence, you can see his anger bubbling up, and you knew what he wanted to do.

But you weren't going to make it easy for him.

Jake points to the door, "I'm just go-" he starts walking towards the door but Colby's words make him stop, "No. Jake. Stay."

"Yeah, Jake. Stay. I'm not done yet." You look over at Jake and bite your lip.

Colby chuckles, "Mm. I see what's happening here. You want to what, punish me? Fine." He motions to Jake, "Punish away."

Jake stands there, thinking about the situation.

"Was she a good kisser?" You look at Colby and he shakes his head, "Not even slightly good." You raise your brows, "Mm."

"Come on, y/n. I don't know what you want me to do." Colby scoffs, laughing slightly, "Do you want me to watch you fuck Jake? Is that what you want?"

You shake your head, "No. I want you to share me with him as you tell me just how sorry you really are."

Jake's eyes are on you, leaving you alone with Colby wasn't happening.

Leaving you in general wasn't happening.

He wasn't done with you, either.

"Well, are you going to try and fix this. Or are you going to go down and ki-" Your words are cut off by Colby over and pressing his lips to yours. You wanted to throw him off, push him away.

Anything, but you couldn't.

You needed him.

You needed Jake.

You needed them both so bad you were aching. If this was the last time you were with Colby, might as well make it a good one.

For Jake, not Colby.

Your anger didn't just go away, you still wanted him to feel like his heart had been ripped out.

"Need you both." You gasp out as Colby sucks a mark into your neck. You look over at Jake, reaching out for him. He comes over, taking your hand into his.

Colby's hand slides down your body, slipping in between your thighs. Jake moves to sit down next to you, his hand lays on your neck, squeezing slowly as he leans down to kiss you.

You moan into his mouth as Colby's fingers slip inside of you. Your hand moves to Jake's half zipped jeans, gripping the waistline of them, "Please."

Jake lets go of your neck, moving his hands down to undo his jeans.

Colby clenches his jaw, pulling his fingers out as he tilts his head, watching you watch Jake. His eyes follow your hand as they wrap around his cock.

He doesn't like it.

Not even in the slightest little way.

You shift around, leaning forward so your ass is in the air. Jake focuses on you because he knows Colby isn't happy.

But as he should be, right?

You stick your tongue out, dragging it up the underside of Jake's cock, earning a low moan from him.

Colby shakes his head, looking away as he cocks his jaw. He clears his throat and you pay no attention. You wrap your lips around the head of Jake's cock, moaning slightly as you take more of him in.

"Fuck." He whispers lowly as he lays a hand on the back of your head, "Just like that." He pulls his lower lip between his teeth, tilting his head back slightly as he looks over at Colby.

If looks could kill, Jake would be dead.

Colby looks away, walking around to get behind you. His hands push your dress up more, moving it to around your waist before sliding his hands over your ass.

His hand lifts up, coming down in a hard slap, earning a whimper from your lips. You continue bobbing your head, swirling your tongue, putting all of your focus onto Jake.

Colby pulls your panties away from your body, holding the over with his thumb as he works on getting his cock freed with one hand.

You feel his spit run down over your folds and it drips onto the bed. He moves forward, rubbing his cock against your folds before slowly pushing it, a groan leaving his lips.

You dig your nails into Jake's thighs, fighting back the urge to moan.

You lift your head, a string of saliva still connecting you to Jake. He wipes the corner of your mouth and gets down, getting on his knees at the side of the bed.

His hands cup your cheeks, leaning in to kiss you as Colby’s hands grip your hips harsher. You whimper, failing at what you were trying not to do.

You moan into Jake’s mouth and push your hips back to meet Colby’s. Jake runs a hand through your hair, his other hand cupping your chin as his thumb lays over your lips.

You wrap your lips around his thumb, tilting your head back as Colby thrusts all the way in and holds himself there.

“You still want me?” Colby asks in a cocky tone. Your eyes meet Jake’s, “No. I want Jake.”

Jake looks at Colby and Colby chuckles as he pulls out, “I see, you wanna see who fucks you better.” You roll over onto your back, “Go fuck yourself, Colby.”

You reach up, pulling Jake down on top of you. Your knees resting on his hips.

“You know.. maybe I will.” Colby sits down and wraps a hand around his cock, “Go on. Don’t let me stop you.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole.” You roll your eyes, trying to focus on Jake and not let Colby get under your skin anymore than he already has.

Jake reaches down, holding his cock steady as he pushes into you with a low groan. You gasp, wrapping a leg around his waist as you moan, “Fuck.”

You really weren’t just moaning for show, Jake really knew what he was doing.

You can feel Colby’s heated stare on you as you drag your nails across Jake’s exposed shoulders.

Colby really didn’t like this, as to why he fixed himself and just sat there, but you both were too stubborn to just call it quits.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” Jake whispers in your ear and you move your head to kiss him, moaning against his lips.

Colby sat there in pure anger. Watching one of his closest friends fuck his girlfriend.

Ex. Girlfriend.

“Fuck, fuck.” You whimper, back arching off the bed, “so close.” You lace your fingers in Jake’s hair, tugging as you feel your orgasm roll in hard.

Your leg tightens around his waist as you clench his cock, pulling him closer to his own.

“Fuck, y/n.. you got-“ he reaches back taking one of your legs and pinning it up so he has room to pull out. He groans as his thrusts grow slightly sloppy, meaning he’s almost there.

You gasp when he pulls out, biting your lip as you feel his cum string over your thighs, running down to pool on the bed.

You turn your head, breathing heavy as you meet Colby’s stare with your own as Jake stands up to dress himself correctly.

