#contained for our protection
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there is a suspicious amount of whole cashews in this container of cashew Halves And Pieces.........👀
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is there a way to make kokichi ouma come to life so someone can hug him? just asking for a friend
He was put behind your screen for a reason, and you shouldn't ask how to get him out but instead ask how to keep him in.
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Just read Scp 1762
Thought I wasn’t going to be sad but things don’t always turn out like you thought 😢😭🥺
Hey besties!! Its officially summer and as your local fish nerd and environmental science major, I thought I’d drop a quick reminder to check that any sunscreen you use is reef safe!! Our coral reefs are slowly dying bc of global warming (ocean acidification, etc) and certain chemicals present in sunscreens only exacerbate the process!! Here’s a little info-graphic from Safe the Reef to help everybody out!
If you see a sunscreen you are currently using, don’t just throw it out though. Use it in a pool or while you’re sunning, just not in the ocean or freshwater around you. Plastic and toxic waste are both issues too, so just finish what you have and never buy the brand again!! Personally, I’m trying to finish all of my Sunbum stuff before switching to a safer brand like Thinksport!
Baby sunscreens are usually reef safe too, bc babies have sensitive skin so their sunscreens tend to only have zinc oxide, the best sunscreen product.
There’s also this thing called the HEL list to keep an eye out for in your sunscreens. They’re the chemicals that are pollutants and show up in sunscreens and other skin products. NEVER FEAR THO BC THIS IS NOT A CHEM CLASS, the absolutely stunning, gorgeous, and amazing Haereticus Environmental Laboratory has gotcha covered. From their website, “Products labeled with the “Protect Land + Sea” Certification Seal mean that the product has been laboratory‐tested using analytical‐forensic techniques to verify that the product is free of the chemicals that are on the “HEL LIST.””
This little symbol right here:
For all you uber nerds like me who wanna know what the HEL list is, here ya go:
- Any form of microplastic sphere or beads
- Any nanoparticles like zinc oxide or titanium dioxide
- 4-methylbenzylidene camphor
- Para-aminobenzoic acid (PABA)
- Methyl Paraben
- Ethyl Paraben
- Propyl Paraben
- Butyl Paraben
- Benzyl Paraben
Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk! Have fun this summer but don’t be an ass to the environment or people!
IMAGE IDs since they may not load
Reading individual bottle labels from top to bottom, left to right
Image 1: list of sunscreens
Upper three rows
All Brands containing toxic chemicals
⁃ Elta MD UV Clear Broad Spectrum SPF 46
⁃ Equate SPF 30 Sport Sunscreen
⁃ Neutrogena Ultra-sheer dry touch SPF 50
⁃ Hawaiian Tropic Sheer Touch SPF 30
⁃ NO-AD Sun care SPF 45 paraben free
⁃ Coppertone Water Babies SPF 50
⁃ Panama Jack SPF 15
⁃ Naturopathica Daily UV defense Cream SPF 50
⁃ alba botanica hawaiian sunscreen green tea SPF 45, broad spectrum
⁃ Aveeno protect and hydrate sunscreen SPF 50
⁃ ISDIN Eryfotona Actinica ultralight emulsion broad spectrum SPF 50+
⁃ Banana Boat Ultra Sport SPF 30 clinically proven
Oxybenzone-Octinoxate- Homosalate-Octocrylene (containing one or more)
⁃ shiseido SPF 50
⁃ SPF 15 Australian Gold
⁃ Sunbum SPF 30
⁃ Glossier Invisible Shield daily sunscreen+ broad spectrum SPF 35
⁃ Supergoop play SPF 50 everyday sunscreen broad spectrum
⁃ Eucerin Daily protection broad spectrum SPF (not legible) 30 or 50
Bottom three rows
100% Reef Safe
⁃ Mama Kuleana Reef Safe Sunscreen oxybenzone free SPF 30 waterproof
⁃ Raw Love made with love and aloha SPF 35 Reef Safe All Natural Mineral Sunscreen Maui, HI water resistant (40 min)
⁃ Raw Elements certified natural sunscreen Face + Body Broad Spectrum SPF 30
⁃ organic Sun Paste Manda made with thanaka
All Ocean Friendly
⁃ California Baby super sensitive SPF 30+ high protection
⁃ All good sport sunscreen SPF 30
⁃ ABC Arbonne baby care Broad spectrum SPF 30
⁃ Goddess Garden organics everyday SPF 30 natural mineral sunscreen
⁃ active Badger broad Spectrum SPF 30 zinc oxide sunscreen cream
⁃ Suntegrity natural mineral sunscreen for body broad spectrum SPF 30
⁃ SPF 30 butterbean organics original healthy sunscreen
⁃ Thinksport SPF 50+ sunscreen the standard for safe sunscreen
⁃ Kimberley Sayer of London ultra light facial moisturizer SPF 30
⁃ Sea and Summit ten mineral sun barrier UVA/UVB Broad Spectrum
⁃ Hawaii SPF 30 organic Body Block medicinal
Image 2: The Protect Land + Sea Certified Logo
⁃ lettering in grey saying Protect Land + Sea Certified surrounding the logo
⁃ black colored wave heptagon with a white silhouette of a turtle inside
⁃ on the turtle’s back is a black swirl with a white dot in the middle
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— FUCKIN’ HER FIVE WAYS !
ʚ♡ɞ SYNOPSIS: welcome to my very first kinktober event! for five weeks, every friday until october 31st, i’ll be posting a short fic based on five kinks and characters selected by you guys ! dynamight.net proudly presents — fuckin’ her five ways.
ʚ♡ɞ cw. the following pieces contain dark content and nsfw themes, each is tagged with it’s own warrnings. please heed these for your own safety. minors do not internact.
ʚ♡ɞ a/n. join the kinktober taglist here ! likes + rbs are always appreciated.
OCTOBER 1ST - THE FUTURE WE PLANNED !
ৎ୭. izuku midoriya + breeding.
ৎ୭ synopsis. after years of hiding in the shadows and being on the run, our beloved vigilante izuku midoriya returns to his girlfriend’s home to help you build the family you’ve always dreamed of.
ৎ୭ cw. including; dub-con, somnophilia, cheating, lingerie, breathplay, tentacles, pregnancy kink.
OCTOBER 8TH - DUDE, YOUR SISTER’S HOT !
ৎ୭. eijirou kirshima + overstimulation.
ৎ୭ synopsis. kirishima hates the way his friends talk about his step-sister— he knows that you’re hot, knows that you’re filthy, but only he gets to see the dirty sides of you and his friends will just have to sit this one out.
ৎ୭ cw. including; step-cest, humiliation, forced orgasm, voyeurism, impact play, dom-sub, consensual-non-consent.
OCTOBER 15TH - SIT, PAW, BEND OVER !
ৎ୭. koutarou bokuto + dumbification.
ৎ୭ synopsis. when the volleyball off-season rolls around and things get a little lonely for bokuto, he adopts a precious husky hybrid to keep him company— however, you’re not as well behaved as he would like.
ৎ୭ cw. including; hybrids, pet play, collars-leashes, marking, brat-taming, size kink, degredation.
OCTOBER 22ND - BANG IN THE MIRROR !
ৎ୭. megumi fushiguro + mirror sex.
ৎ୭ synopsis. a girls day out with nobara has you blowing up megumi’s phone with pictures of you in the cutest, tightest, shortest dress he’s ever seen—and after a few more sinful messages, your dress makes its debut in your boyfriend’s private show.
ৎ୭ cw. including; body worship, clothed sex, sexting, exhibitionism, orgasm control, praise, bondage.
OCTOBER 29TH - SHE’S MY FAVOURITE GIRL !
ৎ୭. katsuki bakugou + possesive sex.
ৎ୭ synopsis. your best friend’s girlfriend doesn’t like you, but can you really blame her? i mean, you’re perfect ! pretty, smart, likeable and you have her boyfriend wrapped around your perfectly manicured finger.
ৎ୭ cw. including; dub-con, recording, cheating, cherry chasing, manipulation, spit, thigh-ridng, cumplay.
OCTOBER 30TH - MY BABYSITTER’S A PSYCHO ! ( SPECIAL )
ৎ୭. mikey / manjiro sano + babysitting horror prompt.
ৎ୭ synopsis. as part of @/cyancherub’s wheel of misfortune collab. nearing the anniversary of his brother’s disappearance, mikey gets stuck with babysitter he doesn’t want, for protection, as ordered by his parents. he should count his blessings that she’s around too, don’t you know mikey? there’s a killer on the loose.
ৎ୭ cw. including; corruption, knife-play, branding, manipulation.
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I’d like to tell you a little story today about why a lot of problems need social workers, not cops.
a long long time ago...like 2010, I worked 2nd shift (2pm-10pm) in a homeless shelter. I worked on a floor specifically for men with addiction and mental health problems. For most of the shift, I was the only staff working. Most of the time, the job was chill to the point of being boring. My job was to do the little things that needed doing, and be always ready to respond if shit went down. Most of the time, nothing much happened.
So one day I’m sitting at my little desk, trying to get up the motivation to organize the food pantry a little bit, and I head SCREAMING.
By the time I’m on my feet, one of the residents was in view. Dude was 6ft 4, with a shaved head, and a SOLID build. He was screaming down the hall, and in his raised fist he had, I shit you not, a blood-covered meat cleaver. He was spattered in blood all over. I knew the man- I knew all the residents. He mostly kept to himself. Sometimes he’d talk to me about his hallucinations and paranoid delusions. (no question these ones were delusions, kids. Man eating pythons can not fit in a half inch radiator pipe.) He had a history of getting pretty worked up.
Switch the camera around 180 degrees. I was 120 lbs and 5ft 4 on a good day, and all by my self. Totally unarmed.
Ask yourself- what would an armed cop do in that situation- alone, with a huge man running at them with a huge bloody knife?
I’m not gonna pretend for one second that my fight and flight instincts didn’t kick in. The ancient parts of my brain that exist to protect me from danger by fleeing or killing something saw this and screamed a great big NOPE.
But by this point I had like 8 years of other training, to. De-escalation training. Training on keeping a cool head in a scary situation. Training that reminded me that I was responsible for the safety of the other 17 men who called this floor their home.
Training that told me that this man was my responsibility, not my enemy.
In short, the opposite of what many police departments train their officers in. They are trained to view people as hostile, to treat their beat like a war zone. To act immediately. I wont say none of them have de-escalation training, but I will say it’s a bit of a useless add-on when they’re taught to go with their gut feeling of whether or not a situation is dangerous.
Because my gut sure as hell perceived a danger.
Anyways, I didn’t run, and I didn’t attack. I rooted my feet and I asked him what was going on.
That was when I saw that he was weeping. He was terrified.
He had bought a new cooking knife off the tv- he liked cooking, and had been looking at it. But one of the side effects of his meds made him clumsy, and he’d dropped it. He’d sliced open the back of his knee, where there’s a huge vein or artery or something- and was bleeding a LOT.
He was understandably alarmed at the river-like quantity of blood gushing out of him, and had run to the nearest help- me.
In his rush and his fear, he’d just forgotten to put the damn knife down.
The other residents had, thankfully, all stayed in their rooms, because a month before I’d got on several people’s cases for coming out to defend me- with the very best of intentions- during a previous incident. Their motives were good, but de-escalating a situation when other people are ready to throw hands is WAY harder. I’d told them to keep their buts in their rooms unless I actually called for help, and God bless them, every single one of them had done it.
This is the point when I called for help. One of the residents got the first aid kit. One called an ambulance. One gave me the literal shirt off his back because our damn first aid kit didn’t have a tourniquet so we ripped the shirt up to make one.
We helped calm the poor injured guy down, and he got a few stitches, and everybody was proud of how we’d come together to help each other out.
Nobody was hurt beyond that one initial injury. Nobody was traumatized. If anything, the guy who’d been hurt was happier, more engaged with the rest of us, having seen that everyone here would take care of him when he was in need. He hadn’t had much care given to him in his life.
So when you see meme’s of “lol what are those social workers gonna do NOW huh?” please remember that 1) we’ve been out here doing this work ANYWAYS and 2) We’ve been doing it unarmed and level headed, which is better than the cops.
Now, does social work ALSO need reform? Does social work ALSO contain racism and ableism and every other social evil? You bet! Just look at...like anything to do with CPS to look at how these systems break down.
But do not use social workers de-escalation training as some kind of “gotcha” to prove we need armed and militant enforcers on every damn corner. And please don’t let others do it, either.
A better way is possible.
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Tips for my closeted witches <3
-Pick up gardening or cooking so you have an excuse to buy/grow herbs/plants
-Do your big spells at night, so no one will intrude & the power of the moon will be the highest than too
-For making moon water just stick a glass of water on your window sill for a couple hours, it doesn’t need to be overnight
-Use symbolism & substitution, such as symbols that represent any deities your work with (if you work with them) this way you can represent them subtly
-Wear a black shirt for protection (use color magic for clothes or make up)
-Make paper book covers to cover your witchcraft books, put them behind other books, or place them with your school work
-Take advantage of windy days and use wind to cleanse
-Practice candle magick
-Research energy work
-Practice ring magick
-Work with essential oils
-Use pdf books and change the name of the file
-Start a crystal collection because they’re pretty
-Start a candle collection because they smell nice
-When making sigils, write them in moon water or in invisible ink so your parents won’t see them
-Store pressed dried herbs in books
-If you play an instrument you can turn spells into songs or melodies
-Use regular cards instead of a tarot deck for cartomancy (in the link down below is our discord server where you will be able to find how to use and play cartomancy), you can also make your own tarot!
-Use showers to cleanse yourself with water and visualization
-Create a cleansing spray and disguise it as an air freshener
-Make a travel alter in an altoids can or make an altar on a board/baking tray and store it under your bed
-Turn your room into an altar, a plant could represent earth in the north corner, a fan or incense burner in the east for air, a dragons statue south for fire and a fountain for water in the west (you can choose what represents each element, this is an example)
-You can also make your altar in a shoebox
-make a digital altar (a dedicated tumblr blog, pinterest board, moodboard, a crafted temple in a building game, etc)
-dedicate meals to them before you eat it, art, music, writing, etc
-Say your grimoire/bos is a book of story ideas or info for a game of dnd
-make digital grimoires/bos in notion or google drive
-Sigils as fancy doodles or a language for a fantasy setting
-Trace sigils in your food, in the shower, while applying skin care, in your notebooks, digitally on pictures in your phone, draw a sigil on your nails before painting them with nail polish
-Drinking tea and you’re bad at drawing sigils at the bottom with honey? Don’t like the taste of honey but want to incorporate sigils on your tea) use washable markers on your mugs, you can also use color intent
-enchant your jewelry, masks, clothes, etc
-Pass your pendulum as jewelry
-Make your own incense with kitchen spices/herbs
-If you need to get rid of the smell of incense or perfume or burnt herbs, you can make a solution of 50% water and 50% white vinegar in a spray bottle, also keeping a wet wipe or mini towel next to you can absorb some of the odor
-Hide stuff in plain sight and say they’re decorations (crystals, shells, feathers, etc)
-Spend time on nature so you can connect to the Earth
-If you want to have chalices, you can try to find a cup that you can pass off as drinking cup you keep in your room, if this isn’t possible, than even something as small as a thimble can work
-containers you can use, little pots of lip balm when it runs out, container ||sharpeners||, the containers of camera fills, use old makeup containers, sweet containers, lead containers (pencils, compasses, etc.), medicine containers, etc
-take advantage of being home alone!!!!
-candle wax can be replaced with glue (if you want it with color respondence you can put colorant in it) or melted crayons
Join our discord server: All Things Spiritual for more tips!!!!!!
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while you were sleeping
itadori yuuji x reader x sukuna miniseries
dynamic // yuuji x fem!reader x sukuna
genre // smut + horror
aged up characters (25+)
heavy nsfw + dc, minors do not interact
DO NOT POST MY WORK ON TIKTOK.
this is my contribution for my wheel of misfortune kinktober horror collab!! i spun the prompts nightmares + drugged sex.
a killer is ravaging the streets of your once-peaceful town. will your new roommate protect you from the nightmares that exist both in your head and out of it?
CHAPTER INDEX | a nightmare in five parts
(join the series taglist HERE to be notified of chapter releases)
01 | aftertouch (12.8k words)
horror + general cw — graphic imagery, nightmares; mentions and descriptions of gore, death, and cannibalism; reader smokes
nsfw cw — sexual tension, teasing, foreplay, marking/biting, begging, strength kink, dry humping, breath play, clit slaps, fingering, edging, rough sex, manhandling, nipple play, masturbation (m) (ish), oral (f! receiving), mating press, pussy job (ish), spit kink, praise kink, overstimulation, creampie
02 | after dark (10.7k words)
horror + general cw - graphic imagery, nightmares; mentions and descriptions of gore, death, and cannibalism; heavy paranoia
nsfw cw - fantasizing, foreplay, extremely dubcon (tagging noncon), somnophilia, drugged sex, hallucinations, overstimulation, spit, rough sex, manhandling, impact play, biting, begging (ish) (m)
03 | flesh (12.1k words)
horror + general cw - graphic imagery, fear, gore, mentions of death, hallucinations, confusion, derealization, warped reality (a big mindfuck)
nsfw cw - dark content heavy. monsterfucking - true form sukuna (3 meters+ tall, four arms, two dicks, mouths everywhere), drowning (not to the point of death), repeated loss of consciousness, breathplay, gore, double penetration (with tongues, then dicks), orgasm delay and denial, drugged sex, extremely dubcon (tagging noncon), body horror, nipple play, blood kink, blood drinking, fear play, pain play (ish), sadism + masochism, masturbation (m), spit kink (heavy), degradation, humiliation, biting (heavy), cervix fucking (ish), gaping, oral (m -> self and m -> f), begging (f), cum eating, clit nipping (?)
