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softukiyos · 3 years

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the enemies to lovers project | lee minho

𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵; 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘶, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣: 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘪𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨'𝘴 𝘱𝘴𝘺𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 -- 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘺, 𝘭𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘩𝘰, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵. 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: ~18𝘬+

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨

𝘢/𝘯: 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺!!! 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦! 𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘩𝘩 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 >.< 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘪 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵! 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥!

prologue.

“You know I despise you, right?”

“Oh, despise. Such a big word, baby,” Minho drawled with an obnoxious smirk, the one that simultaneously made you want to rip his hair out and kiss those perfectly delectable lips of his, “If it's any consolation, I abhor your presence as well.”

“Wonderful,” you crossed your legs, a smile creeping onto your face as you leaned backward in your chair, “So why exactly are you here?”

Minho laughed, “The same reason I presume that you’re here for. A hundred dollars to put up with you is a tempting offer.”

You couldn't help but laugh, and you glanced over at the camera pointed at you and Minho, with your mutual friend, Han Jisung, directing the operation. Right, both you and Minho would receive a hundred dollars if you participated in his little social experiment about love. Of course, he'd wanted the two of you to do it for free, but neither of you would budge unless there was at least a little bit of monetary incentive. You loved Jisung, you really did, but you weren't going to willingly spend time with Minho unless there was something else to gain.

“Alright, let's get started before the two of you claw at each other's throats like a pair of angry cats,” Jisung clapped his hands together as he stepped out from behind the camera, “I assume the two of you have a basic idea of the experiment?”

“Of course not, Sungie. It's not like you ran through your proposal to me through FaceTime twenty thousand times before presenting it to your professors,” Minho replied with a pleasant smile.

“And it's not like I read through your written proposal double that amount before you had the courage to hand it in,” you supplied with a similarly saccharine expression.

Jisung sighed, rubbing his eyes with his fingers, “Why are the two of you genuinely the nicest people I’ve ever met but somehow turn into demons when you’re together?” He muttered, mostly to himself.

“It’s not too late to get rid of us and find some other test subjects, Sungie,” you called out with a smile, “We know we’re hard to handle.”

“No way. The two of you are perfect for this project, and I’m not going to let either of you slip out of my fingers after I worked so hard to get you two here,” Jisung refused your offer. Clearing his throat, he decided to begin, not wanting to give either of you more time to get hostile.

“Alright, so you’re both familiar with the basics. The experiment will take about one month, and the data will be recorded in these notebooks,” he said, the camera behind him recording his verbal instructions as he walked forward and handed both you and Minho a small, leather bound notebook, “These will serve as your diaries for the duration of the test.”

Minho perused through the empty lined pages with a snort, “What are we supposed to do, write our undying confessions on these pages?”

“You’re going to write your honest feelings about each other. And by honest, I mean really do mean honest. Neither of you are ever going to read what the other person writes about you, so you don’t have to worry about your reputation or whatever,” Jisung explained, “I’ll be extrapolating information from your entries and your entries only.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, glancing at Minho as he closed the book and and leaned back in his seat, “So that’s it, right? We date for a month and write down whether we still hate each other after every encounter?”

Jisung threw a weary glare at him, “Theoretically, yes. The purpose of this experiment is to see if the actions of love will foster any actual feelings of love to appear even if there weren’t any in the first place. The two of you will go on dates, leave each other cute notes, anything that you would do with your significant other. And after each of these, you will write down a diary entry about how you feel about that person. At the end of the month, I’ll collect the two notebooks to write my thesis. Any questions?”

You glanced at Minho, who raised a questioning eyebrow at you as if waiting for you to speak first. After a long moment of palpable silence, your lips curved into a smile, “A bold move of you to find the two people least likely to develop feelings for each other, Sungie.”

Jisung dropped his psychology major professionalism for a moment and smirked, “You know I never half-ass anything. So no questions?”

Minho raised his hand obnoxiously, speaking before Jisung even bothered to call on him, “What happens if one of us falls for the other? Do we win something?”

“No, you competitive little shit. No one is winning or losing anything. This experiment is just to document the progression of romantic feelings or lack thereof,” Jisung glared at his best friend, “You’re not trying to prevent yourself from changing your feelings about the person one way or the other, got it?”

But Minho was no longer paying attention to him, his annoyingly beautiful smile now aimed at you across the table, “You’re going to fall in love with me so quickly, Sungie’s little experiment will be over in a week.”

Your competitive edged roared to life at the provocation, and you smirked, flipping the pen around your fingers, “Your diary is going to be filled with love letters to me once I’m through with you.”

“Oh dear,” Jisung groaned to himself as he walked over to shut off the camera, a weary expression visible on his face.

This was going to be a very long month.

You never once thought there would come a day that you would walk out of your apartment to see Minho waiting for you, nonchalantly leaning against his blood red accented motorcycle and his famous leather jacket.

“What is this?” You asked suspiciously, as if poking at his intentions with a ten foot pole.

Minho rolled his eyes, “I'm taking you to class? Why else would I have dragged myself out of bed at ass o’clock in the morning?”

“You're taking me to class on this?” You gestured toward the motorcycle with a hint of disdain, but Minho saw right through you, his lips curling in a smug smile.

“There's no need to be scared, baby,” he sauntered towards you and patted your head, “I'll always protect you.”

Scowling, you swatted his hand away, “Don't do that. It's so weird,” you huffed, fixing your hair.

“You know that's the point of this whole damn thing, right?” Minho said with a hint of annoyance as he felt churlishly irritated by your constant resistance. Did you really hate him that much?

“No, the point is to do these actions in a genuine and heartfelt manner. Everything you say is fake,” you said plainly, looking him straight in the eye.

Minho couldn't help but scoff, “How is it supposed to be genuine when I don't feel anything for you?”

“You start off with basic friendship. That's not as hard, right?” You said as you reached into your large bag and pulled out a container of milk bread, “Here. This is my Day 1 gift for you.”

Minho’s face went slack as he took the container gingerly, treating it like a live explosive, “You made this?”

“Yeah, made two loaves last night,” you answered, surprised by the sudden softness in his tone. Okay, this was awkward, and you couldn't help but cringe as you extended your hand, “If you don't like it, I can take it back—”

“Hell no,” Minho yanked his arms away from yours and pulled the plastic container to his chest defensively, “You gave it to me, so it's mine!”

You blinked in surprise, your hand falling to your side, “I see,” you said before shifting on your heels and nodding, “Okay, I'll see you later, whenever that is,” you took the chance for a quick escape, turning and beginning to walk to class.

“Wait.”

A gasp left your lips as Minho grabbed your wrist, making you turn back around to face him, “I have a helmet for you, okay? And I'll drive slower,” he muttered, his eyes trained on the floor and darting around anxiously, “I won't get you hurt, I promise."

You studied him carefully, his tone of voice, his posture, anything that would give away some hidden agenda, but there was none. Looking down at his hand still wrapped around your wrist, you relented, "Alright, I'll go with you."

Minho nodded, leading you over to his motorcycle and grabbing the extra helmet from behind. Before you could take it from him, he moved it out of your grasp, "Have you ever even used a motorcycle helmet before? If you put it on wrong, it's not going to do you any good," he said snappishly as he adjusted a few of the straps and fitted it onto your head.

Unconsciously, you held your breath as he leaned towards you, slipping a finger between the strap and your chin before snapping it shut, "It's not too tight, yeah?" he asked as he pulled away, and you could only shake your head mutely, "Good."

Swinging a leg over, he climbed onto his motorcycle, easily putting his own helmet on before turning to look at you as he pushed up the visor, "Here. Climb on behind me."

You eyed the motorcycle with a hint of disdain as you approached it, “And what am I supposed to hold onto so I don’t fall to my untimely death?” You asked dryly.

Unfortunately, that was the wrong question to ask, and the gleam apparent in Minho’s eyes told you that, despite his surprising show of kindness, Lee Minho was still Lee Minho, and Lee Minho was a fucking asshole.

“Why, you hold onto me, of course,” he said pleasantly, “Unless, you’d rather fall off the bike and shatter your bones. The other option is to walk, but seeing that it’s almost 8:30 already, you’d probably end up being late.”

Clenching your jaw so hard you were sure it was going to be sore for days, you stalked over to the motorcycle and swung your leg over it, climbing on haphazardly. You’ve seen the movies; you knew how you were supposed to ride a motorcycle from behind, and your arms tentatively wrapped around Minho’s midriff, avoiding as much bodily contact as possible.

Minho snorted, “You know, if you hold on like that, you’re gonna fall off anyways.”

“Mind your own business--fuck!” A squeak left your lips as Minho suddenly revved the engine and the motorcycle lurched forward. Out of pure instinct, your arms tightened around him, and you buried your face in his back. The time could not have been more perfect, and you felt a rush of anger as you realized that he was just messing with you, “Don’t fucking do that!”

The asshole just laughed, “Aw, come on, I wouldn’t have done it for real. But you seriously need to hold on, okay?”

You huffed, scowling underneath the helmet as you kept your arms locked around his waist, begrudgingly learning your lesson, “Just drive.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” Minho revved the engine again and started the journey, albeit with a much smoother start as the two of you began to speed down the street and towards the literature building.

When you arrived at your destination with Minho pulling up right to the front of the building, you were practically squeezing him like a life-sized plushie, your eyes squeezed shut and your face smushed into his leather jacket.

“You can let go now, darling,” he chuckled as he used his foot to push out the kickstand. Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, you detached from him like two magnets of the same pole, getting off the motorcycle.

“I am--” you gasped for breath as you yanked off your helmet, “never doing that again.”

Minho laughed as he took the helmet from you and put it in the container at the back of his bike, “Hey, you’re here with five minutes to spare! If anything, you should be thanking me, sweetheart.”

Your glare was frightening as you finally relented with a huff, “I’m grateful for the ride here, but next time, no motorcycle, please.”

“Next time? Who said anything about a next time?” The boy positively giggled as you realized your mistake. Minho never said anything about a next time! What were you thinking? Now, he probably thought you wanted him to take you to school every morning, which was absolutely not the case!

“Oh, whatever!” You snapped, utterly fed up as you threw up your hands in total exasperation and marched up the staircase without so much as a goodbye.

Minho’s smug laughter echoed in your ears as you stepped into the building, “Love you too, sweetheart!”

(name): day 1

action(s): drive to school

notes: utterly infuriating. an arrogant, smug, flirtatious little shit that thinks he’s the king of the world. he brought his motorcycle out of the blue to pick me up when he knows i flipped out the last time i rode one with jisung (yes, sungie, i am still mad).

i did get to class early though, because of him, and that’s rare for me. silver linings, i guess.

lee minho: day 1

action(s): drive to school

notes: a stuck up little princess as always, whining and complaining about every little thing that doesn’t go her way. shouldn’t she be happy enough that i came to take her to her class? nope, she just kicked up a fuss about it being a motorcycle. did she think i was going to remember when she had a meltdown riding it last time? (it was funny, sungie, don’t mind her.) i barely got so much of a thank you when i got her to the lit building, early, no less.

the milk bread was good, though. maybe i’ll try to convince her to make me another loaf.

ii.

First dates were always weird. First dates were even weirder when you were about to go out with your fake-social-experiment boyfriend that you didn’t even like.

What were you supposed to even wear? Were you supposed to dress to impress (not that Minho would ever be impressed with anything you do)? Or were you supposed to dress like you just rolled out of bed? In the end, you opted for something in between the two extremes, hoping that you weren’t going to face the embarrassment of being over or underdressed.

Luckily, Minho didn’t change his daily look too much for the date, opting for a pair of ripped black jeans, a loose t-shirt, and--of course--the leather jacket he never left home without. At this point, you were honestly convinced that Minho was having some sort of romantic relationship with that jacket.

But what was out of the ordinary was the small bouquet of vibrant carnations that he held in one hand as he browsed his phone with the other. They looked wildly out of place in comparison to the rest of his get up, and the contrast was so amusing to you that you couldn’t help but smile as you walked over to him.

“Are those flowers for me?” You asked sweetly, clicking your heels. Minho glanced up from his phone, his eyes darting up and down, and you knew he was assessing your outfit the way you had assessed his.

“No, these are for my other social experiment girlfriend,” he said with a dry smile, handing them to you, “I heard from Jisung that you hate flowers, so of course I had to get you a bouquet for our special day.”

“Carnations are actually my favorite type of flower, so thank you very much,” you replied, sniffing at the bouquet before glancing around, “Where’s your motorcycle again? In maintenance?”

Minho’s face twitched for a split second before he nodded, “Yeah, I scratched it up real bad. We can just take the bus again.”

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion, but you said nothing more about the topic as the two of you walked to the nearest bus stations. After the first day, you had never seen Minho’s motorcycle again despite the fact that he walks you to your class almost every other day (he skips the days when he has work). What was even more suspicious was that he always had an excuse for not bringing it: he crashed it and it needs maintenance, he forgot to fill the gas tank, Jisung was borrowing it, etc.

They weren’t bad excuses, but it’s been almost a week, and you were beginning to suspect that there was more to the missing motorcycle than he was telling you.

“Who recommended this place?” Minho asked as you took the seat at the station and he leaned against the wall.

“Jisung did, actually,” you laughed a little, pulling out your phone and clicking into the link of the restaurant Jisung had sent you, showing it to Minho.

The boy scrunched his nose with distaste as he glanced at the restaurant images, “Did you really think it was wise to leave our first date in the hands of the man who’s never actually had one successful date before?”

“He said it was a control variable or whatever,” you said, placing your phone back in your purse, “Besides, I checked the reviews, and most of them only had good things to say. Why? Is this not your ideal first date?”

Minho scoffed, lips curling into a smirk, “I don’t really do first dates, sweetheart.”

“Oh? So what do you do?” You asked with a hint of annoyance clear in your tone, “One night stands?”

The boy shrugged, “Mostly. Why put the effort to try and create something concrete when it’ll fall apart soon enough anyway?”

You couldn’t help but scrunch your nose at his words, once again being hit with the realization that you and Minho were as different as people came, “That’s a rather morbid way of looking at things.”

“It’s realistic and it’s safe. That’s all I really need at this moment,” Minho said shortly as his eyes darted down the street, and he pushed himself off the wall, “The bus is here. Let’s go.”

Without stopping to wait for you, he walked to the edge of the sidewalk as the bus pulled up to greet him. There was nothing you could do but silently follow him, wondering what Minho had gone through to adopt such a cynical mindset about love.

“What about you?” Minho asked rather suddenly when the two of you had arrived at the restaurant, settled into your table, and were already waiting for your food to arrive. There had been such a long interval of time between the previous conversation and the current one that you didn’t even process the intention of his question for a long moment.

“I’m sorry?”

Minho bit his lip, and he looked like he was regretting the fact that he couldn’t contain his curiosity, “What are your experiences with first dates?” He asked, resting his elbows on the table, “You have had a few, right?”

With a questioning eyebrow, you swirled the small amount of red wine in your glass, “I’m not quite sure whether your question is a genuine one or just another insult.”

“Why can’t it be both?” Minho asked innocently.

Rolling your eyes, you sipped at your wine before answering, "I've had a few first dates, fewer seconds, and no thirds."

Minho considered your words, "What went wrong? Clashing personalities? Scheduling conflicts?"

You scowled, placing down your glass as you grit your teeth, "You're a nosy little shit, aren't you?"

“Hey,” Minho raised his arms in mock surrender, “if I'm about to be your social experiment boyfriend for a month, I should know what I'm getting into, for my sake and yours.”

Leveling a withered glare at him, you couldn't help but begrudgingly admit that Minho had a point. If the two of you couldn't be honest with each other, this experiment wouldn't work. Like the mastermind had said early on, honesty was a key part of the project. Damn you, Han Jisung.

“Eventually, every man gets annoyed by the fact that they'll always be second in importance,” you finally spoke as you swirl the wine again, “They say they understand, but in the end, they'll never settle for a woman who puts their passions over their relationships. They want attentiveness, constant coddling, constant affection. They want to be nagged, they want me to be the one that messages first, and I'm just not the type.”

For the first time, Minho’s gaze upon you was devoid of arrogance and that giant defensive wall he’d always had up. His expression had turned almost thoughtful in a way, as if he was really looking at you, really trying to see you for who you were, and you couldn’t help but cringe slightly under his stare, smiling bitterly, “Did I scare you off, too?”

Minho seemed to jolt out of whatever daze he was in, a laugh leaving his lips, “Nah, princess, you’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he chuckled, putting down his wine glass as he spoke again, “It’s not your fault that they felt inferior dating someone that was more driven than them. It’s their loss, honestly.”

“Really?” You failed to hide your surprise, not expecting to find support in someone that was so different from you.

“A relationship isn’t supposed to hinder you from doing the things you love. You’re supposed to do them in tandem and support each other during the process,” Minho said, and as you searched for the punchline, for the part of the conversation where Minho would bark out a scathing laugh and point at your disappointed face, you realized there was none. You suddenly had a strange revelation that you may have misjudged the man sitting across from you.

“If you have such a wise impression about love, why do you never try it out?” You asked softly, studying his expression like always, but you stopped searching for something malicious about him, since the search had been fruitless so far. Now, you were simply curious, slowly trying to learn more about him.

Minho shrugged with a wry smile, “Just because the solution exists in theory doesn't mean it truly exists.”

"You don't think you'll ever find someone like that?" You asked.

"Well, if they're out there somewhere, they haven't shown up in my life yet, so..." Minho trailed off, his expression rather nonchalant at first glance, but you were slowly getting better at reading him. He felt wronged, probably by someone in the past that didn't support his endeavors.

You let the conversation drop as your food finally arrived, and the seriousness of the evening seemed to dissipate as the food took precedence. When the bill was finally paid (the two of you split it after a long discussion), you walked out with your arm looped around Minho's, and despite yourself, you didn't hate it all that much.

“So, we're gonna beat the shit out of Jisung for forcing us to go to such an expensive restaurant, right?” Minho hummed as the two of you walked back to your apartment. You tried not to focus on the fact that Minho hadn't pulled his arm away, keeping you snug against his side.

“I like the way you think,” you laughed, your heels clicking against the ground, “Tell you what, how about the next date, you pick somewhere you normally go to in your free time, and I’ll do the same for the date after. That way, we don’t have to spend an atrocious amount of money unless we want to.”

Minho stopped short, and for a minute, you wondered if you’d overstepped his boundaries. Then, he turned to look at you, a surprised, almost soft, smile on his face.

“You want to see me that much?”

It would’ve been so easy to dismiss his words as sarcastic teasing, like the rest of your conversations have been for the past year that you’ve known each other. But his tone, his expression, it felt almost genuine, like he was pleasantly surprised that you were willingly offering up your own time to spend it with him.

And at that notion, your cheeks felt unnaturally hot as you averted your eyes, “Well, the experiment is supposed to last a month,” you mumbled, finding a very interesting divot in the ground, “What type of social experiment girlfriend would I be if we only went on one date?”

Unbeknownst to you, Minho’s smile dimmed ever so slightly at the mention of the experiment, but he still felt that weird, fluttery feeling nonetheless. He knew you were probably just too shy to admit anything truthful to his question, and he didn’t fault you for it. It wasn’t like he was being very honest either.

“Well, I rather enjoy our little escapades, so I suppose I can spare a little effort to plan the next date,” Minho said with faux weariness, making you elbow his side playfully.

“I swear, if you drag me to another horror house like you did when we went out with Jisung--”

Minho let out a laugh at the memory, “Didn’t you punch the zombie that jumped out near the end?”

“Not a word.”

“And I think you screamed at one of the ghosts, too?”

You frowned, reaching up and messing up his perfectly styled hair, “Not a word!”

Minho didn’t take any of your threats to heart, teasing you relentlessly about that incident all the way back to your apartment, but to be totally honest, you didn’t mind it all that much.

(name): day 6

action(s): first date (control)

notes: the date wasn’t bad except for the ridiculous pricing. we actually had rather interesting conversations about our interests, outlooks on life, and had a rather heated argument about whether prisoner of azkaban or the order of the phoenix was the best harry potter book.

minho’s nice. i know you’re probably laughing at me as you read this, future jisung. but he’s nice. the flowers he got were really pretty. he’s a good listener, too, and he doesn’t give false comforts. he tells it to me as it is, whether it’s good or bad. i like that about him. he also looked really good for the date, but that’s rather surface level, right? whatever. i hope this is even minutely useful to your project, jisung, bcs it doesn’t feel like it’ll be much help.

lee minho: day 6

action(s): first date

notes: han jisung. the meal was $150 and we both ordered the cheapest things on the menu. fucc you.

the date was alright, though. (name) actually got dressed up for the date, so i felt a little bad. she’s putting more effort into this project than i thought she would, and i don’t know whether its because she genuinely wants to know me better, or if its bcs it’s your project, jisung. (i know she used to like you, it was obvious). whatever. she’s easy to talk to when we’re not at each other’s throats like usual. she makes me feel understood, which is a good feeling i guess.

this absolutely does not mean anything special. it just means that she’s not as stuck up as i thought she was. the bar is still incredibly low.

i wonder where i should take her for our next date. the horror house is tempting, but she’s probably going to get sued if she shows her face there ever again. oh well, i’ll figure it out.

iii.

“Why are we heading towards the direction of the horror house?”

“I promise you, sweetheart, it’s not the horror house,” Minho said for the umpteenth time as the two of you walked down the busy downtown streets together.

You remained suspicious, and as a chill blew towards you, the winter wind seeping into your bones and making your teeth chatter, you brought your hands to your mouth, blowing on them in an attempt to get them warm.

Minho let out a dramatic sigh at the sound of your silence, “Do you have any faith in me at all?” He asked, taking one of your hands and lacing your fingers together before shoving it in his coat pocket without faltering for a moment.

He seemed unfazed, oblivious even as the two of you stopped at a crosswalk, but you...your poor heart did a feeble stutter that certainly wasn’t the product of any social experiment. You knew the feeling well enough from your past experiences, and the fact that it emerged right at this moment made you worry.

“What?” Minho’s voice invaded your thoughts as he followed your line of sight to his coat pocket, where your hand was snugly fitted inside his.

You tried your best to salvage what was left of your pride, “Aren’t my hands cold?” You asked weakly, “You don’t have to hold them.”

“Yes, your hands are like fucking ice, that’s why I’m trying to warm one of them up, dummy,” Minho rolled his eyes at your lame question before turning to check on the light to make sure it was still on red, “We’re almost there. The place is cozy, I promise.”

Nodding, you slowly felt your composure return to you, “As long as we get out of this cold, I'd consider it a successful date.”

“Oh dear, you've just ruined my plans for a picnic up in the mountains,” Minho said with a deadpan expression just as the light turned green.

“You're ridiculous,” you said, rolling your eyes, but there wasn't any bite behind your words anymore, and Minho’s jabs at you had slowly lost that hard edge to them. Could it be possible that the two of you were really warming up to each other?

It was true that the two of you were getting along better, and in tandem, you began to be more present in each other’s lives. Minho still walked you to school on the days that he didn't have work. In return, it's become a normal routine for you to make two loaves of milk bread every other day since Minho always devoured his portion ridiculous quickly.

Not in a romantic way, absolutely not. Both of you would cringe at the very idea. But as tolerant friends, maybe.

“Ah! Here we are,” Minho said pleasantly as he guided you off the busy street into a smaller, quieter alleyway filled with various cafes and antique shops.

“A cafe date?” You smiled, “I didn't know that was your style.”

Minho stopped short at a particular cafe, taking his hand and yours out of his pocket as he reached forward to open the door, “Well, it's not just any cafe.”

You quickly realized exactly what he meant as you walked in, your eyes lighting up with pure elation and joy as you squealed, “It’s a cat cafe!”

Unbeknownst to you, Minho’s eyes lit up from behind you as he shut the door, keeping the winter cold out of the cozy establishment, “You like cats?” He never knew that about you.

“Like cats? I love them!” You practically gushed as you shrugged off your large coat and Minho signaled for a party of two, greeting a few of the waiters with a suspicious familiarity.

“Do you come here often?” You asked curiously as the two of you found a nice little corner to sit down in, complete with beanbags, blankets, and little wooden surfaces that were meant to serve as tables.

Minho almost didn't need to answer your question, since the moment he sat down, four cats passed over towards him, the sound of gentle meows filling your ears. You didn't think you'd be able to hear anything more sweet, until you were proven wrong when Minho let out a soft giggle, his expression unbelievably fond as he stretched out his hand, petting their heads and scratching their ears.

When had you ever heard Minho giggle? No, not that psychotic little witch giggle he did when he was feeling diabolical. This childish, almost innocent giggle that burst from his lips.

“I come here at least twice a week,” he said as one of the kittens clambered into his lap, “I have three cats back at home with my family, and when I miss them, I come here.”

You nodded, surprised that he was divulging information about him without being prompted, but you didn’t mind it one bit, “That’s nice. I’m sure they miss you, too,” you said, smiling as one of the more curious cats went over to you, sniffing at your hand before pressing their head against your palm.

“I’m sure they do. I was basically their servant,” Minho laughed before turning to you, “Do you have pets?”

“Oh, I wish,” your voice was forlorn and wistful as you began to rub the cat’s belly, feeling a rush of pride as they laid on their side. It was rare for any cat to do such a thing, and you treasured the moment dearly, “I had a kitten when I was very, very young, but they died only a few months after we got them. I haven’t been able to muster the courage to adopt another pet since.”

Minho pouted at the way your voice trailed off, your expression faraway, and he suddenly felt an urge to gift you a kitten right then and there just to make you smile. He was long used to seeing you angry, he was getting used to seeing you when you were at peace and smiling, but he’d never actually seen you look so wistfully sad before.

“Well, you’re always welcome to use my membership card here if you need a break from school,” he offered rather awkwardly, keeping his eyes on the cats so he wouldn’t have to feel the brunt of your expression, which was probably weirded out.

“You’d let me?” You sounded hopeful, giggling to yourself as a cat jumped into your lap, curling up and burrowing against your stomach.

Minho smiled, turning his head to see the way you were coddling the little kitten, stroking her fur with utmost delicacy and with nothing but pure adoration in your eyes. He was suddenly hit with the realization that you were incredibly beautiful, and his brain almost immediately imploded.

Wait, what? Lee Minho?! Who the fuck are you turning into?!

Unaware of his current struggle, you glanced at him when you didn’t receive an answer, and he scrambled to clear his throat, “O-of course,” he said, “You’d get a 15% discount on drinks. Super handy.”

If you noticed his strange behavior, you didn't comment or make a face, only gazing down at the kitten in your lap as you asked teasingly,, “Does this girlfriend benefit only last the month?”

It was a joke, not at all different from the ones both of you made on a daily basis, making jabs at your rather intriguing situation, this one seemed to really hit Minho. What was going to happen when the month ends? Will the two of you go back to hating each other and fighting every moment of the day? Will all these little acts of love, the way you would occasionally drop off a bento box at his dance studio and the way he’d pick you up after your late night classes so he could make sure you were safe, would that all disappear like a dream?

“Hello? Earth to Minho?”

Minho blinked out of his daydream, tilting his head towards you to see you already looking at him with a concerned smile, “Are you alright? You seemed pretty faraway.”

“Nah, I’m good. I just remembered that I have a coding assignment due tonight,” he lied, a light tinge of rouge on his cheeks.