“Are you happy?” Colby’s words are quiet and you laugh slightly, “You mean with Jake?” You nod as you sit up, “Yeah, I really am. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Mm.” Colby runs his hand over his face, “Can we have the room please. If you’re done.” He looks at Jake and Jake crosses his arms, “I don’t really feel comfortable leaving her with you.”

“I’m not going to fucking hurt her, asshole.” Colby shoots, “I just… we need to talk.”

“I don’t think we need to talk right now, Colby. Because the things I want to say to you, won’t be nice.” You wipe off and stand up, fixing yourself, “I just really want to go the fuck home. I should have never came to this fucking party in the first place.”

“Mm. So you’re just going to leave me here after the betrayal I just witnessed?” Colby scoffs, “I see how it is.”

“It really seems like you’re forgetting about what I witnessed downstairs.. if you really want to get technical, I guess it was a betrayal times two.” You roll your eyes, “I’m not doing this. Jake..” you turn to look at him, “Can you take me home?”

“You’re done? Just like that?” Colby asks and you look at him, “I was done the minute I saw you looking at her through me.”

You walk towards the door, Jake following you out as you make your way down the steps.

Eyes are on you, of course, and you hear people asking about the scratches on Jake’s shoulders, but you ignore it all.

You walk out, making your way to Jake’s car and getting in. You pull your phone out, laughing when you see the amount of missed calls you have from Colby.

Jake gets in, “So where to?”

“Colby’s, I need to get as much stuff as I can.” You look out the window as he drives forward.

“Then where?” Jake looks over at you and back to the road, “Do you have any family here or anything?”

“All a few hundred miles away.” You shrug letting out a sigh, “I’ll figure it out.”

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

A week later

“So.. wait..” Kat shakes her head, “You and.. Jake? In front of Colby?” She rests her fingers on her forehead, “That’s.. actually crazy.”

“Colby didn’t tell Sam any of that?” You raise your brows as she shakes her head, “Nothing. He closed up completely after coming down that night. He didn’t speak to no one. Not even Sam.”

“Wow.. you know he’s bad when he doesn’t even talk to Sam.” You chew on your lip, “Did that girl and him..” you trail off, eyes moving to look at her and she shakes her head again, “No. she went up to him but he ignored her. She threw a drink on him and that was when he made Sam take him home.”

“She threw a drink on him?” You scoff, “What a bitch.”

Kat nods, “It literally took all I had and a few people telling me not to make a scene. I was ready to go to war for you.”

You smile, “That’s why you’re my best friend.” You sigh, “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“As long as you need.” She reaches over to pat your hand and stands up, “I have to go meet Sam for lunch, do you want me to bring you anything back?”

You shrug, “You know what I like.”

She nods, “Call if you need anything, even if it’s just to talk.” You nod, “I’ll be fine, but thank you.”

She smiles as she leaves and you lay back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Your mind goes back to that night, thinking about Jake and Colby. Together.

You shake your head, not really wanting to be upset right now because a part of you does feel bad, but an even bigger part of you is glad you did it.

You’ve been talking to Jake everyday, mainly him asking you how you’re doing and just chatting about his new videos that he’s putting out soon.

Anything to keep Colby off of your mind.

Your phone rings and you sit up. You reach out to grab it and you freeze up when you see Colby’s name across the screen.

“Fuck.” You whisper and take a deep breath before picking up your phone. Your thumb shakes over the answer button and you hit it right before the call is about to end.

You’re silent as you wait for Colby to speak first but he’s doing the same thing you’re doing.

“I don’t know why I called.” He chuckles nervously, “I-I’m sorry.”

“I take it Sam left you to meet up with Kat for lunch?” Your voice is quiet and he sighs in relief at you speaking, “Yeah. Yeah.”

You pick at your nail polish, eyes searching the room as you think of what to say next, but nothing comes up that’s worth saying.

“I’m sorry.” Colby’s voice shakes, “We shouldn’t have went to that party. I’m sorry. I should have listened to you.”

“Doesn’t matter anymore.” You mumble, quickly swiping away a stray tear, “Everything is said and done and I-“

Colby cuts you off, “I just wish I could go back to that night. I know I can’t change anything but I’m willing to do anything it takes, y/n. I fucked up.” Colby sniffles, “I fucked up, big time.”

“Yeah. You did.” You bite your thumb nail and sigh, “I’m not sorry about what I did with Jake. I need you to know that.”

“No, no I don’t expect you to be.” He laughs slightly and you sigh, “What’s so funny, Colby?”

“Nothing it’s just..” he laughs and sighs, “Nothing.”

“Mm.” You nod your head and he sniffles again, “I was pissed, of course I was pissed but at the same time..” he trails off and your heart starts to race, “but at the same time? What Colby?”

“I was so fucking turned on with it.”

His words catch you off guard, “What did you just say?” You sit up slightly and he sighs, “I’m not repeating it. You heard me the first time.”

A small smirk toys with your lips, “which part?”

“All of it.” Colby answers quickly, “as soon as I walked in… seeing him on you.. seeing him in you..” he pauses for a second, “I just.. I wanted to kill him but seeing him give you that mu-“

“What are you saying?” You ask, “Are you saying you want me to call up Jake and have him meet us for another threesome?” You laugh because you think he’s joking but when he doesn’t say anything it clicks, “oh,” you lay your hand over your lips, “You’re serious.”

“If it will get you to come back to me, I’m willing to share you with Jake. I’m willing to do anything, y/n. I swear.”

You go quiet as you push a few buttons on your phone.

“You there, babe?” Colby asks and you smirk, “Yep, hang on.”

You add Jake into the call, “Jake, hey.”

“What’s up sugar lips?” Jake asks and you laugh, “Colby has something he wants to talk to you about.”

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Wowza. Okay. Please tell me how this was.. a part of me feels like it isn’t as good as it could have been but another part is like holy shit. I wrote this.

Love you all! 🖤

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