04 | choke (15k words)
general warnings: disorientation, derealization, confusion, mindfuck, hallucinations, gore throughout, near death experience (brought back from the verge of death), body horror, heavy graphic imagery and surreal horror + phobias (heights/falling, bodies of water, slithering creatures, blood/gore)
dark content heavy: monsterfucking (true form sukuna — 3m+ tall, two dicks, four arms, mouths everywhere), cumflation, noncon, noncon creampie, noncon somnophilia, dubcon throughout, cannibalism, blood, biting, blood drinking, violence, injury, dislocation, drugged sex, wound fucking (ish? just in case), cervix/womb fucking, fearplay, manipulation, stockholm syndrome? (sukuna is evil and manipulative, and the reader is unhinged and enamored with him), sadism, stomach bulge, drowning (not to the point of death)
other content/warnings: degradation (and a little praise), power dynamics, misogyny, objectification, size kink, orgasm delay, orgasm denial, begging, gaping, dacryphilia, tongue fucking, throat/ face fucking, breathplay, choking, suffocation, oral (both receiving, m -> self), double penetration (two holes, w/ tongues and dicks), hair pulling, humiliation, spit, cumshot on face, cum down throat, a lot of cum lmao, pussyjob (ish?), wall sex, cum eating, snowballing (but way worse), regurgitation, exhibitionism (implied)
05 | yours, mine, ours (~10k words) // (finale) release date: early december
warnings: dark content heavy. monsterfucking (true form sukuna), cucking, threesome + triple penetration, degradation, humiliation, death, gore, (more warnings to be added)
view asks / q & a / discussion relating to this series HERE [ contains spoilers ]
(second banner by @dilf-uc 💖💖💖)
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Chestnut Processing in Southern France
The edible fruits of chestnut trees have been a staple of Mediterranean food for most of our recorded history, being particularly common in mountainous communities without access to grains or other carbohydrates. Eaten roasted, ground into flour for bread or even candied, chestnuts have single-handedly seen to the survival of many isolated population centers up until the industrial revolutions.
As even the dumbest asshole will be able to tell you, the edible part of a chestnut is protected by a spiny burr and a brown husk, with the fruit inside being creamy white. Nowadays getting to that fruit is achieved with machines, and that’s good enough for most people, but here in France we like to do things with extreme violence whenever able.
In the forested mountain range of the Cévennes in Southern France, also known for its serial-killing demon wolves, chestnut processing is sometimes still done the traditional way. After the fruits of the chestnuts are naturally released from their burr around November, they are stored in a clède, a small stone house consisting of an upper storage floor and a ground floor containing a oven.
If you’re a chestnut this is your equivalent of the classic cabin in the woods.
Fresh nuts are gathered on the openwork floorboard of the first story in a foot and a half deep layer, while the dried burr from the previous year are burned in the oven below to create a smokeless fire, essentially cooking the fruits above at low heat for a full month.
Look upon my nuts ye mighty and despair.
This process, aside from preserving your crop from vermin, made the husk of chestnuts dry and brittle. Three traditional methods were then used to break off that husk and get to the tasty nut flesh inside.
The first and more obvious one was to beat the nuts with various orcish weapons, including but not limited to weird clubs, giant meat tenderizers and stones fitted to the end of a piece of rebar.
The second one involved putting the chestnuts in a bag and slamming it against a fence post.
And the third one had you and your buddies strap on a pair of murder shoes and go a-fucking-dancing in the top floor of that smokehouse we were talking about. The shoes, called soles in French, were made of thick leather fitted with a studded wooden sole boasting a dozen barbed spikes to crack the chestnut husks.
Despite being branded a food for poor people in the 19th century, chestnuts in France were and still are used to make the popular marrons glacés, a delicate candied preparation where the dehusked chestnuts are kept in increasingly high-sugar content baths until a hard shell is formed around the sweetened fruit. If a chestnut or its shell breaks during this process, it is used to make the equally popular crême de marron spread.
I guess we eat snails too, so at this point who cares if it’s “poor people’s food”.
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he’s locked in without a key, i’m gonna guess for crimes against humanity
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pairing : enha hyung line x sub! fem! reader.
genre : smut, fluff. (marking, slight corruption, daddy kink, sir kink, excessive use of pet names, dom! enha hyung line.)
release date : tbd.
taglist : open !
warnings : will include smut, possessive themes, multiple members x reader, more warning will be added soon.
synopsis : they had always been protective of you. for as long as you could remember, your four best friends had been by your side through everything. your first period, your first kiss, your first school dance. you'd never thought of them as more than friends, but when their hands linger on your waist longer than they're supposed to, and when they start chasing off every single person who seems interested in you, what do you do?
"you're ours now, sweetheart."
a/n : omg okay so I've been waiting to write this for such a long time now, and I just haven't had the time. this might just be my first series, if I decide to turn it into one, but the thought of being theirs? I cannot sjhdjshshs, this will be a sort of poly! hyung line x reader fic, and the reader will be a sub, because that's just what I feel like I'd be most comfortable writing about, making the reader a dom is just... not in my forte ajsbsjbsjs.
this will be very sweet and fluffy at times, and also have some very filthy smut, and will probably come out some time in the next two weeks or so! I hope you enjoy <333
fuck. that's all lee heeseung could think as he watched you prance around in the small skirt jay had picked out for you to try on at the mall. he had been sitting to the side and scrolling through his phone when he heard your voice, looking up before catching your eyes, his eyes raking down your body. "what'd you think hee?" you giggled, twirling around lightly for him, as he licked his lips. "you look gorgeous princess." he said, smiling as he tried to contain his thoughts so that he wouldn't pop a boner in the middle of the store. "see, I told you he would like it, jongseongie!" you said, grinning and walking back into the changing room. heeseung turned to jay with a displeased expression on his face as the said boy just smirked at him. "what?" he asked. "it's too short." "why do you think I picked it out?" jay said, giving him one last look before walking away. "jake and hoon are going to freak out." heeseung thought, the image of you in that skirt burnt into his mind. at least he had something to jack off to that night.
the boys had always been very open with each other about the fact that they all liked you. it had never been a problem to them, and they'd spent numerous nights staying up and talking about how they would one day confess to you. have you in their arms, have you stuffed full of their cum, your soft lips pressed against theirs. "soon." he thought, soon they would tell you everything.
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I like the villain au a lot, but I wanna really read something about regular sagau tracking down a wandering reader with yandere-level ferocity and more benevolent(or selfish) intentions. Assuming reader lands in Mondstadt, Venti and Kaeya? I think they'd notice something off first and start hunting.
YANDERE FINDING GOD!DARLING FIRST // ft. Venti and Kaeya
Warnings: yandere behavior, kidnapping
We loved making this, yanderes are a guilty pleasure of both of ours lol. Hope you enjoy~
-Vin & Lilith
Venti knows the moment you appear in Mondstadt because of the winds. They are silent, not talking to them like they used to, and when he tries to order them around, they ignore him completely. It's after he thinks about the last time he's felt his god's presence around him does he realize - it must be your doing. You've come to his city! But why aren't you here now? Why has he yet to see you?
Despite his best efforts to take back control of the winds, they refuse to give up your location. Only after weeks of trying and looking for you does he realize that he can only ever not control them in certain areas. If he has to take a guess, it's because they are keeping you safe.
He doesn't mind it that much. If the winds keep you safe, you're protected and no one else, especially people that want to harm you, can find you that way! It's just really mean of them to keep you hidden from him. He's the Anemo Archon and the God of Freedom. He only wants to meet you!
It has always been his dream to show you his pride, the one nation that learnt to live without a god centuries ago. Knowing that his god has been watching not only him, but even some of the citizens made him incredibly happy. It's only natural then that he'd want to face you directly, right?
It didn't take him long to find you as you were in the Mondstat region admiring the natural beauty of the land. When he first saw your figure in the distance, his heart burst with overwhelming emotions. Admiration, happiness, passion, the absolute need to be close to you, he could barely contain himself when he caught up to you.
His joyful face and voice surprised you when he popped up suddenly, but as he started speaking about worshipping, shrines and you being his oh so wonderful god. It started to scare you a bit.
Venti kept rambling while touching you all over, your face, hair, arms and even going down to your legs. Admiring every single bit of you that he could now touch with his bare hands. He didn't take notice if your suddenly frightened gaze or your tense posture. The only thing that mattered was your skin touching his.
He had you right here in his arms, even as you try to stammer out for him to let go, to let you breathe. He overtook your voice by speaking louder about all the things he wants to do with you, take you on a tour through the city, go visit Dvalin, go to Starsnatch's peak and look at the night sky.
But just with him. Only with him. He doesn't want anyone else to feel your soft skin against theirs and he will make sure of it. Venti will get on his knees and cling to your legs if that means you won't leave his side, he will say how sad it makes him feel and how he just cant handle not being around you, for you soothe his pain.
That's right, you know of his past so surely you know how much it hurt him, you won't leave him right?
Kaeya, unlike Venti, didn't notice your arrival immediately. He's aware of you as a celestial being as he was one of your first vessels, but he didn't have any help to feel your presence.
To him, you guiding him was like a drug. Whenever your presence enveloped him, he'd be all too happy to let go of his control. He allowed you to do whatever with his body; he's all yours. You were a drug to him, even more so than alcohol. So when you left and never came back one day, he started to grow increasingly frustrated. He visited the tavern more and more and picked fights over the stupidest things.
It's only when he noticed Venti's disappearances and spied on him looking for something that he knew something's off. He followws the bard throughout the night, not knowing what he was looking for but if it's something that the ever so open bard had to sneak around about, the cavalry captain was surely curious.
It appeared that the bard had no idea where this thing was that he was searching for, going back and forth checking places, wondering around seemingly in a hurry, Kaeya was growing frustrated at this nonsense. Losing your presence already had him on edge but now he's dealing with a bard running around looking like a chicken who's lost its head.
Kaeya was about to leave and head back to the city, tired from Venti's antics, until he spotted a familiar figure in the distance looking just as lost. His eye narrowed before recognizing you, the very being who makes him crazy, the one that he craves so much.
His heart dropped seeing you, and with Venti nearby there was no doubt he knew you were here. Kaeya made the quick decision to go up to you and drag you away before Venti could spot you, youe sputtering almost alarming the bard of your presence if it wasn't for Kaeya covering your mouth.
Kaeya almost felt regret for his actions if you didn't drive him so crazy, if only you weren't so addicting. He felt nothing but peace as he knocked you out and took you further away, heading into the depths of the forest.
As you awoke you noticed you were tied up, your hand and legs bound by thick rope. Your body was laying against a surprisingly soft surface, the mattress was plush but devoid of any pillows or blankets. Footsteps entered the room causing you to look up only to see Kaeya looking down at you.
He stepped closer to you as you began to freak out, your body flailing in a desperate attempt to escape the tight rope. You began to shout at him, asking him why he tied you up but he said nothing in response.
Bringing a hand up Kaeya began stroking your face with his thumb, slowly tracing over your lips, he only smiled at your attempt to bite his finger. You were like a kitten that got its freedom taken away.
"To have you here with me in the flesh..." he began, voice dropping low in a hushed whisper. "..nothing would ever make me feel as good as you do. Not the alcohol, nor anything else. Just you."
Kaeya leaned down and pressed a loving kiss to your forehead. "Don't worry, love. Soon you'll come to understand that this was for the best."
More for him than for you. But you didn't have to know that.
548 notes · View notes
can you do fem readerxchris where chris is her dads best friend the reader is in her 20s with an older chris with age,size,degradation dd/lg maybe
A/N: Okay but like, why is this a big fantasy of mine. Aside from the man being my dad’s best friend but the older guy trope, and the forbidden shit too? It’s my jam. I really hope you love what i’ve done with this despite the fact that i didn’t use the age or dd/lg stuff. I could only really use the size and degradation kinks. I did my best though, i hope it suffices.
Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.
Summary: For so long you've struggled around your dad's best friend Chris. He's everything you've been searching for in a man since guys your age are way too immature. So what will happen when the opportunity to make a move on Chris, presents itself?
Warnings: Smut, slow burn (sorta), oral (f and m receiving), vaginal fingering, protected sex, dirty talk, size kink, slight degradation if you squint and language. 18+ as per, you know the drill.
Word Count: 17,033
GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @charllehunnam go check them out🤍
Guys Your Age
For practically your entire life, you’ve been surrounded by adults. From teachers to your parents and even to friends of your parent’s. You never really hung out with kids your own age until school, and that’s probably why you developed quicker than other kids regarding talking and walking, you know, all of the firsts. And even as you entered your teenage years, that continued. You were the first out of all of your friends to get your period, the first to really develop breasts which certainly didn’t go unnoticed with the guys at your school.
However, they weren’t the guys for you so you continued to go through your high school years paying their childish and fuck boy style remarks no mind.
As you got older, you soon learnt that you had preferences, especially when it came to guys or should you say...men.
But even more specifically, a man... your dads best friend, Chris Evans.
You first met Chris around the time of your 16th birthday, or at least that’s the first time you distinctly recall seeing his face, your dad had invited him as he was an old buddy of his from his wild college days and you can recall the moment you laid your eyes upon him.
All of your friends were practically foaming at the mouth at the mere sight of such a tall and handsome man in such a dashing suit. His biceps were barely contained in that crisp white dress shirt of his that even you were starting to drool.
When it came to your dad introducing the two of you, Chris just sighed, smiled and turned to your dad “i can’t believe you’re a dad, man” you giggled as you shook his hand.
“You know, your dad used to be quite the wild party animal back in our day” Chris chuckled before his eyes met yours and in that moment, you knew you were fucked.
His beautiful blue orbs pierced into your soul and from then on, you looked forward to looking into them.
It was as though your whole life you had breezed by with no rhyme or reason behind your reluctance for guys your own age, but the moment you met Chris, it all became clear. You could never quite connect with the boys at school or college. But with Chris, it was so simple. You adored the way he spoke, with such intelligence that still to this day remains unmatched. Guys your age don’t know how to how to hold a mature conversation the way that Chris does.
Everything added up, the list of pro’s for Chris built up until it was ridiculously embarrassing on your part. You began to realise that you were holding yourself back from meeting anyone else because you were hell bent on saving yourself for a man that would only ever see you as his best friend’s daughter.
It was always only ever going to be platonic, and deep down, you knew that too. The pining had to end, you had to snap out of your daydreams and open yourself up to someone more reachable.
So that’s what you did. You learnt to let Chris go, to let your crush go, or at least prevent it from teetering on the edge of obsessive.
But even you can admit that there were always going to be tiny fragments of him in the back of your mind, forever lingering. The first real crush is always the hardest to kick. And you’ve learnt that the hard way.
Now fast forward to the present and your 21st birthday plans are well under way and almost complete. Your girls have kept every detail under lock and key, insisting that you’re in a dire need of letting your hair down, some proper girlfriend time.
With all of the pressure of your internship at the local newspaper as well as your intense family life, it’s a lot to keep on top of. So it’s a must.
Your parents, much to your dismay, have coerced you into joining them at a local gathering at a friend’s house. Unfortunately the name of the host completely went over your head, since they chose to disclose that detail when waking you up this morning.
As much as you groaned and dug your heels in though, you still found yourself getting up and ready for the long and no doubt boring day ahead. Brunch at a strangers house, why do your parent’s have to be so social and in with everyone in this dam town?
Just for once you’d like to go grocery shopping with your mom without others interrupting your day, it would result in things getting done a lot quicker. But things will never change, so suffer you shall.
“Do we have to go to this? I have plans tonight with the girls. You know for my birthday, i need time to get ready” you complain, sarcastically asking them as if they’d ever forget that your birthday is tomorrow, after all you are turning 21 and it’s not every day that you reach that age. If you don’t treasure this moment, you’ll blink and it’ll be gone.
“Yes, Y/N. We’ve been invited and you will come because it’s polite” your mom lectures from the passenger seat of the car before facing forward. Your dad however, just focuses on the road, ignoring the two of you.
The drive over to this friends house seems to take forever as you watch the many familiar houses pass by from your window, bored out of your mind. You pray that your phone battery lasts so that you can pass the time away on social media.
Multiple texts come through just as you arrive at the location, all of them from the group chat. Your friend Jackie sends in the time for tonight that they will arrive at yours and Payton confirms the dress code. This is very suspicious, and since you aren’t the most patient person, you’re struggling to play ball.
But you only have to wait until tonight to find out what they’ve had planned, so all in all, it’s not so bad.
Your dad knocks the door of the house and not even a beat later, it swings open to reveal a woman that you recognise but can’t quite put your finger on where you know her from.
She’s short with dark blonde/brown shoulder length hair and her eyes are sparkling with delight at the sight of guests. She seems sweet, so familiar.
“Gary, you came” she brings your dad into a big and tight hug before pulling away and glancing over at your mom. The two of them hug briefly before her eyes settle on you.