“What?!” you yelped, scaring the cat in your lap as they meowed in discontent, jumping off you, “We should get going then--”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Minho grabbed your arm as you stood up, and with your balance tilted, you fell back onto the beanbag couch, although this time, you were much closer to Minho than you originally were. To stabilize yourself, your hand jutted out to press against his chest, and his breath hitched in his throat.

What sort of black magic was Han Jisung doing to him with this experiment?

“Sorry!” You squeaked out, your embarrassment clearly visible as you tried to push away from him, but Minho kept you close until the two of you were almost cuddling on the beanbag couch.

Minho only hummed, feigning nonchalance even as his heart was doing strange backflips in his chest, “It’s fine. You’re still cold, right? I saw you shivering a bit. You can just sit here,” he said, shrugging off his coat and placing it over your legs.

“I guess...thank you,” you said rather quietly, not trusting your voice to hide the emotions that were raging in your heart: the confusion, the giddiness, the childlike excitement, and the fear, “But what about your assignment--”

“Don’t worry,” he patted your head lightly, “It’s just a simple one. Won’t take more than an hour. I’ll just do it when I get home.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” Minho emphasized the last word with a teasing smile, his heart slowly coming to terms with these new, tingling emotions that he was feeling, “I never knew I’d ever experience you babying me.”

Your cheeks grew warm as you smacked his arm, “Shut up!” You complained, bringing his coat up to your face and shielding yourself, “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t flunk out of school!��

“Don’t lie, you’ve fallen in love with me, haven’t you?” He asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief only to receive another angry smack on the arm.

“You wish. I don’t fall in love with jerks like you.”

“If it makes you feel better, I am honored by the attention,” he said with a teasing smile as he nudged your shoulder.

Another kitten came to your position, rubbing against your thigh as you petted their little head, “You better be,” you muttered almost to yourself, “After all the bentos I’ve made for you this last week.”

Minho let out a yawn, stretching out his arms and very cautiously wrapping one around your shoulders. To his luck or misfortune, you were too enamored by the kitten to notice, and you curled into his side without much consideration. The poor boy wasn’t sure whether he wanted you to notice and confront him about it, or whether he should be allowed to feel a sense of fondness knowing that you were dropping the defensive walls around your heart with him.

He won’t tell you, but he was truly honored to be cared by you, to experience your worry, your encouragement, and your little acts of love. It came so naturally to you that you probably didn’t even hold any of those actions to any significance, but to him, the one who was always the lone wolf, the one who was always defined by his looks before his personality, it was nice to be truly seen by someone.

Even if it wasn’t going to last.

iv.

Lee Minho was late, and you were going to kick his ass if you didn't happen to be frozen by the time he arrived.

You stood outside of the computer science building awkwardly, trying not to focus on the weird glances from the students walking in and out, all of whom were obviously wondering what a literature freak was doing at the center hub of the sciences. It was absolutely mortifying, and you briefly wondered if Minho ever got such stares while he waited for you outside of your building. If he did, well, you felt slightly more grateful than you did previously.

“Hey! (name), right?”

You looked up with panic in your eyes as you quickly tracked the sound of the voice to one familiar stranger, a particular boy on campus that you never actually ever thought you'd have the opportunity to speak to.

“That's me, and I assume you're Hyunjin,” you said, getting straight past formalities. After all, you weren't really in the mood for chitter-chatter. You were just in the mood for a nice hot chocolate to warm your body.

But unfortunately for you, Hyunjin’s disarming smile was a clear indicator that there were no escape routes plausible, “Wow, no wonder Minho snatched you up quick.”

If you had a tail, it would've bristled at this very moment, “Excuse me?” You asked, keeping your tone decidedly cordial.

Hyunjin’s smile only widened, “What is he like as a boyfriend? Does he treat you well? Or are you just another piece of disposable garbage for him like every other girl he’s fucked?”

The final question shouldn't have fazed you, but it did. Why did the idea of such a thing send your heart into cardiac arrest? Why did it scare you so much, when you knew none of this was real? Wasn't it all just manufactured by the conditions of the experiment?

Your face must've given away more than you thought, because Hyunjin’s cheshire-like grin only widened as he took your vulnerability as a chance, “You don't have to be with him, you know. Don't you think we'd get along a little better—”

“Really fucking low of you to be trying to hit on your friend’s girl,” a hand suddenly snaked around your waist from behind, making you gasp as you felt your back pulled against someone's firm chest.

“Especially my girl,” Minho’s eyes showed not a hint of amusement or politeness as he rested his chin on your shoulder almost protectively, as if daring Hyunjin to try again.

Hyunjin regarded the two of you with cautious intrigue, his eyes darting from Minho’s hand on your waist to his face now nuzzled in the crook of your neck, and he lifted his hands up in mock surrender.

“Just wanted to make sure you know how lucky you are,” he smiled at Minho pleasantly, leaning forwards as his eyes sparkled when they met yours. Now, you may dislike Hyunjin, but you couldn't deny his beauty, and at such a distance, you couldn't help but feel a bit flustered as he purred, “And how easily that luck can be taken away from you.”

Minho bared his lips in a threatening snarl from behind you, making Hyunjin scoff as he turned away from the two of you without another word. A moment of tense silence screamed in the air before you cleared your throat awkwardly. This was definitely not a good way to start off a date.

“Well, that was weird,” you laughed, detangling yourself from Minho’s hold so you could face him, “I never thought I’d see the day where Hwang Hyunjin would flirt with me while he’s sober.”

“He’s such a fucking asshole,” Minho suddenly spit out with a surprising amount of vitriol in his tone, enough to fluster you for a moment, “Going after someone who’s obviously dating, he just doesn’t have any shame anymore! Plus, I was literally walking behind you. He definitely saw me before he made a move.”

Finding his behavior utterly bizarre, you stared at him for a long moment before you could even speak, “Are you...pretending to be jealous?”

“What?” Minho blinked, as if suddenly realizing that you were still there witnessing the extent of his ranting. And then, your question hit him like a ton of bricks, “What the fuck? I’m not pretending to be jealous, I--”

He stopped himself before he could do any more verbal damage to his own reputation, but inside, his head in shambles.

I’m not pretending to be jealous, I am jealous.

What was happening to him?

From the look on your face, Minho could tell you were a mixture of confused and suspicious, but you didn’t press him for more details or to finish his sentence. That was one thing he really appreciated about you. If he didn’t elaborate on his words, you trusted that he didn't say more because it simply didn't need to be said.

"Well, we should probably get going," you said, slipping your arm around his, "I was freezing my ass out here waiting for you."

"Then, perish."

"You're the worst social experiment boyfriend I've ever had!" You complained, your pout clear from the sound of your voice as Minho let you lead him to whatever date surprise you had in mind.

“I’m the only social experiment boyfriend you’ve ever had,” he pointed out reasonably, resting his head on yours while you waited for the traffic light to change.

You let out a huff, trying to push him off you, but it was rather fruitless to make Minho do anything, really, “You’re still the worst,” you said, trying to tickle your way out of the situation.

Minho only chuckled. Two could play at this game, he thought smugly as your attacks failed and he wrapped his arms around you from the side, pulling you snug against him so he could nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck, tickling your skin with his hair and making you shriek.

“Lee Minho, I swear to God!” Despite the slurry of curse words that left your mouth, you were laughing and made no genuine attempts to pull away from him. You’ve noticed over the last few weeks that Minho was never one for blatant physical affection, but he was being abnormally clinging today.

“Admit it, kitten,” he teased, peeking up at your expression as he smiled, “I’m the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

The world around you seemed to freeze as the weight of that question fully sunk in. Was Minho the best boyfriend you’ve ever had? You thought back to every awkward first date, every time the guy looked strangely disappointed when you said you wanted to head home by yourself, every time one of them awkwardly mentioned that they wanted you to cheer them on at the expense of your own passions. You thought through all of those memories before you realized oh my god Minho was the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.

“Hmm? Oh, come on, I was kidding,” Minho seemed oblivious to your plight as he took your silence as a rejection, beginning to let go.

“You are.”

The words slipped out of your lips before you even realized what you had said. Minho’s eyes widened rather comically as he tried to make sure he was making the right mental connections in his head.

“I am?” He repeated slowly.

“You are...the best boyfriend I’ve ever had,” you muttered the last half, your face burning as if you’d eaten a whole bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos.

Minho blinked, his entire system short-circuiting.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you said, awkwardly shuffling on the heels of your feet before you found your escape, “Oh, green light! Let's get moving!” Your voice was bright and overly cheery as if you didn't just drop a bombshell of a revelation on both Minho and yourself.

Minho practically stumbled over his own feet to catch up to you, “H-hey!” He grabbed your hand before you could pass the halfway point of the large intersection, where the light was manually turned red by one of the buses.

You glanced down at your intertwined hands and back up at his face before answering softly, “Thanks.”

He nodded in response, trying not to put too much attention to the way your fingers curled around his, trying not to put too much attention to the way your hand fit in his, and asked, “So, where are we going?”

“Well, you brought me to the place you like to go to destress, so I figured I would do the same,” you answered, reaching into your back pocket and pulling out a key that looked suspiciously like Jisung’s access card to the music building.

“Tell me you didn't steal Jisung's access card.”

“It's not stealing if I'm returning it before he knows what happened,” you shrugged.

“Um, yes it is.”

You glanced up at him with a playful smile, “You gonna rat me out, darling?”

That name of endearment shouldn't have affected him so much, but it did, and he physically had to restrain himself from holding your hand tighter as he scoffed, “I'm no snitch, especially not when it comes to my beautiful social experiment girlfriend.”

You let out a laugh, “You’re definitely the king of heart fluttering pet names.”

The rest of the walk to the music building was filled with idle chatter as the two of you slowly got back into the rhythm of your usual banter. At some moments, it was even easy to forget about the way you’d hug his arm to your chest as if shielding yourself from the cold. It was even easy to forget about the way his hand would gently squeeze yours if he felt you shiver too violently beside him, a silent check up on you. It was far too easy to call all of these little actions as normal, as if he was actually your boyfriend.

“Are you sure we're not going to get caught?” Minho asked as the two of you walked to the side door of the music building. Although, he didn't sound very concerned about potentially getting in trouble, only slightly curious.

You slid Jisung’s card into the reader and the door unlocked with a click, “I've done this for years. Even if people do check the rooms, there's lot of places to hide.”

The boy only chuckled, holding the door open so the two of you could walk in and escape from the biting winter cold. After wiping off your shoes using the doormat, you gingerly took his hand again and lead him up the stairs to the end of the hall where you pulled him into a dark room.

“Kitten, if you wanted to find a private little place for us to have some fun, we didn’t need to go all the way to the music room,” Minho said, amused, “I know plenty of lockable closets around the campus—”

“That’s so gross,” you said as you turned on the light, revealing that the two of you were in one of the group music rooms, with a piano sitting at the center of the room and a couple of instruments stored on the sides.

Minho placed a hand on his heart, “Mean,” he huffed accusingly at you. He was mostly kidding, of course, but a part of him felt a genuine despair at the fact that you didn't seem to be remotely flustered or enticed by the idea of being with him in that way, with such intimacy.

“Don't worry, Min. There will be plenty of fish out there desperate to jump into your arms soon enough,” you flashed him a wry smile as you grabbed one of the guitar cases and brought it to the carpet near the piano.

“Min?” He repeated, the nickname making him feel slightly better even as your words dampened his spirits. Did you really think he would be that eager to go back to his normal “no-strings-attached” routine after this month?

For the first time, you looked a little flustered as you sat down on the soft carpet, opening the guitar case with a few clicks of the locks, “Sorry. Do you hate it?” You asked sheepishly, “I just figured that you give me so many petnames, I should try to give you one, too. But if Min isn't good—”

“It is!” The boy interrupted a little too eagerly. Catching your surprised expression, he immediately controlled himself, clearing his throat awkwardly as he sat down across from you, “Yeah, Min is fine. Min is good. It's just...new.”

“No one's ever called you Min before?” You asked with a curious expression while you pulled out the guitar with what Minho noticed was practiced ease.

He shrugged, “I don't think anyone’s ever given me a nickname before.”

I don't think anyone’s ever reached that level of closeness with me, was the unspoken follow-up to his statement. After all, what type of one-night stand would ever result in names of endearment or genuine emotional attachment?

“Hmm...maybe I should take it up a notch and call you Minmin,” you said absently, testing the tension of the strings and being totally unaware of the spiral you just send Minho down on.

Minmin? Minmin? The poor man was turning into a pile of mush before you and you didn’t even know what you did. Minho was sure that if you ever called him Minmin, he’d throw away everything to do as you asked.

“If you want,” he said, shuffling awkwardly as he sat across.

You glanced up at him, giggling as you finished tuning up the instrument, “So this is my de-stress room,” you said, “I like occasionally coming here to write songs or just play the instruments here.”

“You play instruments other than guitar?” Minho asked, sounding rather impressed.

“I used to play piano as a kid, actually,” you explained with a smile as you checked the A string, “Jisung taught me how to play guitar in our first year here.”

Minho bit his lip, struggling to keep control over his expressions, “Right.”

Never before in his life did Minho ever think that he’d be sitting across from you and feeling jealous about Han Jisung’s relationship with you. It wasn’t secret knowledge; he knew you used to like his friend, and you used to like him very much. It wasn’t like Minho minded; you were the one of the decent ones and you genuinely liked Jisung for who he was. Something must’ve happened in the middle of the second year, because you gradually seemed to pull away from Jisung at least in a romantic manner. Minho never thought much of it. But now, he was beginning to fully realize how close you and Jisung actually were, and how much that was beginning to bother him.

Did you still like Jisung? That was the question that always haunted his mind. Were you doing all of this for the boy in your past when Minho was here falling harder every single day?

“Hey, Min?”

Your voice broke into his thoughts as his ears perked up, “Yeah?” He answered with an uncharacteristically gentle voice. There was something about the way you spoke that felt hesitant and uncertain, rather unlike you, and he wanted to make sure that you felt comfortable being here with him.

“D-do—“ you swallowed nervously, “do you want to hear one of my songs?”

Minho’s eyes widened. As a friend of Jisung and the other two famous producers on campus, he was no stranger to hearing music that they produced. But because of that, he knew how much these songs meant to the people who wrote them. How personal they can be, and how terrifying it could be to share them with others. And the fact that you were willing to bare that part of your soul to him was a gesture of trust that he’d never expected.

“Do you want me to listen?” He asked with caution, “You really don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable.”

“I do!” You blurted out before your cheeks grew warm, “You shared a big part of yourself with me when you took me to that cat cafe, so I wanted to do the same.”

Minho felt a little speechless, so all he could do was nod and give you an encouraging smile. Taking his gesture as acceptance, you cleared your throat softly and began to strumming out a simple chord progression.

The poor man was immediately entranced. There wasn’t any hope for him anymore. The moment you opened your mouth to sing, Minho fell into silent awe as he let your soft, soothing voice flow through his body. There was something so present about your voice, about the lyrics you sang. Everything just felt so raw that all he could really do was watch and listen with a gentle smile on his face.

When you finished, you opened your eyes and hesitantly turned to face him, “Well?” You prodded, a hint of nervousness slipping out of your lips.

It took Minho a few moments to put his thoughts together, and even then, they weren’t totally coherent. Nothing like the smooth-tongued, cheeky persona he always embodied, “That was--wow,” he stumbled over his words.

To his luck, you didn’t seem bothered by his failure to string his words together, but only smiled encouragingly, “A good wow, I hope?” You asked.

“Definitely a good wow. The best wow,” he nodded fervently as you laughed, waiting for him to continue, “Did you ever take classes like Jisung and Chan?”

“Oh, no. I definitely don’t have the extra money for that,” you said, resting your arms on your guitar, “But I’ve always loved to sing, and I’ve always loved hearing other people sing, too. My first childhood crush was this really cute busker who sang Hey There Delilah once near my city’s shopping street.”

Minho’s lips quirked up in a smirk. This was much more comfortable territory for him, especially when it means teasing you, which is honestly all he ever did, “A childhood crush, huh?” He drawled, stretching out his legs, “So you have a thing for people with good voices?”

“Absolutely,” you nodded, “If anyone has a good singing voice, I’m at least 40% more inclined to fall in love with them.”

“Wow,” he let out a laugh, “That is an incredibly significant statistic. I’m almost worried about how shallow you are.”

You let out a noise of indignation as Minho only laughed harder, fending away your useless attacks, “I am not shallow!” You snapped, your cheeks feeling warm, “Having a good singing voice is just an added bonus!”

“Sure, sure,” he teased, even going so far as to pinch your cheek playfully, “Is that why you fell in love with Jisungie?”

“I’m not in love with Jisung--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know you aren’t now,” Minho waved his hand dismissively, even though deep in his heart, he didn’t actually know and that was why he approached the topic in the first place, “But you were in love with him back then, right?”

The withering glare you gave him was weak at best, and you sighed, hugging your guitar to your chest as if it was your own personal shield, “Yes, I was. But that was years ago and we agreed to be just friends. It was awkward in the beginning, but I’m content with the relationship we have now.”

“You are?” Minho asked, trying to sound casual as he picked a piece of lint off his pants.

You nodded surely enough for him to see that you were being genuine, “I am. Jisung is just a friend, nothing more.”

Why Minho seemed so interested in the topic that he’d ask not one, but two follow-up questions about Jisung, you didn’t know. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it was jealousy or a way of making sure that you were emotionally available, but you did know better, and you knew that Lee Minho wasn’t that type of person.

Trying to bridge what was becoming an awkward silence, you cleared your throat and asked, “Do you have a favorite karaoke song? We could do a jam session here if you’re comfortable with singing.”

“You want me to sing after hearing how good you sound?” Minho scoffed in disbelief.

You visibly pouted, and Minho’s defenses immediately weakened, “Aww, I promise I won’t judge! And besides, Jisung said that you sounded good the last time you two went to the karaoke bar. It’s just the two of us, Min,” you smiled encouragingly, “We’re just here to have fun!”

Fuck everything. Fuck you and your gentle words, your soft smiles, your teasing eyes. Everything about you just made Minho want to lower all his walls and embrace all that you want to do. Letting out a sigh, he relented, “Fine. Do you know Congratulations by Day6?”

“Uh, I think the question is who doesn’t know Congratulations by Day6.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Minho scowled as you laughed, shifting the capo slightly higher on the neck of the guitar to the right tuning. Giving you time to get ready, Minho pulled up the lyrics on his phone to make sure he didn’t mess up unnecessarily in front of you. It shouldn’t matter, of course, but there was a weird fluttering in his stomach that made him almost believe that he was nervous.

When the two of you were finished fiddling around, you glanced up at him, smiling, “Ready? I’ll give a four count,” Minho nodded, and after you rapped your knuckles against the body of the guitar four times, he opened his mouth and began to sing.

His voice and your playing blended together almost magically, and it felt like the rest of the world disappeared as he continued to sing, disregarding his phone since he seemed to know the lyrics by heart. All you had to do was follow along with your gentle strumming, listening and keeping up to the natural inflections of his voice. The room felt cozier, the sterile fluorescent lights felt warmer, and you were getting lost in the ethereal picture of Minho when--

“Why are the lights on in the hallway?”

The two of you immediately stopped as you glanced at each other, eyes comically wide. It seemed like, much to your luck, the security guard happened to choose that very day to make his rounds, despite skipping every other day during the week.

“Put the guitar away! I’ll turn off the lights!” Minho hissed at you as he bolted to the wall of the room and you went to place the guitar back in its case as quickly and carefully as possible. Luckily, the music room didn't have any windows on the door, and the guard couldn’t see what was happening inside unless he actually entered the room.

The two of you just managed to put the guitar back in its original state and turn off the lights just as his footsteps neared the door. In a split second, Minho grabbed your arms and yanked you into one of the bass storage compartments, closing the closet door right before the guard opened the door to the music room, looking around curiously.

Neither of you could even breathe in the crammed space of the closet as you tentatively waited for the guard to check the room. The storage compartment left almost no wiggle room, and Minho’s arm stayed wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you snug against his chest so the two of you could fit.

Oh god, this was too much for you. The thumping of his heart against yours, the tickling of his hair against your ear as he had to dip down to avoid thumping his head against the top, the grip he had on your waist as his thumb rubbed your side, an instinctive attempt to calm your nerves.

The silence screamed in the room, and the two of you held your breaths before the footsteps exited the room, and the door clicked closed. Even still, both of you stayed totally quiet for a few moments longer before Minho let out a soft chuckle.

“This is definitely a closet I haven't explored.”

You swatted at his arm, “Now is not the time to make dirty jokes!” You scolded, but Minho accepted your angry hands, happily holding you snug against his chest as he laughed.

“If not now, then when?”

“How about never?” You rolled your eyes as you lifted your head to glare up at him, but your intentions seemed to die out the moment you realized just how close the two of you were. Minho’s face was not inches, but centimeters away from yours, your noses almost brushing and your foreheads so close that you could practically count his eyelashes.

Minho gulped, staring down at you in panic and awe as he struggled to maintain his composure. There was so much he could do, so much he’s done before; this position shouldn’t be all that shocking for him. As he’d said before, he has had his fair share of sloppy closet makeouts and even a little more than that. Cramming into a storage closet with his arms around you shouldn’t be enough to send his mind and heart into overdrive.

But they were, because he’s never met anyone that set his heart alight like you did. His eyes trailed obviously to your lips, the way that yours eyes did to his, but he couldn’t find it in himself to make the first move. There was something holding him back, an irrational fear that prevented him from moving too quickly, a fear that he might scare you away.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked softly, your hands finding their home on his chest as neither of you made moves to pull away.

“About how this date took a rather strange turn,” he answered instead, his eyes glittering with amusement.

To his surprise, you look flustered and a bit ashamed at his words, “Ah, I am sorry,” you apologized, “I didn’t think it was going to turn out like this. They never check the rooms, and I just wanted to show you a place where I--”

A gasp fell out of your lips as Minho pulled you forward until your body collided with his chest. He engulfed you in a tight hug, his face buried in your hair as he mumbled with what you could discern was a hint of trepidation and shyness, “Don’t be sorry. Thank you for showing me this side of you.”

Your hands stilled behind him, your eyes widening as you felt him hold you tighter. You could feel the beat of his heart, the trembling in his breath, and the remainder of the walls around your heart all but collapsed as you snaked your arms around his midriff, snuggling your face into his shoulder and marveling at how perfectly you fit against him.

“Thank you for giving me the chance,” you murmured, your voice muffled by his familiar leather jacket as you smiled, “You know…”

“Hmm?” Minho answered absently, holding you close.

“I like this better than fighting.”

Minho couldn’t help but giggle at the sheer simplicity of your statement, and he couldn’t help but feel inclined to agree with you.

“Yeah, me too.”

“Fuck!”

Minho let out a trail of belligerent curses as he ran to the nearest bus station, holding his leather jacket over both of your heads to shield the two of you from the sudden and pouring rain. As the two of you were walking in the middle of the flower garden right before the weather took a sharp turn for the worse, both of you were soaked to the bone by the time you found shelter.

As you clutched at your chest, gasping for breath, you huffed grumpily at the boy beside you, who looked way too dashing for someone who was doused like a wet dog, “Weren't you supposed to check the weather?”

“Well, if we went to the arcade like I'd suggested instead of the park, we wouldn't be in this predicament, would we?” Minho retorted, running a hand through his damp locks.

“It’s a Friday night. The arcade would’ve been packed to the brim and you still would’ve been all pissy.”

“It’s better than being soaked to the bone and freezing our asses off at some random bus station.”

The two of you maintained your angry tense glares for only a moment longer before you caved, rolling your eyes as a smile crept on your face, “It seems like nothing has changed, even on our last date.”

“We're destined enemies. The universe has decreed it long ago, sweetheart,” Minho chuckled.

The most humorous thing about both of those statements were how utterly false they were, and how aware both of you were about that fact. Anything and everything that existed between the two of you had changed during the course of the month, and both of you knew it. Minho had changed from a necessary annoyance to an irreplaceable pillar in your life, a source of honesty and comfort that you've grown to relish. Even though the two of you still bickered like cats and dogs, there was something good-natured about it now.

“Well, our garden date is fucked and we can't exactly go to the arcade like this, so what do you suppose we do?” You asked with a grimace as you wrung the excess water out of your hair, “This is the last day before our project ends.”

Minho sighed, shaking the droplets of water off his jacket as he bit his lip, turning his gaze to your side profile. You were happily oblivious to his stare, continuing to twist the water out of your hair as you stared out at the rainy street, humming softly to yourself. He could tell immediately that you were cold and doing your best to keep yourself from shivering.

It was definitely a pet peeve of his that he’d grown more and more annoyed over as he spent the month by your side. You never liked to wear jackets or bring them along, despite the fact that you were literally cold-blooded and tended to match the temperature of whatever weather was going on around you. It got so bad at times that Minho had already developed a habit of bringing you an extra jacket or scarf so you at least didn’t catch a fucking cold while you were spending on dates with him.

Unfortunately, the forecast had predicted clear skies and warm weather for the whole day, and Minho didn’t think about bringing that extra jacket around this time, so all you could do was perish in your cold, soaked clothes.

“You could come over and hang out at my place.”

The words tumbled out of Minho's mouth before he could really consider the consequences, and all he could do after that was look as nonchalant as possible.

As expected, you gawked at him as if he'd grown a second head, “You want me to hang out at your apartment?”

“Don't make me repeat myself,” he grumbled, feeling the tips of his ears grow hot, “We could dry up there and maybe watch some Netflix or something."

You let out a scandalized gasp, dramatically covering your chest with your arms, and Minho's face burned as he gave you a hard shove, "Not like that, oh my god!" He sputtered in total embarrassment, fully beginning to process the implications of his words.

As the poor man dissolved in his own misery, you cackled, relishing his suffering as you ran a hand through your wet locks, "I'm kidding, genius!" You said with a laugh, "Gosh, who knew you were actually such a prude on the inside."

If you took Minho seriously at all, his glare would have sent you six feet under. Unfortunately for him, one month of fake dating taught you that the man was a lot more bark than bite. You were basically Minho-immune at this point.

“You know what?” He closed his eyes, grabbing at whatever supernatural patience he had not to just shut you up with his lips smashing against yours, “Offers’ off. Walk home yourself.”

“Aw, alright I’m sorry!” You laughed, ruffling his messed up hair as you walked out of the bus stop and into the pouring rain, “Come on, please? I promise I won’t make fun of you anymore.”

You promising not to make fun of him sounded about as genuine as Jisung saying that he’d stop procrastinating on his homework, but what was Minho going to do? Make you walk home by yourself in this type of weather? It wasn’t that he was giving you any special treatment; this was just what any good samaritan would do.

With a roll of his eyes, he stomped over to you and flung his leather jacket over your head, “Let’s go,” he muttered. Smiling playfully, you followed him home, using his jacket to shield you from the rain as you stared at his back with a hint of bittersweetness.

The jacket still smelled like him, you thought absently as you walked in his shadow. As much as you’d tried to deny it to yourself, Minho smelled good. He smelled like Febreeze and citrus. You were going to miss the warmth of his jacket very soon, when he’d no longer be obligated to take care of you or make sure that you won’t catch a cold.

“Did you die back there, sweetheart?” Minho called behind him, “You’ve gone all quiet.”

“If I died, how exactly was I supposed to answer you?”

“Oh, my bad. I was really only asking out of courtesy,” he smirked, throwing his head back as his eyes sparkled with a mischief you’ve grown out of hating. Seeing the few feet of distance between the two of you, he extended his hand, chuckling, “Seriously, what are you doing all the way back there? Come on.”