“Is this Y/N? She’s grown up so much” she steps out of the house to hug you too “i bet you don’t even remember me, do you?” you look around at your parents for help before shrugging.
“Thought so. Well i’m Lisa, i looked after your father during his college days, he practically lived here with my son Chris”
Chris as in....
“Ma, where’s the beer?” the deep Bostonian accent calls out as Lisa ushers the three of you inside before closing the door and taking your coats. And you swear that you can feel all of the hairs on your body stand on end.
You’re wearing skinny black jeans with flats and a black and white cropped shirt with small purple butterflies on it, it’s casual enough but not too casual, so you still look well put together. Enough for your parents to get off your case that is.
As soon as he enters the room, you instantly look up, feeling his presence before actually seeing him for yourself. It’s like there’s always been this unknown pull that draws you toward him, something magnetic and invisible. You’ve never been able to figure it out but whatever it is, you don’t want it to fade.
Just like every time you see Chris, he looks so incredibly gorgeous. His brown hair swept back, a white shirt on underneath a red flannel. With blue jeans on to cover his long legs, you feel your eyes lingering on his body a beat more than necessary and normal. But you just can’t tear your eyes away. His body has always been a sight for sore eyes, and you can see that he’s still in super soldier shape. He’s so tall that you figure you’ll just always be intimidated by his size, the way he commands every room, the way he owns every room. You gulp rather loudly as he steps closer to you.
He makes it incredibly hard to avoid catching feelings.
For so long you tried your hardest to bury those same feelings, in hopes that your school girl crush would dissipate in no time but looking at him now, you know that it never really left.
You just got better at forgetting and distracting yourself with your career definitely helped.
Chris greets your parents first, bringing them both into tight hugs, and judging by the way they interact, you can sense that they’ve missed one another. With his busy schedule and your dad always working himself, it’s not easy for them to keep up with seeing each other. If your dad is free, Chris is away in another country filming, and vice versa. So it’s nice to see how happy your dad gets during rare moments like this.
“Y/N” the tall and broad man greets, stepping closer to you. Everyone watches the exchange as you hug him, smiling ear to ear.
“Chris” you return, as you pull away and he pulls back to glance down at you, giving you a quick once over. The intimidation is stronger than ever as you squirm underneath his stare.
His eyes linger for a second longer on your chest. Sure you had boobs last time he saw you but they’ve grown even more so since then and your top reveals a healthy amount of cleavage for him to feast his eyes on.
“You grow more and more every time i see you, i hear you’re turning 21 tomorrow” he says, clearing his throat, a genuine smile gracing his face as he steps back. You all follow as he walks into the grand kitchen. It’s a lot bigger than any you’ve seen before. There’s a wall to wall dining table in the centre and then a kitchen island close by with bar stools all around it. They must have plenty of these gatherings and one hell of a big family.
Chris grabs a beer for himself, pulling the cap off before offering all of you a drink. You request a sprite, not wanting to set your parents off by asking for alcohol, despite you being 21 tomorrow, they’d never let you drink.
He pours your drink out, adding ice before sliding it over to you with a friendly smile, he shoots you a wink as his attention turns back to your parents. You proceed to sip the drink, finding yourself grinning again because of him.
That wink was most likely just him being nice, but in the back of your mind, you start to imagine how he must feel about you. Does he like you? No, of course he doesn’t, the chances of that actually being the case are a million to one but you still like to fantasise. And if you were to let a naked truth slip, it would be that you’d allow him to do anything to you that he wanted to and if you had the confidence to, there are a whole bunch of confessions you’d have for him.
However, since you don’t, you continue to sip your drink in between assisting Lisa with laying the table for the food.
Every now and then you catch glimpses of Chris staring at you, his eyes trained on your body until he sees you looking back, that’s when he clears his throat before looking elsewhere.
It’s probably just you hopelessly wishing here but it looked like he was checking you out.
Waving that presumptuous thought away silently, you take your seat at the table next to Scott, Chris’s younger brother who looks a lot like him.
The two of you making conversation as you mindlessly dish some food up onto your plates, Lisa really went all out with this food and everything looks so good that you just know you’ll be getting second helpings of pretty much everything.
Scott starts to ask about your internship that he heard about briefly from your parents so you decide to elaborate further for him. Writing has always been something you’ve excelled at and when an opportunity presented itself to do it for real, you’d have been a fool to turn it down. Instead, you grabbed a hold of it with both hands, refusing to let go.
Your boss Jasmine was very straight up from your very first day about a potential permanent career with them. She was insistent that it all depended on how you coped during a two year long internship. And you soon got the picture that the internship was merely a way for the newspaper to assess potential future employees. So far though, you already know that she’s proud of your work. Which is great and you feel very positive about your future.
“So journalism, huh? Doesn’t that make you like super smart?” Chris calls from across the table, he’s sat directly opposite you and you smirk “i very much doubt that, i just enjoy writing” you answer, trying to remain modest, you never like to brag about your academic successes even though your parents sing your praises from the rooftops.
“What she really means is, yes. We never had any issues with her during school, her grades remained consistent and high throughout and to cut a long story short, i’m a proud dad” your father flashes you a smile that screams love.
Sure your parents are supportive and all and they love the bones of you, but sometimes you feel like they pushed you a little too hard during your school and college years. It helped you to get the internship, so of course you’re grateful but you missed out on a couple parties-or whatever it was your friends were getting up to-due to their schedule for you to complete homework. It all worked out alright in the end but still, it plays on your mind.
It doesn’t make you love them any less though.
“Love you too dad” heat rushes up your neck and to your face as you feel everyone’s eyes on you, it only lasts a second before all of the little conversations around the table resume.
Chris shoots you another wink before looking back down at his food and you quickly scramble to distract yourself by eating too.
Scott then gets onto the topic of boys, sharing with you all about his boyfriend, complete with pictures galore. The sight of him so loved up warms your heart and you hope that one day you’ll get to experience that. He briefly mentions how he couldn’t make it due to work obligations and you can sense that he wishes he was here.
You then begin to ask him all of the obligatory questions to which he responds in detail for you before flipping them onto you.
“So, how about you then?” he inquires, shoving some potatoes into his mouth and watching you intently.
“What about me?” you decide to play dumb.
“Any guys on the scene? After all you are 21 soon so there has to be at least one boy that you like” in your peripheral you can see Chris’s eyes on you, burning a hole into your head, igniting a spark.
The 16 year old girl inside of you decides to take full advantage of his silent attention.
“Well, there was one guy” you murmur, just loud enough for Chris to hear and as Scott leans in close to hear the details you tell him all about a guy at the newspaper, he’s a fellow intern too and his name is Max. He’s a couple of inches taller, jet black long hair that he ties up in a man bun, a couple of tattoos here and there on his arms and he’s constantly flirting with you whilst the two of you are seated at your desks.
He’s the first guy close to your age that you’ve even given the time of day. He’s 24, you whisper that detail to Scott, telling him that you don’t want your parents to hear as they’ll more than likely flip their lid and go mental.
Scott chuckles with you as he gives you some x rated advice on how you could flirt back. You quickly refuse, admitting that you’re far too shy to ever even attempt his suggestions.
Finally, everyone is full and sitting back in their chairs, absolutely stuffed full of Lisa’s incredible cooking. That woman knows how to feed, that’s for sure.
“Shall we start the clean up” she chirps, rising from her seat and glancing around at all of the satisfied people. It’s clear she gains a lot of happiness from cooking for people, she’s such a lovely woman.
Chris looks around the table before his eyes settle back on you, he’s been trying his hardest all fucking day to keep from glancing your way but it’s impossible to avoid when you’re demanding to be looked at.
It must be the aura circling you. Everything about you is so mature, your dress sense, the way you speak and carry yourself. It’s like he blinked and you went from that young and innocent girl to this. It’s taken him by complete surprise if he’s being honest. The majority of your features mirror your dads, with a hint of your mom in regards to your eyes and figure.
If there was any doubt about who’s daughter you were, your looks would always be a reminder. And it’s exactly that, that one reminder that he can never go near you. He shouldn’t want to anyway, what on earth has gotten into him?
Whatever it is, he needs to snap out of it. But an earlier conversation that he overheard unintentionally springs back into his mind, the one you had with Scott about boys. You mentioned about there being one guy but all he could hear was the detail about him being 24 and tall, oh and the fact that he also interns at the newspaper.
And that makes total sense, that guy is closer to you in age and it works. It would be less of a questionable option for you.
Instead of allowing you to occupy his mind throughout the remainder of the day, Chris begins to help his mom clear up and load the dishwasher with the first lot of dishes.
An hour passes with everyone in separate sections of the lounge, all of the conversations filling the room whilst you sit down on the armchair alone, taking this time to check your phone for messages from the girls.
Layla is banging on about her outfit and how killer it is, whilst Claire is having boyfriend trouble...yet again. It’s no wonder she complains all of the time when her boyfriend Daniel is a complete and utter douche bag. He rarely makes an effort and even when he does, it never lasts long enough. Yourself and the rest of your friendship group have warned her enough times for her to know he’s no good but since it’s always seemed to fall on death ears, you now tolerate her whining every week. Yup, that’s how often they have one of their many domestics.
Before you can even register the time, a hand rests on your shoulder from behind and you turn to find your dad looking down at you.
“Ready to go?” you smile, nodding over excitedly. It’s not that you haven’t had fun because you have, but since you have mystery plans for tonight, you have to get ready earlier so you can schedule in a breakdown over what you’re going to wear.
The dress codes is sexy, so you’re already racking your brain with ideas of what outfit in your closet could go well with that. But then the real issue springs to mind, how on earth do you plan on sneaking past your folks in something sexy?
So you quickly pull out your phone to text the girls, asking if you’d be able to change at one of their houses as well as asking if you can stop over too, to avoid any commotion.
Jackie agrees for you to stay at hers, requesting that you have all your stuff ready for her to pick you up at 7:30pm. You thank her before putting your phone away and bidding everyone goodbye.
Scott rushes to hug you, whispering a quick “get your man” in your ear before allowing Chris to hug you too. His hug lingers a little longer than necessary until Lisa nudges him out of the way.
You thank her for the food before leaving the house and getting into the back of your dads car.
Another encounter with Chris Evans and you’re still no closer to kicking this huge crush of yours, you have got to work on that.
By the time you get home from Lisa’s, you’re so antsy to start getting ready that you dart up the stairs in a hurry, needing to make a decision about your outfit now so that you have enough time to change your mind.
Your parents huff as you leave them standing in the doorway but you don’t have enough time to pay them any mind.
The second you get into your room, half of hour clothes are on the floor in what your mom likes to call a ‘floordrobe’, and every time she says it you laugh as though it’s the first joke you’ve heard her tell.
Dresses, jeans and tops galore all cover your carpet. Not one solid contender in sight.
A panicky text to Jackie prompts her to call you as you sit on your bed having your first mental breakdown.
“Hello” she says as you answer, hearing your mumbling.
“I don’t know what to wear because I have no clue where we are going” you exclaim, anxiety wracking your body. It might sound silly but you always get like this whenever you are about to be sociable, it’s hard for you to do so since you always panic about looking bad or making a fool of yourself. It’s hard to explain to people who don’t suffer with it. It’s like every possibility of what could go wrong fills you to the brim until you’re drowning in your own fears.
“Come on, don’t get worked up. You’ll be fine. Just pick a nice dress. Ooo, how about the red one with the spaghetti straps, that’s a nice one”
Her suggestion isn’t bad, in fact it’s the best dress you have, so truth be told, it’ll be the best option for you. She did say sexy and this dress is definitely sexy.
It’s a red silk dress that comes to your mid thighs, it hugs your curves beautifully, fitting your body like a second skin. The square neckline is perfect for showing off your best assets, your breasts and the straps are silver, spaghetti style.
You can even pair it with your silver lace up square toed heels! Okay that’s the outfit done. Now time for you to pack it away as well as gathering all of the makeup that you’re gonna need for tonight.
Once you complete the packing, you decide to head for a shower, washing your hair and body before wrapping a towel around you as you walk into your bedroom again to dry your hair.
6:00pm rolls around and you decide to go and have something to eat downstairs. Since you don’t know when the next time you’ll be able to eat will be, you want to be prepared. And everything is always better on a full stomach.
You take a seat at the dining room table and join in with whatever small talk that your parents are making, something about gardening. Not that you have any clue about it of course, but seeing as it’s the topic for now, you decide to ask your mom questions about her newly grown roses. She adores the garden, it’s her sanctuary and her pride and joy.
It’s at times like this when you truly realise what you have, a family that loves and cares for you. No matter what happens, you know you’ll always have a home here. Not everyone can say that.
So you take the silence in conversation to count your blessings.
Dinner is put away and more mindless conversation is made, you eventually stand up to help your mom clear the table and load the dishwasher.
Afterwards you head back up the stairs to retrieve your overnight bag before informing your parents that you’re staying at Jackie’s tonight. They shrug it off a little too quickly but that’s when they promise to call Jackie’s parents ahead of time.
Thankfully when they do, they get confirmation. By this point, her parents know the drill with your folks and the memo to always downplay everything. If they trust Jackie enough and they will be home to be of any help then they don’t mind telling a little white lie.
It’s now 7:30 and Jackie isn’t here yet so you sit on the stairs to do your shoelaces up whilst you you wait and one loud beep outside lets you know she’s just arrived. She always likes to make her presence known.
“Mom, dad, I’m going now” you call out, awaiting for them to rush out and a second later, they do, like clockwork, whenever you go out they always want to assess you before you leave. Protective isn’t the word.
You bid them goodbye with a hug, as well as a side of reassurance that you’re going to be safe at Jackie’s house.
And on that note, you escape, rushing over to get into Jackie’s jeep. Her folks are loaded so she pretty much get’s everything handed to her. However, she’s not a typical rich kid, she doesn’t brag about her material things or her families wealth. Instead, she prefers to dial it down a lot of the time and being that you’re not exactly filthy rich, you appreciate her doing so.
“So, what’s this surprise?” you pry as you buckle up, but much to your dismay, her face remains neutral, no sign of what she’s got planned. Not that you’re surprised, you still wanted to try though.
“Your parent’s rang mine again” her tone merely one of observation as her eyes remain focused on the road, and you know this is just a way of her distracting you.
She’s never gotten your parents and neither have your other friends, it’s annoying because you feel pitied a lot of the time. Even though they don’t do it on purpose.
“You know how they get Jac, i just can’t have them knowing about whatever it is that you’ve planned. They are way too protective. I mean i love them, and i appreciate everything they’ve done for me. But sometimes it feels like they don’t want me to have even an ounce of freedom or for me to ever grow up. I’m 21 tomorrow, i have an internship and they still insist on calling my friends parents for confirmation that i’ll be okay. It’s like they work themselves up with worry”
A nod from her in your peripheral vision lets you know she’s listening intently. You feel like a broken record. You’ve lost count of how many times she’s had to listen to this same rant.
“I just think you need to sit them down” she pauses, using all of her concentration on parking the car in her drive before shutting the engine off and turning to you “if you don’t sit them down and talk to them, how do you expect things to change. Like you said, you’re 21 tomorrow. You need to have the chat sooner or later”
She’s right, you do need to talk to them. It’s a conversation that you’ve been putting off for quite some time now.
However, that’s a worry for another time. For now though, you need to go and celebrate your birthday with your girls and forget all about the stress that plagues you day to day.
Upon entering Jackie’s bedroom, you’re met with piles of clothes, make up and shoes. What on earth happened in here?
“What’s going on here?” you ask, setting your stuff down on the one empty space, the bed, before sitting down yourself.
Jackie, Layla, Sophie, Claire and Payton all turn to you with huge grins plastered across their faces.
“So... we thought we’d celebrate in style tonight by taking you to Oblivion, it’s a new club in town and then, maybe Stu’s?” Payton wiggles her eyebrows at you, making you giggle before shaking your head at your crazy friends.
“It’s like you’re insinuating that i’m an alcoholic with all of these grown up locations” you feign offence before standing up and taking out your dress choice for the night to show them “but since you’d be right with that, how’s this dress?”
The moment you hold it up against your body, they all gasp, uttering compliments on how amazing it will look on you. You then lay it down on the bed before settling in between Claire and Layla in front of the mirror on the floor, make up bag in your lap.
Since your dress is red, you decide a smokey eye will go great with it, as well as your red lipstick that you brought with you for tonight.
When it comes to turning 21, you either have to go bold or go home. No room for casual or under dressing. You only turn 21 once.
And you’re not even surprised by the choice your friends made regarding plans. They know you love a good drink, besides, it’s been a long time since you all gathered like this for a night of debauchery.
With your makeup blended to perfection, you stand up, walking your leg cramp off before changing into your dress.
“Woah” Sophie fans you with her hands, whistling to signal your attractiveness. Once you turn to meet the mirror, you see it.
There’s a reason behind you not wearing a whole load of make up every day, it means that when you actively try, it’s more noticeable.
“Y/N, you look insane” they all second it, nodding their heads and winking at you. You twirl a little before sitting down on the bed to check your phone whilst you wait for the others to finish dressing.
With your heels on, dress on, make up done and all of your friends ready to go, you all gather around to take each others pictures as well as group ones.
Captioning the solo picture ‘21🥳watch out world, i’m coming for ya’ and pressing upload, you shove your phone, money and lipstick into your bag before leaving the room.
First stop, Oblivion.
Meanwhile Chris is making a mental note to leave in the next 20 minutes or so, since he’s certain that Dodger will be getting restless without him. After you left he decided to stay there a little longer, wanting nothing more than to spend some extra time with the most important people in his life.
Once Lisa mentioned dessert, Chris automatically knew he’d be residing on the arm chair for the foreseeable future, especially after his moms cooking, it’s like she’s a professional or some shit. Maybe that’s just a gift given to mothers all over the world though, or maybe Lisa is just magic.
Either way, he can’t get enough. It’s the one thing he struggles to live without, what with his constant travelling and busy schedule. It makes it hard to spend any time with his nearest and dearest. As depressing as that sounds, it’s all part of being an actor.
Scott sneaks into the lounge, spotting Chris on the arm chair, head thrown back, eyes closed, the button on his jeans undone to allow room for bloating. Perfect target for the beginning of the Nerf gun fight. It was their nephews idea, they asked Scott if he was up for it, and any chance to get his own back on his brother automatically appeals to Scott.
Chris put Scott through a lot of torment growing up, and sure it was always all love on both parts, but doesn’t mean Scott will ever pass up any opportunity to get Chris back for it.
One shot, aimed at Chris’s head is all it takes to start the war off. Chris shoots up off of his seat. He immediately spots the Nerf gun at his feet and the second he picks it up, Scott yells “come get us, loser”
“You better run” Chris yells back, doing his jeans back up before running after his brother and nephews. Laughter fills the house up, warming Lisa’s heart. She can still recall when all of her kids were younger, the many games they played, oh and how could she ever forget the pranks. It was like she spent the majority of her time telling the rowdy kids off. But she wouldn’t have changed any of that for the world.
The moment you strut up to the entrance of Oblivion, the security guard lifts the rope to welcome the six of you inside, no attempt to even ask for proof of age, your dresses speak for you.
First things first, you all head to the bar for your first drinks of the night. Well technically, you had some shots at Jackie’s prior to getting in the cab, but it doesn’t count because that was pre drinks. A way to get the buzz going before heading out, a money saver if you will.
The club is bustling and loud, no scrap that, it’s deafening. But regardless of the fact that you could burst an ear drum tonight, you welcome it with open arms as you order the first round at the bar.
The very tall, broad and not to mention cute bartender gives you heavy eye contact, narrowing his eyes as he scans your entire body. His way of sizing you up, you figure. His hair is a dark blonde shade, pushed back out of his face, and his eyes are green, heavenly.
The feel of his eyes is very intense, causing you to squirm a little, so much so that you contemplate chickening out and looking away but then you give yourself a little telling off (silently of course). How do you ever expect to get anywhere with guys if you shy away all of the time? Exactly, you won’t.
So you stare back, even when he looks away to make your drinks. The way his biceps push against the material, begging to be set free as the veins on his forearms become more prominent as he uses the cocktail shaker for your drinks, it’s a sight for sure.
You catch yourself staring way too intensely, moving back a little and clearing your throat but he managed to catch you before you could brush it off. The flirtatious wink he shoots you with as he serves up your cocktails causes your cheeks to heat up, your eyes averting his gaze as you take a sip whilst slipping the money across the bar to him.
Jackie gestures to a booth across the way, free from any party goers, so you decide that’s your queue to leave and take it whilst it’s free.
As you walk away, you decide to glance back at the mystery bartender in the white dress shirt, his eyes are still trained on you and you make a mental note to talk to him later.
Once you’re all seated at your booth, Chris is just collapsing down onto the couch, breathing heavily after a long and close call during the Nerf gun battle. He used to be so much fitter than this, and sure, some would argue that his body is one sculpted by the gods, but to him, he’s far from perfect.
Being Captain America comes with it’s own curses, it’s own standard. One that everyone around him seems to plague him with. To look perfect, to be perfect, to act perfect. But deep down, he just wants to be himself, without worrying about eating a pizza and putting on a little weight.
He knows his true fans support whatever it is that he does, and they’d love him regardless, but he still gets anxious.
An hour passes and you’re all still seated comfortably at the same booth, half a dozen empty glasses litter the table with no sign of slowing down anytime soon and you’re all laughing uncontrollably. Is being 21 supposed to ignite a fire inside of you, one of independence? If so, you’ve yet to feel it because secretly you always know you’ll be forever tied to the chains of your parents and their protective nature.
You’re lucky to have parents that care, sure, but sometimes you just want a break from it all.
No songs have come on-or at least as of yet anyway-that have stolen your attention enough for you to get up and dance. But the moment Dirrty by Christina Aguilera comes booming through the speakers- an oldie but a goldie in your opinion- you know you have to dance.
Claire glances over in your direction, a smirk gracing her soft facial features, dark eyes lighting up as her smile appears. With just one look, the two of you get up from your spots, strutting over to the dance floor to join the nameless sweaty bodies.
The moves you’re conjuring up could only be described as provocative, but since you’re turning 21 tomorrow, is there any other way to celebrate?
Claire breezes past you, catching the eye of some random man across the way, his flirtatious stare even warms your cheeks, and you’re not even the focus of it.
You glance back over in the direction of the bar at the tall and broad man behind it rushing around to make drinks for all of the ladies gathered around. He’s definitely enjoying the vast amount of attention on him, judging by the way he smirks and winks at all of the ladies individually. And to think you thought he took a particular liking to you, looks like you really are clueless when it comes to guys.
After all, you have only slept with one guy, so your list of experience is very small. It happened at a time in your life when the pressure to lose your virginity was insanely high, and you caved. It was with Sam Arthur, a kid you were quite close with growing up. He was constantly getting teased about supposedly being gay and the two of you made a deal.
Since you didn’t want to be called a prude for a second longer and he was still trying to figure out his sexuality, you decide to just get it over and done with. There was absolutely no foreplay, no romance, no sparks. It was a professional arrangement and you don’t regret it in the slightest. After all, the plan worked and you both got the desired outcomes. The jocks left Sam alone after that, and you became somewhat cool.
The dancing continues, despite you having already lost Claire and your moves get a little more slower paced as the music fades out into a song you barely even recognise.
So rather than sticking around, you push your way through the crowd and make your way back to the booth to find everyone sat right where you left them. Well with an extra addition of course. The guy that you saw staring at Claire.
“Y/N, this is Ray, Ray this is my friend Y/N. It’s her birthday” she cheers, knocking back another shot.
She has a boyfriend, and yet this Ray guy seems to have some kind of impression that she’s interested.
“Claire, can i talk to you for a sec, in private” you glare at her, making sure she gets the picture loud and clear but there’s no need for a private chat since Ray starts to shuffle out of the booth on his own accord.
“I’ll get the next round in, you girls have your privacy” he smiles, why does he seem like the sweetest guy ever? He’s around Claire’s height 5′6 or 7 give or take, black hair that’s been over gelled, must be his first time out at a club. His white shirt underneath his leather jacket seems trendy enough for him to be your age or close. But you still feel sorry for him.
“Before you guys say anything, Daniel and I broke up... again” you all sigh, as if she can hear you over the music.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because i didn’t want to ruin your birthday celebrations. But all i want to do now is forget Daniel and focus on having fun and Ray is the perfect distraction” she says, talking with her hands as she always does before lifting up a shot glass. You all follow, picking up the last of the shots and counting to three before knocking them back and wincing.
“Now let’s get drunk, bitches” Sophie cheers, and you all follow suit.
Not long after Ray returns with enough shots to last a lifetime. It’s going to be a messy one judging by the way things are going so far.
“So Ray, Raymond” you throw your arm around your new friend and pull him close to you.
“Yes Y/N” he laughs, leaning his head on yours.
“How old are you?” you inquire, talking a little louder so that he can hear you.
“23″ his answer causes you to choke on your wine before pushing him off and announcing his age to the group, their reactions are just as over dramatic as your own. Something Ray finds highly amusing.
It’s been two hours and while you didn’t plan to stay at the club this long, you have zero complaints since you’ve been far too busy making new friends and dancing all of your troubles away. Or more specifically, grinding and shaking.
Your moves have caught the eye of the bartender once more but after you noticed the way he talks to other women, you give that a hard pass in your head, smiling politely at him before using Ray as a way to get him off your back.
Shortly after Claire steals him back from you, probably giving his tiny ego a major inflation. But it had to be done. Otherwise that sleaze bag might think he has an actual chance at taking you home later, and although there would be worse situations to end up in than in a bed next to a perfect stranger, you’d rather not make random hook ups a habit. It was bad enough that your first time wasn’t with your soul mate as you had always planned for it to be, that you’d hate for the second guy you sleep with to be a random guy.
Like you’ve said before, you don’t regret Sam, you just didn’t make room in your plans for a pity fuck.
That’s when your mind travels to a certain someone... Chris.
You’ll bet your life on him being overly experienced when it comes to all things bedroom related. The amount of tabloids you’ve thrown in the bin after seeing him on the cover strolling out of clubs with mystery women or even women you’ve recognised.
Minka Kelly being the pinnacle of them all. You can recall a little too well how jealous you got. And you hadn’t even seen him in person in god knows how long at that point.
But seeing him today has awoken that feverish need, the one that’s led to all too many nights wrapped in your own sheets, droplets of sweat coating your nude body as your hand played with your dripping wet sex to the thought of him.
You’re certain he could teach you a thing or two when it comes to sex. The mere thought has your mouth watering pathetically.
However, your x rated thoughts are disrupted as you’re shoved out of nowhere. Your head spins around to your left to find Claire summoning you to follow her and the others as they head for the exit.,
And of course Ray is following you guys to Stu’s.
The bartenders burning gaze causes you to turn and look at him briefly and in a moment of madness and a drunken haze you strut over, pulling his pen from behind his ear and scribbling your name and number down on a napkin for him. Sure he’s a player but you’re feeling pretty epic right about now.
“See you around, maybe” and with a quick wink, you kiss his cheek before leaving him standing there gobsmacked at the high level of confidence. Sure he’s had plenty of women flirt back, but you doubt that many woman have actually made an official move.
And that assumption fills you with even more confidence before that same confidence is replaced by the cold air causing goosebumps to appear all over your body, head to toe.
“How far away is Stu’s?” Jackie asks, teeth jittering all the way through the sentence.
“It’s just at the end of this road here” you say, pointing down the road on your right hand side as you begin to walk in that direction.
“I can’t believe you gave that bartender your number” Payton gasps, giggling like a little school girl “what if he’s like 30″ she’s always been over dramatic.
“He’s definitely not 30 Payt, gotta be at least nearing it though” you giggle too, realising how crazy that move was. But tonight is the perfect night for crazy decisions.
If you regret it in the morning, you can always blame the influence of alcohol.
The walk to Stu’s doesn’t take too long as you all laugh and chatter the whole way and upon your approach to the bar, the familiar face of Paul the bars regular security guard comes into view.
“You again” he smirks, to which Jackie just shrugs.
“What can i say, you draw me back here Paul” her low and seductive voice has officially been activated as she nears closer to the tall man with the dad bod. Now this dude actually looks 30. But he’s cute and totally into Jackie.
“Get in there then and have a drink for me. Oh and Stu is actually behind the bar tonight so enjoy yourself” he shouts to all of you as you strut in with Ray in tow. You assume his abrupt end to the conversation was because he knows the longer she lingers, the more distracted he’ll become.
And of course, low and behold, Stu is behind the bar. This isn’t your first time here but it is one of 3 times that the owner Stuart has been serving and helping his underpaid staff.
He’s been talking about hiring more for way too long now with no sign of it actually happening. And believe it or not, he’s offered Jackie a job on more than one occasion, something she’s been leaning closer to a lot more the last couple times you’ve been here.
However, as cool as her parents are, they’d be hesitant to allow her to work at a place like this. Although, Jackie would just do it regardless of their blessing.
If she really wants something, no one and nothing will get in her way.
Do It Again by Pia Mia comes pouring out of the speakers all around, the surround sound making it a lot louder but thankfully you’re too tipsy to give a shit.
You put your order in with Jackie, asking if she can get the round in before dragging the others to the middle of the room, there’s no proper patch in here that could even be considered a dance floor but the centre of the room is where all of the other drunk people have accumulated to dance. So here it is.
You start to dance, throwing your arms in the air as your body moves, swaying to the rhythm of the music. The build of the song helps your movements to turn sexier but as the chorus comes you just stand there screaming the words to Claire who screams them right back and Payton who just laughs as she jumps.
How she does that in stilettos, you will never know.
Claire flicks her hair away from her face before batting her false lashes at Ray who’s just leaning against the bar, biting down on his bottom lip, hunger prominent.
This is what true freedom is, this is what being a true adult is. Or at least it’s what it is to you. You have an internship, your license, and here you are at a bar drinking with your friends.
Could you get anymore grown up? Probably not, even if you actively tried.
“Hey, can i ask you something?” you question Claire as the two of you briefly excuse yourselves to go to the ladies room, leaving everyone else dancing, including Ray who was forced to bust some moves by a heavily drunk Payton. The mere sight had you belly laughing before forcing your eyes away.
And as you enter the bathroom-inserting yourself into the line that always seems to plague the bars and clubs- you feel yourself noticing something in Claire that you’ve spotted on more than one occasion.
Daniel was never a great boyfriend to her, he always disregarded her feelings with a wave of his hand, sweeping everything underneath the rug. Tonight you feel like Claire is doing the exact same thing and her reason being that she doesn’t want to ruin your night, is utter bullshit. You never want your friends to feel they can’t open up.
“Sure, what’s up?” she asks, turning to lean on the wall outside the bathroom as the line moves a smidge.
“Are you okay? You know, after Daniel” a silly question the more that you think about it, obviously she’s not okay.
A huff of annoyance escapes her and you’re immediately left with a lump in your throat and a ton of regret on your shoulders, weighing you down.
But after a beat of silence, she opens her mouth to speak.
“We were a disaster waiting to happen” her words couldn’t ring anymore true, and in a way you can admire her ability to actually speak her truth about the relationship, instead of looking at it through rose tinted lenses. “He didn’t love me, or at least not in the way i loved him and certainly not in the way i deserved. We clashed constantly and it turned our relationship into something so ugly that in the end i wasn’t happy with who i saw staring back at me in the mirror. He had tainted my perspective of myself so much so that i lost who i was before him” tears fill your eyes, blurring your vision momentarily before you use your index finger to help dab them away.
“I tried but in the end it wasn’t good enough. He has a lot he needs to work on, a lot he needs to figure out. And i’m past the point of wanting to wait for someone that already took 4 years from me”
She looks down, averting your eyes as she realises how sad this is making you.
“Don’t cry, it’s your birthday” she instructs, looking up to wipe a tear before it can fall.
“It’s just.... i know that we don’t know every detail of what happened with Daniel. And you can disclose whatever you want in your own time. But i just want to tell you how proud i am of you for finally walking away”
Okay, the official self loathing and emotionalism of a girls night out has begun. You know, when every woman intoxicated visits the bathroom and somehow has the longest heart to heart ever whilst simultaneously busting to pee. Yeah, that’s you and Claire right now.
“I love you Y/N” she pulls you close for a hug, the two of you embracing one another with open arms whilst whispering kind words.
The line moves mid hug, leading you to shuffle forward whilst still clinging on. Something that you know looks odd, but no one says a word. Here in the line to the ladies bathroom, there’s no judgement.
You separate briefly when two cubicles become free for the two of you but once you meet back up at the sinks, you decide to continue your probing.
“So, Ray, huh? What’s that about then?”
Judging by the expression her face contorts into, she’s not about to divulge into the reasoning behind her making out and flirting with a total stranger.
You dry your hands in silence before standing closer to her “Claire”
“I’m just having fun, that’s all. Besides, he’s a nice guy” she shrugs, dismissing the chat before walking out of the bathroom with you rushing to keep up.
“Did i say something wrong?” you ask, when you finally catch up to her.
“No, i just, i want to live freely tonight, no questions asked. Can we do that?” she asks, her eyes pleading with you to drop the subject of how emotionally ruined she is by what happened with Daniel. And to her surprise, you nod. Linking your arm with hers as you stride over to join the girls again, oh and Ray too.
Upon your return, Ray hands the two of you a shot of what seems to be vodka as you smell it and wince. But, it is your birthday, so down in one it is.
You knock it back, scrunching your face up in disgust as the music continues to blare, Demi Lovato’s Sorry Not Sorry starting up. Perfect timing for Claire. You glance at her and she rolls her eyes before kicking off the moves.
Stu who is rushing around the bar like a headless chicken spots her and he immediately summons her to dance on the bar, something she shakes her head no to, refusing to fall over in front of all of these people. But that’s when you take the opportunity for her, in hopes that it’ll loosen her up a little.
Almost the entirety of the bar cheers you on as you start to bust all kinds of moves, strutting confidently along the bar, making eye contact with a couple of guys who seem more than impressed with your ability to stand up and walk without falling.
Soon enough, following a lot of pushing, Claire gets up to join you and she’s followed by Payton, Jackie, Sophie and Layla. Sophie shimmies in your direction and you do the same back before throwing your heads back laughing like school kids.
The crowd cheers the 6 of you on, Including Ray. His wolf whistles in Claire’s direction don’t go unnoticed, Claire’s cheeks flush a bright red shade as she looks down at him, smiling from ear to ear.
Despite your confusion about her need for a distraction, you know that right now you don’t need to understand it. If this is something she needs for tonight then who are you to judge?