You felt yourself grow quiet, taking a few large strides forward before you let go of the jacket and slipped your hand into his. Minho’s fingers laced with yours as he continued on his way, leading you down a couple streets before you made it to the familiar apartment complex.

Now, you’ve been to Minho’s place a couple times, so you didn’t feel too overwhelmed as the two of you rushed into the lobby area sopping wet and trying your best to dry off your shoes on the mat. However, it was always just a quick stop, like standing in the lobby area while he went up to grab something, or meeting with him downstairs before going on a date. You’d never actually been into his apartment before, and as the two of you stood in the elevator in a deafening silence, you couldn’t stop your heart from racing a little faster than normal.

“Alright, now I’m worried,” he said as the numbers on the elevator screen went up slowly, “You’re being abnormally quiet. What’s up?”

You blinked in momentary surprise, not expecting him to pry, since he wasn’t ever the type, “Oh. I’m just wondering what your place looks like,” you said, smiling.

Minho didn’t buy it for one second, but he only gave you a strange glance as the elevator doors opened, “I see. Well, it’s nothing special. It’s just like any other dumpy frumpy apartment.”

“I didn’t mean like whether it looks expensive or not,” you said with a soft laugh as the two of you walked down the hallway towards the door to the left, “I’m just wondering whether it would be clean or messy, if you like to keep it warm or cold. Those sorts of things.”

“Oh,” Minho rubbed the back of his neck, and for the first time, he felt a little nervous about twisting his key and opening the door. What if you had higher expectations about it than he could actually meet? Wait, did he pick up those boxers off the floor before he left that morning? He did, right?

“What are you waiting for?” You asked in amusement, watching as Minho seemed to have gone very still after he pushed his key into the keyhole. When he didn’t budge, you moved forward to turn it yourself, only for him to angle his body in front of the door.

“Uh, maybe this isn’t the best idea,” he said with a pleasant, saccharine smile.

You blinked, “Minho, we’re literally at your door,” you said just as a loud boom of thunder sounded in the distance, “And it’s thundering. Your room can’t be that horrid, right?”

“It might be a bit messy,” he argued.

“We’ve both spent game nights in Jisung’s hell hole. I think I can handle however messy your apartment is.”

That was a fair point. Minho couldn’t really find an argument against that attack. Lowering his head, he sighed, “Let me head in to tidy some things first.”

With a raised eyebrow, you crossed your arms, “No problem, but I seriously don’t care, if that’s what your worried about.”

Minho could only nod suddenly before he turned the key, unlocked the door and slipped in faster than a ghost before slamming the door shut. Just like he’d predicted, his boxers were lying nonchalantly on his bedroom floor, and he shoved them in his hamper before cleaning--more like hiding--the rest of his junk in record time.

You were beginning to think that Minho had just locked you out of his apartment when the door opened once more, and he walked out with a towel in hand, “Did you hide whatever dirty toy you needed to hide?” You asked with a smirk.

“Get your head out of the gutter,” he retorted, throwing the towel at you and leading you inside.

The apartment wasn’t far from your expectations. Clean, but not meticulously so, a little bit on the chilly side, and a sense of homeliness with the warm lights and lamps that he chose from the living area. You found yourself growing fonder and fonder of it by the minute.

“It’s cute,” you smiled, wrapping the towel around your neck.

Minho tried to ignore the way his cheeks warmed at the simple, but genuine compliment that fell out of your lips, “Thanks. I laid out a change of clothes for you in the bathroom. You can also take a shower if you feel like you need to warm up.”

“What a gentleman,” you said teasingly as you placed your handbag down on the floor as you headed to where Minho had gestured to the bathroom, “Do you have people over often?” It was an easy question, not even close to brushing the real question that sat in the back of your mind.

Is what we have special? Do I mean something different to you the way you mean something different to me?

“Actually, besides Jisung, you’re probably the first,” Minho answered, grabbing a towel to dry off his own hair as he walked towards you, “I don’t really like strangers or acquaintances in my space.”

“Oh, I should be honored, then,” you said, trying to contain your surprise as turned to face him, studying the way his damp hair framed his face and the way his eyes seemed to burn with an intensity that you could never read. You could never tell what that gaze wanted, what that gaze meant, but you knew what it did to you and your foolish little heart.

Minho’s head tilted ever so slightly as the silence hung in the air. Then, he smiled, brushing the tip of his finger under your chin, “Well, being my social experiment girlfriend has to have its perks.”

The trance shattered, and whatever moment of tension and unexplainable attraction you felt disappeared into the air as you marched towards the bathroom, “I’m glad I got to make use of it before my membership expires tomorrow,” you said, your voice tinged with sarcasm as you shut the door.

A laugh left Minho’s lips as he shook his head, walking into his bedroom and quickly getting into a change of clothes before flopping onto his couch. This experiment has proved to be one of the most difficult experiences in his life. All this time, he always knew what he wanted, and he always knew how to get it. If he wanted someone, he got them. If he wanted to pursue something, he found himself being able to achieve it with just a bit of hard work on his part.

But with you, he didn’t know what he wanted, nor did he know how to obtain it. When he met you as Jisung’s other best friend, he never once imagined that the two of you would form such a strange yet irreplaceable relationship in such a short amount of time. He liked you, he liked you a lot. But as he found himself falling further and further, he realized that the reason this was so difficult was because he cared about you. His way of living with no strings attached wasn’t going to cut it anymore, especially since he was beginning to notice that many of his strings were tightly wrapped around your fingers.

And despite this, the two of you were going to have to cut them all off when the morning came.

“Fuck you, Jisung. You probably knew this was going to happen, you little shit,” Minho sighed, lying down on the couch and closing his eyes. Whatever, he didn’t want to think about the goodbye. He’d deal with it when it came.

“Uh, Minmin?”

“Hmm?” Minho answered you absently, his eyes still closed.

“You can shower if you’d like,” you offered, the couch dipping under your weight as you sat beside him.

“Nah, I’ll just shower tomorrow morning,” Minho said, opening his eyes and physically having to fight back a blush as he saw you, his hoodie practically engulfing you whole and his sweats going past your feet. Oh fuck, did he even think things through when he picked out a spare set of clothes for you?

You caught his stunned gaze, your cheeks immediately reddening, “L-look, they’re just a little big on me!” You said defensively as you grabbed one of the pillows and shoved it in his face, “Can’t you stop staring?”

Minho laughed, fending off your relentless pillow attacks with his arms, “Sweetheart, I swear! You actually look really cute!”

“Shut up!” You shrieked, swinging your arms relentlessly as Minho finally had enough letting you win. Lashing out with his hands, he grabbed both of your wrists, stopping their movement and forcing you to drop the pillow as he yanked you forward. With all your momentum going in one direction, your body had no choice but to follow, and when you opened your eyes, you were sprawled on top of him on the couch, his hands still locking your wrists in place.

“Um,” you looked around, further procession the rather awkward position the two of you had taken, “did you mean for this to happen?”

Minho didn’t, but he was nothing if not an opportunist, “You can think whatever you wanna think,” he shrugged, letting go of your wrists as he wrapped a casual arm around your waist, “What? Not comfortable?”

The more you thought about it, the more you realized that the position was actually quite comfortable. Minho was always built like a personal heater and whatever chill you felt from running around in the rain just seemed to melt away as he held you.

Stop it, the little voice in your mind whispered as you tried not to focus on the fact that your face was inches from his. This date was for you to say your goodbyes, not fall farther into the black hole.

“Comfortable? Hardly,” you scoffed as best you could, pushing yourself up with your hands and curling up on the couch beside his stretched out figure, “You’re all muscle from dancing so much. It’s like sleeping on a rock.”

“Ah, these abs are hard as rock,” Minho nodded very seriously.

“I wasn’t talking about your abs.”

“Then what else can be hard?” He blinked for a moment before his smile turned unbelievably devilish, “My, my, (name)...I didn’t know you were so--”

You grabbed the pillow you’d previously discarded and shoved it into his chest, “Can we watch something?” You interrupted him pleasantly, pretending not to have even heard the beginning of his less than appropriate joke.

Minho huffed, throwing the stupid pillow to the floor as he scooted next to you, “Sure, want popcorn?” He asked, handing you the remote after turning on his TV, “Just find something on Netflix.”

“Anything you don’t like to watch?” You asked, browsing through the selections.

“Nothing horror related,” he answered as he pushed himself off the couch, heading to the kitchen.

His reply felt strange to you, and you frowned, turning around to look at him, “But don’t you love horror movies?” You asked, remembering very clearly that Minho and Jisung had first met because they both went to the same viewing of a new horror movie that you refused to go to.

“Yeah, but you don’t, right?” Minho pointed out before shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly and disappearing into the kitchen area as you were left reeling at his almost blasé answer, struck by how much he’d grown to learn about you and how much he'd grown to take your feelings into account.

Now that you thought about it, you realized how much Minho's personality had changed and affected the way you did things, not in a controlling way, but in a way that you found yourself thinking about him when making decisions. When you made your weekly batch of bread, you tended to lean towards milk bread because it was Minho’s favorite. When you went out for dinner together, you thought about what he enjoyed before picking a cuisine. When you browsed for cute accessories, your taste gravitated to cats because they reminded you of him.

Holy fuck, how deep in were you?

“You didn't pick anything yet,” Minho noticed as he poked his head out from the kitchen, waiting for the popcorn to finish.

“O-oh right,” you fumbled with the remote in your hands as you scrolled through the selections.

Minho hummed, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, “Hmm…? What were you thinking about, kitten?”

“Nothing, stop being nosy,” you answered with an annoyed edge as you found something that piqued your interest, “Hey, wanna watch Bridgerton? I heard some good things about it from my friends.”

"I heard it's a bit of a shitshow," Minho commented as the microwave beeped and the smell of buttered popcorn filled the room. Grabbing the bowl and taking a few pieces for himself, he returned to the living room, jumping over the couch and plopping down beside you.

You tried to ignore how casual it felt for him to just throw an arm around your shoulders to pull you close, focusing on the TV, “Wanna check it out to see which review is accurate?”

“Sure, whatever you want, kitten.”

As the two of you powered through episode after episode, it became clear that both reviews had some merit, as the series was a bit of a shitshow, but one that you wouldn't be able to stop watching. Minho and you found yourselves rather invested in the story and the characters, letting out a huge “finally” when the two leads confessed their genuine love for one another.

“Another episode?” You asked after a short bathroom break, falling into his arms even more so than before and practically snuggling into his warm chest now.

“Go for it, sweetheart. I have all night.”

“So do I,” you chuckled, and pressed the play button.

However, things started to take a weird turn after you reached the middle mark of the series. Bouts of contained love had been released, and there were beginning to be many scenes that weren't quite appropriate for general audiences. You quickly realized that this was probably not the show you should've picked to watch through straight-faced with your lovely social experiment boyfriend.

You held your tongue for most of them, just wanting and wishing for them to be over as soon as possible, but when positions started to turn towards an even more peculiar direction, you couldn't help but make one rather underhanded comment.

“Ugh, forget the literal fanfic fake dating trope they had going on. This is probably the most unrealistic part of the whole show,” you said with mild disgust as you watched the female lead gripping on the rails of the staircase.

“Oh?” Minho perked up at your comment almost too eagerly. Like you, he had also been suffering from the tragic case of watching a dirty scene with his totally-fake-but-also-somehow-real girlfriend, and felt a crash of relief when you spoke up about something, “And why is that, kitten?”

A noise of disbelief choked out of your throat as you gestured at the scene before your eyes, “I mean, look at them! Can you possibly expect me to believe that she feels comfortable in that position, much less enjoy it?”

Minho shrugged, “You’d be surprised how much you can ignore when you’re in the moment.”

“I don’t believe it,” you scoffed, grabbing a handful of popcorn, “At least, I’ve never had such an experience before.”

The conversation was dropped then and there, and the show continued without further criticism. But halfway through the next episode, you began to feel that you were being watched, and sure enough, Minho was gazing at you with an unreadable expression, deep in thought.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, chuckling awkwardly, “Do I have something on my...Min?”

Your eyes widened comically as Minho suddenly shifted on the couch, leaning impossibly closer to you and gently cupping your jaw with his hand. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck fuck fuck. Had he lost his mind?!

Minho seemed to answer your silent question as he stopped right before his lips could brush yours, and his eyes searched for any fear or hesitation in your expression, “Is it true?” He asked hoarsely, his words no louder than a faint whisper.

“What true?” You murmured back, looking up at him through your lashes.

The man gulped, trying to hold onto whatever semblance of control he had left in his body, “What you said earlier...about never having such an experience before.”

Oh, your cheeks reddened as bright as apples, “Why do you have to bring it up again, idiot?!” You felt your voice fail you as Minho tightened his hold on you.

“So it’s true?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, “Yes, it’s true! What does it have to do with you, asshole?”

Minho sucked in a breath, studying your face as his eyes shone with gentle adoration and tenderness that you didn’t even know he could possess, “Can I kiss you, (name)?”

Your name. It was your name. Not sweetheart. Not kitten. Not any other petname he could give anyone that he pleased. He uttered your name. He was asking for your permission. And like a sailor drawn in by the siren’s song, you had no hope of escaping now.

“Yes.”

Closing the gap, your lips met as the two of you finally succumbed to the growing tension that festered with every meeting, every touch of your hands, every quip thrown both ways. Minho caressed your cheek as your hands slid to his shoulders, reveling in the kiss that was such a long time coming.

When he finally pulled away to let both of you catch your breaths, his cheeks were flushed, his eyes blown wide as he stared at you underneath him. Swallowing, he brushed the hair away from your face, his heart warming with unrestrained affection as you leaned into his touch instead of pulling away, “Can I give you that experience you’ve been lacking?” He asked, a coil of anxiety rolling in his stomach as he studied your face for every miniscule reaction.

Any inkling that you didn’t want to, any inkling that you were only going to along to please him, he’d end it all. Minho knew very well that he was walking on a tightrope of maybe losing you forever.

But to his surprise, you didn’t look fearful or uncomfortable, only a bit uncertain, “T-this is our last night though, a-as…” you trailed off, not wanting to make those thoughts a reality, just like Minho had been actively avoiding the topic as well.

“I know, I know,” he sighed, stroking your cheek absently with his thumb, “Maybe...we can think of this as a goodbye.”

You smiled, “It’s one hell of a goodbye,” you teased, making him chuckle. It was definitely one hell of a goodbye.

“Do you want it?” Minho whispered, hovering over you, “You say the word, and I’ll back off. Promise.”

Sucking in a breath, you decided not to live by your head anymore. With Lee Minho holding you close, kissing you silly, what was there to refuse?

“I want it,” you murmured, “I want you.”

This was the right choice, you told yourself as Minho carried you to his bedroom, treating you with a delicacy and gentleness that you’ve never experienced before. It was the culmination of your feelings for him. Maybe, when the morning comes, these feelings would wash away with your bouts of pleasure. Maybe, when the morning comes, you wouldn’t be as deeply in love with him as you were now.

Right?

epilogue.

When you woke in the morning, the rays of sunlight spilling in through Minho’s dark curtains, you were almost stunned by how very wrong you were. As you turned your head, finding yourself face to face with Minho, fast asleep with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, you knew that you were not only still in love with Minho, but you were more in love with him than you were the night before.

And boy, did that terrify you to your very core.

Fuck! This wasn’t supposed to happen. The experiment was over, right? There wasn’t a purpose that pulled you two together anymore. There wasn’t a purpose for Minho to feel any sort of attraction to you anymore.

Too terrified to face the love of your life when he woke, you did the only thing you knew how to do.

And you ran.

Detangling yourself from Minho as gently as possible, you slipped out of his bed, grabbing your clothes from where they’d been haphazardly discarded around the room. You changed in record time, anxious to avoid making sound or staying around until Minho woke. It was only 8:30 in the morning, though, and you knew that Minho naturally didn’t like to wake before 9:00, so you had a bit of time.

You wanted to leave as soon as you finished changing, but your guilty conscience wouldn’t let you disappear without some form of gratitude. For the night before or for the way he’d treated you the whole month, you didn’t know. But either way, you grabbed a couple of ingredients that he had in his refrigerator and fixed him a hearty breakfast before heading to the door. You only looked back once before officially steeling yourself to disappear from Lee Minho’s life, at least until you’d be able to resolve these naive and yet deep-seated feelings you had for him.

For the rest of the week, life went on as normal for you, as if your one unforgettable month with Minho had all but faded into the wind as you had hoped that night. You finished your final entry in the diary and handed it back to Jisung the day after the experiment ended. If he had questions as to why you’d disregarded the original plan to hand yours over along with Minho’s at the same time, he didn’t bring them up.

“Did you at least have fun, (name)?” Jisung asked before you could turn around to leave.

You hesitated, quickly realizing that the fact that you couldn’t answer the question immediately gave away your uncertainty. After a long moment of thought, you nodded.

“Yeah, I did.”

You really did, though. There was no point lying to yourself about that when you were already having such a hard time pretending that your very real feelings for Minho don’t exist.

Speaking of Minho, you spent much of the week trying to cut him out of your life as much as possible, which was proven to be rather difficult since the two of you had such a close friend in common. You could tell that Jisung was getting a little sick of seesawing between his two best friends without knowing why the two of you were acting this way. Even back when the two of you were basically the worst of enemies, neither of you ever actively tried to avoid seeing the other.

But now, you were avoiding Minho like the plague. You avoided his school building entirely, and if you happened to see him walking down the street by some unlucky miracle, you’d bolt in a random direction and hide in a store until you were sure he was gone.

It was a lot of effort, and you weren’t even sure if it was working, since your feelings for him seemed to grow even stronger the more you were away from him.

There was just worry that festered within your heart, this genuine concern you had over his wellbeing now that you weren’t able to check on him every day. Was he eating well? Was he skipping breakfast now that you stopped giving him your milk bread? Did he pass that exam he was worried about?

It seemed your feelings for Minho were going to need a little more than distance to disappear.

After two weeks of moping and frustratingly obvious heart sickness on both sides, Han Jisung finally had enough with his idiotic best friends.

You opened your door in surprise as Jisung stood at the entrance of your apartment, an unusually angry expression on his face, “U-uh, Sungie? You good?”

“Do I look good?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes, “How the fuck do you expect me to be good when I’ve been fucking tiptoeing between you and Minho for the past two weeks?!”

You flinched at the very mention of his name, “I’m sorry. I promise everything will go back to normal soon.”

“With the way you’re doing things, I don’t think that’s going to happen, (name),” Jisung rubbed his eyes tiredly, and you finally noticed the deep eyebags he had, indicating several all nighters, “I finished writing my thesis paper.”

“Oh, congrats.”

It was easier to muster up a smile at that statement, since you were genuinely proud of Jisung for such a daring project.

“I also read both of your notebooks.”

Fuck. That was a necessary part of writing that paper.

You nodded, trying to keep your cool, “Okay? Did they not have enough information?”

“Forget the stupid project for one fucking moment, please,” Jisung interrupted before sighing, “At first, I thought the awkwardness came from the fact that you still hate each other, but it turns out it’s just the opposite.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jisung threw you a long look, as if silently weighing several options in his head. You could practically see his thoughts running a mile a minute, and all you could do was stand there as he finally reached into his bag and pulled out a familiar notebook.

“This--” Your eyes widened as you gazed down at the name written in Sharpie, a name that decidedly wasn’t yours, “Jisung, you can’t--”

“Yes, I know that as the operator of this experiment, giving out information that I’d originally stated was confidential is absolutely against everything that science stands for,” he said wearily, “But as your friend and Minho’s friend, this is the right thing to do.”

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Read it, dummy. I could tell you what’s inside, but I don’t think you’d believe me unless you saw it yourself.”

Jisung grabbed your wrist and pressed the little notebook into the palm of your hand, “I think you’ll know what to do after,” he smiled gently, his eyes filled with earnest care as he gave you a quick hug and made his way down the hall, leaving you to stand at your door holding Minho’s grey project notebook.

With nothing else to do, you entered your apartment again and plopped down on the couch, notebook in hand. Did you even want to see it, Minho’s unadulterated truth? A part of you wasn't, but curiosity always killed the cat, and you found yourself gingerly opening the first page.

Nothing was far from what you expected at first, since it matched quite well to your own experiences. First blatant dislike, then grudging respect, and finally, a growing fondness. You found yourself smiling as you read about how much Minho actually adored the bentos you made, even though he never made his thoughts on it entirely clear to you.

Then, you finally made it to the last page: Day 31. You found yourself stopping short, your heart beginning to race again as your eyes scanned the first few words.

lee minho: day 31 + 2 days

action(s): last date

notes: yeah, i know this entry is late, but i just needed some time to collect myself.

she left in the morning before i could wake up. i can’t say i was surprised, since i told her the night could be our goodbye, but i’d hoped in some part of me that she’d stay, that we’d just carry on with the rest of the month like the ending date didn’t exist. she made me breakfast, though, so at least i know she wasn’t disappointed or upset with me about how far things went. at least i hope.

fuck, jisung, i can’t stop thinking about her. it’s been two days already and nothing i do can make me forget her. the last night just made things infinitely worse. i played with fire and im getting burned for it. i can’t get the way she felt out of my head, the way she would also look into my eyes and see me for what i am inside, not just what i look like. i miss her milk bread, i miss seeing her outside the dance studio.

jisung, i think i love her. no fuck it, i do love her, and there’s nothing i can do anymore. she clearly doesn’t want anything to do with me based on how she’d been avoiding me like the plague whenever i see her on the street. and now, i don't even know how much of what she felt, how much of what she did for me was real. did she put in so much effort because she wanted you to be happy? or was the way she hugged me, the way she spoke to me, was it all real?

it doesnt matter now.

By the time you made it to the end of the page, your eyes were filled with tears and your vision blurred over. Minho...he loved you? Had you been so absorbed with wallowing in your own misery that you failed to realize that your actions were hurting him?

Panic filled your very being, and as Jisung had predicted, you knew exactly what you had to do. You had to make amends, apologize for your actions, and at the very least, express your own feelings to him directly, even if it was too little too late.

With the notebook clutched tightly in your hand, you grabbed your purse and rushed out the door, still putting on your boots as you hopped to the elevator. Which bus did you have to take to get to his apartment? First the #2 and then transfer over to #13...right.

You bolted out of the lobby, feeling the rush of cold air seep through your bones, but you hardly found it in yourself to care. You ran to the bus station, anxiously shuffling on either feet as you waited for the next #2 line bus to arrive. When the bus finally arrived, you were already standing at the edge of the sidewalk, too jittery to sit. The doors slid open, and before you could barge inside, your jaw went slack as a familiar figure stepped out of the bus, his own eyes widened as they caught yours.

What was most interesting, however, was the familiar grey notebook that he clutched in his hand, one that was painfully identical to the one you were holding.

The two of you stood in an awed silence as Minho got off the steps, and the bus drove away. Immediately, you felt a wave of concern as you looked him over from a distance. Did he lose weight? Was he getting enough sleep?

In the end, Minho was the one who spoke first, clearing his throat awkwardly, “Judging by the notebook in your hand, I’m assuming that Jisung fucked us both over?”

“Y-yeah, sort of,” you answered, surprised that your voice didn’t completely fail you in such an important moment.

Minho seemed to wait for you to continue, but when you didn’t, he spoke again, “Um, I read it. Your diary entries.”

That wasn’t a surprise, of course, see that you read his, but you couldn’t stop the wave of flushed embarrassment from washing over you as you thought about all the embarrassing things you wrote about him, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, looking sheepish, “Do you really think I sound like an angel when I sing?”

Oh, if you could hide yourself six feet under, you would have. But you could nod shamefully, “Yeah.”

“Do you really like it when I cuddle with you and pull you onto my lap?”

Was this your punishment for not being honest upfront? “Y-yes! Now can you please shut up--”

“Do you really love me?”

The wind was knocked out of your lungs as you finally looked up to stare at Minho, whose face was unreadable as always. He held up the notebook and repeated his question when you couldn’t find it in yourself to muster up an answer, “You said in your final entry that you were in love with me, that you loved every part of me inside and out, and that our final night together just made everything so much more real. Is it true?”

Your eyes filled with pain as you choked out softly, “What will you do…if it is?”

Minho’s expression didn’t seem to change, but you didn’t miss the way his eyes seemed to return to their usual sparkle just a little bit, “If it is true, then I’d call you an idiot for ghosting me.”

“R-right--”

“And then I’d walk over to where you’re standing. I’d wrap my arms around your waist like the way you love, and I’d kiss you silly. I’d tell you that I’m totally and completely in love with you, as you probably already know from my diary entires, and I’d ask you to be my real girlfriend,” Minho spoke, his voice filled with meaning as his grip on your notebook tightened, “Now tell me, is it true?”

You couldn’t even remember how to breathe as you stared at him, the cold winter wind making his cheeks so delightfully rosy that all you wanted to do was to kiss them gently and warm them up with your mittens. And as he gazed at you, the sincerity pouring out of his posture, his words, and his eyes, there was no way you could continue lying to yourself.

“It is true,” you said, your eyes filling with unshed tears as you gripped at his notebook, “I’m in love with you, Lee Minho, and it’s tearing me apart just like it’s tearing you apart. I want to love you for real, I want to date you for real, I want us to be real.”

Minho took three large steps forward before he was right in front of you and his lips crashed against yours in a breathtaking kiss. His arms wrapped around your waist like he’d promised, and yours cupped his cheek as he kissed you with unrestrained fervor.

Wow, he really did kiss you silly.

“No more rules, no more of this social experiment bullshit,” he murmured against your lips as he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, “Do you want to be my real girlfriend, (name)?”

What was there to refuse?

the enemies to lovers project: [success]

#stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz x y/n #skz x reader #lee minho imagines #lee minho scenarios #lee know imagines #lee know scenarios #stray kids x reader #dream type: oneshot

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 years

Text

am i warm enough for you?

➳ tags ;; soulmate au, strangers to lovers, fluff and angst but mostly fluff, some-what canon compliant, bakugo katsuki is bad at feelings, lots of Feelings™, you guys are adults but the end of the fic but the fic is sfw, alcohol, drunk confessions

➳ wc ;; 5.6k..

➳ plot summary ;; you see your soulmate in dreams - sometimes in bits and pieces and other times in full. bakugo is less than inclined to admit he even has a soulmate - and you learn how to cope with it, one day at a time.

bakugo learns that this soulmate shit is no joke. that has to be why he keeps falling for you so helplessly.

➳ a/n ;; i wasn’t even gonna comeback this early but it felt so wrong not to post on my bfs birthday so alas </3 for anyone who cares to know this is @elysianseraph but with my new url. nice to see u all <3

this was originally posted on 4/20 but im reposting cause it didn’t show up in the tags dskjds

It’s hazy.

A cloud of smoke settles over your body, permeating your lung. It smells like sugar, like burning, like smoke and a little like leather. You can feel your toes curl and your hands moving but your body is separate from you in a way you can’t describe. It’s a pleasant kind of warmth that spreads, creeping up from behind your neck till it’s soft and cradling your skull. It’s soft like the touch of a mother, like wool over your ears.

It’s a pleasant feeling, that’s all. Almost cozy but there’s a fading sense of distress that chills in your lungs as you encompass it. Your hands are too small to reach forward, and truthfully the sensation is so powerful that you’re afraid to reach out. You’re 6 years old, so all you know is how it makes you feel. You can’t remember many details, but you feel pleasant. Something about it is soft, but there’s a sharp edge right at the end that has your lungs gasping for air.