Once the song fades into a new one, you take a bow dramatically, thanking your audience before stepping down.
“Drinks for the birthday girl” Stu shouts over the music “nice moves Y/N” his wink doesn’t go unnoticed as you take the vodka soda from his hand, not even bothering to sip it slowly.
You’re so going to regret that...
Chris bids his family goodbye as he gets his jacket on at the front door whilst Lisa waits to give him a hug.
Scott already did and now he’s waiting in the lounge with their nephews who are asleep either side of him after scoffing down second helpings of dessert. Something Chris had to decline, although he did request for Lisa to put some in some Tupperware for him to enjoy later on or tomorrow.
The moment he gets into his car it’s officially 11:35pm, way too late for his nephews to not be in bed but since it’s a weekend, their mother didn’t mind them falling asleep on the couch. Eventually they’ll be taken to bed, just not yet. It spurs on memories for Chris and when himself and his siblings used to purposely fall asleep on the couch so that their parents would have to carry them to their room like royalty.
He turns the key in the ignition before putting his seat belt on and pulling away from the curb and onto the road. The drive to his place should only take around 15 minutes, depending on the traffic. “Hold tight, Dodger, Daddy’s on his way home” he mutters to himself as he checks his mirrors, his car nearing the busy side of town.
Ray orders the last round of the night, insisting that it’s the least he could do for you since it’s your birthday. And how could you ever pass up free shots of tequila?
Stu slides the full tray over to you all before walking to the other side of the bar to take someone else’s order.
The 7 of you stand in a circle, swaying as you smile “to turning 21″ you announce, holding the glass in the air for everyone to follow suit.
“To turning 21″ they repeat, your glasses clink and you all knock it back before paying Stu and heading for the exit, dancing on your way out to Beyoncés Drunk In Love.
Jackie immediately finds Paul, twirling her long brown hair around her index finger as she flirts shamelessly with a man way too old for her. Although, you’re not exactly one to judge, you know with you quite literally being the poster girl for inappropriate crushes.
The name Chris Evans should ring a bell.
You stumble a little as you walk further out into the cold, wrapping your arms around yourself as if it’ll somehow rid you of the shivering and teeth jittering. Whilst Claire and Ray start to make out in the middle of the pavement, causing everyone to make fake sick noises at. But it all ends in laughter.
Chris ends up pulling down a different road to the one he usually takes on the journey home from his moms house, a way of avoiding the heaps of traffic on the other route.
But as he slows down behind a car that’s giving way to a driver on his way up the road he just came down, he taps the steering wheel, mindlessly looking out onto the street.
However, what he didn’t expect to find was you. You’re stood there, shivering in the cold in the boldest red dress that he’s ever seen. Your long legs are out with more than just a healthy amount of cleavage showing too. And by the looks of your location, either you’re just coming out of a bar or about to go in.
He recalls you mentioning about it being your 21st tomorrow, so his guess is this is your night of celebration for hitting one of those milestone points in your adolescent life. Although adolescent is hardly the word he’d use to describe you. You’re far from it in fact.
A loud horn beeping knocks him from his focus on you but just before he pulls away, he sees you stumbling, almost falling over.
He immediately pulls his car over to a place of safety before getting out and approaching you, no time for rational thinking as he helps you before you almost fall yet again.
“Someones had a big night, i take it” he chuckles, wrapping his arms around your body to steady you and once your eyes meet his, they widen in surprise.
A loud gulp can be heard by yourself and Chris as you stare at him in bewilderment. What is he doing here?
And has he always been so big?
“I was just driving past and i noticed you, thought you looked like you could do with a ride home” a lie. In reality, he was feeling protective and even jealous at the thought of another man being attracted to you, so much so that he wanted to nip it in the bud before it can even happen.
“Well aren’t you quite the gentleman” you giggle, tapping his chest and grinning up at him.
“How much has she had?” Chris calls out, catching the attention of your friends, his grip around your body tightening.
“Too much to count if that helps” Jackie shrugs, “she’s staying at mine tonight anyway, she’ll be fine” somehow with how distracted Jackie is, he’s not believing that for a second.
“Actually i’ll get her back safely”
You widen your eyes, pushing away from Chris’s grasp “i am not going home” you protest, your parents cannot see you this way, whatsoever.
“Why not?” Chris follows you as you walk to the edge of the curb to summon a cab.
“Because one look at my drunken state and my outfit and my dad won’t let me out of my room for the rest of my life” you roll your eyes out of habit at the reminder of your strict parents.
Chris just stands there, hands in his pockets, silence filling the air between you before he sees a cab driving toward you.
“My car is right over there, i can take you wherever you want, without charge” he smirks, causing you to do the same before calling your friends and gesturing to the cab that’s waiting.
As they all file in one by one, Jackie notices you standing further away “what about you?” she eyes Chris with a gleam of amusement in her eyes.
“I’ll be fine, i’ll text you, okay?” you say, leaning in to hug her before shutting the door for her.
“Stay safe” she blows you a kiss and with that, she’s gone.
You turn on your heels to face Chris, looking up to meet his eyes “lead the way then” a command he listens to but not before attempting to help you, something you shrug off.
“I’m perfectly capable of walking myself” your tone of voice is a lot snappier than you had initially intended for it to be. You just meant to say that you’re fine to walk without his assistance, yet it came off bratty and rude. Great.
You reach Chris’s car and with your tipsy state as well as the dark shadowing over the two of you, you can barely make out the type of car that he drives. But who cares right, your life long crush is about to drive you wherever you want, guess you’re winning.
“So where did you want me to drop you?” he asks as he gets into the drivers side, turning the key in the ignition before turning the heating on to warm you up. And slowly but surely you feel the goosebumps fade and the shivers die down.
It feels weird being here. Although you’ve wanted to be alone with him for such a long time, it feels strange to actually be here, for your wish to be coming true. Well, only half of your wish. Most of that wish centred around intimacy occurring between the two of you, fat chance of that happening.
“Anywhere where my parents are not” you smile nervously, turning to face the window and glancing out at the streets that are now filling with more party goers, the majority of them are only just starting their nights whilst yours is officially over.
“What’s the deal with them anyway?” he asks, starting the car and pulling out of the tight space, one he has no clue how he even parked in in the first place. Lust does crazy things to a man, as well as jealousy and protectiveness.
“They just don’t believe in giving me freedom. They are protective, too protective and it’s like i can’t do much without them setting rules” you huff, looking back away from his powerful blue orbs.
Those same blue orbs that led to you feeling this way about him in the first place and led you to dangerous territory.
He’s your dad’s best friend, you could never.
“You don’t have to feel sorry for me, you know. I’m fine, i’d just like to have their trust for once that’s all” you dismiss it, muttering under your breath as the trees and houses pass you by.
However, once the car comes to a stop, you furrow your brows, no sense of familiarity in your surroundings.
As soon as you turn to face Chris, you’re not surprised to find his eyes already fixated on you, he leans back against his seat, his head turned on the head rest to face you. His eyes drinking you in, dancing across your entire body hungrily, eyes dark from lust.
Does he want you as much as you want him?
Chris bites down on his bottom lip as his eyes make their way back up to your face, only to find your eyes watching him intently. He’s currently parked outside of what you assume to be his house, with you in his car. You said anywhere where your parent’s weren’t going to be and this was the only option in his head. Is it wrong to have you here? Or is it perfectly normal?
Who knows at this point, it’s too late to back track anyway.
“What?” you ask, covering yourself with your arms as you turn shy under his intense gaze and he immediately leans over to lift your head back up with his index finger under your chin.
“What?” he repeats, feigning cluelessness. When in reality, Chris knows dam well what you were asking him.
Instead he chooses not to answer by ripping his eyes away.
“Shall we get into the warm?” his offer is so tempting and you’d usually jump at that chance but you can feel an uneasiness settling in as though your body is telling you that if you go inside with him, that it’ll more than likely change everything. That things will never be the same again.
But somehow you shake it off, undoing your seatbelt and getting out, deciding to follow him inside the house after he locks the car and opens the door to the house. And the inside is even more fancy than you ever imagined, way too fancy for the likes of you, but if he’s inviting you in, who are you to question it?
Not even a second later, a big fluffy dog charges up to you, barking and licking at you and begging for attention.
“Woah, who’s this fluffy baby?” you inquire, dropping to your knees to make a fuss of the fur ball, welcoming the sloppy dog kisses happily. But as he goes to lick your face some more you back away, giggling.
“This is Dodger, he was a rescue dog” he announces, whilst locking the door and tossing his keys into the bowl on shelves nearby.
“He’s so fluffy” you cuddle into him and Dodger pants more, getting all the more excited at the presence of someone new.
Eventually once Dodger calms down, you start to take your heels off with Chris watching your every move.
The way you undo the intricate lace on your heels, is so fascinating for such a boring act, he enjoys watching regardless.
Once they are off, you rise to your feet and pad into the kitchen behind him, you’re so much smaller than he is and you’d be lying if that alone didn’t turn you on. You lift yourself onto one of the many stools parked around the kitchen island and the lights come on shortly after, only the ones tucked underneath the kitchen cupboards that hang over the kitchen counter but still it gives the setting soft lighting, enough for the moment. Chris starts to rummage around in one of the cupboards overhead before pulling out a glass and sticking it underneath the water dispenser attached the fridge.
He hands the half full glass to you and you grip it with both hands, lifting it to your lips to take a sip whilst your eyes watch as Chris leans back on the counter across from you. His hands grip it with white knuckle force and his eyes skim over your body for the umpteenth time tonight. Now you’re curious, what exactly is he looking at and why has he felt the need to look so many times?
“Is there something on my dress?” you ask, placing the glass down and looking down at your provocative ensemble.
He clears his throat after almost choking on his own saliva at your words “what? n-no, you’re dress is perfectly fine” his eyes widen with embarrassment as he realises you noticed him looking.
It’s that look in his eyes that alerts you of his attraction and even though nothing could ever happen, that’s good enough for you. In fact, the knowledge of Chris Evans finding you somewhat attractive is more than good enough.
“You can stay here by the way, hence why i brought you here. I have more than enough room and i’ll drop you back at your friends house in the morning.
You nod your head in agreement before uttering a quiet thank you in his direction without looking up.
The hairs on the back of his neck instantly stand on end whenever you meet his gaze, the gleam in your eyes is so innocent yet so seductive and the way that silky dress hugs your body like a second skin is enough to wake his dick up.
But, he’s doing everything humanly possible to prevent it. In these jeans, it’ll be more than obvious to you and that’s the last thing he wants.
He knows it can never happen, in fact he’s kicking himself for even bringing you here. You insisted on going back with your friends, why didn’t he listen? So stupid, Chris. He curses himself silently, hoping he never said any of that out loud.
The silence is deafening yet comfortable. But you decide to break it anyway, not realising, Chris had the same intentions.
“So -” you both start before looking directly at one another and breaking into laughter at the fact that you both spoke in unison.
“You go first” he offers, his powerful stare not letting up.
“I was just going to ask how come you stopped to help me?”
“I saw you stumbling all over the place and i panicked. I know that your dad would have wanted me to look out for you, so i decided to stop you from hurting yourself” he cares.
“Oh” you murmur, a strand of hair falling down and grazing your cheek briefly before Chris reaches over to tuck it behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your skin, the feel of them burning you deliciously.
But once he removes them, you’re left yearning for their return. The way he touches you fills you with a sense of wholeness, something you’ve lacked your entire life.
Would it be so wrong if you let go of control, even if it was just for one night? But more importantly, would he let go of his control for one night too, for you?
There’s only one way to find out and that’s for you to take a leap and try. The warm and buzzing sensation wracking your drunken body eggs you on to finally make a move, the move you’ve wanted to make for so long yet have never been old enough or had the courage to.
And now that you’re 21, surely it’s now or never.
Shivers run down your spine as you prepare yourself, psyching yourself up.
Chris notices you shift in your seat and the feel of your breathe against his hand as he retracts it from your face, it drives him insane. The shallowness of your breath indicating that you’re occupied with something or someone, that you’re nervous or maybe it’s just the alcohol and the fact that he’s standing way too close to you.
But as you look up through your long and natural eyelashes, the way they flutter at the sight of his own eyes staring right back at you, as though they are staring into your soul, he spots something. A tell tale sign of just what’s on your mind.
A fear fills him rapidly as he steps back “we can’t” he snaps, voice low. Far from a telling off but it still feels like one, like he’s scolding you for feeling.
You slip down from the bar stool and back away slowly “so where is the spare room? I think i’ll need to shower before i sleep too” speaking as you look everywhere else aside from him.
When you don’t answer, he realises that it’s probably best to just forget what just happened or more so what could have happened had he not acted accordingly.
Instead he follows you out into the hall before walking ahead to direct you to one of the many spare bedrooms, one with an en suite so that you can shower too.
“There are towels in the cupboard under the sink and spare clothes of mine in some of the drawers, they’ll do for tonight” he informs you, as he lingers in the doorway to the bathroom.
“I have to sort Dodger before i sleep myself so should you need anything, at all, i’ll be in the lounge or the kitchen” he smiles weakly before turning and walking away, leaving you all alone to get yourself cleaned up.
As he makes his way back into the kitchen to sort Dodger out, he can’t help but think that if the circumstances were different that he wouldn’t have thought twice about letting you kiss him. But seeing as the circumstances aren’t different and that you are indeed his best friends daughter, not to mention you’re drunk, he knows it can never be.
Doesn’t stop him from wanting you though, he is a man after all, a man with needs and a heavy attraction to the one woman he shouldn’t want.
As Dodger wonders around the garden to do his business, Chris’s mind runs elsewhere, on the thought of you in his shower right now. The mental image he’s had of how you’ll look naked roams his brain, torturing him endlessly.
It’s like the devil on his shoulder is urging him to make a move, to go through with it but then he knows the angel on the other shoulder will soon make a list of why it won’t be a good choice.
Both of them battling one another and only one will come out on top but at this point, Chris has no clue which one will win.
He scrunches his hands up into fists at his sides as he walks Dodger back into the house before going around to lock all of the doors and windows.
Dodgers paws tap on the floor as he scurries behind Chris to keep up and when they walk back to the other side of the house to go to bed, he notices your bedroom door is closed, and the lights are off. Signalling that you’re now asleep, causing his heart to sink a little.
You slip underneath the covers of the unfamiliar bed, the cold but comfortable sheets grazing your skin as you toss and turn to get comfortable before picking your phone up to text Jackie.
You: Jac, i’m stopping at Chris’s tonight, he’ll drop me back in the morning so i can fetch my stuff. Thank you for such a great night x
Jackie: You’re welcome, love you and use protection x
Typical Jackie. You shake your head at her insinuation that anything will happen between you and Chris. After all, he made it very clear that nothing will ever happen judging by the way he backed off when you were about to kiss him.
You’ll never disclose this detail to anyone other than the voice in your head but the way he stepped back made you feel embarrassed. You always knew it was a long shot but to have him look so disgusted at the idea of you kissing him, it was hardly the reaction you had anticipated. But then again, you don’t know what you expected. However, it definitely wasn’t that.
The sheets wrap around you and follow as you turn to face the other side of the room. With your alarms set and your phone resting on the bedside table, you know that you better go to sleep.
But before you can, you notice the time on the alarm clock, it reads 12:30am.
“Happy Birthday Y/N”
You close your eyes to sleep, allowing your brain to replay the entire night for you. The bar dancing, the almost kiss with Chris and the emotional chat with Claire. The night wasn’t all bad. You still managed to enjoy yourself and have lots of fun.
Suddenly your throat turns dry and you decide to get up to go in search of a drink. Chris is probably in bed by now, or at least you’re assuming he is so you decide to tip toe your way through the halls of his big house, trying not to get lost.
The faint light in the distance leads the way to the kitchen thankfully.
Upon your entrance, you realise you’re alone. Chris is asleep then. You can’t say you weren’t secretly hoping he was awake.
One of his many shirts that you found in the drawers covers your nude body, it’s an old pats shirts, one that has obviously been worn a lot judging by how tattered it looks. It comes to the middle of your thighs, serving as a night dress. It’s comfortable too. You also have on some of his brand new Calvin Klein boxers
You go to retrieve a new glass from the cupboard when you spot the one that you drank out of previously still very much half full and sitting on the counter with a note.
“Yes, sir” you mumble to yourself before lifting the glass to your lips and gulping down the majority of its contents. The cold and fresh water gliding down your throat feels so good and you can slowly feel the alcohol taking less control of your body as well as your headache fading.
The second you empty the glass you rest it in the sink before spinning around on the balls of your feet to walk out but that’s when you bump into Chris.
Your hands naturally find purchase on his toned chest, the hardness doesn’t surprise you.
“Sorry, i was just going back to bed” you squeak, slipping around him and toward the door but his hand catches your wrist, gripping it tight enough for you to stop in your tracks completely.
“What are you doing?” your question hangs in the air, and you wait with bated breath for him to answer it but instead he turns around to face you, his head tilted down so that your eyes meet. Okay, now you really do feel small.
The sudden chill that dances down your body is far from one of uneasiness, if anything you feel so peculiarly comfortable around him. And you barely know him. In fact you only know what your father has told you as well as what you’ve picked up on and it’s not a whole lot.
The unspoken admittance of attraction lingers in the air, crackling and fizzling like fireworks.
And as he leans down further, his plump and pink lips brushing yours ever so slightly before his tongue dips out to wet them prior to capturing yours in an intense and earth shattering kiss. You realise that In this situation, you’re perfectly content with no words being spoken, actions suffice perfectly.
A grumble coming from the back of his throat, a moan trapped and ready to be set free alerts you of his arousal. That and the feel of his dick in his pants pressing against your stomach as he pulls you closer to him, your bodies pressed together in a way you never anticipated would ever become a reality.
His large and calloused fingers slide downward to your hips, digging in. But the love you develop for his soon to be bruising touch overrules the rationality of the sinful act you’re partaking in with the one man you shouldn’t want but do regardless.
If only your dad could see you now, he’d flip his shit and probably despise Chris for what he’s doing. He’d never see you as two adults, old enough to consent to something so intimate and erotic. Instead he’d go crazy.
Thankfully he’ll never know.
Chris lifts you up onto the kitchen island, standing in between your legs and spreading them further apart in order for his hands to do some exploring.
The kiss breaks, and you’re breathless, panting as your chest rises and falls, your eyes locked on the man in front of you. The way his biceps bulge in the short sleeved white shirt he has on, it seems way too small to cover up his super soldier body, that’s for sure.
His breath fans your face as you play with the hem of his shirt, hinting at him to take it off. Something he takes note of instantly, pulling at it himself and before you know it, his upper half is on view for you.
Without a second to think, or even to second guess what you’re doing, you lean down to plant a kiss to his torso and then another just below his pecks. He watches you with curiosity, wanting to see how you’ll please him.
He has no knowledge of your previous sexual experience but so far there have been no issues in the kissing department.
Your lips make their way up to his pecks and then his neck. To reach the spot you want, you pull him down to gain the access. Your lips wrapping around the spot just below his ear, your teeth nipping at the unblemished skin just enough to elicit a quiet, whisper like moan.
“Ohhh” he continues to groan until you pull away to face him, the eye contact lingering before he throws caution the wind, his hand dipping underneath your-his-shirt and into his new Calvin Klein boxer shorts that he stored in the spare room for when he needed them. Looks like they belong to you now, no complaints.
Heavy breathing fills the silence as you feel his hand touch you in the one place you’ve dreamt of him doing so. The reality compared to the dream of it is so much more arousing, and you can quite literally feel more of that same arousal pooling at the tight hole of your inexperienced cunt.
His index finger circles it, gathering some before spreading it across your petal like folds, smearing it everywhere and suddenly your need for him intensifies. Your body arches into his demanding touch and you already know that from this moment on, whatever happens, you’ll be in safe in his large hands.
“You like this” it sounds like it’s supposed to be a question but he says it like a statement, as if he just knows you love it and crave more. Just a little more...pressure.
“Chris” you groan breathlessly, hand gripping the edge of the kitchen island counter with white knuckle force as your legs spread, moving on their own accord and succumbing to his every touch pathetically.
After lusting someone for so long, you learn to expand your imagination, your dream world allowing you to explore every possible scenario, every possible vision of how that person will look when doing certain things. But being in this position right now with Chris, he’s more impressive that your mind had allowed you to imagine. His kiss is so much more fiery than the one in your dreams and his body is just god like.
You’re one lucky woman to even know him in the way that you do, what with him being your dads best friend. But you’re even luckier to see him like this, so intimate, so raw and real. He’s a man at the end of the day, a man with needs and here you are, getting to fulfil them and so much more.
Maybe this is what the two of you need, to go there and explore each other’s bodies before you can really escape your own personal hell of pining for one another.
“Say that again” his raspy voice causes your hips to roll on his hand as his fingers rub at your bundle of nerves over and over, the pleasure consuming your body and washing over you like rain.
“Chris” you moan, voice lower and more seductive than usual as you make sure his eyes are on yours before biting your bottom lip.
His hands pulls out of the boxers you’re wearing before tugging you closer to the edge so that your ass is hanging off it as your body is relaxed against the cool marble.
He hooks his fingers into the band of the boxers, wasting no time in pulling them down and spreading your legs to expose your pussy to his hungry eyes. They grow darker, if that’s even possible as he licks his lips before pulling out one of the stools at the kitchen island.
“Such a pretty pussy, baby. Love the way you’re spreading those legs for me, like a not so innocent little whore” you gulp, every inch of your skin now covered in goosebumps.
You watch him take a seat on it in front of your spread legs that he drapes over his shoulders before blowing air on your mound and the small patch of hair that covers it beautifully.
His tongue pokes out as he nears closer to it but rather than focusing on the pulse point, he averts his mouth to that dripping entrance of yours, the never ending fountain of arousal, his to taste and drink from until his hearts content.
“Oh god” you cry out the moment his mouth makes contact with your sex, the feel of him on your most intimate part is almost too much for you to handle and the added sensation of his beard grazing the skin of your thighs, scratching deliciously, you have no idea how you’ve gone so long without this. Without the feel of a man loving you so precisely, the movement of his tongue as it navigates you slowly, taking its sweet time.
The need for his mouth to be everywhere all over your body all at once, it’s greediness at its finest, a feeling you’ll never cure.
The sensitivity that occurs as he hums on your clit before wrapping his lips around it with care, it sends your body into a shivering state, unable to comprehend all of this mind blowing pleasure.
Your inexperience once again rearing its head and showing itself to Chris.
“Tell me no one else has ever made you come before, tell me i’m the only one” his voice so low and gruff, it’s pleasure conjured up specifically for your ears.
Your hands slides into his perfectly styled hair, his locks now messed up as you tug whilst propping yourself up onto your elbows to get a better view of him.
“You’re the only one, now make me come” your confidence surprises him but he doesn’t wait a beat before he’s back between your legs, loving you the way you’ve always wished he would.
His mouth working you up, your pleasure intensifying like a crescendo building, your orgasm impending. It’s dangling in front of you, so close that you can almost taste the relief you’re about to feel thanks to Chris.
“Give those sweet juices to me, sweetheart. I know this body has more to offer, so be a good little slut and give them to me” his words are so sinful yet so angelic, and you’re putting that down to his voice.
Chris Evans, the man that can make anything sound sweet and caring, not to mention sexy.
It’s his not so hidden talent.
You roll your hips, your pussy dragging across his mouth as you push for release. The feel of it edging closer is torturous.
But the moment he inserts a finger inside of you, pumping it in and out a couple of times before adding a second you feel your pussy walls spasm around his thick digits and he sucks in a breath.
“There it is, wrap that tight pussy around my fingers, baby. Come all over them and make a mess like i know you can”
His words set off something inside of you and you feel your entire body shudder, your toes curl and you arch your back in response.
Your first proper orgasm.
“Good girl” his praise fills you with a sense of contention that nothing else has ever been able to give you, not even succeeding at school and college has been able to give you that. Yet Chris praising you for making a mess all over his fingers sure does something to you.
You spasm again around his digits before he withdraws them, lifting them to his lips.
His tongue darts in between them, licking up every single drop of the juices you have to offer before scooping you up into his arms, your body fitting right in his hands as he carries you back into the guest room, using his foot to kick the door shut.
He lays you down so gently, almost as though he fears you’ll break.
You watch him cross the room, taking his time to undress in front of you, putting on a real show.
Once he pulls his boxers down though, that’s when you really start to panic. You’ve never seen something so intimidating and yet you feel nothing but a visceral instinct to please him no matter what.
So rather than waiting for him to take the reins, you move to your knees to remove your shirt, revealing your bare breasts to him. Your nipples are now hardened peaks. He rakes his eyes over your now fully nude body, before watching as you crawl closer to the edge of the bed.
You lie on your stomach, using your fingers to summon him over and once he approaches, you wrap your hand around his impressive size. He looms over you, casting a shadow across the bed, his hands resting on his hips as he allows you to touch him. The longer you’re near him, the smaller you feel.
The sensation of your hand causes him to jerk, it’s been way too long since Chris had a woman touching him like this let alone one he wanted this bad.
Your tongue starts off at his balls, licking over them before sucking one into your mouth, one hand still wrapped loosely around his cock.
“Fuck, Y/N, please” he begs, just for a little more attention. When it comes to you, he always wants more.
Once you’ve caused just enough of a stir within him, you move to lick up the underside of his cock, making sure to take your sweet little time, you want to hear him beg for it, beg for you to suck his cock.
“Y/N” his hands move to your head, weaving into your hair and gripping at the strands hard as you reach the tip of his dick, head leaking pre-ejaculate that you soon lick away. The salty tang of it hitting your tongue is enough for you to want a better taste of him.
That’s when you give in, wrapping your mouth around his head before easing him in, inch by thick veiny inch.
A loud and guttural groan escapes him, unashamedly. The feel of your warmth around him, almost giving him an insight into what your pussy will feel like.
So fitting, like a glove.
The moment you fit the rest of his size in your mouth, you gag around him uncontrollably, unable to fit him without doing so. So you pull off, with a pop of course.
Tears fill your eyes before streaming down your cheeks rapidly, tears that Chris soon wipes away before lifting you up to your knees and manoeuvring the two of you further up the bed.
“Where did you learn that, sweetheart?” his impressed voice signals that you did a great job, and that fills you with pride, especially since you’ve never it before.
“That was my first time”
Chris stops in his tracks as his hand cups your face, his thumb stroking your soft skin.
“Have you ever had sex?” his understanding and non judgemental voice lets you know you can be brutally honest with him and still remain comfortable.
“I’ve only done it once”
He nods in understanding before reaching over to the night stand to retrieve a condom. He looks down, brows furrowing as he concentrates to put it on. But once he does you feel the weight of him hovering above you. His hands either side of your head for support and cage you in as he uses his knee to nudge your legs apart.
You spread and wrap them around him whilst he uses one hand to tap his cock on your clit, causing you to shudder once again. You’re still very much a sensitive mess in the aftermath of his tongues attack.
“Chris, do you want this?” that little voice in the back of your head second guesses his attraction, his need for you. And suddenly you don’t feel good enough.
“I want this, i want you. Do you want me?” the way he reverses the doubt, and suddenly he’s the vulnerable one looking for confirmation that he’s not alone in this.
“Yes” you murmur, your hands cupping his face are pulling him down so that your lips can connect as he nudges himself at your entrance, pushing in slowly
Your lips part into the kiss as you moan loudly, eyes rolling into the back of your head, back arching into him as he uses one hand to hold you whilst the other one holds him up.
“Christ” your music fills his ears as he eases in and out, making sure your comfortable first before establishing a far from steady pace.
“I need more of you” you plead, eyes locked with his, foreheads touching before kissing him again, his tongue pushing its way in just like his cock is doing to your cunt.
Allowing him to take over everything, your body relaxes, giving him the go ahead to speed things up and when his hips start to snap, his cock spearing into you relentlessly, your noises slip more often than not.
If this is what sex feels like with someone you truly lust after, you don’t ever want sex without it. You wish you could live in a world where you could have this for breakfast, lunch and dinner., But it’s just not realistic unfortunately.
However, until morning comes, you’ll live in this bubble of denial.
“S’tight, sweetheart” he grunts, sweat droplets coating his forehead and body as well as your own as you move with his thrusts, developing a rhythm that’s fast and needy, fuelled by desperation alone.
The feel of him poking at that spongy spot within you continuously, it’s breathtaking, a brand new experience for you, one you want to experience again and again.
Although you know this is a one time thing.
“Look at you, so small but you’re taking all of me so well, huh? Such. A. Good. Fucking. Girl” you clench down around him hard, at the pure filth he’s spouting, such a dirty mouth for such a gentleman. This side of Chris is one you could certainly grow used to seeing more often.
It’s addicting. He’s addicting.
“You gonna come? Huh baby?” he captures your lips in a passionate and fiery kiss, tongues included before waiting for your response.
You’re giving him all of the tell tale signs that you’re about to reach your first penetration induced orgasm. One in which he’s gladly taking from you, the thought of you going as long as you had without a single orgasm hurts his chest. What kind of men are around you? Clearly they aren’t men at all, just boys who can’t see a special little thing for shit. If only you were older and you met sooner under different circumstances.
“I’m gonna come” you nod along with him, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist but he soon moves them, draping them over his shoulders and the new position offers different yet better access to your g-spot. And a couple more thrusts is all it takes for him to hit it just right.
Your body goes taut as you cling to the sheets below for dear life.
Guttural moans, skin slapping against skin, it all bounces off the walls as you both come undone with each other. The intimacy reaching higher levels.
His hips start to falter and you feel him twitch, it’s clear your orgasm spurred his own on.
Chris can’t even fathom what has just occurred, the events that led him to this position, above you, easing himself through an orgasm you caused.
As soon as he pulls out and disposes of the condom into the bin, he collapses onto the bed next to where you lay. The two of you nothing but breathless messes.
The holy father has to forgive you, for you have sinned and you must repent.
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aren't we all sinners? | jjk
✠ SUMMARY | ghosts in a church was as normal as sinners in a confessional. so normal, you didn't bat an eyelash when the local ghostbusters were called in yet again for another job. what did bat your eyelash, though, was one ghostbuster in particular. and he was about to find out just how a confession works.
✠ PAIRING | ghostbusters!jungkook × virgin nun!reader
✠ RATE | 18+
✠ GENRE | supernatural, religious, sacrilege, smut
✠ WARNINGS | sacrilege! , breaking religious vows, defiling of religious areas, misuse of a cross, corruption, loss of virginity, penetration with foreign object, unprotected penetrative sex, oral f!recieving, dirty talk, begging, slight tears, guilt, shame, internal dilemmas
✠ WC | 7.4k
✠ A/N | another religious jk fic ! literally both of them have been so random and impulsive its funny to see it happen twice 😭
⇢ For the Namkook Moonrise Masquerade Collaboration hosted by @jamaisjoons
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been only days since my last confession but I can no longer defend the egregious nature of my actions. I can't justify these thoughts that I've been plagued with. Ever since… our last ghost…"
You had rushed to the confessional in a hurry, heart thudding faster in your chest as you aimed to reach sanctuary with haste. You slammed the door of the small space shut behind you, panting with short breath as you tried to relieve your anxieties. He was back. Here. Again. You thought you'd be able to contain yourself this time, you urged yourself, pleaded with yourself and your beating chest to relax, and remember your vows when you caught sight of him. You implored yourself to think of your god, your lord and saviour, the one who you were truly married to in religious matrimony. You prayed and prayed. Since the last time he came. For your god to give you the strength to stop seeing his face, his charming smile, everytime you closed your eyes. You begged, on your knees, with your hands clasped and your eyes screwed shut, for your mind to stop conjuring up scenarios with him. To stop imagining how his hands would feel in yours, how his embrace would wrap around and protect you. How sweet a kiss would be—It was impiety! Desecration of everything you hold dear to your heart! You were on the verge of falling to sin, if your thoughts hadn't already granted you a seat in hell. Burning in those flames with all those lustful disbelievers. It's what you deserved. Your impure thoughts clouding the mind that should only be thinking of your vows. Your religious duty. The one you swore to.
“Bless me, Father. I am crushed under the weight of my sins and I can no longer bear these impurities raging inside me. I need to beg for the Lord's forgiveness and hope he will have mercy on my soul.” You took a deep, shaky breath. You were about to confess one of the greatest sins you had ever committed after taking your religious vows. Right to the man who spoke to god. Confession was confidential. Of course it was. But it wouldn’t stop the searing shame washing over you as the pious man acknowledged your sins. You knew he’d never see you the same way again. You’d never be the same person, not in the eyes of god. Forever blemished with specks on your soiled soul.
“There has been an abundance of the unrested ghosts recently. Those who struggle to cross the barrier between this life and the next,” you started hesitantly. Information he already knew. He’d been the direct communication between the ghosts, after all. You cleared your throat. “The ghostbusters that have been arriving. I’m afraid…” Your heart felt like it was in your throat, pushing away at the barriers of your skin. Like an embodiment of your sin, raging to tell everyone of your deepest desires.
You rubbed your clammy hands together. Your soul needed to be absolved. You couldn’t go on living like this. This was in direct contradiction to everything you had learned, to everything you stood for. You had to beg for forgiveness. Now. Before it was too late. Before you crossed the threshold between salvageable and lost. Before you became damned, for good. “I-I’m afraid I’ve been having thoughts about one of the men, father.” A beat. Silence from his end. The sweat trickled down your brow, creating an anxious itch. “Unholy thoughts…thoughts I can’t control. I’m afraid the devil’s in me.”
He didn’t say a word. Resolute silence greeted your words, confirming your worst fears. The judgement flooded through the small wall separating the confessional, the lack of words speaking volumes. You suddenly felt too hot in your clothes, struggling to sit still and not tear off the head covering sitting heavily on your head. You panicked, but you had to continue. Otherwise, what hope was there for you? The deed was done, the priest was told. Now, you needed to repent. You needed your penance to save yourself. To wipe your slate clean and start anew, with the lord’s guidance to keep you away from impurity.
“I think of him… in my bed. Jeon Jungkook. The one with the… piercing…” you gulped. As if you could pick a worse man to occupy your mind. Not that he was in any way evil, of course. Jungkook was the kindest man you’d ever met. Extremely charming with the humor to match. He was always greeting you with that big smile, raising a hand in a wave as he passed you by in the corridors. He was consistently sweet to everyone, your convent’s dog running straight to him everytime he entered. You didn’t think there was a more pure adult in the world than the innocently endearing man that pouted in concentration as he was loading up his machine. Not to mention, the man was strikingly handsome. A fact that rarely went unnoticed. The way all eyes would turn to him as he walked by, women lifting their gaze off their prayer books to follow his stride. He was obnoxiously unaware, of course. He was only here to do his job. Still, your heart didn’t hesitate to do a little cartwheel everytime he found you and struck up a conversation. And for all his heavenly traits, Jeon Jungkook was the embodiment of sin. And your priest knew, if a woman mentioned him, what kind of indulgences they were seeking. You must’ve reeked with shame at this point.