It’s a flash of colors. Red. Orange. Pale Yellow. Grey. Black. Forest Green. Red. Red. Orange. Red.

And then it fades into a feeling again. A blurry feeling. You feel conflict, then concern, then inadequacy in heavy waves almost like it’s drowning you. It’s the first time you’ve experienced such a pain, so your wailing and wiping tears away with chubby fingers and saying a name you don’t know and can’t remember.

Ka. You know the sound, Ka. But you don’t know of anything more. It repeats rhythmically in your mind like a knock on the door, rapping with urgency - but it doesn’t do anything to jog your memory. Someone is trying to be let in but you don’t know how to answer them, and you’re still crying. The distress, the inadequacy shakes you and all you feel is frustration in short simple bursts.

Your first encounter with your soulmate is written this way in your memory. A sense of urgency laced with frustration - but they’re not towards you. It’s him, his feelings - you can feel them even deeper then he can. They pierce you in a way that makes it hard to breathe, no matter how you try to escape them it’s an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. The only way to escape the feelings of a dream is either to control them, or to face them and swim through the fog.

Soulmates have an urgency to them, in general. His is different, you can tell as much. Your first soulmate dream leaves the heaviest impression and each one thereafter is like pieces of a puzzle.

Sometimes you simply share random dreams, like a split screen in a video game - the two of you witness different parts of the same dreamverse. Other times, and honestly - most times, you’re experiencing their emotions or feelings. You experience their core memories, their life, in flashes and bits and pieces.

It’s not enough to know them or who they are, it’s like know everything about them except the things that matter

Sometimes you meet too. Just barely.

MEETING 1:

The room is white. When you blink, colors flash in order - red, pale yellow, orange, forest green and you know. You blink a few more times, stretching your hands out in front of yourself. Curling your hands into fist then into stretched palms, you lean forward and stretch. You wriggle your toes - notice you're wearing shoes. Clothes from your closet. Strange.

You take a look around the room but there isn't much to see. There’s a wall in front of you with a glass divider and a mirrored empty room. The room across from yours has spiky decor littered against the walls. An orange dresser, plastic grenades and play guns. You know who it is without a second warning - and a foggy part in the back of your head tells you that it’s him, again but with more force. You don’t see anything in your room, but you figure he might. All of it is confusing to you.

Before you can blink, there’s a loud thud coming from the other side of the glass. It’s a silhouette, the outline of a face - but nothing clear. Dream logic dictates you can’t know a face you’ve never seen, yet somehow you know his outline. Spiky, he’s spiky everywhere.

“Hello?,” you call out, overly tentative. The figure pauses, seems to take in whatever they must be seeing. You’re not sure what response you’re expecting, really. There’s no expectations at all.

“...Who the fuck are you?,” says a pitchy, male voice. He sounds like he’s your same age, a highschool boy. His throat is rough, yet not overly deep. It’s almost scratchy.

“Uhm,”

You’re not sure how to reply. You can see him through the glass, but not really. Still, you take note of his shadows like they’re going to tell you anything more. You shove your hands in your pockets, messing around with something inside.

“Uh.. your soulmate, I think,” you reply.

Scratching the back of your neck as an awkward silence settles, you take a few minutes to try and figure what more to say.

“We met when we were kids once too,” you explain awkwardly. He must know, has too - this soulmate thing is a two way thing, but his silence is deafening. You just want to feel this space. Is it always this awkward?

“Red. Orange. Pale Yellow. Forest Green,” you repeat, like a mantra. You hear him take in a sharp breath, and freeze. For some reason, you’d like to avoid upsetting him. He doesn’t seem like he’s taking to the information too well.

“I don’t have time for this damn bullshit… whatever quirk you’ve got to mimic this - cut it the fuck out,”

Hostile.

You pause, not sure how to feel. Half of you is offended, the other half is confused - had you done something to upset him? You can feel how he feels - but you don’t understand it. You sit with your mouth agape, like a fish out of water. Unsure of how to proceed, you scoff a little.

“Woah.. this isn’t a quirk thing. We’re.. soulmates? That’s already a thing,”

More silence. You’ve.. he doesn’t seem upset, but you can tell he’s not all that keen to the idea. It’s a bare minimum improvement that you find yourself valuing, without your consent. He breathes again, throat even more hoarse than before. His voice is angry but it doesn’t fit his responses, his feelings - so you don’t pay attention to his madness. Something is off.

“... I’m not supposed to have a soulmate. No fucking way I have a soulmate,” he grits. You step back, stumbling. You didn’t have any expectations.. but this wasn’t what you had been expecting at all. You feel uneasy, sick. It must be a shared feeling if the way he leans against a wall counts for anything.

A beat of silence passes before you open your mouth to speak.

“... I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to that,” you admit. He scoffs.

“Nothing you damn extra. Leave me the fuck alone,”

You don’t reply, too stunned. This was your soulmate? This.. asshole? Not that you were a peach entirely either, but this was supposedly the person that the universe had decided for you?

You shake your head. Maybe you’re just being rash? He could be a nice guy behind all the chaos. You try your best to hold onto that, that this was literally someone chosen for you before you gave up all hope. You sigh, cracking your neck.

“You can say whatever you want but.. we’re here, you know? It’s more productive to just go with it.. isn’t it?,”

“Go fuck yourself,”

“After meeting you, I’m not exactly over the fucking moon about it either. It is what is,”

“You’re not my fucking.. soulmate or whatever the fuck. Leave me alone,”

Your heart both aches with anger and sadness. You don’t know what to do. What does this shit-head know about you, anyway? You know he’s been through some shit, same as you - what makes him so entitled? You swallow the lump in your throat. It hurts. It pierces. Stupid soulmate bonds.

“Yeah? Alright. Fuck you too,”

You see him pace around for a longer before he disappears in a cloud of smoke. You didn’t even catch his name, and you’re not sure you wanted too. It must be morning, but at least you're away from him. It feels lonely, but it must just be you.

Your eyes flutter open but your heart is heavy with regret. You don’t know who it belongs to, but you’ve got class in an hour and not enough time to think about it. If he doesn’t want to meet you that’s fine.

It’s fine. Not like you wanted to meet your soulmate anyway.

You don’t have another meeting with your soulmate for months. Lately your dreams have little if anything to do with him or where he is, how he’s been. You have some of those split screen ones, where you know he’s there but neither of you acknowledge each other, even in spirit, like how you did before. When you wake up feeling angsty, you don’t know how to distinguish the feeling but you don’t try.

You wonder idly if he can feel your apathy, if he cares enough too. Maybe he also mistakes it for his own? It seems likely.

It’s a weekday where you’re getting ready for remedial classes at your school. First year advanced courses were no joke, and you find yourself regretting your choice to participate in them.

Still you get dressed anyway, put your uniform on and brush your teeth - wash your face with your eyes half open and look presentable. No one's home in the morning, the house is empty of any life but you. Food becomes a last minute priority, so you make an egg sandwich with cheese and eat it on the way to the train station.

You stare down at your feet as you step outside, music drowning out the noise of your surroundings aptly. The walk to the station is long and the ride is longer, but the streets are packed edge to edge. Musutafu is busy this time of year - the U.A. Sports Festival is taking place today and everything seems to reflect that. You barely manage to squeeze past all the strangers on the subway - clearly on their way to see it.

When you get to school, you're greeted by a mostly empty classroom with a teacher. These classes were straightforward as always, do the work you need to correct, have it approved and leave. It repeats until your finished with all the assignments and you get to be done. You give a respectful nod to your teacher before grabbing your work from your bag.

It goes on and on - occasionally, you hear an excited gasp and quiet chatter from classmates. It’s about the festival, the happenings - but you’re too caught up in completing your work that day and trying to get the fuck out of their as soon as possible.

Shit like that didn’t matter to you, anyways. It’s just a festival.

You leave around the same time the festival seems to have ended, the streets flooded with people - you miss the first station and wander towards an electronics store a block away from your highschool.

It’s the winners on TV. A guy with split hair - Shouto Todoroki, Endeavors son. A guy with a bird head, and a blonde with red eyes - muzzled to the pole.

When you see them, your heart stops. You can feel anger, an unfamiliar rage and humiliation building in your chest. It feels the word has stopped as you watch from afar, through screens. Your soulmate seems upset about something, but you wouldn’t know what.

And that blonde on TV, you wonder if you know him from somewhere.

MEETING 2:

Red.Orange. Pale Yellow. Grey. Black. Forest Green. Red. Red.

You feel him before you even know what’s happening - and it catches you completely off-guard. You haven’t had a proper soulmate dream in two years. Smoke clouds your lungs, the taste of sugar burning your tongue as you cough yourself into awareness. This time, you’re not in a room but it’s a campground. In the middle of the space is a bonfire, burning warmly. This one feels more vivid, more real.

But you know it’s not, your body feel unusually light and your hands can’t hold anything for too long. You know it’s a dream, but you sit in the chair anyway. It feels like you're floating. You feel oddly warm. Dread builds in the pit of your stomach. Even though it’s been so long since you’ve spoken to your soulmate - you can’t forget the terrible first encounter. It sticks to the roof of your mouth - a bitter memory that fills you with unexplainable, irrational resentment.

But it’s not like you hadn’t been seeing him, to an extent. You’ve seen all his memories in bits and pieces - all of them tragic and painful. This time, you see people but they come in the form of small scraps. Spiky Red. Electricity. Tape. Pink with Horns. Music. Green. So much green and red - like Christmas, you’ve called it. You’ve seen disappearances, fear, anguish - so much anguish.

In the weeks after All Might’s fall, you were in so much pain - you couldn’t stop crying for days. It’s been enough time to know what feelings were yours and which were his - and these ones felt so much like him. It went on for nearly a year - you’d almost got accustomed to it. If tears showed up to blot the ink of your lecture notes, you didn’t think twice about it. You tried to keep yourself calm, steady - in hopes you could lend your soothing to him. Even if he hated your guts, you could barely believe so much sadness could exist in one person. You didn’t know what happened but whatever it was - it must’ve been terrible. At the very least, you felt sympathy.

Sympathy was enough to get by for a long time. A neutral, level-headed sympathy that helped soothe some of your own hurt.

All that said, you were hardly expecting to see him again - especially not this soon. You don’t remember the last time you thought about him in anything other than passing - actively. It’s one thing to know what's happening - you’ve felt him passively everyday for damn near two years.

But it’s another thing to see him in front of you, force yourself to acknowledge him as your soulmate even if he insists on not doing the same.

You squirm in your chair, noticing that you’re wearing PJ’s instead of clothes. Just a hoodie and sweats, none of which fit you quite right. You pull your sleeves over your hands, fiddling with the stray strand of thread loose.

“What the fuck is this shit?,”

Your stomach drops. Unsure of what to say, you opt to say nothing at all. Just let him be, sit quietly in your dreams and mind your business. Maybe he’ll wake up soon and it’ll all be over.

You can’t see him from the corner of your vision but you can hear him shuffle. The way he touches things, noticing how they make noise but don’t feel quite right in his hands. How it feels real but doesn’t, how it is real and isn’t. Surely, he’s noticed you by now. The lingering silence makes you squirm.

“...It’s you,”

You flinch, lifting your head up slightly to meet his gaze. His expression is unreadable, but it’s different from before. In a fleeting moment, something occurs to you.

You can see him. What he looks like. Blonde with red eyes, and a sharp chin and thin waist. You know it must mean you’ve seen him before - perhaps you’d even seen each other, but for your life you can’t remember where you’ve seen his face. It’s right there, on the edge of your mind, but you’re stumped.

“Hello?,”

“Oh,” your reply comes short, strained. Your eyes flutter as you press your lips into a flat line. “Uh, hi,”

The blonde sits in the chair, slumping down. His eyes go towards the flickering flames without another word and you decide it’s best not to engage. It stays like that for a while, a beat of silence - not awkward but not comfortable, passing by without another thought. It all feels real, present - not like normal dreams. This must be the special kind of soulmate thing you find yourself feeling resentful towards.

His eyes are heavy. Relief is overwhelming him, with an iron grip and he’s worried you can feel it. If you can, you don’t say a word.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he admits.

The words sound tender passing through his mouth, unmistakably so - but you don’t get your hopes up. Instead, you give him a placating laugh, leaning forward towards the fire and mirroring him.

“I didn’t think so either,”

When it falls silent, it feels comfortable. It’s not like either of you have anything to say to each other right now, with no manual on how this was supposed to go. If he even wanted to go there.

“I can.. see you,” you start. He squints.

“You couldn’t before?,”

This takes you by surprise. You shake your head.

“No..Could you? See me, I mean?,”

Bakugo feels heat rise to his skin. Oh. Huh.

“Yeah,” he replies, a sharp inhale leaving his lungs “I can see you,”

There’s something tense in the air. It’s a strange sensation - to know the deepest and most intimate parts of someone without even knowing their name proper, or where they went to school, or what they normally eat for breakfast. All that connects you are these mutual feelings, shared grief that holds you two to the title of soulmates. This odd bond.

“..d’ya still think I’m a quirk wielding villain?,” you laugh, or try too - you’re doing your best to cut the tension. He can feel your hurt all the way from your sit, so deep in his gut - it’s been haunting him for years. How many nights of sleep he’s lost knowing there are soft and helpless tears coming from these suppressed feelings. He doesn’t know how to say sorry, so he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. He’s changed a lot in two years - but not enough to be good at this.

“No, I don’t,”

“Oh,”

He smiles, just a little. It’s gentle, casts shadow on his face from the light of the fire. It’s warm, everything feels warm and better and invigorating. When you look at him and his uneasy expression - you know he feels it too.

“By the way, uhm - what’s your name? Ka.. something? Right?,”

His eyes shoot up in surprise. He nods a little.

“Katsuki Bakugo,” he replies, expectantly. You seem surprised that he wants to know yours.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” comes your reply.

“Nice to meet you,” says him, Bakugo - your soulmate.

“Nice to meet you too,”

Getting to know Bakugo is unusually easy. You get the feeling it wouldn’t be, in the case that you were anything but soulmates - but Bakugo has never known being this intimate with someone other than you. Despite himself, how much he hates himself - you never seem too. Even though you feel and see all the ugliest parts of him - have since he was small enough to still be innocent, you always treat him the same.

Your conversations are short, and shallow. Regardless, he’s not used to talking so much about himself. But you’re always curious, so much so Bakugo doesn’t have the heart to see your countless questions go unanswered.

You keep a little notebook of all of your encounters. You remember them by heart but write them down too, just in case you miss something. You ask about his friends - Spiky Red and Soft Green, referring to them that way even after you’ve known their names. You ask about his work - the life of a dangerous hero, and if he ever gets nervous flying through the air.

Admittedly, he’s mean to you. He teases you so frequently, he’s lost count of all the times you’ve huffed and puffed at his sarcastic remarks. Still, you never turn away from him. You stand with your foot down and your arms crossed over your chest - insistent on making him feel flustered too. And it works, somehow - because you know all too much about Bakugou and always gets him right where he’s most conscious about. You don’t have to tease him about his feelings since you know them like the palms of your hand.

But these shallow conversations always mean a little more to him that he knows how to verbalize, and half the time he doesn’t need to do that at all. You’ve learned the masterful of working around him quietly, making all the parts of that feel too big to love - something small and fragile. Somehow, you’ve made being with him, even as friends - feel like less of an impossible feat but a dream.

Katsuki Bakugo has been in love with you since he was 6 years old. There must be some feelings we cannot share with our soulmates, because he has no idea if you feel it or not. He just knows he does, somewhere deep in the cavern of his heart, he loves you.

You never cross the barrier of romance with him, though. A paralyzing fear seems to settle in your bones when you breach too close to love and intimacy - and Bakugo understands those feelings, even if he doesn’t know exactly why they’re there. It’s not something you’ve decided to tell him yet, but he feels it in the same way he feels your loneliness. You may be kind but you’re more guarded than he is, and not fearless but reckless.

But he still finds himself aching to love and be loved by you, no matter how much he hates it. The yearning still manages to swallow him, even late into the night.

MEETING 3:

It’s been a while since your last meeting with Bakugo but not long. You were 21 now, but your dream visits were frequent. When you weren't speaking or seeing him through dreams - you were watching him on TV. You’d been yet to meet with him in real life but to you, that was okay. Seeing him like this had been more than enough.

Today was different. Normally, that bonfire was always a back-drop to these little encounters but it was a field today - a filed with rolling hills and hundreds of flowers and tall grass that made you feel itchy. The sun was permanently stuck right before it set but it was so warm everywhere. When you get there, there’s a blanket on the top of one of the hills. You sit on it cautiously and watch the wind pass. Everything is tinged orange, and red - you know he’s there with you before he appears.

When he does, he seems different. You glance over at him as he stumbles towards you in a stupor, and when he does finally sit - you get a whiff of alcohol coming from his neck and mouth. It’s strong enough to make a little dizzy. Blinking owlishly, he sits crisscross besides you, staring a little at the surroundings.

“..the fuck?,” he slurs. You can’t help but break out into a laugh. He nearly falls over, body swaying so you bring his head down to your shoulder wordlessly, a furious heat running all over your skin. Even though you can’t feel him, the gesture makes you feel something in your belly.

“Why’re you so drunk?,”

“Birthday,” he mumbles. Your eyes widen in surprise. Bakugo is seemingly unfazed, eyes drooping with tiredness. He’s completely inebriated.

You feel yourself grow tender. You’d have to wake up and remember the days date. Despite all the times you’ve met, you had no clue about his birthday or how he celebrated. You feel your heart ache at the idea you’ve spent the latter half of it together, in your own way.

“Happy Birthday, Bakugo.”

“Bakugo this, Bakugo that,” he growls, a little incoherent “We’re supposed to be fucking soulmates and you still call me by that.. damn name.”

He hiccups a little as you sit there stunned. You blink.

“.. You think of us as soulmates?,”

“Are you some kind of moron?,”

You scowl, flicking his forehead with your thumb and forefinger. He makes a noise of indignance.

“Well, how would I know? When we first met, you didn’t seem enthused about it,”

Bakugo sighs tiredly.

“I was 15 and an asshole - clearly I don’t fuckin’ feel that anymore,”

You seem surprised again.

“..You don’t?,”

Instead of swearing at you, he closes his eyes and gets closer to you. The liquor runs through his system like liquid courage and he nods a little.

“Not at all,”

“What do you..”

“What do you think I mean?,” he barks a laugh. You feel your pulse under your skin, drumming against your chest like a hammer. You can’t even breathe.

You’ve had feelings for Bakugo from the second proper meeting you’d had with him. It was clear as a day that he was your soulmate for good reason, that inexplicable draw that kept your heart from ever belonging to anyone else. You tried to - tried to go on dates and see other opportunities through but he was always so one of a kind.

Yet, you’d given up all hope that it would mean anything to harbor these feelings, convinced that Bakugo simply wasn’t interested in you In doing any of this. You didn’t want to force him into something he didn’t want - so you kept your distance with hope that he’d still be in your life. It was enough, or you’d wanted it to be.

It’d be a lie to say that you hadn’t started thinking about it more and more as the days pass. What it would be like to see him, touch him and love him and be with him for real - these passive daydreams gone vivid. If he could see your dreams, he must know about them. But you didn’t know how to approach it - how to approach love at all.

That’s the thing with soulmates. You’re told that you’ll just have the answers, destiny will do the hard work but that’s far from true. Because even now, with Bakugo leaning on your shoulder with this confession lingering in the air - you don’t know what to do.

“Stop being so nervous,” he mumbles. You stumble a little over yourself.

“Sorry,”

He chuckles.

“You really need me to say it, huh?,” he sighs. He picks himself. If he’s drunk and reckless, then fuck it - he’s gonna take it all the way. He drops his head onto your lap with a tired sigh.

“I think you’re my soulmate, you fuckin’ idiot,” he admits.

And it’s hard to say, because feelings don’t come easy for Bakugo Katsuki - but it’s the least he can do. All Bakugo Katsuki has ever known is to be lonely. It’s a loneliness that he’d forced on himself. Bottling up all the anger and sadness and swallowing it. It’s long since sunk it’s claws into him. That overwhelming, all consuming ugly feeling that lingers underneath that superiority complex.

That no one would ever, could ever love the ugliness that lingers in him. That no one who knew him for what he truly is, could care for him. Deku was the first of many disbeliefs and not much had changed.

Except for when it did. Except for when he met you - in a dream, and you were real and beautiful even at 15. That the universe hadn’t been playing some sick joke on him when he kept seeing you in his dreams, so soothing to his teenage loneliness. You were real and that was so fucking scary.

But you loved him anyway. Looked out for him when he was at his lowest - the soothing beat of your heart in the days after All Mights end . When he cried himself into sleep and dreamed of you. God, how he dreamed of you. Not especially romantic dreams, but dreams of how you made breakfast. How you watched cartoons on Sunday and read manga in your classes instead of the assigned work. How you fell asleep on the train station and always ate icecream after big tests. How you were especially mundane and how he got to be apart of that everyday routine.

After all, you see dreams of each other, but Bakugo has no clue what your dreams of him look like. His have always looked like you though.

When he was worthless and empty and unable to give you anything meaningful, to apologize or put his pride away - you had loved him anyway. Felt for him with clumsy hands and held on, not letting go. Even when he was begging for you to leave him alone, in fear of this all being nothing more than a cruel dream - you held on tightly to him. With your silly notebook questions and dumb names.

Bakugo Katsuki has never known what it means to love someone who isn’t you. Even if you found someone else and there was someone better than you for him, he would grit his teeth and bear it. He wonders if he’ll ever believe he deserves you. He wants to believe you’re his soulmate - to believe you wont ever leave. To believe that he did something right enough that the universe could give him someone like you.

And he wishes he could say all this, but he can’t - he just closes his eyes and hopes you can feel it.

“You’re so mean,”

“Isn’t that why you like me?,” he grins.

And you can feel his sincerity. He should feels yours too.

“I love you, actually,”

He gasps, a sharp breath that stabs his lungs. He feels sober from the confession.

His voice is gravelly when he speaks.

“Yeah, shit - me too,”

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest. The address is correct, it has to be with the way this place looks. Only a hero could live here, with the floors that lead up to skies. He lives on 3rd floor, so you swallow your fear. You give yourself a thumbs up in the glass window pane of the building before entering through the doors.

When you get there, a box sits. You press the button next to his place, bouncing on the balls of your feet until you answer.

“Hello?,”

His voice feels different in real life. You cough.

“Uh, hi,” you greet awkwardly “I’m here,”

“Oh,” he says. You hear something buzz and then him again. “Come on up,”

And you do. The elevator ride feels like it stretches mild, classic piano echoing against the empty walls. You feel yourself feel sick but you’re not sure it’s from the movement. All you can do is fidget and wait.

When the doors open, you peak your head out into the hallway. He’s the first one on the left, just as promised. You can see a welcome mat - forest green, and something in you knows that it’s the right one.

You step up and knock, three times precisely. Your heart is all the way in your ears and everything in you is filled with unease and excitement.

When the door swings open, the world stops. You gape like a fish out of water in disbelief. He’s tall and big like he promised he’d be, but you’re unprepared. His chin is scruffy, eyes full of sleep. Strong chest and arms that seem to crowd your vision, you don’t know what do.

His expression is full to the brim with feelings you’ve never seen. He steps aside with his head ducked down.

“Come in,”

“Ah.. right,”

You take your shoes off and place them in the slippers meant for you - they fit you just right, and it can’t be a coincidence. Your heart swells up a little as you take your coat off, hanging it on the rack. You can feel his eyes as they linger on your silhouette.

“So -,”

Before you can get a word out, you feel strong arms wrapped around your waist. His scruff brushes against the skin of your neck as he holds you tightly too him. The warmth of his breath lingers on your neck - and he hiccups, a sob stored in his rib cages let out with a howl. The tears blur your vision too. You can feel his drip onto your shoulder as you snivel into his neck. Your legs feel weak, but he holds you up at the door - the only thing keeping you standing.

You cling around him tightly, your nails digging into the meat of his shoulders. It’s him, your soulmate, Katsuki Bakugo. He’s real and holding you - and he smells like leather and sugar and a fireplace. He’s warm and strong and overwhelming and your crying into his shoulder with so much feeling you don’t know what to do. You hit him weakly, unsure of what do with yourself and he laughs.

“Damn you, shitty woman - makin’ me fucking cry,” but his voice is strained. It’s like something connected, how you feel each other so intimately in that moment. Not only because you’re soulmates, but because you love each other so deeply. Your heart feels heavy.

When you pull away, you manage to give him a warbly smile.

Your hands cradle his face - so handsome and wonderful. You lean forward, emboldened, and peck him. He melts into your touch like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life. It makes you grin.

Maybe you don’t realize that he had.

He’d been waiting for you all this time.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha imagines #bakugou imagine #bakugou imagines #PLEASE SHOW UP IM BEGGING

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zackcrazyvalentine · 3 years

Note

okay first of all, this event idea is really cool and actually kind of genius???

second of all, may i please request fluffy platonic headcanons for these boys with an MC-coded reader? like, just the soft/sweet things that come with being their friend please

Aha~ thank you!! Also, what a wonderful loading screen this is! Jamil getting annoyed and cornered by the Octavinelle trio dfklsk

Let's see!