“He occupies my every thought, Father. I see his eyes when I close mine, I hear his laugh and the rhythm of his voice when I fall into dreams. Father, I—” You shut your eyes, “I think about his hands…” you whisper, “how they would feel… in places I’ve never felt before.” There's a sharp gasp from the booth next to you, but you could barely hear it. For you couldn’t continue, your heart beat so loudly. You shook your head. This was a mistake. You should’ve never spoken your crimes out loud, you should’ve never placed such a heavy burden on the priest. The burden of forgiving your actions. You should’ve found strength within you. Not go running to the lord at every transgress and plead for him to forgive you—
The voice next to you. He finally spoke. As startled as you were, your internal trainwreck being put on a temporary halt, a certain weight lifted off your chest. Not all the weight, but a small piece. To know you still had a chance with god. To know your priest wanted to help absolve you of your sins, wanted to guide you on your path to forgiveness. It gave you the courage to continue.
“I-I had a dream the other night.” Your heart thudded as you recalled the fateful memory. It must have been that moment, the last time he was here. The way he’d brushed up against you as you walked the halls, showing him to the room where you saw the ghost last. The way he’d made you laugh at an impression of his boss, deepening his voice and furrowing his brows to the full effect. The way he’d pushed you up against the wall suddenly, hand around your waist as he hissed in your ear to stay quiet. You were holding your breath, scared to move. For you hadn’t seen the ghost ravaging a mere few feet from where you were headed. Right before Jungkook snatched you from harm’s way and hid you in a corridor, with his body as your shield. You had wondered if he could hear your heartbeat. It was deafening to you.
You still remembered the way he’d shot the ghost with rock salt, deterring it from coming any closer and sending it screeching off to another end of the large building. The look he’d given you when he asked if you were alright. The lingering gaze, the way he’d traced your features as he held onto you a moment too long. A hint of a smirk on his face as if he knew what he was doing.
“In the dream, he-he touched me, Father. His mouth found mine in lustful passion, his fingers traced maps on my skin, exploring every inch. His lips set fire to every inch he grazed, trailing down my bosom. I’d never known such pleasure, as I imagined he would give me. H-his hands, Father, they…” Your face heated, “he pushed them into my sacred chastity. He defiled me in my dream, Father. And it felt so good. I longed for it. Night after night, I rolled around my empty bed sheets. Praying for the same dream to come to me again. Just for a taste of sin. I-I wanted it. Would have done anything for it.”
You would have cried with shame. You would have fallen down to your knees and wept for your treachery, praying that the angels on your shoulder turned away at the lustful deeds you partook in. The way you’d lie back on your bed, nightgown covering your entire body. Your hand would sneak under the cotton material, eyes screwed shut as you found the source of your suffering. Explored your body for the first time with your hand, shaking as you nudged the little bundle of nerves that caused you so much heartache. Keeping his face in your mind, imagining his weight falling on your body. Feeling him pressed against your skin, with his fingers tucked in between your legs. You drew harsher circles against your clit, sweat beading on the surface of your skin as your body was set alight with desire. Tiny moans falling from your lips, whimpers as you felt the ghost of his lips over yours. Those beautiful pink lips. Curved into that cocky smile. You felt your hand dip into a wetness, fingers soon becoming soaked with the arousal dripping from your core. You pushed your body further into the mattress, experimenting with the boundaries of your hole. Oh. Your finger slid right into your cunt, so easily in your ardor. You’d heard his voice drifting in your ear. Thinking of the way his hot breath would feel, a nip to your earlobe as he’d whisper. Go on, pretty angel. Cum for me. Your body writhed in your sheets, twisting and turning as you reached your climax. Your hand flew to your mouth, muffling your longing moans as you imagined his face at the height of your orgasm. His twinkling eyes as he winked at you deviously. And then it was gone, and you were left alone in your room once more. A cold breeze chilling your skin fraught with sweat, the puddle of arousal mocking you as evidence of what you had just done. Your breathing filled the room, heavy pants and tears in your eyes. The cross hanging on the wall that usually brought you such comfort glared harshly at you. Lord, what had you done? What would you repeat doing for the next couple nights?
“At first, it was only glimpses in my sleep. When I’d first met him. He appeared as a distant face, someone I barely recognized. Now, he claims my mind, my body, my soul. I fear he is the devil. For I have been corrupted with longing by his mere presence. I seek your guidance, Father. I beg the lord will find it in his heart to forgive me. Please, I-I,” your voice broke, “I have nothing else to hold dear but my devotion to my religion. I need your penance, Father. So I can leave the devil behind and move on with my chaste life.” But your words are only met with silence. You must have stunned the priest into quietude. Either that, or he had a heart attack upon hearing your recital.
“Father...I seek your guidance.” You felt your chest tighten with emotion. “Father?”
Jungkook was stunned. Shook beyond words as he stood there, frozen, while you bore your heart to who you thought was the priest on the other side of the thin wall. He felt guilty, sweat beading at his forehead, at the idea of listening to your innermost thoughts. When you’d first entered the confessional in a hurry, he heard the loud scrape of the door as you locked yourself in. Huffing breaths as hushed words fell rapidly from your lips. He was only checking the radioactive activity in the small room, by orders from his boss. Apparently, the ghost had been hanging around and eavesdropping on confessions. But by the time you’d started to pour your heart out, it was too late for him to make an escape. He’d already heard you admit to a sin of impure thoughts, there’s no way he could reveal himself then. You’d be disgraced, ashamed. He couldn’t do that to you. No, the only thing to do was to let you rant. To preserve your pride and keep your head held high. What’s the worst thing that could come out of your mouth?
Turns out, sexual fantasies about him. That’s what.
At first, he felt guilty. Then, you spoke his name. You started to detail all the things you wanted him to do to you. All the places you wanted him to touch, where you wanted his hands… Jungkook liked to think he was a good man. Maybe not the most religious, but certainly not the worst. But would a good man be sweating in a confessional, head tilted back and eyes closed in agony as his cock ached in his jeans? Would a good man start palming themselves through their pants, imagining you under him in the way you so sweetly and shakily described? Would a good man look at you the way he did every time he walked into the convent, sneakily stealing glances and looks, always coming up with reasons to talk to you. Just to hear your dainty voice, your pretty laugh. Would a good man imagine ripping off that damn chaste outfit off your body, just to have you writhing in pleasure beneath him? Just for a taste of your sweet juices?
God, how he felt dirty. Dirty and stained with impiety. His thoughts were clouding his judgement, like stains on his hands. It was some kind of sin to be thinking about you, let alone to get off to you. He was sure about that. But in a church no less?? Yeah. Jungkook probably had just earned himself a one-way ticket to hell. But he couldn’t care less. Not when your voice spoke out loud the tension he knew there was between you. Not when you confirmed you wanted this just as much as he did. That eased his guilt a bit. Just enough to goad you to continue. “Tell me.”
Your small voice drifted through the wall, dripping in shame, with a hint of longing and lust coating the edges. Jungkook had to constantly remind himself to keep quiet, biting back groans as your story continued. He almost didn’t hear you finish, too busy in a haze of desire and daydream to realize you were asking for penance. From the priest you thought he was.
Fuck. What was it that priests say? “Say three hail Marys and repent, for our lord and saviour is… merciful (?).” Yeah. That sounded about right. Breathing out a sigh of relief at the end of this tortuous confession. Fuck, maybe now he could go home and shower. He desperately needed to cleanse himself of whatever just took place here.
But the other side of the wall was too quiet. He hadn’t heard the shut of the door, signaling your exit from your side of the confessional. When he listened, he was surprised to hear your breathing through the wall. “... Was there something else, my child?”
A small gasp escaped you. You must have slapped your palm over your mouth because your voice suddenly became muffled. But he heard you, alright. Loud and clear. “I-It’s you. Holy—” You stopped yourself before you could do more damage to your rotten soul. His heart dropped to his ass. Gathering your bearings, Jungkook heard a loud thud as your door was slammed open, rushed footsteps carrying you out and away from him. Fuck.
“Wait!” he pushed the door open, looking around for you wildly. Swinging his head in the direction he thought he’d heard you go in. But you were nowhere to be found. Shit. Of course, you knew the covenant like the back of your hand. If you wanted a quick escape route, strangers to the building didn’t stand a chance.
Lucky for him, though, Jungkook was no stranger.
He spotted the doorway he thought you'd disappeared through, hustling and hot on your trail. Barging through the wooden door, a loud clang announcing his arrival in the corridor, he was just in time to catch your long dress disappearing behind a wall.
He chased after you, "Yn! Please wait!" But as he rounded the corner, all he got was a slammed door in his face. "Yn, please." He lifted his hand to a tentative knock, barely aware of your heavy breathing on the other side of the door. “Please, darling, open the door.”
“Go away.” He heard that loud and clear. Your sweet voice, trying to sound determined and stern, but dripping in anguish and shame. God, how he wished to be able to take that pain away. He knew it was his fault. He should’ve never been listening to your innermost thoughts. He should’ve announced his presence and stopped you from spilling your guts the moment you’d stepped into that confessional. And he’d tell you as much. Except, there was a small part of him, once he’d heard your tattered voice, that urged him to stay and listen. There was always a devil on his shoulder, egging him on in his charade and convincing him you couldn’t possibly say anything so damning. You were married to the lord, after all. Even though all he wanted to hear from you was those words you’d spoken so worriedly.
“I’m sorry. I never should have pretended I was the priest.” He called out to you, unsure if you could even hear him. “I know how private confession is supposed to be. And I was gonna get out of there, I swear! But then… I heard you mention my name and… well…” He took a deep breath, missing yours hitching on the other side of the door. “I know I shouldn’t have even heard those words, let alone like them. But, yn, you don’t understand how long I’ve been dreaming about those same things.” His confession was met with silence. He sighed, bowing his head.
“W-why?” Your tiny voice broke through the wood. His head shot up, leaning closer to the door, one hand holding his weight against the wall.
“I-I… well… I don’t really know how to explain why.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “I mean, without offending you, of course.”
“I won’t be offended.”
Jungkook’s head shot up in surprise at your voice. “Right, well. I heard your innermost thoughts. Seems only fair you hear my confession, too.” His heart beat louder in his chest. For a moment, he thought a ghost might have possessed him. But his radioactive scanner wasn’t going haywire. Must’ve just been a poor bastard’s nerves, causing his large palms to create enough sweat to rehydrate an entire desert. He wiped his hands on his jeans and cleared his throat. “Forgive me, yn, for I have sinned. I’ve thought about you in an inappropriate way more times than I can count. From the moment I saw you, actually. I remember the first time we laughed together, it was when Sister Lena tripped over the pew. Remember?”
He didn’t hear the tiny giggle you let out at the memory.
“I remember thinking it was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. I don’t understand it, really. It’s like you have some kind of hold on me and I can’t shake it, no matter how hard I’ve tried. It’s ironic when you think about it. I hunt and rid people of ghost possession for a living, yet I can’t rid myself of you. I remind myself of your duties and promises, of your devotion to your religion. I try to equate you with God, and the saviour. That only backfires. Now, in my mind, my devotion is only to you. I picture your face when I think of religion, and I fear hell now, for it will not have you in it.”
“I-I picture your body when I think of heaven.” He let out a shaky breath. This is it. “I can’t stop imagining you under me, all the things I could do to you. All the ways you would scream my name. The way you would writhe as I bring you to your peak with only my mouth, or my fingers. The way you’d look when you came all over my cock after I fuck your pretty pussy open. I can only see your face when I touch myself, a halo over your head, reminding me of the angel you are, and the sinner I am.” He bowed his head in defeat. You were never gonna look at him again after this. What was he thinking, suggesting telling you his filthy thoughts? You didn’t want to hear that shit. “I’m sorry, yn, but it’s true.”
He leaned back, letting the door creak at the loss of his weight against it. Staring at the blank, empty, silent wood. Is this what confession was like? He wouldn’t know, he’d never been. But people always spoke of such a freeing feeling when they’d leave. All he felt was a heavier weight on his shoulders, one he’d have to learn to carry every time he stepped foot back in the convent.
He turned away from your rejection, ready to leave you and any thoughts of you behind. Whatever it took. He didn’t expect the door to swing wide open, or your small voice breathing out, “But… aren’t we all sinners?”
He turned back to see you peeking out of your room. You'd removed your wimple. Were you allowed to do that? Didn't matter, since you looked ethereal. You stood up straight, clearly catching his stubborn gaze on you. "Jeon Jungkook, I absolve you of your sins." Your small voice spoke hushed, rapid. "Your penance is to enter my room… and repent. Until your sins are forgiven."
He finally met your eyes, ears red from your words as he snapped out of his sheepish state. There. Your eyes held truth, no trace of any false statements. Your true intentions were evident. Willing, almost begging, to be at his mercy. The way you were looking at him, with want in your eyes. He didn’t care how sacrilegious it was, defiling a servant of god. He didn’t care if he would burn in hell for his blasphemy. He followed that gaze, taking large strides over to you to gently cup your face in his hands. His breathing was heavy in anticipation as was yours. Would you really let him do this?
“Please,” you whispered, leaning into his touch. He felt your soft hands touch his biceps, slowly pulling him to follow in step as you backed into your room. “I want this, Jungkook. You must believe me.” Your eyes searched his shyly at your confession, waiting with bated breath.
“Oh, I believe you, yn.” He pulled you close, pressing his forehead against yours. His lips were so close you could almost taste them. His warm breath on your skin. “ Forgive me, Lord. For I am about to sin—” He caught your lips in a passionate kiss, breathing in deep to fill his lungs with your air. Pushing you until your back hit the stony wall, digging into your skin as he trapped you with his passion. You grabbed at him with desperate hands, wrapping around the back of his thin shirt. Whatever material was fisted easily in your hands, stretching easily with the way you were clawing it down his shoulders. He gave you a moment to breathe, drawing back to meet your lust-blown eyes. His were darker, heavy breaths fanning your face as he ran his eyes down your face. But there was something softer in them; something that showed the gentleness of this giant man, below the surface of his rough exterior.
He dragged you down into the depths of hell with him, his soft touch leading you down the path of thorns you were bound on. You couldn’t care less as your back hit the mattress; all your senses could feel at that moment was him. Your mind clouded with the taste of his lips, the touch of his hands roaming your body, the way he stole your breath away as he pulled away, assertively making you his with a smack of his lips against yours. “Mm,” his hands trailed down to push your dress up, the holy fabric once protecting you completely useless at his touch. He found his way in between your legs, exploring the wetness of your heat through your thick panties. “Soaked. Just like you confessed, angel. Good girl.” He nuzzled your neck with his words, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses wherever he went.
His angel. That’s what he’d called you. An angel. A creature made of pure light created to only do good in this world at the command of god. What you should strive to be. A creature capable of doing no wrong; strong soldiers of god doing holy work, their purity and goodness above any levels a puny human could ever reach. How could he compare you to them, when he had you lying here underneath him, legs open and begging for him to touch you in your sacred place? How could he compare you to a saint when all you wanted was to fall into the debts of debauchery with him; when all you wanted was him to show you how to sin, how to please him, how to go so far past the line that those holy saints would never find you?
Lost in your thoughts, your gaze wandered subconsciously to the wall mirroring the door. And there it was. Burning a hole into you, about to burst into flame. Your holy cross. Hanging tediously on the wall as if it was hanging by a thread, swinging in warning before you went too far, and truly lost yourself. It stared at you menacingly, judgingly. Reminding you of who you were, your promises, your vows. To serve your god, and only him. To stay true to your values. To serve as a pillar of a sacred society. It was a witness to your acts, waiting to serve testimony at the end of time on judgement day, so you may be punished for your sins.
Your blood suddenly ran cold with fear as the small symbol took over your body, the power it held over you cumbersome, but towering. What were you doing? How could you lose your senses so easily, a lapse in judgement at the wink of an eye from the man above you? Your body was frozen in shock, unable to process the guilt and horror you felt. But also unable to push him away, to deny what you truly wanted; what your body craved. You couldn’t, not when he was making you feel so good. When he was giving you everything you’ve been missing for all the years of your life, having dedicated yourself to god the moment you turned of age. You’d never felt sensations like this before. And god, did he know what he was doing. He turned you dizzy with just his mouth, you couldn’t imagine how anything else would feel…
But you couldn’t.
Jungkook must have noticed your dilemma when he paused to scan your pensive face. Pulling back from his quest in trying to mark up all the supple skin he could find, his big eyes flashed with worry. “What’s wrong? Do you wanna stop?”
“No,” you were quick to answer, but you felt a pang of guilt in your chest. Your eyes drifted over to the cross hanging on your wall. Watching you. Judging you.
Jungkook followed your gaze, finding the source of your worries. He looked back at you, then at the cross again. It took him a minute, bless his heart, but he realized your strife. “What are you worried about? That little thing?” You nodded hesitantly, avoiding his eyes and trying to look anywhere else for fear of judgement. You landed on his chest instead. He tracked your gaze, tilting your head up to meet a playful smirk on teasing his lips. “It’s not going to hurt you, you know.”