~ Sweet friendship headcanons ~

With: Jade Leech, Azul Ashengrotto, Floyd Leech, Jamil Viper, and MC-coded reader (used "you" pronouns, hope you don't mind)

-- --

🐬 Jade Leech 💜

Jade will sometimes gift wild flowers and pressed plants to the Ramshackle prefect, claiming the flora reminded him of them

Please ask him first if they're safe. His smirk will give the answer you need

From his birthday card, we learned Jade sketches when out in hikes. He sometimes gifts a particular drawing to you. It brings a smile to his face when he sees his sketches displayed on the walls of your room in Ramshackle

Be prepared for some info dumps when you ask what the particular plant/fungi in the drawing is

Jade goes into a subtle fanboy mode when you have genuine curiosity about the things he's seen on hikes

There's still things he doesn't know about being human Be patient when he asks about the most mundane activities and "rituals", he's sincerely confused and hopes someone can guide him through without judgement

Just as how he's curious about land, he's curious about your world He sneakily gets information out of you to sate his curiosity. It isn't until later when you bring up something about your world that you realize just how much you've told him, and how he remembers it all

Yes, you will become subject to his experimental mushroom cooking. Not something to boast about, but he takes advantage of your frugal life to feed you his dubious mushrooms because he knows you and Grim wouldn't say no to a free meal

He's open to tell you about life under water and all that. Though he's less open about his childhood than Floyd

If you ever need someone to protect you or escort you back to Ramshackle late at night, Jade's your guy

One of the first people to jump in and take care of you when you fall ill and can barely move/remain awake. His affection comes in acts of service, so this is the prime time for Jade to show he cares for you

🐙 Azul Ashengrotto 💜

Azul helps you study for any problematic subjects you encounter. He acts like he's doing it to be follow the merciful Sea Witch's example, but in reality he does it just 'cuz ('cuz he wants to be seen as the reliable upperclassman asdfg). His one condition is for the study session to be one-on-one, no pesky friends or flame-spewing cats following behind you to peek at his exceptional notes

Ashengrotto will give you a meal on the house in the Lounge once in a while, meals for you and Grim both

He gets very surprised whenever you throw any sort of compliment his way. Tries to reciprocate, but he gets too flustered, it's all chopped up due to stuttering

When concentrating in work, you can hear him hum jazzy melodies

Silence in the presence of Azul is comforting, for you and for him. He rarely gets quiet time with how busy he is with responsibilities, and Grim + Ghosts can get noisy. Moments where you can hide away in his office in quiet calm are cherished

He lends you his coat when you get cold while visiting the Lounge

You once showed him an old coin you found in Ramshackle, his collector instincts immediately flared up and he told you aaaall about it

Of course, before you knew better, he took a couple of those ancient coins for his collection. Now, Azul is your assessor, he tells you a rough estimate of its value and you go off to sell them when you can. He even buys some of them

You have joined him and Idia in their club activities and.... You never saw a more competitive scene than the game of (twst's equivalent of) Clue you just witnessed. There was no other option but become just as competitive yourself~

🦈 Floyd Leech 💜

Squeezing and leaning his weight on you have become his go-to ways of greeting you

You're welcomed to greet him the same way. Finds your squeezes (hugs) amusing

That silly nickname of "shrimpy" has become comforting for you and him. Floyd smiles whenever he remembers you and your nickname, and you can't help but smile a little at his call of "little shrimp". A unique nickname only he can use

OH, HE TOTALLY GASPED, POINTED, AND SAID "CANNIBALISM!!" AFTER SEEING YOU DEVOUR SOME FRIED SHRIMP He just wanted to be dramatic lol

I headcanon him owning sea creature plushies. He knows you like cuddling up to an eel plush he has, so he always leaves it available and easy to spot in his side of the room whenever you visit

Not a lot of people have free access to his snack stash in his bedroom, but you're free to grab some if you want

Don't tell Azul, but Floyd's constantly sneaking you drinks and little desserts from the Lounge

Whenever you catch him in a mood, all you have to do is drag him out to a patch of grass and have him lay down beside you to cloud watch. Works every time. Don't even need to talk through it, but you sometimes encourage him to in case there's something bothering him

You've had to scold him more than a handful of times about practicing his basketball throws on Ramshackle's very fragile walls

When he's missing you/wants to chat without typing words, he sends gifs of swimming shrimp (or eels). When he's mad at you, he sends pictures and gifs of shrimp being cooked or eaten

Sticker chats are common between you

🐍 Jamil Viper ❤

Whenever he wants to invite you to hang out in Scarabia, he does it with extreme secrecy so Kalim doesn't get word and doesn't interfere with his plans

When he notices you're a little blue, or has heard Grim complain too much about being hungry, Jamil will show up at your doorstep with warm food. "We had some leftovers from the party Kalim threw recently." He says, like he didn't sneak into the kitchen after hours to prepare this fresh, just for you.

That or he shows up with the needed ingredients to teach you how to cook an affordable, tasty meal with them

It's due to these cooking lessons why you have a wonderful selection of spices and herbs for seasoning any dish with, for an extra pop of flavor!

When you're both alone and he catches you singing a currently popular tune, he will join in

Has tried to teach you some dance moves, breakdance and traditional dances from his hometown (if you succeed on learning them, I leave it up to you)

You tease him with a bag of dates from time to time

Joking and freely ranting with Jamil is a wonderful activity. He really is a great friend when you get to know him and let him be himself

You will never let him live down how he yelled so loud when a resident Ramshackle bug crawled over his hand. It took a complete month to convince him that it was okay inside the dorm now

You notice how he misses VDC practice, so you decide to ask him to film some trendy Magicam dances with you It's lots of fun and serves as an outlet for Jamil to let out frustrations. Plus, the small audience you've managed to gather is perfect to feed Viper's need for praise and attention, to be in the spotlight

The bloopers of your filming are your favorite part. You've made a couple of stickers from the weird faces and dumb stuff you said

-- --

Hope you enjoyed~!

Perhaps they aren't too sweet, but still, hope it was fun to read

#loading screen headcanons #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #jamil viper #zack writes

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ray-ray-writings · 3 years

Text

A Hairy Situation-Technoblade

On that note, this is a Techno x GN! reader in the dreamsmp

#282, 291, 343 from this list. Check out my masterlist here

When Wilbur and Tommy leave on an adventure, Techno and Y/N are left alone together. Y/N “helps” Techno in his potato farm and offers to braid his hair. Tensions rise as more and more time passes.

“What do you mean you’re going on a multiple day journey into the nether?” I all but shouted at Tommy and Wilbur. The two brothers looked at each other before turning back to me with raised eyebrows. “We mean exactly what we said. We need blaze rods and we have to find a different nether fortress than the one everyone else uses, you know, because we were banished.” Wilbur explained as if it should be obvious. I let a pout take over my lips, “Well how come I can’t come with you?” The two brothers gave me a deadpan stare. “Because you’re terrified of hostile mobs,” Tommy deadpanned. “Well it’s not my fault they’re scary and always trying to kill me…” I trailed off. “Can you at least take Techno with you? I don’t want to be stuck here in the ravine with him for days on end.” “Believe me sweetheart, I’m not too stoked about it either.”

The new voice that came from behind me caused me to jump in surprise, “But I’m needed here. My potatoes will be ready soon, I need some more materials, and someone has to watch over you and make sure you don’t die.” Techno listed. I let out an offended gasp and turned my complete attention to the pigman. “How dare you. I am a complete, functional, grown adult. I do not need a babysitter! I can take care of myself.” The three brothers all just stared at me, not amused. I let out a sigh, “You call for help because you get startled by a zombie one time and they never let you live it down.” I mumbled to myself. “Y/N it’s been more than one time. It’s once a day.” Wilbur stated carefully.

I sighed in annoyance, but also knew he was right, “Okay fine. Whatever. When are you guys leaving?” I questioned, turning my attention back to Wilbur and Tommy. Wilbur checked his sundial before answering. “Now. It’s late evening now and I’d like to get out of here before nightfalls. You know, mobs and whatever.” I hummed and nodded at his response. “You have everything you need?” I asked, looking over the two. Wilbur gave me a soft smile before nodding. “We have everything. Food, armor, building blocks, compass. We’ve got it all mom” He teased. I playfully rolled my eyes at his words, “Okay son. Give me a hug and get going then.” I teased, holding my arms out to the tall man.

Wilbur let out a laugh, but complied, wrapping his arms around me and squeezing me tight. He let go and moved to Techno and gave him a short hug. While he did that I turned my attention to Tommy, “You too boy,” I giggled, extending my arms and slowly walking toward him. Tommy scoffed and rolled his eyes but also complied. I squeezed the boy tightly to my chest before letting him go. He then also moved onto Techno, giving his other brother a small hug. After hugs, the four of us walked over to the nether portal and Wilbur and Tommy stepped into it. “Be careful” I called out. “We will!” Wilbur responded. And then they were gone.

I sighed at the disappearance of the boys. “They’ll be okay,” Techno reassured me, reading my mind. I turned around and gave the pink haired man a tight lipped smile, “I know I just worry.” I admitted, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. Techno hummed in response. “Do you want to come help me in my potato farm to get your mind off of it for a little bit?” Techno being nice to me? More likely than you think. Nonetheless, I agreed, “Yeah. I’d like that. Thanks Techno.”

*Time skip*

Me helping in Techno’s potato farm actually only boiled down to Techno doing all of the work, harvesting and planting, and me sitting on top of a chest just hanging out and chatting with him. I watched as the pink haired man’s face got more and more covered in not only sweat, but dirt. Every once in a while, Techno would blow out a breath of air, trying desperately to move his long pink hair out of his face and when that didn’t work, he would bring his dirty hand up to his face to move the hair manually. In doing so, he transferred that dirt from his hand onto his face. After watching him do this for a solid hour, I finally let the question slip off of my tongue.

“Hey, do you want me to braid your hair.” Techno’s head snapped up from the ground and turned to me, “What?” He questioned. I cleared my throat as my cheeks flushed at the sudden attention, “Nevermind. It was stupid. You obviously-” “What did you say?” Techno questioned again, cutting off my self-deprecating rant. I cleared my throat once more, “I asked if I could braid your hair. Your hair seems to keep falling in your face and it would be easier to work if it was tied back. So I was wondering if you wanted me to braid it for you.” I stated shyly.

Techno stared at me for a few moments, but then he let out a laugh and set his hoe down. “You know what. That’s not actually a bad idea. I would like that actually.” My eyes widened in shock as the man walked toward me. “Oh!” I squeeked, “Okay! Well here!” I said, standing up from the chest, patting the spot where I was sitting. “Sit here and I’ll get started!” I announced.

Techno complied and followed my orders. I moved so that I was standing behind him. I hesitantly brought my hand up and rested it on Techno’s pink head. I slowly ran my fingers through his hair, detangling it from it’s knots. Techno let out a sigh in contentment as my fingers massaged his scalp. I carefully separated his hair into separate strains and began the braid.

We sat in a comfortable silence as I worked. Techno was surprisingly complacent as I twisted his hair the way I wanted. I had decided to go with a french braid as it was simple, effective and would hold for a long time. “There,” I let out softly as I secured the end of the braid with an extra hair tie of mine, “all done.” I informed. Techno stood from the chest and turned around to face me. Techno brought a hand up to the back of his head and felt down the braid. A small smile appeared on the pink-haired man’s face. I was taken back. Techno looked good. Really good. I usually don’t get to see him without his hair covering his face. And I almost never get to see him smile, you know cause he hates me sometimes.But now, because of the braid. I could see him clearly and he was handsome.

“Thank you for this.” Techno said sincerely, breaking me out of . I gave the man a shy smile, cheeks now flushing, “It’s no problem,” I told him with a half shrug. Techno turned back to his field and continued his work. I sat back down on the chest and allowed my eyes to focus on the pink haired man once more. Do I like Techno? My heart sure seems to think so. How could my brain not notice this before? As I thought it over, my heart pounded harder. I liked Technoblade. All the teasing and poking fun at the pink haired man was my sad attempt at hiding and burying those feelings deep down.

“You okay over there?” Techno questioned, breaking me out of my trance. My eyes focused on his really handsome face, “Oh yeah. Just thinking,” I admitted. Techo hummed, leaning against his hoe. “Whatcha thinking about?” “You look really cute covered in dirt.” I blurted out. I slapped my hand over my mouth. “I cannot believe I just said that,” I mumbled into my hand. I looked up and met Techno’s wide eyes. He then proceeded to clear his throat and laugh, “The way you flirt is shameful. Telling someone they look good covered in dirt? Kind of cringe.” “I just rarely ever see your whole face because it’s usually your hair’s covering it. You’re just very handsome.” I admitted, cheeks now flushing a deep red. Techno’s cheeks were now also flushing a deep red. “Oh, well… Thank you.” “Anytime. I think you’re pretty cool and you deserve to be complimented.”

Oh gosh. Why did I make that comment? We fell into a tense silence. After a few minutes, I let out a huge yawn. “I think I’m going to head to bed now… Don’t stay up too late, okay?” I told him, standing up from the chest. Techno didn’t look at me but hummed in acknowledgement. I turned and started out of the farm room, but then I paused at the door and turned back, “Goodnight Techno” I wished the man softly. Techno slowly looked up and over at me and gave me a soft smile making my heart flutter, “Goodnight Y/N. Sweet dreams.” He murmured. “Thanks.” I responded before turning and completely walking out of the room.

I sighed and rubbed my face as I made my way to my makeshift room. I really hope that my words didn’t just mess everything up between us. I let out a yawn as I laid down on my bed. I’ll just deal with it in the morning.

*Time skip. The next day*

I groaned as I rolled out of bed the next morning. I yawned as I made my way out of my room. I was greeted with the pink haired man sitting at the oak table that I had built for our little base reading a book. “Good morning” I greeted the man softly, turning toward our food chest and pulling out a little something for breakfast. “Morning” Techno greeted gruffly, glancing up at me. As I looked over at him, I realized the dirt from his face was gone, but the braid in his hair remained intact. For some reason, my heart fluttered.

I quickly turned my attention back to what I was doing.“Do you want anything for breakfast?” I asked, looking over the things in our food chest. “Uh, I’ll have whatever you’re having. Thanks” He said, before turning his attention back to his book. I pulled out a few eggs and two steaks. I made quick work of making breakfast.

“Here you go.” I set the plate of breakfast in front of the PVP God with a small smile. “Thank you,” Techno hummed, setting his book down and turning to his breakfast. I sat down across from him and began to enjoy my own breakfast.

We sat in a comfortable silence as we ate. Towards the end of our meal, Techno cleared his throat, causing me to look up. “Hey, can I ask you a question?” Techno asked nervously. I quirked a brow at his words, “You just did. But if you want to ask another, go ahead” I teased. Techno’s face matched his hair as it turned a light shade of pink. Techno cleared his throat once more, “Okay. Well I was wondering…. Those things you said yesterday… Did you mean them?” Techno questioned. It was now my face’s turn to turn pink. “It’s okay if you didn’t. I know that sometimes we tease each other and if that was what that was it’s okay. I just wasn’t sure and-”

“Techno” I called, interrupting the pig man’s words. “I meant them. Everything I said to you yesterday. I meant it. I think you’re really cool and funny and handsome and I really really like you.” I admitted, not looking at the man sitting across from me, “I didn’t mean to blurt them out like that yesterday though. I was just so caught up in looking at you that I realized everything all at once and I just blurted them out. If you don’t like me back, that’s okay. We can just pretend like-” “-Y/N-” “-nothing ever happened and we can go-” “Y/N!” “-back to normal and-”

Something covered my lips, cutting off my words. I then realized it was Techno’s lips that covered my own. My eyes widened in surprise, but then immediately fluttered closed as I relaxed into the kiss. A hesitant hand reached up and cupped my cheek, pulling me even closer. All too soon, Techno pulled away from the kiss, but remained rather close, his hand still resting on my cheek. “I like you Y/N, I have for a while” Techno admitted softly. My lips curled up into a grin. “Well you’re in luck Mr. Blood God, because I like you too.” I told him with a proud grin. Techo rolled his eyes but let out a laugh, “I know you goof. You told me as you were rambling and then refused to let me get in a word.” Techno teased. I laughed at his words, “Well I’m sorry I don’t handle rejection well. And therefore didn’t let you get in a word so you couldn’t reject me.” I rambled out. Techno laughed, “That’s big brain,” “The biggest”

The two of us stared at each other for a while, just smiling. Techno let his hand fall off my cheek and leaned back a little bit. “Y/N?” He asked. “Techno?” I responded. “Do you want to be my partner?” I grinned at his question, “That depends. Do you want to be my partner?” I questioned. Techno rolled his eyes but quickly leaned forward and pressed another kiss to my lips. “I think you know the answer to that” I grinned and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, “I think I do.”

Our conversation was cut off by the sound of the nether portal activating. Techno and I exchanged confused looks. The two of us stood up and rushed toward the obsidian structure. Wilbur and Tommy stumbled out of the portal. “Hey guys!” Tommy greeted with a huge smile and wave. “Hey! Why are you guys back so soon?” I questioned, rushing forward and pulling the two boys into a tight hug. “Turns out,” Wilbur began after I let the two go, “There’s a nether fortress less than 1500 blocks away from our portal. And we made sure it is not the same one everyone else uses.” Wilbur explained. I nodded my head at his words.

“That’s so lucky,” Techno said, drawing the attention to him. “What happened to your hair?” Tommy blurted out. Techno immediately brought a hand up to his head. “Oh, Y/N braided it.” Tommy’s head whipped to me, “You braided his hair?!” Tommy yelled. I furrowed my brow as his question, “Obviously. He just told you that” I stated. Wilbur and Tommy stared in disbelief. “What?” I asked, a little self-conscious. “Techno never lets anyone touch his hair.” Wilbur said softly.

My head whipped to Techno whose face was now red. “What? Then why’d you let me braid your hair?” Techno gave me a half-shrug. “What can I say? I’m a simp” the pink haired man admitted. Laughter burst out of my mouth. I cannot believe he actually said that. My laughter must have been contagious because the three brothers also began to laugh. “Techno!” I whined, walking up to him. Techno, still laughing, wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close to his chest, “It’s true!” He defended himself, laughter dying down.

“Woah! Woah! Woah! When did this happen?” Tommy questioned. The two of us looked back at Wilbur and Tommy, “Ummm. Literally two seconds before you guys came home.” I told them, stepping back from my partner. “Well in that case. Tommy and I are going to go put away the blaze rods and then we’re probably going to nap.” Wilbur said, yawning at the end of the sentence. The two of us nodded in acknowledgement as the two of them walked further into the ravine.

“Well… What do you want to do now?” I questioned my new boyfriend. Techno gave me a smile before wrapping me in another hug. “You wanna come help me in my potato farm again?” I giggled and nodded, “I would love nothing more”

There you go! I hope you enjoyed! If so, be sure to leave a like or a reblog or a reply!!

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kookieskiwi · 3 years

Text

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

Pairing: Shuntaro Chishiya x Fem!Reader x Suguru Niragi

Summary: The borderlands were already dark, they made you numb to death so long as you survived. When you become the object of desire for two psychopathic and sociopathic men, one of which is your ex lover, you find it harder to drown out the emotions you’re feeling and demons you're facing. Do you give into the dark desires and madness? But...aren’t we all already mad here?

Warnings: Explicit language, sexual situations, murder, death, manipulation, psychoanalyses, drugs, alcohol, suicidal thoughts and tendencies, more to be added as I write.

Genre: Alice in Borderland, very dark romance, angst, smut, a little fluff if you squint

Rating: Whoever is mature enough to handle the warnings above but recommended to ages 15 and older. DO NOT read if you are triggered by any of the things listed above.

Word Count: 5k

[Taglist] @bonnyskies @mylifeisafxingmess @kasaikawa @mercipourleslivres @dragoneye01 @bubb1ee-gum@nocturne181 @somegirl29 @pajerita19 @ddaenysus @imagine-t-h-a-ttt @queentorresstuff @rebirth-of-destruction @celestiacq @ryreads @beeissleepy

A note from your author — I’m so sorry this took so long, I just got out for summer vacation after an extremely stressful year so I’ll be way more active now. I have decided (with much hype from @imagine-t-h-a-ttt ) to post this in parts so I could give y’all something in appreciation for dealing with me. Expect more soon!! (It might not be AiB exclusively but I will be writing more)

The borderlands was a place where anyone and everyone was alone for themselves when it came to survival. “It’s every man for themselves,” you’d often tell yourself after a game since you walked away, sometimes alone, and others didn’t. After participating in your first heart’s game you learned that, and it was forever engraved into your mind. When you were cruelly taken from the real world you were alone in your room after your nightly shift as an SDF officer. All of a sudden the lights went out whilst you were changing out of your uniform before a shower which you never got to take. Deciding to investigate the outage, you threw your uniform back on and unbuttoned the jacket revealing your black sleeveless undershirt while keeping your green cargo style uniform pants and combat boots on. After grabbing your knife and placing it into your thigh holster, you explored your neighborhood to find that everyone was gone, cars were randomly in the street as if they had been stopped out of nowhere, and you were in fact alone.

“What the fuck is this?” You whispered to yourself as you were pulling out your phone to contact your friends only to see that it was dead. “Fantastic,” you grumbled, rolling your neck to the side to crack it and relieve the tension. Venturing back to your home you thought over what this could possibly be; an evacuation drill? Maybe a nightmare? Were you daydreaming again? No, this was too real and too strange to be any of those things. You needed to get out of this area, inspect and observe other parts of Tokyo to see what was going on. You thought you could find answers before it turned dark since it was only morning so you rushed home to pack a few things before heading out.

While at home, you grabbed your backpack and in it you put; a change of clothes, three water bottles, pain pills and a few snacks as well as your phone and charger in case you could figure out a way for it to work. In a haste you also threw on your side holster which held your nine millimeter handgun and two packs of ammo for extra precautions. After that, you set out on your search of the city. The first thing you thought of was to get in one of those abandoned vehicles however even though they were full of fuel, they wouldn’t start. “So phones and vehicles don’t work, neither does anything powered by electricity. Great.”

With that newly found information, you stepped out of the vehicle and began the long walk across Tokyo. Along the way you inspected stores, homes and even government buildings but found no trace of anyone but yourself. Where did everyone go? It looked so desolate without the constant buzz of people around walking, the tourists, the neon billboards. Everything was...dead. You spent the entire day walking further into the abandoned city which was once lively yet found nothing other than a restaurant with food which you took the liberty to eat at.

Upon nightfall, you were looking for a place to stay when a billboard lit up drawing your attention to it immediately. “This way to the game arena,” it read with an arrow pointing to the left. Turning your head in that direction you saw an area in the distance brightened by lights while everything else was still surrounded in darkness. “Game arena?” You whispered in confusion. Looking around at your surroundings you didn’t see any other lights other than that building which looked to be about three blocks away. You followed the arrows leading you to the designated arena which looked to be a botanical tea garden from a distance. You slowly approached the building while keeping your hand close to the blade strapped on your thigh in case someone or something appeared. As soon as you stepped across the final set of stairs leading up to the entrance, a line of red lasers appeared and quickly turned blue when a sound similar to that of a confirmation resonated in the area. “What is this?”

“It’s the threshold of the arena.” Turning in the direction of the voice, you saw a familiar face step next to you with the same sound chiming at her entry. “Holyn? How did you get here? Are you okay?” You asked quickly before hugging her out of relife, you were more than happy to see a familiar face in this apocalyptic place. She was your childhood best friend, the only reason you hadn’t seen or heard from her in a while was because of both of your working lives.She hugged you back even tighter as she was feeling the same way you were, scared, alone and confused. When the two of you released each other she began explaining everything she knew to you as the both of you started walking into the garden.

“I got here a few days ago and since then, I’ve asked around to see what others know about whatever the hell is going on. No one knows how we got here or what exactly this place is but everyone is made to participate in games of survival. You must participate or you’ll die. After winning a game, you keep the phone you had and you’ll be supplied with a visa. The visa tells you how long you have until you’re out of time here which is why you have to participate in games to renew it before it runs out. You must win each game, there is no other way to survive if you don’t. Do everything it takes so you live and move on. Anything with an electric circuit board or IC chip does not work whereas analog equipment like radios work and so do older vehicles.” She explained quickly as more people came into view. Your mind fogged with all of the new information, it was so much to take in. Then you realized you were just thrown into a game of survival and like she said; you HAD to win to survive. “But-” you had just begun when she silenced you, “pretend you’ve been here and done this. I know you’re confused and probably scared shitless but just pretend.” She instructed as you both entered the arena and quickly added one thing, “I don’t want to continue playing after this, I killed someone Y/n.” But before you could respond she shook her head and you did as she said, silencing yourself and putting on the facade you had mastered over the years.

Upon entry, you almost immediately noticed the two groups of people to the right each containing about six people and consisting of both males and females and the other group of six men. Gauging their distance to and from each other you could conclude the individuals in each group had played together previously and probably had strategies to compete with. As you and Holyn approached the area the others stood around, you glanced down to the table in front of all of you. ‘One per person’ the sign read with approximately twenty phones laid out beside it. Each of you grabbed a random phone and stepped away from the table into your own spaces, you and Holyn sticking closely together. If everything with a circuit board was destroyed, then why did these phones work? In the middle of your questioning the phone screen lit up with the text ‘facial recognition in progress’ before switching to another screen as you looked at the others subtly to see they were looking around as well.

“Registration has closed,” the phone chimed causing each of you to glance down at the small screen. “There are twenty participants. Game: Queen of cards.”

“Rules,” the automated voice said, “After putting on the designated collars you will be divided into two teams, one team will be the Jacks while the other is the Queen of Hearts. Find the Queen of Hearts, take her phone and find the safe zone. If the Queen is not found, it is game over for the Jacks. If the Queen is found, it is game over for her.”

“Does this mean it’s one girl against the rest of us?” Holyn asked with a small crack in her voice, making hit her as a sign to be quiet and do exactly what she told you to do. The two of you grabbed the collars they had laid out on the table, placing them on your neck after close inspection. You needed to seem like you had done this before, the last thing you needed was to be seen as the weaklings or newbies. “It’s a Hearts game, of course that’s what it means. We are supposed to turn on each other and play with others minds. It makes sense.” A male with his arms crossed over his chest said. He had played before, you could tell. The group of men he came with looked like they had been here for a while based on their appearance and calmness towards the situation.

“What do you mean ‘It’s a heart's game’?” A girl who looked to be about seventeen asked. It was obvious she was new to this like you, however, you weren’t letting anyone know that. “When you see the game card, you know the type of game and the difficulty of it. Heart games are those of psychological torture and betrayal where you mess with your opponents or friends minds and emotions. Diamond games are ones of minds and intelligence, often including solving riddles or puzzles. Clubs are by far the safest there is given they are teamwork and unity games. Spade games are physical, they test your stamina and endurance. The number of the cards tell you the difficulty levels; one being the easiest and ten being the hardest.” Another man explained to the girls. You listened attentively while looking down at your phone noticing this was a six of hearts game. Hearts. There had to be a way to do this without betrayal. But before you could think of anything further you were interrupted by the phone which spoke once more.

“The Queen will have one minute to hide before Jack's time starts, but she wont know she is the Queen until Jack's time begins.” The feminine AI voice instructed once more. The girls were to be hunted by the boys and even if they weren’t the Queen the males wouldn’t know. Even if it was a best friend. You noticed when the others came to the same realization as you as one guy started profusely apologizing to a girl who was shaking. This is a game of survival. “So that means-”

“You girls better run.” It came from one of the men and said with a sinister smirk. All the guys had to do to ensure survival was take our phones and get to the undisclosed safezone. However this was more than that. You saw the weapons on a board in the distance and you knew you weren’t the only one who did. Without a second thought, you grabbed Holyn’s hand and ran as fast as you could to get the farthest from any other person, vividly aware of the knife you still had on your thigh. She quickly followed behind although she didn’t have much of a choice with your iron-like grip on her wrist. After running a sufficient distance from the others you ducked into the shrubbery and crawled towards a dark corner to hide from anyone’s sight. She sat across from you as you both tried to calm your breathing while keeping yourselves hidden from anyone who might pass by. The phone chimed again, “Hiding time is up,” the voice said while a new timer appeared on your phone. “Ten minutes,” it read. An alarm sounded throughout the arena echoing off the walls of the indoor tea garden. “The game will now commence,” you heard just before seeing your screen turn balck temporarily with your role on it.

“Thank goodness, I’m a Jack. You are too right?” Holyn asked as you turned off your phone and looked at her with a smile as her voice echoed in your mind, “you must win each game, there’s no other way to survive,” so you pushed away the dread in your chest and replied “me too.”

No. You were the Queen.

The two of you sat still for about five minutes listening to the shouts and screams of the others until you heard sets of footsteps coming in your direction causing the two of you to duck down onto your stomachs out of fear. In the distance you heard a feminine scream echo off the glass walls followed by shattering sounds and more screams of “I’m not her” or “It’s not me” followed by the sounds of struggles. “Come out come out wherever you are,” one of the men closer to you called. You could tell he was near and if you two didn’t move, he'd find you.”We found the safe zone but none of the girls were queens,” you heard one say, “damnit, if they were still alive they could help us,’ the other commented making your stomach drop. “We need to run,” who whispered to Holyn knowing those men would have no issue killing you to survive. “Three minutes remaining,” the time was announced but you could hardly hear it due to your pulse thudding in your ears.

“Now,” you called quietly queuing the both of you to jump up and run, but it didn’t go unnoticed by the men. “There they are!” One shouted followed by the heavy stomps of footsteps behind you as they set in on the chase. “It’s only the two of you, just give us the phone and you’ll live.” You ignored him and kept sprinting towards the place you knew there were weapons. Without another thought you grabbed two weapons and handed one to Holyn to defend yourselves with until she came to the realization you loathed. “You’ve been the queen this entire time!?” She shouted at you as the stomping sound got closer and closer. “I’m sorry! You said to do anything it takes to survive.” You responded with tears clouding your vision. Never in your life would you have thought you’d be choosing your life over your best friend’s, not when the two of you had gone through everything together. “Two minutes remaining,” the voice announced reminding you of your impending fate. Holyn looked at you with emotions you couldn’t decipher, but you saw the way she relaxed even if it was slight. Why was she glad you chose yourself over her?

“Come on, let’s hide.” She said grabbing your hand and this time, she was the one dragging you along. She veered off to the right pulling you behind a fountain and kept running until the two of you collapsed onto the ground. “Remember when you turned fifteen and we decided to sneak out?” she reminisced laying between your legs against your chest. “Yeah, our parents almost killed us, we were grounded for months.” you giggled despite the tears falling from your eyes. As memories of you both flooded your mind you acted without control and shouted, “Over he--” to let the men know your location but you were interrupted by her hand clasping over your mouth tightly to silence you as she yanked you backwards into the shadows. “Shh,” she whispered, calming you while you sobbed into her hand, “I want you to live on for me, okay? Beat this game, we both know you are the only one who can. I know you can. I’ll be helping you from above if I can.” She soothed laying her head on top of yours.

“One minute remaining”

The tears wouldn’t stop as you moved to hug her tightly, never wanting to let go. “I’m so sorry.” you choked out in between gasps for air. Everything was too much, too loud, time was moving too quickly, you heard the men rapidly shouting and searching for you two as you clung to your best friend. Everything seemed to be happening so quickly, the seconds flew by while you were holding the only person you had left before she was to die. “I’m not. Thank you Y/n, I wouldn’t have made it any further anyways, I’m glad I can help you move forward. Don’t let me die in vain.” She told you kissing the top of your head before roughly pushing you off to get you away from her. “Holyn!” You shouted trying to latch back onto her when suddenly the collar around her neck exploded and her blood splattered everywhere. Your eyes and mouth opened wide in shock at what you had just seen. You could feel the specks of blood all over your face and body while you stared at her now decapitated one lying in front of you. She had just died, and it was because of you, because you were selfish and confused all while being scared.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there in total silence until you just collapsed onto the cold, hard floor beneath your feet. The silence was interrupted by your blood curdling scream of pure agony that echoed throughout the enclosed building. Your head came into contact with the ground when you curled over your knees and screamed once again while grabbing at your hair and banging your forehead against the cement. Tears flowed out of both your eyes as you cried out in horror, unable to rid your mind of the events that just occurred. You screamed until your throat was raw and your voice hoarse, you could feel the clumps of hair you pulled out of your scalp as your fingers dug deeper into your skull and worst of all, you knew you were alone now.

For days, you were numb. Five days to be exact. You didn’t do much but sleep, cry, eat, walk aimlessly to a new location and then repeat it all again the next day. You couldn’t shake the immense feeling of guilt you felt when you woke each morning knowing Holyn wouldn’t because of you. It wasn’t until you played your next game, an eight of spades, that you snapped out of the haze your emotions put you in. During the game, you had to climb a tree fast enough to avoid the arrows being shot at you from below as the height the arrows were shot increased each minute as you ascended the tree. You were ahead of the others until one man decided to start pulling at your ankles to hold you back which eventually turned into him trying to make you lose your grip and fall. In the moment he yanked your body down, you almost completely lost your grip on the branch keeping you from falling. It was then that you realized you weren’t going to let Holyn die in vain, you’d survive and push through everything to honor her memory.

After that, the “acquaintances” you made between or during games never meant much to you because in the end, you could only count on and rely on yourself to ensure your survival. You stopped moping around and became the version of yourself you had always wanted to become, the one that allowed you to turn off your emotions and step away from your chaotic thoughts. You now lived for yourself and yourself only, but even then, you never killed anyone intentionally.

A few days passed by but you couldn’t tell exactly how long you had been in this hell hole. You only played games when it was necessary which was only about two days before your visa expired. After overhearing someone in a two of Spades game talk about a place called “the Beach” and the people there “knowing how to get out here,” you started observing those who played games when you didn’t. It only took a few nights to see the connection between the group of people who entered games with tag numbers on their wrists being the ones who walked out. After you played a couple games with people with the tags on their wrists, you were convinced they knew something about the strategy of the games. Lingering in the shadows, you watched the participants of the game walk out of the arena and head down the street while you quietly followed behind. You must’ve walked for five minutes before you noticed where exactly the group was headed; a vehicle. “But I thought..” you whispered to yourself in confusion seeing them jump into the four seater 1970 cadillac while you stood still in your hidden position wondering what they were doing. Upon hearing the ignition of the engine you remembered Holyn telling you only older modeled vehicles were able to work here, but where did they find fuel? Not once had you seen an operable fuel station. “There must be fuel at the beach, there has to be,” you thought to yourself, watching as they drove off which only made you more determined to find this place and get the answers to your questions. And with that thought in mind, you set out on a journey to find this so-called “beach.”

As the vehicle drove further from your sight, you started jogging in order to tail them to their location while still keeping yourself out of sight. You ran for around fifteen minutes before you saw a building in the distance, a building which had power unlike everything else in the city. Seeing the destination, you stopped running and took a while to slow your breathing and regain your energy. “So this is the Beach,” you sighed observing the structure and its surroundings. The building itself seemed to be four stories tall and included a large pool in front where people partied as if they weren’t fighting for their lives everyday. You approached a fence which seemed to outline the perimeter of the area and carefully leaned over it as if you were watching a child’s game. You saw the vast amounts of people give into the pleasures of ignorance while deafening music thrummed in the background, even from the great distance you were, you could slightly feel the vibrations of the bass in your chest.

“Ah who's this?” you heard a cynical voice ask rhetorically from behind you. At the sudden and unexpected presence you jumped, turning around and swinging your fist to punch whoever it was out of instinct. When your right hand came in contact with a face your left twisted to grab the knife you still carried on your thigh in a holster. Just as you grasped ahold of the handle one of the two people delivered a knockout-blow to the side of your head just behind your temple which caused you to instantly lose consciousness.

When you awoke you were sitting in a chair with your hands tied loosely behind your back onto the chair with what felt like a burlap bag over your head. You let out a small groan of discomfort feeling your head pulse due to your new injury, one you would have to repay later on. Upon hearing your groan, the bag was swiftly removed from your head allowing the bright lights of the room to flood your vision which hadn’t adjusted making you shut your eyes with a silent wince. After blinking a few times you get adjusted, you were finally able to scan your surroundings. In front of you stood a man with shoulder-length hair, blsck sunglasses, an open kimono and red swim trunks, to his left stood a man with buzzed hair, a black muscle shirt and green military pants who you instantly recognized.

“Aguni?” You asked with confusion seeing the man you used to work with. He was here too? You weren’t surprised he was still alive, the man was invincible when you worked with him. And just like back then, he was silent, he only gave a small nod of his head to you as a response before reassuming his statue-like stance. To his right was a man with silver hair, a white Nike hoodie and blue swim shorts who looked at you in an inquisitive manner with tired yet sharp eyes. Two women who had black hair were standing to his right and a man covered in tattoos stood further off to the side holding a sword long in length, possibly a katana. A few other people were staggered around the room but none of them seemed to be as ‘important’ as the few that you noticed immediately.

“Aguni-san? You know her?” The man in the kimono asked the latter with creased brows showing obvious confusion. “We worked at the SDF together. She was my partner before we were assigned to different segments, she’d be a good addition to the executives or militants.” He responded while putting in a good word for you. “Someone like her? An SDF officer? If you hadn’t told me, Aguni-san, I would have never known.” The man remarked crossing his arms over his chest while walking over to a desk which he leaned on. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You questioned with a scowl in his direction as your fingers fiddled with the ropes binding your wrists. You would be able to get out of them in a matter of minutes if no one noticed what you were trying to do, but it seemed the man in the white hoodie already noticed as he raised his brow in your direction with an impressed smirk on his stoic face. “A pretty, small woman like yourself...I would’ve thought you’d be tagging along with someone and not alone. Actually I would’ve thought you’d be dead by now, much less an SDF officer.” He commented with a wry smile fanning out all your cards which contradicted his statement.

“If my cards tell you anything, you should know you’re wrong,” you hummed, resuming your attempt to loosen the ropes. “Ah yes your cards,” he began while pushing himself off the desk and slowly pacing around the room, “we want you to become a resident at the Beach after seeing the cards you’ve gathered. And after learning of your pastime, you would be a great addition to the team either way.” Of course he would want you once he saw the games you had played, you were good at surviving meaning you’d also be efficient in getting him the rest of the cards. “And if I don’t want to become a resident?” You questioned poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue out of habit. You were doing just fine on your own and definitely did not need this place, however, it seemed like they needed you. Or they needed your cards more so than yourself.

“Well if you choose to stay, you’ll be able to get out of this game quicker. We have a theory that once we collect all the playing cards, one person will be able to go back to the normal world. And if you choose not to stay, well, you can walk away from here but we will keep your cards. We have gathered all the weapons in the city, we regularly gather rain water and food which the game makers seem to replenish once a week, you’ll be taken care of here.” He explained pausing directly in front of you waiting for a response. Did no one else see the problem with him? How he was manipulating everyone to get the cards under the false security that they’d get to leave too? Or was everyone here really THAT ignorant? “It seems like you take my cards either way hm?” You suggested in a hum cocking your head to the right slightly in question. “You’re correct. However, now you would be higher in the rankings and an executive after making such a great contribution and having the skill set you supposedly possess.” He told you in an attempt to persuade you into staying while adding a bit of sweetness to the word ‘contribution’. When you simply looked at him with a bored gaze, he sighed and continued speaking.

“If you decide to stay there are only three rules. 1) "always wear a bathing suit". This is to be sure no one is hiding any weapons which is why our militants don’t have to wear them if chosen to do so. Rule 2) "be free to live your life exactly as you wish including alcohol, drugs and sex" and the third and last rule: "death to traitors".” He enlightened you on the standards they lived by to help you make your decision. It didn’t seem like it would be a bad choice if you chose to stay here, you’d have food, shelter, and people you didn’t know in case you had to play another game of hearts.

“I’ll stay but I want my knife back, if I have to wear a bathing suit you’ll be able to see it anytime since I wear it on my thigh.” You compromised whilst completely freeing your hands from their bound position but still holding the rope to hide suspicions. You hated the fact you’d have to wear a swimsuit because your scars would be visible but if it meant you could have your knife, you’d be more than willing. Hearing a few chuckles resonate around the room at your demand you brought your attention to one of the men in the back of the room who had a bandage on his cheek and a black eye. It was easy to come to the conclusion that he was the one you punched earlier, and the thought of that made you smile with pride while looking at him.

“You are in no position to make demands, sweetheart,” he practically snarled at you. You hated being called sweetheart, it not only made you cringe but it infuriated you beyond measure. With a deadly glare, you let go of the rope and stood from the chair in a swift motion and threw the ropes at him without a word which said everything you needed to. However, just as he caught the ropes you could hear the door being slammed open followed by a voice which was all too familiar.

“The traitors are dead,” the unknown man announced in a tone of pride, kicking the door closed behind him. His voice instantly brought back memory after memory causing you to turn your head in shock in order to make sure you were hearing things correctly. The man you were looking at looked nothing like the one you once knew. This one had piercings on his nose and eyebrow while he sported an automatic rifle on his shoulder and a psychotic smile on his face. “Niragi?” You whispered in shock, still unable to believe your eyes. Was this the same boy you stood up for in high school? He looked so....different. What exactly happened to the sweet, shy boy you once fell in love with? “Y/N?” He questioned letting his mouth fall open the slightest but before he regained his composure. It was him, Suguru Niragi, the first and only man you’ve ever truly fallen in love with, but also the man who disappeared without a trace three years ago. You knew he had left you, it wasn’t hard to figure that much out, but you never knew why and quite frankly, you didn’t care anymore. You had moved on.

“Fantastic! Another one of our own knows this charming young woman, this will make things a lot easier. Niragi, you may take her to the locker rooms so she can change into some fitting attire then you can get her an ID bracelet and take her to her room.” The man who you noticed had a bracelet tagged 001, exclaimed with a clap of his hands as he was instructing Niragi to get you settled in. “She can do it on her own,” Niragi scoffed with a roll of his eyes which had you throwing your head back in a sarcastic chuckle. “I’ll take her,” someone insisted from the side. Glancing in the direction the voice resounded you noticed the short pale man with the silver hair stepping out towards you. He seemed oddly familiar as well but you couldn’t quite place it.

“That’s settled then. Now, my knife?” You quipped raising a brow at the ‘leader’ in the kimono just before someone came from behind you pressing a cold piece of metal to your throat while their other arm was holding your arms in place by your waist. The room went silent as everyone watched what was about to unfold in front of them, Aguni simply rolled his eyes with a sigh knowing what was about to happen. “You mean this knife?” The man teased, his voice was one you recognized from one of the two men that brought you to this place and all you wanted in that moment was to stab him for that. So, naturally, you settled for the next best thing. Pushing your head forward a little while trying not to move your neck, you watched Niragi’s expression as you threw your head backwards with all your force resulting in hitting the unknown man’s nose.

When the back of your skull came into contact with his face he immediately lessened his grip on you which allowed you to slip out of his grasp and take your knife from his hand. With your knife in hand, you grabbed his wrist, twisting it and bending his arm behind his back while your other arm placed him in a chokehold. You leaned in close to his ear as he was fighting your hold before pulling him back harshly, putting pressure on his windpipe, “Never, and I mean NEVER, touch my knife again. Got it?” You growled and if you were being honest, you would’ve intimidated yourself. You didn’t wait for a response as you pushed him forward only to watch him fall onto the ground with a soft thud. “Now,” you sighed looking up with a smile which could’ve been seen as both innocent or sinister, “let’s go,” you said slipping your knife into the holster on your thigh. The man with the white hair stepped forward with his hands in his pockets and came to your side, briefly looking at Niragi before turning his attention to you. “Let’s go, shall we?”

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

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Morning Routine (Jung Wooyoung) Rated

Part Two

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung × Reader (Female)

Genre: Smut, Fluff.

Summary: Seeing an advertisement online in need of a camera handler, Wooyoung jumps at the opportunity, not knowing his employer is a renowned camgirl.

Word Count: 4.3+K

Warnings: Exhibitionism, voyeurism, nude taping, masturbating in shower, breast play, a rather tamed smut

Taglist: @seacottons @multidreams-and-desires @galaxteez @deja-vux @yunhofingers @little-precious-baby @brie02 @couchpotatoaniki @daniblogs164 @a-soft-hornytiny @yunsangoveryonder @minhyukmyluv @nanamarkie @mingismoon @ateezbabysitters

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"Wanted: Experienced photographer/Camera Operator for personal/private filming. If interested, please contact number below for more information or details. Students majoring in said field are welcomed to apply. 19+ only."

Seeing the advertisement, Wooyoung's eyes popped up. Usually most jobs wouldn't even allow people without a degree or years of experience. And it would be perfect practice that didn't include boring or basic projects his professor would often assign, not to mention a little extra money would come in handy.

Not thinking twice about it, he quickly dialed the phone number listed and waited patiently as it rang. It took a while, but eventually someone on the other side picked up.

"Hello?" He discerned that it was a young female's tone.

"Hi! I was calling about the advertisement for a camera man?" He inquired.

"Are you 19 or over?" She immediately asked for his age, which slightly confused him. But thinking about it, he kinda understood why she might want someone older. After all, teenagers weren't exactly reliable or responsible when it came to taking on a job. She probably wanted to avoid them dipping out on her randomly.

"I'm 21 and very serious in my work." He assured her, already making it clear his intentions to be committed to the job she was offering.

"Hmm...I take it you probably haven't had a lot of experience outside of college right?"

Wooyoung slightly gulped as she discerned correctly. But she did say students were welcomed to apply and he was fairly confident in his skills.

"N-no but I can assure you that I'll work hard and meet your expectations."

There was a deep and defeaning silence that had Wooyoung worrying. He could already feel her hesitation to hire him or give him a chance. He was so worked up on being rejected once more that the slight giggle that ensued after that pause momentarily confused him.

"I like your attitude and drive already. What did you say your name was?" She asked.

"Jung Wooyoung." He answered right away.

"Well Wooyoung, how soon can you start?"

His mood lightened up quite significantly at hearing her say those words.

"If you'd like, I can come over to the location you wish after I get done with my classes tomorrow." He offered.

"All right, just one thing....... do you think you'd be able to stay over at my place for a few nights?"

Although he thought it was a rather unusual request, he didn't put too much thought, especially since someone was offering him a chance to actually have some work.

"Um.. of course."

Unbeknownst to him, the woman on the other side had her lips curling up into a smirk.

"Wonderful. I look forward to seeing you real soon Wooyoung."

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Checking the direction that was sent to him, Wooyoung looked at the corresponding number on the front door to make sure it was indeed where he needed to be. Adjusting the bag that was hanging by his shoulders, he slowly walked up to the vintage style house and rang the doorbell. Hearing the soft patter of footsteps coming from inside, Wooyoung mentally prepared himself to see a middle aged lady carrying a Siamese cat as soon as the door opened. But he was not prepared by the sight awaiting him. Indeed there was a cat in the arms of the figure in front of him, although it was a Persian cat and not a Siamese, but that wasn't the most surprising factor. What shocked him was to see a very young woman near his age be the one holding the cat in her arms, her face illuminated by the warm smile she was donning.

"You must be Wooyoung. I'm Y/N." She extended her hand out towards him, prompting the feline in her grasp to shuffle around and climb part of its body on her shoulder. Judging by the slight crinkle of her nose, Wooyoung guessed the cat probably clung its claws into their master's skin.

"Yes I am. It's a pleasure to meet you. I promise you won't regret hiring me." Taking hold of her hand, he gave it a firm shake while his face radiated the most reassuring smile he could make.

"Oh trust me, I don't think I'm going to." Her lips formed a rather curious smirk that slightly baffled him.

She gestured for him to step inside, which he immediately did as he tried to ignore the slight hissing the Persian cat gave him when his shoulder barely made contact against its swaying tail.

"Baby stop. He's going to be around for a while so be on your best behavior." She chastised her cat as she closed the door.

Y/N let out a soft 'hmph' when the cat suddenly jumped out of her arms and ran over to where Wooyoung was standing. He got stiff and held his breath when the cat pressed her nose on his leg and began sniffing him. Pulling back, she licked her lips and then scurried off somewhere in the other part of the house.

"Well we know for sure she doesn't dislike you." Y/N chuckled slightly.

"But I take it she doesn't like me?" Wooyoung raised an eyebrow.

"She's a cat, it'll take time for her to get used to you, that's all."

Shrugging softly, Y/N walked over to the kitchen and started taking out a few cups and saucers from the cupboard.

"I was brewing tea before you got here, would you like to share a cup with me?" Removing it from the stove top, she held up the elegant teapot to him after she finished her question.

"Oh, thank you." He gladly accepted her gesture.

Noticing him standing there awkwardly, Y/N pointed to one of the chairs surrounding the kitchen island.

"Wooyoung don't be too tense and just make yourself comfortable. After all, you're going to be staying with me for a few days."

Her words reminded him about that particular part of the job, that still felt odd to him and he was very curious to find out why she needed him to stay over with her.

"So.... can I ask what exactly is this project you're hiring me for that requires me to stay here?" He asked as he pulled a chair forward so he could sit on it.

"Oh yes, I thought you'd probably ask me about that since it is rather unusual."

She paused briefly so she could properly pour the tea into the cups, the rich aroma filling the atmosphere with its notes of chamomile and lemon. After sliding a cup over to him, she turned behind her to grab a tray that contained sugar cubes, honey, steamed milk and a few lemon wedges, all in different saucers or dishes that matched the tea set that they were currently drinking in. The cute floral design amused Wooyoung slightly. He could tell Y/N seemed to have a thing for classy and vintage style aesthetic, her house and the things inside was a major clue to it.

Pouring a tiny teaspoon of honey and some milk in her tea, Y/N carefully stirred them in the cup before finally answering the question Wooyoung had been pondering over.

"Well to make a long story short, I wish to film an everyday vlog for my....channel." Lifting the cup to her face, she gently blew on it before taking small sips out of it.

"Channel? Like for YouTube or like that?" Wooyoung himself started drinking his own cup of tea, preferring not to add anything to it since he liked straight tea as it was.

"Yeah something like that. But basically, I wanted to show my viewers how I live and what not. Show them what I do inside my home that they hadn't seen before. For example, I wanted you to stay over because I wanted to film my morning routine. I want to capture every move I make from the moment I wake up to when I get ready to start my day. Am I making sense?" She worried she was probably confusing Wooyoung even further, but he was actually not. It had become a popular trend this day to document a person's morning routine for people to see.

"Yes you are, no worries. Now I understand why you needed me to stay over." The smile he had was half covered by the cup that was brought back over to his lips.

"I mean if you're uncomfortable by it or would rather not, I completely understand."

Wooyoung quickly dismissed her worries, shaking his head as he cleared his throat.

"Trust me, I'm not uncomfortable and I'd love to help you in your project. It'll help me out as well, you know, gain experience and have someone to put as a reference if I ever want to get another job."

Y/N giggled softly at that and nodded.

"Ahh yes. I guess if you look at it from that angle, of course you would accept."

They spent a few minutes in a serene and tranquil silence, the only noises heard was the sipping of their lips against the rim of their cups. Wooyoung tried not to notice the way Y/N would occasionally stare intently to him, a slightly curious grin on her face at times. It wasn't that it made him uncomfortable, but it certainly made him self conscious, especially since he put a lot of effort into looking as presentable as possible. Did she perhaps thought it was too much? Or not enough? Or was it because she thought he looked funny? Whatever it was he got no chance to ask about it since he only opened his mouth to let out a sharp yell when he felt a certain feline's claws tangled themselves on his thigh, the sharpness of her claws even sinking into his skin.

"Baby!" Y/N got up from her seat and quickly removed the paws of her cat off her guest. She looked extremely embarrased as she apologized profusely before shooing the cat off to another room.

"I'm sorry. She tends to get a bit aggressive when trying to play. She didn't hurt you too much right?"

Dropping down on her knees in front of him, Y/N gently examined the damage done: a slight tear in his jeans but no visible signs of a deep scratch or anything.

"N-no it's fine, I'm fine." Wooyoung uttered.

He tried so hard not to blush at the position she was currently in. On her knees, between his legs as one of her hands caressed the attacked spot in an effort to soothe the pain. Wooyoung wanted to smack himself right then and there for the dirty picture his brain had imagined about the semi stranger in front of him, and his cheeks started to produce a pink hue when his body involuntarily started making a visible effect of his reaction to her stance by him in between his legs. He gulped as he realized she would be able to see the bulge that was starting to show.

"If you want, I could mend your pants for you-"

"No that's fine don't worry!" Wooyoung stood up from his seat and inconspicuously hid his tiny problem by pulling his sweatshirt further down as he moved away from Y/N.

"I mean, these pants were old. I was going to throw them out anyway." He tried as much as he could to seem as normal as possible, but judging from the look on her face he was probably not doing a good job. Luckily she seemed to not question his behavior and instead decided to start cleaning up the dishes that they used.

"Here let me help you with that." Wooyoung offered, trying to take some of the china off her hands but Y/N pulled her hands back so he wouldn't touch them.

"It's ok, don't worry about it. You're my guest and I'm very particular about the way to clean my silverware and dining sets. Nothing against you, I'm just.... slightly obsessive compulsive." She remarked in the most cheerful tone one could have while giving him a shy smile.

"Umm ok..." Wooyoung scratched the back of his head.

"If you want, why don't you bring the rest of your stuff so I can show you where you're staying?" Y/N suggested.

"Yeah. Sure."

Wasting no time and thinking keeping his mind occupied could help cool him down, Wooyoung picked up his keys and nearly sprinted out the door. Y/N hummed a soft tune to herself as she ran the cups under the lukewarm water. Her eyes were staring out her window, watching as her guest was head deep in the back of his car's trunk. She giggled softly as she remembered the flustered look on his face just a few minutes ago, tongue poking out at the image of his crotch outlined in those tight jeans of his. She looked down when she felt a soft face nuzzling itself against her ankle, soft purring coming out of her cat's throat before letting out a meowing noise. Bending down, Y/N gently scratched under Baby's chin as she liked.

"Yes I think he is absolutely adorable as well Baby.."

Picking her up, Y/N kissed the top of her head and smirked.

"And I'm going to have lots of fun with him."

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"Ok you ready?"

Looking over at the girl still in her bed, Wooyoung got a thumbs up to let him know she was indeed ready. Turning on his camera, he held up his hand and started putting one finger down at a time to count down the starting time. Hearing the slight beep of the camera go off, Y/N immediately plastered on a commercial worthy smile.

"Hello my darlings. As I promised you guys, I'm going to take you guys through my morning routine step by step. I hope you all enjoy it." She finished off her words with a wink before tearing off the blanket off her body.

Wooyoung had to give it to her, she definitely didn't seem to be camera shy nor awkward in front of the lens. He liked that she had confidence. Then he remembered that she had a channel of some sorts and that was probably the reason why. He stepped back a few steps to fully capture her as she neatly tucked her covers under her mattress, impressively folding the corners of her bed like they did in 5 star hotels. Smoothing out the top before patting it down, she looked at the camera once more.

"As you already know, I like to make sure everything looks absolutely pretty for you guys." Her voice dropped slightly in tone as she said those words.

Getting up from the floor, she pointed over to her still sleeping cat that was perched on its bed by her window. Wooyoung made sure to angle the camera towards her, zooming in slightly.

"She won't wake up for another hour or so....perfect amount of time to get all clean and dolled up."

Beckoning him over, Wooyoung carefully followed her inside her adjoined bathroom, keeping a steady hand as he made sure to capture everything inside. From the long vanity with its mirror to the walk in shower with its clear glass lining, all of it looking spotless and shiny. Clapping her hands together, Y/N beamed with enthusiasm.

"And of course, the first thing I do each morning is wash up."

When he heard that, Wooyoung thought she meant like her skincare routine as he had noticed her cleansers and toners perfectly lined up next to the faucet sink. But he was not prepared to suddenly be hit with the image of her bare chest in front of him when she suddenly pulled her black satin tank top off and let it drop to the floor, his own jaw going slightly agape. As if he couldn't get anymore flustered, he nearly wheezed when she turned around and bent over to slide her matching pajama shorts down her smooth legs, her ass staring him right in the face. It took everything in Wooyoung's strength not to drop the camera when Y/N stood back up and turned around so that her completely nude body would be in the frame. She giggled as she took notice of Wooyoung's beet red face, further teasing him as she kicked her discarded lace panties by his feet, the poor boy swallowing hard as one of his hands shook nervously.

"Eyes up here baby." He immediately looked up from the ground when he heard her sweet and sultry voice.

Walking over to him, Y/N snaked one of her hands to grab at one of his belt loops so he could follow her. Opening the large glass door to the shower, Y/N released his belt loop and made a sign for him to stay there and keep the camera towards her. Stepping inside the enclosed space, she twisted the knob on the tile wall enough so that the shower head above her would start pouring out the refreshing and cool water onto her body. She released a soft moan when she felt it splash onto her, hands gliding down her torso and thighs as her eyes closed and reveled in the tingling and cooling feeling of the water dripping down on her.

Wooyoung stood there completely speechless and flabbergasted, his eyes unable to blink the longer he stared at the scene before him. It felt completely wrong to be there, to watch and film as this girl he just met the day before stand naked in front of him and continue her shower routine as if he wasn't even there. He just couldn't believe it, couldn't believe what he had gotten himself in to when he called and accepted to work for her. But he still accepted and he had a job to complete so he tried his best to look as composed as possible as he kept the camera pointed at her.

And yet more often than not he found himself biting down on his lip hard, trying to suppress the groans threatening to spill out as he continued to watch her as she did the most normal things a person often did while they took a shower. The camera captured every minute starting from when she lathered her head with her shampoo, its scent of coconut and hibiscus filling the entire room with fragrance that further made the tight feeling in Wooyoung's pants ache even more. His eyes were exclusively locked on her body, watching as the water cascaded down her soft skin, focusing especially on her breasts. He licked his lips as he took in the way her nipples peaked out due to the temperature of the water, wanting nothing more than to take one of them in his mouth and suck on it. The fact that Y/N would purposefully bring her hands up at times to cup or rub against her fleshy mounds wasn't helping his case, it only made him more sad that it wasn't his own hands touching and caressing her breasts. He was willing to bet they were probably the most soft and squishy pillow like tits to exist.

Wooyoung was really aching when she poured some of the pomegranate scented body wash into her sponge and began to distribute it around her body, starting from her arms and working them down her legs and between her thighs. He didn't mean to but he couldn't help himself as he fantasized about being him the one who was lathering her body, imagining all the things he'd do if he could. Like perhaps teasing her by grazing his fingers across her wet folds or even pressing his thumb down on her sensitive clit. Either way, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off her if he got the chance, but he doubted that would ever happen. So he decided to take what he could of the moment and perhaps use it for fap material when he was alone.

As if knowing exactly what he was thinking about, Y/N turned her body to fully face him and smirked. Sliding her hands up her torso, she took hold of her breasts and gave them a tight squeeze before releasing them. Wooyoung could not help the audible whine that spilled out from his tongue as he saw her repeat the same action a couple more times. Pressing her boobs together, her thumbs played with the hardened nipples, tweaking at them and even giving them slight pinches every now and then. Wooyoung knew she was doing it on purpose, trying to arouse him even further....and it was working perfectly.

With one hand kept on one of her breasts, the other one snaked its way in between her luscious thighs. Dipping one finger inside her entrance, her lips parted and began spilling out breathy moans as she started to slide her finger in and out of her body.

"Oh fuck..." Wooyoung muttered, not caring about if his words got recorded or not. He became too invested in watching as Y/N continued fingering herself in front of him. She looked absolutely exquisite, body drenched in the rippling water as she continued to stuff her pussy with another one of her fingers. Her eyes shut tightly and her head tilted back as she let out even louder whimpers when she began scissoring inside her fleshy core. Her hand that was on her breasts pulled away to twist the showerhead knob so the pressure of the water could be at its lowest setting. Without the intense sound of the splashing water, her strangled noises became more audible as well as the slopping and squealching sounds her dripping pussy was making due to the intensity of her rapid finger movements. Wooyoung could clearly see and hear that the sounds were definition not due to the shower she was taking. Y/N was definitely horny and the slick her heat collected was clear evidence of it.

Having someone as hot as Wooyoung not only watching but helping her film something that thousands of other people would see, and more likely than not jerk off to, made her weak. She loved having people watch her do naughty things as she was doing now, it thrilled her and riled her up even more. And she loved seeing the effects it had on others, like the obvious bulge in between Wooyoung's thick thighs. She could practically make out just how big he was given how painfully hard his erection seemed, and that image served to help push her over the edge. With high pitched whines and cries, she shuddered as she felt herself cum all over her hand, her fingers slowing their movements down to help prolong her orgasm without making her become overly sensitive. She panted heavily as she took out her fingers and brought them up to her lips so she could lick off the secretion left from her climax.

Wooyoung's tongue poked out as he witnessed the pornographic image of Y/N drinking up her juices as if it was a delicious and sweet dessert.

"It probably is and it only makes me crave to have her smother my face with her pussy even more." He mused inwardly to himself.

He was so lost in his fantasy that he didn't notice Y/N had completely turned off the water and finished until her breasts were displayed right in front of the camera lens. He let out a soft stutter when her hand came up and pressed the pause button, being careful not to drop any water onto the camera.

"I'm going to finish drying myself off in my room so you can have some .....alone time." She snorted softly as she passed by him, her hand brushing against his crotch which made Wooyoung hiss softly.

Grabbing the towel that was hanging on the wall, Y/N wrapped it around her body, tucking it in so it wouldn't fall down. Stooping over, she picked up her lace panties and looked back at Wooyoung.

"Here, in case you need a little help." She flung it over to him, which he catches in his free hand.

Wooyoung stared at the underwear and then at Y/N with a dumbfounded expression.

"So I take it this is why you specifically wanted 19 plus people?" He quirked an eyebrow up, one corner of his lips pulling up into a knowing smile.

"Yes. I might as well mention now that I'm a camgirl with a porn channel." She explained.

"Yeah, I kinda figured that out when you flashed your boobs at me."

They both bursted out laughing at his little joke.

"Ok but seriously, are you sure you're comfortable with all this?" Y/N asked.

Wooyoung looked down at her before looking back down at the panties in his hand.

"I'm definitely going to be hard most of the time, but I think I'll be fine." He assured her with a mischievous smile as he set down his camera on the vanity dresser. With a sly smirk, he began unzipping his pants, not missing any of the facial reactions she was making as he began to pull his cock out of its confinement.

"I mean, I got up close fap material with an actual pornstar. What guy wouldn't want my job?" Cocking his head to the side, he rubbed the tip of his dick with his thumb, spreading some of the precum down the shaft. Although she had said she would give him alone time, Y/N couldn't move her feet out the door as she stared intently at the way Wooyoung hugged his length.

"Wanna watch me jerk off with your panties to your image?"

Stepping forward, Wooyoung reached up and pulled the towel off Y/N's body, causing her to inhale sharply at his bold move. Sucking in a breath, Wooyoung shamelessly looked down at her body as he placed the hand that had Y/N's panties around the base of his cock.

"Just stay there and don't move beautiful...."

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reidsaurora · 2 years

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"Best Friend's Brother, PT. Three" ~ D. Winchester

Summary: After Y/N and Dean's fight, Y/N finally convinces Sam to tell her where Dean is… only his answer isn't exactly what she was expecting.

Pairing: Teen!Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,267

Content Warning: swearing

Genre: ANGSTY AS FRICKKKK

Extra Notes: Y/I = your initial // Y/F/N = your full name

Based On: the other two parts lol // the equation in the tutoring scene was based on a scene from Alexa and Katie though

Originally Written: 11/08/2021

Series Masterlist can be found here!

Supernatural masterlist can be found here!

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It had been three weeks since my fight with Dean. I hadn't seen him at all during that time, not even at school. And every time I tried to talk to Sam about where he was, Sam would avoid the conversation.

To take my mind off things with Dean, Sam had been coming over to my house. Turns out, I was worse at algebra than I thought, so Sam had been tutoring me.

"OK, I have an equation for you, smart boy," I said in the middle of our tutoring session.

"Hit me," he replied.

"If Student Y/I and Student D have an argument and Student D goes away, but Student S is in the middle of Student Y/I and Student D, what is the probability of Student S helping Student Y/I to get Student D back?"

"This feels like toilet paper math," Sam said, completely serious.

"Seriously, what's the probability?" I asked.

"I don't think I have enough information to answer your equation."

"Sam!" I shouted, shoving him. Not hard, but it was enough to let him know I was annoyed.

"OK, OK, do you really wanna know where Dean is?"

"Yes!"

"I don't know where he is. Your guess is as good as mine, Y/N. He calls me once a day and all he'll tell me is that he's OK and that I don't need to worry about him."

"I wonder if he'd answer if I just called him over and over and over again."

"Good luck. He calls from a different number every day."

"I just wish I knew what happened."

"Dad definitely had something to do with it," he said, almost like he didn't mean to. His facial expression let me know that he immediately regretted it too.

"What?! John had something to do with this?"

"Me and my big mouth," he rolled his eyes at himself, "Dean and Dad had a fight the day before you came over to apologize."

"What about?"

"Dean told Dad he had a girlfriend. He didn't say who, he just said it was a girl he went to school with. Dad got pissed because he told Dean he didn't want him bringing anyone into our screwed-up family drama. Things got a little out of hand and they had a screaming match. I ran off because it was causing my anxiety to go through the roof, so I didn't hear the rest. All I know is that when I got back, Dean was throwing stuff in his duffel and said he was gonna finish working on his car the next day and that he'd be leaving town after he finished. Hence why he drove off in a fit of anger not long after your argument."

"Of course," I scoffed, "Every problem me and Dean have ever had was because of John. Why didn't I see this before?"

"I don't like him much these days either, so…"

We sat in silence for a minute before going back to my math problems, though I didn't pay much attention because I was too busy worrying about how I was gonna get Dean back home, safe and sound.

☆☆☆

"I've called him eight times. Seriously, why won't he answer?" I shouted, throwing my phone on the bed.

"He's not gonna answer, Sissy," Sam spoke softly.

Sissy… Sam's nickname for me, but only in times of sadness or distress. He always called me "Sissy" as a kid since I was basically his twin sister, but as we got older, he only used it when one of the two of us needed comforting.

"He has to after all the work I put in. I mean, I follow his trail of motel stays, finally find his motel room in Edwardsville, and now he doesn't even bother to answer the phone," I complained, lying back on my bed.

"Hold on, did you say Edwardsville?" Sam asked, almost as if that fact was important.

"Yeah, why?"

"Edwardsville is only like a half hour from Lawrence," he said, immediately followed by a groan of complaint, "He's going home."

"Home? Wow, last I checked, he told me 'Anywhere you are is home.' Glad to know he doesn't feel like that now."

"You know what, Sissy? Contrary to popular belief, this isn't about you as much as you think it is."

I was a little angry with his comment at first, but I took a step back. This wasn't about me, and I knew it. It was about John and I knew that.

Dean had spent his entire life trying to get approval from John, and eighteen years later, John still couldn't give him the approval he was searching for.

"I've got an idea," I said.

"You've got one of those gleams in your eye, and I don't like it."

"Just trust me on this, Sam."

☆☆☆

"Y/N, there is no way we're stealing your dad's car. We can't even legally drive!" Sam whisper-shouted as we snuck around in my dad's bedroom. My dad had fallen asleep on the couch, but he always left the spare set of keys to his car in the drawer in his nightstand.

"Relax, he's been letting me drive since I was like ten," I replied, grabbing the keys.

"Yeah, when he's in the car."

"Sam, you worry too much."

"You don't worry enough. I mean, we could get arrested."

"Not if we don't get caught," I said with a smirk.

"OK, you have been hanging out with Dean too much," he spoke, rolling his eyes.

We quietly snuck out of the house and into the garage. I open the garage door before climbing into the driver's seat of my dad's '66 Nova.

And I know what you're thinking… yes, all hunters do drive old cars… it's like an unspoken rule or something…

"I'm not letting you drive all the way to Kansas!" Sam protested.

"Of course not. I'm gonna have to sleep at some point. Then you can drive."

"Y/N!"

"I'll go without you! I may end up falling asleep at the wheel though."

Reluctantly, he sat down in the passenger seat, closing the door as quietly as he could.

"Remind me again why I ever agreed to be your best friend?"

"You didn't. You just got stuck with me," I grinned.

☆☆☆

"So, here's a story from A to Z!" I sang along to the radio.

Sam reached over and lowered the volume. "OK, if I'm gonna have to ride with you all the way from Indiana to Kansas, at least pick some decent music."

"You've already made it through the first two hours. Plus, I think your brother puts it best: driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

And with that, I turned the radio back up, this time it was even louder than before.

"Could you turn it down?" he said, his arms crossed and his face serious.

"Sorry! What was that? I couldn't hear you!" I shouted, turning the radio up even higher. "If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends!" I shouted, pointing at Sam when I said the word "friends".

"Please!"

"OK, OK," I giggled, turning it down. "Hey, you think there's anywhere to buy coffee at this time of the night?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, I don't particularly wanna fall asleep at the wheel."

Sam hesitated for a moment. He had a worried expression across his face, his puppy-dog eyes were prominent.

"I suppose I can try driving for a little while. Dean's let me drive before," he said hesitantly.

"Would you? I just wanted to take a little nap. But I promise, the second you feel even the slightest bit tired or uncomfortable, I will drive."

He nodded in response, so I pulled over and we switched seats.

Soon enough, I'd fallen asleep. Much to my surprise, Sam was actually a decent driver.

☆☆☆

Next thing I knew, it was 6:00 a.m. and my phone was ringing. Had I really let Sam drive for five hours?

"Crap, it's your dad!" Sam groaned, passing my phone to me.

I quickly answered, scared for what he'd say to me. I knew I'd be grounded for the rest of forever, but I didn't really care. Not if it meant I'd get Dean back.

"Hey, Dad," I answered awkwardly.

"Where the hell is my car?" he asked.

"Look, I don't really have the time to explain right now. I'm driving to Kansas. Dean ran away and I think he went home."

"You what?!" his voice rose. "You drove my car halfway across the country by yourself?!"

"Not by myself. Sam is here," I admitted, hoping that would somehow calm him down.

"Wow, 'Sam is here.' That makes me feel so much better," he whispered sarcastically.

"Look, Dad. I know how to drive. You've been teaching me for years. And Sam knows how to drive too. We'll be OK. Just trust me on this."

"Where are you?"

I silently mouthed to Sam, "Where are we?"

"In Blue Springs, Missouri. About an hour out from Lawrence," he mouthed back.

"Blue Springs, Missouri," I answered, stuttering a little.

"You're in Missouri?!"

"Dad, I'm sorry. I know you hate taking the bus to work, and I'm sorry. I will make it up to you when I get home. But I promise I'm fine. Sam's fine. We just need to find Dean. We've been taking turns so no one fell asleep at the wheel. I promise we are OK."

"I trust you. As long as you can find Dean. John's been worried sick. He's been calling all morning, freaking out because neither of his boys were home."

Yeah, because that definitely sounds like John… actually giving a crap about his children…

"We'll find him, Dad. I promise."

"We're not finished talking about this. But I don't wanna cloud your judgement even more than it already is. Just, be careful out there. Carry some holy water in your purse."

"Always have, always will," I replied.

"Love you."

"Love you too, Dad."

And with that, we hung up. I felt bad for lying about the "taking turns" thing, but then again, it wasn't my fault Sam never woke me up.

"Why didn't you -"

Sam cut me off by answering, "Because you needed the rest. You've been worried sick for the past three weeks. You barely sleep because of how stressed you've been about Dean. You needed it."

Damn you, Sam, and your empathetic heart.

☆☆☆

After an hour and a half and a small breakfast pit stop, we finally made it to the Winchesters' old house in Lawrence. I hadn't really seen the house other than when I was a baby, except for photos. The one that stuck out in my mind was of our moms holding me and Sam outside the front door in the summer. Sam and I were in bathing suits and our moms were wearing matching American flag tank tops for the fourth of July.

The house looked like it was in decent shape, like it had been rebuilt recently. Though the yard was pretty unkept, the grass high and the bushes, well… bushy.

"Are you sure no one's moved in?" I asked Sam as I parked.

"I'm sure. After hearing about how Mom's ghost supposedly haunted it, no one wanted to buy it," he said, almost like he was offended. "Their loss. I'm sure her ghost is just as kind and loving as Dad says she was in real life."

OK, maybe he was offended.

The two of us walked up to the door, looking around to make sure no one was watching us. We each carried a gun and a flashlight, my gun had salt bullets while Sam's had real bullets.

BAM!

The door swung open. It was completely dark and there was no furniture, as if no one had even so much as thought about the house in decades.

"What the hell?" I wondered. There wasn't any evidence that Dean was squatting there.

"There's no way he's not here," Sam sighed, shaking his head.

"Well, there's no sign that he is here."

He spoke up louder when he said, "Haha, very funny, Dean. You can come out now."

RING!!!

My phone began ringing in my back pocket. An unknown number… that's weird.

"Hello?"

"Where the hell are you?!"

"Gee, Dean, I could ask you the same damn question," I exhaled with an eye roll.

"I'm at home," he replied.

"Obviously not, or I'd be looking at you."

"Wait a minute. Where are you?"

I sighed, having figured out where he actually was. "I'm at your house in Lawrence."

"Of course you went to Lawrence," he grumbled. "I'm at your house."

"Oh, no!" I groaned.

"What?" Sam asked, oblivious to mine and Dean's conversation.

"Dean's back at the house."

Sam let out a loud growl, letting basically the whole neighborhood know that he was pissed.

"Y/N, I have something to tell you. I wanted to do it in person, hence why I came home, but I don't wanna wait any longer."

"What is it?"

Here it comes…

"Y/F/N, I love you with my whole heart."

Was not expecting that, considering we'd never used the L word before.

"You what?"

"I love you, Y/N. But I can't keep living like this. You shouldn't have to live like this. I think it's best if we go our separate ways."

Ooh, was my blood boiling now.

"Dammit, Dean! I did not make Sam illegally drive for six hours for you to tell me you're just gonna give up on us!"

"Well, I just did," was his response.

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too-gay-for-marvel · 3 years

Text

just this once pt.3

a/n: i know im technically a day late, but we stopped very late. but its here! and its gonna be a decent amount of parts, so be prepared, besties

Word Count: 2,439

Warnings: smut implications

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

(pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6.1 pt.6.2 pt.6.3 pt.7 pt.8)

Natasha had to admit, she hated how understanding Maria was. She had gone home and told Maria what you had said, expecting to become single almost as soon as she had finished talking. But no, Natasha had finished her rant, and Maria had taken a deep breath before saying “I’m sorry,” and dragging her into a hug.

She would’ve handled a “we’re over” much better.

But it helped ease some of the guilt that she was carrying around with her. It lifted some of the weight that had been keeping her head down and feet dragging. And with Maria being the most understanding person in the world, now she could live her life. Did she forgive herself? Fuck no, but at least she could move on with Maria.

It helped that you kept to what she had told you.

In the months after learning the truth, she never saw you. Her feet never took her to your suite, her thoughts never trailed to that night. Well. Not during the day. She… didn’t want to talk about the dreams.

Natasha was able to go a solid month without seeing you, and even though the back of her mind kept telling her to talk to you, she had stayed away. She had kept to her “honey do” list, went on her missions, and just lived her life.

Until Fury stuck his nose where it didn’t belong.

“You two have a mission.”

Natasha looked over to where you were standing, over in the corner as far away from her as you could be. Your eyes were down, only occasionally darting up to look at Fury when he was talking. She could see the fins on your arm flare out a bit before relaxing again, along with the slight twitch of your gills.

“Can this mission not be done with one person?” Natasha asked, her eyes still locked on you; you shifted your weight from one foot to the other.

“It requires stealth and…” Fury looked over at you and sighed. “Gills.”

“And here I thought you kept me around for my good looks,” you teased with an upturn of the corner of your mouth.

“When do you need us?” Natasha asked, and your half smile fell as quickly as it had appeared.

“You leave bright and early, 0400.”

With that, Fury left the room, leaving you and her alone. She took note of your fins staying flared, and took that as her sign to leave. Your feet shuffled, and she moved slower just in case, but you never reached out to her. That was all Natasha needed to head back to her room to prepare for tomorrow.

Tomorrow came far too soon, and it felt like only moments later that Natasha was standing in the hangar, watching you prep your gear.

Incorrectly.

“Your holster’s backwards,” Natasha pointed out.

“It is not, I’m testing something out,” you shot back without looking up.

“Whatever you put in there is going to fall out,” she continued.

You ignored her, but tried to turn it around without her noticing. She did. A silence fell over the both of you as you continued to get ready. Natasha had already gotten all of her stuff, but you continued to move around. You grabbed your belt and a harpoon, all of them quickly attached at your hips.

You maintained your relentless pace, her face pressed against the wall as you held your hand to the back of her neck. She felt you thrusting into her, most likely leaving a bruise on her ass and hips, but all she knew was that it felt so good she could only think of one thing-

Natasha turned her head away, a slight blush dusting her cheeks. If anyone noticed, they didn’t say. She refused to look at you until you stood up straight, geared up and ready to go. Your suit told her that there was going to be some sort of underwater aspect, and that gave her a bit of insight as to what was expected of the both of you.

The quinjet ride was awkward, to say the least. You stayed in the back while Natasha flew. She was thankful that you were keeping your distance. If you had been close, it was very possible that Natasha would have lost her damn mind.

Your suit always did do something to her.

You hadn't even bothered to take your pants off; just pulled them down far enough for you to get your strap out. Her fingers scrambled to grab purchase of something, anything, but your suit was still wet from the mission. Almost as wet as she was.

Natasha shook her head, trying to physically remove the memories. She was going to kill Nick when she got back.

She needed to focus on the mission. There was no need for it to be anything other than a mission. Get in, map out the building, get out. You would cover the lower levels, she would cover the upper, it shouldn't take more than an hour.

It was a slow descent to the checkpoint, but easy enough. You spent the last few minutes braiding your hair, keeping it out of the way and showing off the shaved part of your head. Natasha remembered teaching you how to tie those braids.

Once the quinjet was landed and you were both on solid ground, it was straight to business.

"Once you get back to solid ground, your pants and gear should be in a backpack marked on your locator," Natasha said.

"We'll meet up in the eastern stairwell," you continued, not even skipping a beat. It was like nothing had ever happened.

"Comms on?"

"Gonna miss me?" You asked, cocky as ever, but you turned the comm on anyway.

"Just get moving," Natasha huffed with a roll of her eyes. "The sooner we get in, the sooner we're done."

"See you in a minute," you winked and mock-saluted before jumping down into the hole that would be your entrance.

It's what she hated about you; how you could so easily act like nothing had ever happened.

Natasha closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Just one. Then it was time to get moving. She finished pulling her cap down, mostly covering the top half of her face before finishing the walk to the guarded entrance

She flashed a badge and they let her in without a word. One of her easier infiltrations, if she were being honest. Just went to prove that as long as she acted like she belonged, no one would question her. It was easier to blend in if you acted like there was no need for it.

Starting from the top, Natasha made her way down the building, mapping corridors, potential hidden rooms, rooms of interest. By the time she made it to your meeting point, she had marked more than enough information to assist in future missions.

All she needed was your half and she could go home.

The door to the stairwell was thrown open, slamming against the wall and causing Natasha to flinch ever so slightly. You were still soaking wet, trailing water behind you, and you didn't have your gear. In fact, you didn't have anything.

"What happened?" Natasha asked. But the sound of an alarm being set off was answer enough.

"It wasn't me," you stated simply.

Yelling echoed in the corridor behind you, and you gave Natasha A Look. That was all she needed before you both took off running down the stairs, skipping three or four at a time. She heard a *squeak* and turned around just in time to see you fall flat on your ass with a loud grunt.

“Get up,” Natasha groaned.

She didn’t wait for you to get up on your own, instead decided to grab your arm and yank you up. Except for the fact that she had forgotten how wet you were, and how slippery your skin could get, and you ended up falling back onto your ass a second time.

“Some help you are,” you growled as you managed to push yourself back up onto your feet.

“If you weren’t such a freak, this wouldn’t even be a problem,” Natasha shot back.

You both continued running, finally reaching the bottom floor just in time to hear echoed footsteps a few floors above you. Natasha opened the door and pushed you in, quick to follow after. She shut the door and grabbed the extra harpoon bolt from your hip, shoving it between the door and the wall while you protested.

“Get going,” she said as she continued to push you forward, looking for a way out.

“We could always go through the sewers,” you suggested with a shrug when you both came to a halt in an intersection that you swore you hadn’t seen yet.

“I’m not escaping in a fucking sewer,”Natasha shot at you. “You were supposed to find us a way out.”

“It’s not my fault someone ratted us out! I don’t like being stuck with you either!” You shouted back.

“Oh sure, after all of that bullshit a few months ago, now you don’t want to get stuck with me?”

“Listen, I said I was-”

“They’re around the corner!” A voice shouted. You and Natasha shared a look, and Natasha managed to pull you into a closet just in time for footsteps to be heard coming in your direction.

“We should’ve taken the sewer,” you whisper-yelled as Natasha tried to ignore how close to you she was.

If you two had been any closer, you would’ve been inside each other, and not in the enjoyable way. Natasha’s arms were pinned in between the both of you, and she could feel your ribs under her fingers. Her ear was pressed to your body; she could hear your irregular, three-pump heartbeat loud and clear. There used to be a time she would have enjoyed being so close.

You were both silent as you waited for the footsteps and yelling to die down. Even when they had faded, you stayed still, hoping that they wouldn’t open the closet as a last resort. Your body heat was comforting, and Natasha almost found herself forgetting the danger that was just around the corner. But then you gave an awkward cough and shifted, and Natasha was brought back to the fact that this wasn’t supposed to be enjoyable.

“I think we’re safe,” Natasha mumbled.

“Let’s get out of here,” you agreed as you cleared your throat again, still incredibly uncomfortable.

You reached around her and opened the door, the both of you practically falling out of the closet. When Natasha stood up straight again, she brushed the nonexistent dirt from her suit and avoided your gaze at all costs. Only when she had regained her composure did she turn to you again.

“You mentioned a sewer?” Natasha asked, completely defeated.

You nodded and started running in the opposite direction of the yelling, leading her down corridors until you both reached a manhole cover. Natasha could smell the sewage without opening it, and she could only imagine how terrible it would be once she jumped in. But there didn’t really seem to be any other option, and you were already prying it open just enough for them to slip in.

“Ladies first,” you gestured.

“Gee, thanks,” Natasha groaned as she took her last breath of semi-pure air and jumped in.

The stench was worse than anything Natasha had ever smelled before. All the death and ruin she had witnessed, and she still believed that this was worse. She couldn’t even attempt to guess at what was causing the smell, but she didn’t think she wanted to know. Maybe it would be a little more tolerable if she just pretended it was nothing.

You jumped in after her and pulled the manhole back into place, and just like that, it was like neither of you had ever been there. You didn’t wait for her as you started making your way out of the building, and Natasha quickly followed suit. She didn’t understand how you could breathe the air like it was nothing, but maybe it was part of your physiology. Maybe you were just lucky.

It felt like an eternity before you both ran into a ladder that would take you out of the sewer. You yanked the manhole cover aside and Natasha went up first, gasping when she smelled the fresh air. It was like being reborn, she thought. Her cells felt rejuvenated and her skin felt cleaner.

As soon as you pulled the cover back on, you both ran back to the quinjet as fast as you could. The stench of sewage followed you, stuck to your clothes; they would probably be incinerated when you got back to the tower. But you were out, and you could head back with enough confidence to tell Nick that you had at least gotten half of the building mapped out.

“You fly, I think I’m drying out,” you groaned. Natasha didn’t argue.

She sat in the pilot’s seat and set a course for the tower, wanting nothing more than a hot shower and a good sleep. But she looked back in time to see you stripping your suit off, groaning as it literally peeled off. Inch by inch, she saw your shoulders, your spines, your back, those abs.

You were never one to let anyone see you undressed, but Natasha loved that she was allowed. The way you shifted and twitched when her fingers ran over your skin, when you whined if she kissed that spot on your back. Loved the feel of your abs flexing as you thrusted into her at an inhuman pace that had her moaning and cumming for hours and-

“Nat, pull up!”

Natasha felt your hands covering hers, yanking up, and the real world unfolded before her eyes. The ground was quickly approaching, and the sound of the air rushing past the quinjet was enough to make Natasha’s hands shake. Only when the jet was back up and on course did she start to settle.

“Are you trying to get us killed?” You shouted, but Natasha just turned back to the front, trying her hardest to ignore the stinging in her eyes.

You grumbled and walked off, and Natasha could feel the frustration radiating off of you. But she didn’t really care anymore. She had nearly gotten you both killed because she had been too busy remembering you railing her. Natasha couldn’t do this anymore, couldn’t be around you anymore.

Not if she wanted to stay alive.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #marvel #my writing

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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years

Text

Yellow | Draco Malfoy

Hey lovelies, here’s another Draco. I don’t know why but right now he’s all I have the motivation to write for. I hope you don’t mind!

Description: Y/n and Draco falling in love with the color yellow and each other

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: It’s a little angsty, a little smutty, very fluffy, and way too long

Word count: 6k

Tags: FLUFF, angst at times, the ending hints at smut

Tag list: @fashionably-crying , @draconisxcaput

Yes, I’m using this gif again, sue me

Yellow. Sunshine, flowers, freshly pressed gold. Everything that’s eternally happy and pure and good.

Yellow. Sickness, potions gone bad, poison. Bile when there’s nothing left to throw up.

Yellow. Kissing, and fighting, and doing. The color of life itself.

The color of the pumpkins growing in Professor Sprout’s greenhouse and of her nails as she writes notes on information long ingrained in her memory.

“Can anyone tell me the name for what is in front of you all right now?” Professor Sprout’s jolly voice rings through the greenhouse and you can’t help but smile as you raise your hand.

Sprout nods at you, a smile on her face too, knowing quite well that you’ll tell her what she wanted to hear and more.

“It’s a cucurbita pepo, also known as a pumpkin. They’re grown during the summer months and then harvested in autumn, just in time for the muggle celebration of Halloween. They are used in cooking quite often however they are rich in tryptophan, which is converted to serotonin upon consumption, which in turn causes fatigue. Thus cucurbita pepo seeds are used in certain forms of the sleeping draught potion. It’s also why we get sleepy after eating pumpkin pie.”

You giggle at the end of your spiel and the sound trickles through the greenhouse and wraps around a certain blonde at the back of the class who is furiously writing down everything you just said. You don’t notice, though, you’re too busy revelling in Sprout’s approving nod. She begins speaking in depth about the facts you shared and you hurry to write them in your journal, the one that you keep specifically for herbology. It’s filled with plants of all kinds, each with detailed notes and sketches that you drew yourself.

When you flip to your page on pumpkins you begin adding notes you don’t have, just a few details here and there. You aren’t gifted in every subject, not like Hermione, but you are proud to admit that you excel in herbology and know that you will keep the notes you have been working on for many years to come. You brush your sunshine nails across the page as Sprout rattles on about the antioxidants and other nutrients found in Pumpkins. Vitamin A, magnesium, potassium. You already have it all written down.

“Those are well done,” you’re startled by a voice emanating from over your shoulder, “no wonder you’re so good at this class. Your notes are amazing.”

You’re shocked to find none other than Draco Malfoy standing behind you, towering over you and peering curiously at the sketches that you made of some pumpkins a few days earlier. You know the Hufflepuffs share this class with the Slytherins but usually your groups don’t mix. As in they never do. It’s well known throughout the school that Slytherins hate Hufflepuffs. A lot. So it’s only natural that you, one of the softest Hufflepuffs in the school, cower slightly in the presence of the prince of the Slytherins.

“Oh, um,” you shuffle closer to the table, putting some space between you and him, “thank you, Draco.”

His eyes widen when you say his name and the entire class goes silent. Even professor Sprout ducks her head, stopping her rambling and busying herself with watering a patch of sunflowers behind her. Regret immediately floods your system and you feel slightly sick. Every eye in the class is on you and him, waiting with bated breath to see what happens next. You almost expect him to slap you by the way everyone is acting. You curl into yourself, pulling your hands into your sleeves. You’re undeniably terrified.

What happens next though astounds everyone, most of all you. Draco doesn’t quite smile but his eyes crinkle at the corners and he reaches his hand out, curling his fingers around your shoulder gently. Your head springs up at the contact, fuzzy and spinning. What is he doing?

“You’re welcome, y/n.”

Your cheeks immediately heat at the sound of your name coming from his lips. Since when does he know who you are?

He lets go of your shoulder and looks around the greenhouse, as if noticing the eyes on the two of you for the first time, “what are you all staring at? Mind your own bloody business.”

And just like that the sound and bustle of the greenhouse returns to normal, if not a little more forced and with a few more whispers than before. He nods at you, your entire face burning this time, and walks back to his spot, falling into conversation with his housemates like nothing had happened.

You run a hand through your hair before returning to your notes, trying to fend off the peppermint scent still clinging to your jumper.

The color of the potion that earns his house ten extra points.

You have never been good at potions class. You can try to blame it on Professor Snape, claim that he has it out for you and is the reason all your potions bubble a puke green and smell of death, but that would just be avoiding the truth. The horrible, disheartening, and cruel truth that is, quite simply, that you are absolute garbage at brewing potions.

Draco, on the other hand, is the best chemist Hogwarts has seen in years it seems. Even better than local witch prodigy Hermione Granger. Again, you could blame it on your professor. You could argue that since Snape was also a Slytherin that he gives special favor to Draco. But that wouldn’t be fair to him.

You pout from your seat in potions class, watching the clock tick too slowly and too quickly at the same time. It’s much too slow given that this is your last class of the day and dinner is calling your name. It is, however, much too quick as you only have forty minutes left to complete the dreaded invisibility potion. In front of you lay the ingredients, taunting you relentlessly. The invisibility potion is among one of the more difficult potions you have to master before the end of year exam and, so far, you’ve had no luck.

“Well done, Mr. Malfoy. This is the fifth time you’ve completed your potion first and without error. ten points,” at the sound of Snape’s voice, and the cheering from Draco’s housemates, your head slumps, “perhaps now in your spare time you could help Miss. y/l/n. She seems to be having,” he clicks his tongue sharply, “difficulty.”

Your head snaps up, turning to face the blonde boy across the room, your cheeks fiery. His blue eyes, in turn, are wide, much like your own. You’re a deer caught in the headlights of the freight train that is Draco Malfoy. You’re frozen at the thought of having to speak to him and of having him answer you. As he starts to get up, textbooks in tow, you finally thaw. You think back to the greenhouse, and his hand on your shoulder, and feel the color draining from your face.

“Professor that isn’t necessary, I can-”

Snape silences you with a flick of his wrist, “you can fail on your own instead of take help when it’s offered?”

You just lower your head, mumbling a “no, sir” and pretending to search your textbook. Your heartbeat skyrockets as the blonde boy joins you. He places his own textbook next to yours, his long fingers skimming the pages. Your eyes are drawn to the rings on his fingers and you want to ask him about them but the two of you aren’t close like that and you don’t want to make it more awkward than it already is. The same peppermint scent floats around you, stronger this time. You swallow tensely, feeling once more the eyes of your peers.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble more into your cauldron than to him, “I know you don’t want to help me. You can just pretend if you want and I’ll figure out this mess myself.”

You stare at the bubbling, black potion and hold back the nausea. It is very much not the sunshine yellow that it’s supposed to be. You sigh and tuck your hair behind your ears. You begin crushing chameleon scales in silence. You can feel his stare on the side of your face, searing into your cheekbone. You do your best to stay focussed but you can barely concentrate under the weight of his gaze. Being this close to the Slytherin boy still makes you nervous. What kind of nervousness, that is though, you aren’t so sure.

You’re startled when he takes the ingredients from your hands, his fingers brushing yours lightly, “I never said I didn’t want to help you.”

You look up at him, meeting his eyes and giving him a soft smile, one that makes his eyes widen and his fingers clench. That’s all it takes for the two of you to begin fixing your botched potion. You work side by side, silently except for when he asks you to hand him some ingredients. It’s hypnotic, watching him take what you ruined and make it all better. You feel almost special for a moment before you shake your head slightly, clearing the silly thought. You don’t notice him watching you from the corner of his eye, his lips slightly turned as he notes how flustered you are.

By the end of the class your potion is it’s proper sunshine yellow again and you feel entirely relieved. Although you can’t help but worry about tomorrow's class and how you’ll have to do it all over again.

As if reading your mind Draco turns to you, his hand on your book preventing you from darting away, “do you want to be partners?”

Oh boy.

The color of the scarf she wraps around him when she finds him asleep in the courtyard.

It’s mid October and the days have already begun getting shorter. The air is crisp and stings your ears as you walk through the courtyard, admiring the changing leaves during your spare period. You’re the only person there, the chill in the air having deterred the other students from crowding the benches and tree stumps. You don’t mind. You needed a little bit of quiet today.

You’ve been a little out of it all week. Some Slytherins had been making your life a little hard, goading you in the hallways and talking loudly about you whenever you were in ear shot. You have no doubt that it’s about Draco helping you in potions. You don’t talk to him outside of class. Merlin, you barely speak to him in class. You just copy his notes and let him guide you through the potions. You definitely don’t deserve the torment but you can’t do anything about it so you’ve just been trying your best to ignore it.

You take a corner, rounding a rather large oak tree before you suddenly halt. You come inches away from a boy slumped against the base of the tree. His eyes are shut and soft snores fall from his gaped mouth. Upon further inspection, that is noting his green and silver jumper and white blonde hair, you realize that it’s Draco. Your pulse picks up as soon as you see him, your eyes taking in the school books scattered around him. He must have been studying, or trying to at least.

Your heart aches for him. You wonder what on earth could have possibly made him exhausted enough to fall asleep in the freezing courtyard. As if on cue, the wind picks up and you ring your hands together to create some heat. You move around him quickly, closing his textbooks and piling them next to his bag. You put the cap on his ink bottle and tuck his quill next to it and the books.

You step away from him. You don’t want him to wake up and have him find you hovering over him. For just a second, though, you admire how peaceful he looks while he’s sleeping. Usually his forehead is creased and his lips pursed. Right now, however, he’s relaxed. He looks his age for once: seventeen and alive. Alive, just asleep. You sigh as you look at the boy, wishing you could wrap your arms around him.

As you go to walk away, you take one last look at his face. Your heart pangs again at his rosy nose and cheeks. His ears are also a bright red, bitten from the cold and definitely painful. You don’t think before you act, you just take the grey and yellow scarf from around your neck and carefully wrap it around his. You make sure it covers his ears and nose, sofly pulling the ends to wrap around his hands as well.

You take one last look at him. You don’t know what comes over you but you lean down and press a soft kiss to his hair. He smells like green apples today and your heart aches more than ever.

The color of the first snitch he caught as captain and the color of her sweater from the front row.

It’s the first quidditch match of the year, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and you’re more excited than you can say. There have been rumours spreading that Slytherin has a new captain and everyone has been dying to know who. They’ve kept it under wraps, no doubt wanting to stun Gryffindor during the match. The stands around you howl in anticipation, practically vibrating from all the voices speaking at once.

The wind whips around your ears, loud and bone chilling, and you think for a moment to the scarf you left with Draco. You blow in your hands, warming them before wrapping them around your ears. Hogwarts really needs to work on bettering the stands or at least accommodate them for the colder months.

You’re with a few of your friends, each one of you more high on adrenaline than the last. You stand in your bright yellow jumper at the front of the stands, gripping the railing and watching the field for any signs of movement. You’re more excited to see the Slytherin team than anyone else. Perhaps that’s because Draco has been on the team since second year and you now get to stare at him for an entire game, uninterrupted. You shake your head quickly. Where did that come from?

“Y/n, where’s your scarf? It’s freezing out here!” you turn to your best friend, Luna, and give her a small smile, your cheeks red but not from the cold.

Luna has a lion hat on her head and you can’t help but giggle. It’s definitely protecting her from the cold.

“Someone needed it more than I did,” you rub your hands together again.

She smiles at you like she knows you gave it to Draco but that would be impossible. She pulls you into her side, letting you share her body heat again. You speak a little about the upcoming match but ultimately end up doing more teeth chattering than talking. Soon there are trumpets blaring and you can’t stop yourself from leaning against the railing of the bleachers once more, your heart pounding in your chest.

Everyone holds their breath, the only sound throughout the stadium is the howling wind. Your head pounds, not from a headache but from the blood rushing through your body, electrified. You grip the railing right, the cold of the metal stinging your fingertips. The hairs on the back of your neck raise instinctively. They’re so close, you can feel it in your bones.

You blink and the next thing you know the sky is streaked with green, smoke billowing around the players who fly in a tight ‘V’ formation. You squint your eyes, just like every other student and professor around you, trying to make out who is leading the pack. When you catch a glimpse of his white blonde hair your mouth drops. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re cheering like mad. The wind picks up your hair, whipping it around your face as you throw your hands up and scream like you don’t have a care in the world for what anybody else thinks of you. And you don’t, not right now while the boy you think you’re falling for has just been announced as the new Slytherin captain.

Before you know it Luna has joined in, screaming with you, not for the sake of Draco but because you look like you’re having fun for the first time in weeks. She grabs your hand, waving your arms in the air and shouting into the wind. With the two of you screaming together it’s just enough for Draco to hear over the wind. He turns his head, his eyes easily pulling your yellow jumper from the sea of blue around you. He smirks and your heart stops. Before you can even begin to process the glint in his eyes he’s in front of you, hovering over the railing on a broom that looks like it costs more than your life. He’s biting back a cheeky smile.

You let go of Luna’s hand, stepping towards him, “Draco, you made captain!”

You don’t know where you gained the sudden courage to talk to him like you’re friends but right now you don’t care. All you can see is the boy on the broom, smiling at you like you’ve never seen him smile before. The stands around you roar but you can’t hear them. They don’t exist, not right now at least.

“You know it, pumpkin,” your heart stops, you mouth gaping at his casual use of a nickname, and he laughs, a real and absolutely mind melting laugh, “I can’t stay but I got something for you. I noticed you look a little chilly.”

He pulls the green and silver scarf from around his neck, wrapping it around yours but keeping hold of the two ends. The stands fall silent but it doesn’t matter, you still can’t see or hear anything but Draco. He tugs on the ends of the scarf, bringing your face inches away from his own. You almost think he’s going to kiss you for a moment. Oh, what you wouldn’t give for him to kiss you right now. Anything, you would give absolutely anything. Instead, though, he leans down and rubs his nose against yours and you giggle easily.

He lets go of the scarf, flying off to start the game but not before turning around and shouting, “wish me luck, pumpkin!”

You giggle again, your face flushing, “you don’t need luck, Draco!”

He winks and flies to meet his teammates. The game is fast paced and intense. Your eyes stay glued to him the entire time. His nickname wraps around every part of you, his voice echoing in your ears, warming you better than any scarf. You aren’t at all surprised when he catches the golden snitch. No one in the stands cheers louder than you do.

The color of the bruises on his cheekbone and his knuckles and on Zabini’s fucking stomach.

Your back is pressed against the stoney wall of the castle, his chest almost touching yours. You’re backed into the corner, not daring to even breathe. His breath is hot on your face and you cringe backwards, your head cracking against the hard surface behind you.

Blaise Zabini pushes you closer to the wall, if that’s even possible, and you feel like an animal, trapped and frantic, “who do you think you are, puff?”

“I-,” you glance around his head, looking anywhere but his murderous eyes, “what are you talking about?”

That is clearly not the answer he is looking for, practically growling in your face, “what did you do to Malfoy?”

“Nothing!” you cower away from him, your blood turning cold at his accusatory tone.

You squeeze your eyes shut. If he’s going to hit you, you don’t want to see his fists before they land on you. Tears drip down your face relentlessly and you don’t care. They aren’t going to change anything. Blaise Zabini hates you and there is nothing you can do about it. Your mind goes immediately to Draco, something that doesn’t shock you anymore. All you think about these days is him.

Blaise’s breath smells like liquorice and death as he gets up in your face, “stay away from him, y/l/n, or you’ll regret it. I promise you that.”

Just like that, Blaise isn’t touching you anymore. The cold air of the castle wraps around you and you snap your eyes open, watching his retreating form stalk out of the hidden hallway he dragged you into. You sag against the brick behind you, finally letting the full on sobs that you had been holding in rise to the surface. You collapse, sliding down the stone, not caring as it scrapes and rips your shirt as you do so. You curl into a ball, letting all the pain from the last few weeks consume you.

You get lost in the memories. You see Pansy pushing you down the steps outside of the great hall and Crabbe lacing your soup with a puking potion. You hear all the insults and slurs that have been thrown at you ever since Draco complimented you in the greenhouse and it stings. Your chest and throat and wrists burn and you grip your hair in your fists, hoping that if you just tug hard enough then you can make every bad word said to you and every bruise disappear. Of course you can’t, but if you don’t try then you might lose yourself right here, right now. Well, more than you already are that is.

No matter how hard you tug, you can’t stop the cries from spilling out of your mouth. They mask the footsteps pounding towards you. You slam your fists into the marble floor repeatedly, your palms bruising. Your blood rushes through your ears, muffling the sounds of the castle and everyone in them. You hear your name being called but it sounds like whoever is shouting is underwater. Are they shouting, though, or are you just losing your mind? You hear your name again and you scream. You just want the voices to stop. Please, someone make them stop.

Gentle hands grab your fists before you can do any more damage to yourself, pulling you into a chest and wrapping two strong arms around your shoulders, “y/n, what’s going on? What happened?”

Draco’s voice is panicked. That’s the only word for it. He sounds absolutely terrified. His voice soothes you for a moment but soon you’re pushing against his chest, Blaise’s words in your ears again. Your palms collide with his chest as you shove him with all strength you have. It isn’t enough. Of course you aren’t strong enough to knock away a quidditch captain. His green apple scent clings to you, wrapped in his arms, and you cry harder. You clutch his shirt in your hands now, clinging to him for dear life. You cry out his name and his heart shatters.

“Y/n please, pumpkin, tell me what happened,” he kisses your hair hard, like he’s hoping it’ll magically calm you down.

And it does, sort of, but only when he trails kisses down the sides of your face and along your cheekbones as well. His lips are like a gift from the heavens, working quickly and easily to draw your attention from your showdown with Blaise and place it on him, and him alone. Soon your sobs have stopped completely. You’re still crying but you can breathe and that’s more than you would have been able to do on your own. When you finally wrap your arms around his neck he stops, pulling his head back to look into your eyes.

You swallow hard when you see his face, more importantly the tears slowly trailing down his creamy skin, “I’m sorry, Draco, you shouldn’t have to see me this way.”

“Stop,” he shushes and runs his hand up and down your back, trying not to grimace when his fingers slide over the rips in your shirt, “I’m just glad I found you. Now tell me what happened so I can’t beat up whoever made you so upset.”

You want to chuckle, because you know he’s trying to make you feel better, but you can’t, because you also know that when you tell him he’ll probably push you away too. You tug your lip between your teeth, looking over his shoulder and then back at him. You squeeze your eyes shut, you can’t look at him while you say it. You can’t see his face when he drops you.

“I don’t think you want to beat up Blaise, Draco.”

He lets go of you. Of course he lets go of you. Your veins sting as the cold air rushes around you again. You clench your fingers into tight fists, your nails digging into your palms. Your throat aches, like you’ve been poisoned and the antidote is walking away. You open your eyes to Draco at the end of the hall, just about to turn the corner. You do your best to choke back the sobs again but you can’t and even if you could what would be the point? He clearly already thinks you’re pathetic so honestly why bother anymore? You need to just let it all out.

When you do though, cry that is, he stops, his shoulders and back going rigid as he listens. He turns quickly and his eyes widen when he sees you. You take a step back, gripping your shirt, or what’s left of it, and smoothing the material beneath your fingers, doing your best to keep it together. This was the final straw, the last kick to a foundation that has already been crumbling, and you’re just waiting for everything to come caving in now so it can take you with it.

You don’t realise that your eyes are closed until there are hands on your body and you’re forced to open them again, “Draco, what are you doing-”

He smashes his lips against yours, fast and hard and unrelenting. He tastes like peppermint and desperation and, by god, does it breathe a new life into you that you cling to. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down exactly where you had. His hands tangle through your hair, tilting your head slightly and tugging. You can feel his rings against your scalp and it’s the epitome of bliss. You have to to grab his cloak to keep from falling over, your entire body clay in his hands. He pulls back, barely so but in any way it’s still too far.

His lips brush yours as he speaks, his fingers massaging your scalp slightly, “I’ll be back, pumpkin, I promise,” he kisses you hard one more time, “but I really need to go beat Zabini into next month now.”

The color of the fireplace they fall asleep beside on Christmas Eve.

Your dorm is dreadfully empty and you feel a little bit alone, even if it’s only for a week or so. Your parents are renovating the house and decided it was best if you spend the holidays in a place that isn’t covered in dust and smells like paint. You know it’s for the best, and that you more than likely would have been miserable, but the Hufflepuff common room just isn’t the same without it’s usual life.

You pull a sweater over your head, grabbing your notebook before heading out to breakfast. The corridors are empty and it’s eerie, the only other faces being the ones held in frames. They smile at you as you pass and you wave politely, hurrying to the great hall.

When you step through the grand doors you finally see some real people, but not many. You see Harry Potter and Ron Weasley at the Gryffindor table and a few familiar faces in the Ravenclaw section, but none you know enough to join. You sigh, tucking your hair behind your ears. This is going to be a long week. As you turn to the Hufflepuff table, however, your eyes skim over a familiar blonde head buried in today’s paper. Your heart races as you switch courses, heading straight to the Slytherin table and trying not to lose your nerve.

You round the table, walking up behind Draco and stopping quietly. Whatever he’s reading has his full attention because he has yet to notice you. You take the moment to play with him a little.

You lean down, resting your head on his shoulder and whispering, “broomstick stocks are up three percent. That’s good I hear.”

Draco drops the paper and you giggle as he turns his face to look at you, the shock mixing with something gentler in his blue eyes. He jumps out of his seat immediately, pulling you into his arms and burying his face in your shoulder. You wrap your arms around his neck, lacing your fingers through his hair and melting into his warmth. The worry you felt walking into the great hall disappears at his touch. You press your face to his neck like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Y/n, what are you doing here? I thought you went home,” he mumbles into your shoulder, his lips brushing your sensitive skin.

You hold back the shiver. It takes all your willpower to not tilt your head and give him better access to your sweetest spot. You tighten your hands instinctively, forgetting they’re wrapped in his hair. You don’t mean to tug on the strands, and you almost feel bad about it, but at the noise that leaves his lips you almost do it again. It’s low and primal and, Merlin, you want to hear it again. His arms tighten around you and all the nerves in your body are painfully aware of every place his body meets yours.

And every place you wish it is but it isn’t.

You clear your throat lightly before you speak, clearing the lump but doing nothing to make your words any less breathy, “I could ask you the same thing, don’t your parents usually hold large parties during the holidays?”

His hands find your hips as you talk and the end of your sentence comes out as a mere whisper. You squeeze your eyes tighter, his touch driving you crazy in the middle of the damn dining hall. It’s not even ten yet!

“That’s exactly the reason I stayed,” his voice is strained, his hands squeeze your hips and you barely bite back the moan between your teeth, “however, pumpkin, now I see that it’s a fucking gift from Salazar himself that I did.”

You lift your head from his shoulder and meet his eyes, gasping at the sight. His pupils are blown wide and his lip is between his teeth. His hair is mused from your fingers running through it, pulling it, and it makes you want to do it again and again until he does something other than look at you like that. Like he's a starved lion and you’re his next meal. Or maybe you just want to tug until he does something about it.

He squeezes your hips again, harder than the last time, and this time you can’t hold back your moan. It’s quiet, thank Merlin, but he hears it. It wraps around him, like your scarf, and something in him snaps. Soon he’s dragging you into the hallway and you’re tripping on your feet trying to keep up with him. The few people in the great hall openly stare but, as has become your new norm, you don’t care. All you can think about is Draco and all the possibilities of where he could be taking you.

He drags you to an area of the castle you’ve never been to before: the dungeons. Your blood pumps quickly through your veins and you’re filled with adrenaline, each step feeling more like walking on a cloud than the last. His hand in yours is warm and strong, sure of himself and of you and, most importantly, that you want him. He looks at you over his shoulder, smirking at you in a way that makes you almost push him quicker down the halls. You glance around, noting the empty corridor. What is it people always say?

Fuck it.

You stop abruptly and he looks back at you again, only this time concerned. His expression doesn’t last though, probably because you push him against the wall and pull his lips to yours. You have to stand on your tiptoes to reach his face, your palms splayed against his flushed cheeks as you take your turn in pulling his lip between your teeth. You bite down gently and he moans into your mouth, a deep and masculine sound that makes you want to rip his clothes off right here in the middle of the hall. You press your body against his, needing to feel as much of him as you can get. Of course it isn’t enough. It never is.

He pushes back against you, clearly having enough of his passive position. He flips the two of you, pressing you deliciously into the stone behind you. His hands glide along your hips but, unlike in the great hall, they don’t stop there. No, Draco’s hands find your bare thighs and his fingers wrap around them, the cold metal of the rings biting into your soft flesh. You say a silent prayer to whoever up there was looking out for you enough to sway you to put a skirt on this morning.

His lips are still on yours and, when he all of a sudden lifts you and presses you harder against the wall with his hips, he swallows the moan that rips from your chest, matching it with an equally fierce groan. For the first time all morning he’s exactly where you need him and it’s absolutely breathtaking. You squeeze your legs around him, pulling him as close to you as you can get him. He doesn’t protest, rolling his hips against you and edging your vision with stars.

“Draco, common room. Now,” even as you say it your hands are on his shirt, already working at undoing it.

He wastes no time, rushing down the stairs with you still in his arms, still working on the buttons. He breathlessly murmurs the password before pushing through the door. You grab his face again, hungrily pulling his mouth to yours again as he sets you on a table. His hands find the hem of your jumper, ripping it over your head before tossing it aside. You finish opening the last button quickly, pulling his shirt from his shoulders and dropping it as well. You don’t think twice about letting it hit the ground.

You look back to him and feel breathless, the wild look in his eyes mixing with something so heart wrenchingly soft. His hands smooth up your exposed back, igniting your skin with a fire you’ve never felt before. He leans his face into your neck again, his lips finding where your shoulder and neck meet and pulling your skin between his teeth. The only thing you can think to push past your lips is his name, crying out into the room lit only by some embers in the grand fireplace.

“What do you want, pumpkin. Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

You push him back slightly so you can look into his mesmerising eyes, “I want you to make love to me on every surface in this room.”

And he does just that.

Yellow. The color they fell madly in love to.

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