“I know, but…” your hands fiddled with the strings of your dress, anxiety causing a slight tremble in your body.
Jungkook understood your feelings without your explanations. He wordlessly got up from your bed, leaving you with a sense of emptiness without his weight over your body. You watched his every move with horrified guilt; he was going to leave. You’d led him on, only to disappoint him. It was your fault, playing Jezebel. But he didn’t want to have anything to do with your unsteady emotions. Why would he?
He moved across the room to face the cross that was causing you so much agony and internal affliction. He watched it for a minute before reaching and dislodging it from its protected position. It looked so small in his large hands, almost benign. He turned it over, inspecting it. Before walking back over to you. “See, darling?” He turned it around to you, displaying it in his hand. “It’s totally harmless.”
He was so cute. Smiling hopefully with a hand held out to you, desperate to prove your fears were nothing to be afraid of. Not for himself, but for you. He hated seeing the anxiety that wrought you, and the power that a tiny metaphor had over you. He never agreed with the whole god and church thing, but to see you so distraught… he couldn’t stand it.
You tried at a smile. For him. But he could tell you were still worried. Sure, he took the boogeyman off its pedestal. But how to show you its insignificance?
Jungkook’s eyes trailed down, and spotted where his hands had explored earlier. Your soaked panties clung to your cunt, the thick fabric drenched with arousal. Before he could think anymore about what he was about to do, he dove under your dress, pulling down your panties in one fell swoop.
You let out a loud gasp at the sudden breeze in between your legs, but it was quickly replaced with a moan with Jungkook’s tentative lick at your folds. Your legs turned to jelly. You’d never felt anything like this before. This, you thought, must be what heaven feels like. The way he kissed so softly, ran his tongue through your folds like he was enjoying a five-course meal. He was being so gentle and sweet, hooking your legs over his arms in between his face. He looked up at you from under your skirt, only to send a wink. You whimpered instinctively, choking back your loud moans with every lick.
When he latched onto your clit, you about lost it. The sensitive bundle of nerves shivering with the sensations he was presenting it with, tingles moving through your body like an electric shock in the best way possible. His tongue is swirling around your clit like a whirlpool, licking up your juices and covering your mound in his saliva. You cry out once he adds suction, clutching your sheets in a death grip as his cheeks hollow. He looks up at you with big eyes. He looks so innocent in the moment, and not at all like he’s currently bringing your entire world crashing down into pleasure with just a flick of his tongue.
He let go with a pop, allowing you a moment to breath. “You like that, baby? Did I make you feel good?” He asked with a smirk, wiping your juices with the back of his hand. You let out a tiny sigh at the sight, eyes half-lidded as you watched the grinning man who had you under his full control. You gave him a lazy nod, heat rushing to your cheeks at the admission. Only to make his grin grow wider.
Jungkook thought you looked a lot more relaxed now. Body slightly quivering, but more open and loosened up. But, eating you out wasn’t the end of his plan. It was only the beginning.
He took advantage of your momentary haze to inspect the discarded cross. Once it passed his judgement, he held it up to you. “Does this still scare you, baby?”
Your reaction was instant, though more less defined now. He could see how conditioned you were about this cross, how much it held you back. There was only one way to fix that.
“It’s nothing more than wood, love.” He cooed, rubbing your thighs soothingly. A distraction as he inched the ornament closer and closer to your heat. “It doesn’t have any power over you. If anything, you have power over it.”
You nodded at his words, willing to eat them up. He must be right, the way his eyes were shining so pretty right now. There was no way a man who looked like an angel could be wrong. If he said you shouldn’t be scared, maybe he had a point. Maybe god would forgive you. Maybe Jesus died for your sins, as your cross served a constant reminder of. But, he could forgive you for this. Maybe, this wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Maybe…
Your eyes widened as you let out a gasp at the small object being pushed into your wet heat. Jungkook shushed you calmingly, rubbing your clit to get you to open up. You looked down to see the sacred cross, being pushed deeper and deeper into your cunt. You felt a small amount of pain at the penetration, your fingers the only ones your tight pussy had ever known. But Jungkook was going slow, making sure you were adjusting well. “See darling? It’s under my control now.”
Oh lord, forgive me. You thought fleetingly as your eyes screwed shut. He started to move the small symbol in and out, slow at first. Establishing a tempo. You didn’t have time to think of the implications. What this would mean for your wretched soul. How he was simultaneously defiling your body and a symbol of god. Jeon Jungkook had guts, you had to give him that. Coincidentally, being a ghost-buster awarded him that trait. While you were twisting and turning, body writing on your bed as your soul fought with itself, fear ebbing away and pure pleasure taking over.
He held onto the cross, fingers twisting around the top, like he was holding a sword. Sheathing it within your pussy repeatedly. “Look at you now. Not so scary, is it?” He landed a small kiss on your inner thigh. “You have nothing to fear when you’re with me.” His other hand came up to drag up your folds, long, veiny hands tickling your most sensitive parts. He was being undeniably gentle, but you wanted more. You could take it, you thought. You’d burn in hell anyways, what’s the point of being coy?
“More, Jungkook.” You whined, bucking your hips up. “Please?”
A small chuckle escaped him. “Making demands now, angel?” He came up to hover over you, cross buried in your cunt. You saw a glint of mischief flash in his eyes before he swooped down for a sloppy kiss. “Talk to me. Tell me what you want me to do to you, just like you did in that confessional.”
“Mm, I—” You hesitated with his eyes on you, suddenly shy again. Jungkook took to kissing down your body, slowly lowering himself back down while murmuring gentle encouragements. “Faster, please.” You rushed out, before you could stop yourself. “I want you to fuck me with that godforsakken thing harder.”
A smile the devil would be jealous of flashed on his face. His eyes turned dark at your hasty request, a click of his tongue your only warning before he abided. Pulling the cross out slowly, and then shoving it back in with a rough hand. You let out a cry, but he could see your pussy clenching tightly around the object. He did it again, more ruthlessly this time. Faster, harder. Until he was sure he was bruising your walls. But you didn’t stop him. Your legs quivered, and he saw a shimmer of tears in your eyes, but you just kept beginning for more. “This is what you wanted? When you were confessing in there, I was imagining all the things I could do to you. How you seemed so pure and chaste, but you hid such dirty desires beneath that holy outfit. But this? I didn’t know just how obscene you were. Getting off to being fucked with a cross. Wanting me to go harder, be rougher with you. Fucl, how would you take my dick?” He moaned at his own words, imagining how much more filthy your cravings could get.
“Please,” you choked out, feeling a tightness in your stomach. You recognized it as your orgasm fast approaching. “Please, Jungkook. I want your cock so bad. You don’t know how often I’ve thought of it, stretching me. How big it would be. How hard it would feel, pressing against my walls. Please. Give it to me, and I’ll be good, I promise.”
Jungkook cursed at your words, speeding up his pace with the cross, his other hands rubbing harshly at your clit. He could feel you were on the edge of orgasm, and he wanted to see you cum all over the small ornament so badly. With just a few more rough strokes, you were writhing on the bed as arousal gushed forth from your hole, coating his hands and the cross in your cum. He pulled it out of your cunt with a groan at the sight, the way your legs flew shut automatically as you tried to recuperate. But he was in a rush. You were soft and prepped enough to take his cock. And besides, he was about a second away from busting his own load, and, if that wouldn’t have been embarrassing enough, he wouldn’t’ve even gotten the chance to be inside you and give you what you wanted.
He pushed your legs open again gently after he pulled his pants off in a haste. You were just coming out of your post-orgasmic bliss, catching a sight of his long cock stood stiffly in between his legs. Your eyes widened. He was huge. How were you ever going to take him when all your cunt knew was your small, skinny fingers? You were going to be wrecked, ruined. Evidence of your night with him would plague you in the way you would walk the next morning, you knew it. Your sins would be written all over your face, your body telling the tale.
But that made you want it even more.
“You ready?” In all the frantic haste, Jungkook stopped for a moment to examine your face, making absolutely certain that you wanted this. Your resolute nodded solidified your desire, and eased his worries. With a soft kiss pressed to your lips, he held you close as he tapped his cock against your entrance. Almost as though it was a door, and he was asking for permission to go in. He rubbed the tip against your folds, brushing over your clit, and earning a large whine from you. You pushed your hips up against him bravely, begging for more. He was met with your pout when he looked at you, in return, a smile spreading across his lips. With a wink, he gripped his thick cock in hand, and pushed inside you slowly.
The stretch was like something you’ve never experienced before, your body frozen at the penetrative sensation. The cross was nothing compared to this, you thought, as he eased his way inside. You could feel him going deeper, thinking it would never end. Inching in, little by little. Just when you thought he was all the way in, he’d move again. God, he was endless. You held your breath as navigated his way through, pressing gentle kisses onto your skin with small murmurs of “almost there,” “you’re doing great.”
Finally, he was buried inside. You let out the breath you were holding, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Jungkook looked down worriedly, “Are you okay? Can I move?”
Your virginity was lost, the metaphorical seal broken. The deed was truly done. And yet, you felt no guilt. No gut-wrenching heartache, no culpability. Not a damn thing for throwing away your religious vows. All you felt was relief. And happiness that it was the man above you who took you on this journey. His eyebrow piercing glinted playfully at you as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You pulled him down for a kiss as your answer.
He breathed against your lips, taking your green light to pull back out and go in again while you were distracted with the kiss. You wrapped your arms around him tighter, wanting to feel his chest pressed against yours. You could feel his muscles with every move of his hips, surrounding you like a protection. He chased your lips like candy, never letting you escape. Soft lips hungrily biting at yours. Now that he knew you liked it rough, he’d take full advantage of that.
“Oh lord,” you moaned as he swiveled his hips, moving faster into your virgin cunt. You felt his heavy balls slapping against you, his groans in your ear like a melody as a distraction from how he was shaping your insides to fit his girth. He pulled one of your shaky legs to wrap around his waist, using the new angle to piston his hips ruthlessly into you. It was your first time, he knew that. But he couldn’t help himself. All those things he’d heard you say during your confession came rushing back to him. He looked down at you, making sure you were actually there, and not in his imagination this time. Your eyes shut, mouth fallen open in pleasure, skin exposed for his marking. This is better than anything he’d thought of. And he felt privileged, being the only one you let under your skirt. You didn’t know it, always so trusting and sweet, but Jungkook heard the whispers about you. Watched the way eyes followed you in any room you entered. Heard the way men would talk about your ass, your pretty face, how you’d look with their cum splattered on your cheek. It was obscene and disgusting. If only Jungkook hadn’t partook in those thoughts himself.
“Please, please, I—” you were unable to finish your thoughts with your second orgasm of the night approaching. You both were never gonna last long, Jungkook knew that. You had wanted this for so long, and had rushed so frantically into each other that you were bound to feel release creeping up on you like restitution for your suffering desires. He could feel his own coming up, knew that once he got a taste of your body, he wouldn’t be too far behind. Neither of you could care less. Wrapped up in one another, all you wanted was satisfaction, that sweet moment you’ve both been craving for so long.
“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he commanded, seasoned hands abusing your pussy into submission. You had no choice but to listen as he stimulated your clit, his engorged cock hitting your bundle of nerves from the inside. You came with a loud cry, one he muffled with his mouth. Jungkook couldn’t take it, the way you looked, the way you held onto him so tightly. The way you clenched impossibly tightly around his cock. It only took a few wreckless strokes, hitting hard and deep into your cunt, for him to spill his seed inside you.
“God forgive us,” you panted as you lay there post-orgasm, entangled in one another with only sin for company.
Copyright © 2021, taesinferno | tumblr | no reposts, translations, copies, etc.
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The Great Tree Headcanon:
Guys. GUYS. You know this tree?
Yes, that tree.
I've watched the movie at least seven times now, and I have always wondered why the tree grew to be so heckin’ huge, and I think I may have finally figured it out.
This image should be telling enough:
The roots are wrapped around the crystal, either protecting it or, what I think, using some of its energy.
As a natural phenomenon, trees will wrap their roots around nitrogen rich sources, like decaying matter or deposits in the soil. This suggests that Aetherium could potentially give off nitrogen. (which also plays into another theory I will post later).
But even if the tree has a rich nitrogen source, it still shouldn’t be that massive, even after 700+ years of growth, so I think there’s another aspect to this: the Laputians may have genetically altered it.
Now this wouldn’t be too much of a stretch, since the Laputians were known for their scientific prowess and advanced technology. Maybe some of the creatures there are also genetically modified or have adapted to living in such a strange environment.
Between the crystal and the number of years the tree has been alive, which either ranges from the city's inception or the First Fall of Laputa, there’s no way that the trunk could possibly be that thick without some success in the field of genetics.
Even the tallest of trees that exist in our world can compare to the one holding Laputa together.
Hyperion, a coastal redwood classified as the tallest tree in the world (380 feet, or 115 meters), is completely dwarfed by this one, both in height and circumference.
Here is Hyperion for reference:
If you take a closer look when Pazu and Sheeta are looking around the garden, you can see the robots that have been absorbed by its trunk, as if the people who left Laputa hadn't expected it to grow large enough to swallow the stone memorial and its guardians.
Just look at it!
That’s not even a quarter of the trunk...
There are many possible reasons why the central tree is as large as it is, but the one I agree with the most is that the energy contained within the main aetherium crystal is feeding the tree.
Anyway, in honor of Castle in the Sky's 35 anniversary, I thought I'd share my nature headcanons about the movie!
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Pairing: SBI family x reader (platonic, one shot), BASED OFF FROM CHARACTERS NOT ACTUAL PEOPLE
Warnings: child abuse/neglect, bullying, alcoholism, death of a parent, mentions of panic attacks, injury, mentions of a dog’s death, mentions of eating disorders, mentions of suicide attempts, depression
Word count: 7,730
(A/N): if you’re not feeling safe at home or are being abused, please contact the proper authorities. Here’s the abuse hotline: 1-800-799-7233, my DMs are always open if you want to talk
You met Tommy and Tubbo when you were in third grade. You were a relatively quiet kid, the type to always keep to themselves and abstain from social activity. Mrs. Jansen, being the nice woman that she was, let the entire class choose their own seats.
“Welcome to your first day of third grade, class! I’m Mrs. Jansen and I look forward to getting to know all of you. As you can see, there are enough desks for all of you. You may sit with who you want.”
You shifted around uneasily and gripped your book in your hands as your classmates hurried to get the back seats. After every seat was taken, you walked to the only seat left in the front. You were between a girl and a boy. They introduced themselves as Dorothy and Samuel, and were relatively kind to you.
As the class passed their second week, two boys that sat in the back row made themselves apparent very quickly. They were both rambunctious, always disrupting the class with their giggles and whispers. Mrs. Jansen had warned them multiple times that she was going to separate them, but it seemed that they didn’t think she’d do it. One day, she finally had enough.
“Tommy, Tubbo. I’ve given you plenty of warnings, I’m going to have to separate you. Dorothy, Samuel, can you please switch places with them?”
You could feel dread wash over you. Why was she putting you between them?! What did you do wrong to deserve this? You could swear that you’ve done all your chores, you even made your mom smile at you! She never did that.
They pouted as they sat next to you, Tommy on your right and Tubbo on your left. You already missed Samuel and Dorothy. “Thank you. (Y/n), make sure they behave.”
You shrunk down into your seat as you felt Tommy’s glare burning holes into the side of your head. Tubbo, on the other hand, was watching the lesson with bored eyes and his chin propped up in his hand. You tried to take notes, but you kept getting distracted by Tommy’s heated glare. You were going to fall behind, you couldn’t have that. Mama wouldn’t like that.
After the final bell rang, you hurried out of the classroom to avoid Tommy’s wrath. You could hear him shouting for you to stop, but you never stopped until your hand was grabbed and yanked backwards in the empty playground. You fell back onto the pavement of the basketball court and whimpered at the sting in your palms.
Tommy glared down at you, “you gonna cry? Serves you right. Never tell on Tubbo and I. Got it?”
You tearfully nodded and he grinned maliciously at you, “good. Tubbo, let’s go. Wil and Tech’s probably waiting for us.”
The brunet was staring at Tommy with a shocked expression, unmoving. Tommy rolled his eyes and huffed before he grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the crowd of families. Tubbo looked back at you with an apologetic expression and watched as you looked at your scratched up palms.
You wiped at your tears as you stood up and started to walk home. Your neighbor’s dog behind the wired fence barked at you as you hurried past it. You never liked that dog; it was a drooling, angry, ugly furball. It scared you, but not as much as Mama did when she drank her adult juice. She was scary when she drank it. You tried hiding it from her once but she grounded you from eating dinner and snacks for half a month. You didn’t try to hide it again.
You trudged up the creaky wooden stairs of your porch and tried to open the door only to find it locked. You tried to knock on the door but Mama didn’t answer so you just sat on the front porch waiting for her to open the door. She did so when the sun was setting, surprise and then anger shining through her hazy eyes. She yelled at you before she sent you to your room for the night without dinner.
The next day when you were sitting alone at a lunch table, someone plopped down in the seat next to you. You jumped and scooted away from them, looking up only to see Tubbo. He was smiling at you.
“Hey, I’m really sorry about Tommy, he gets mad easily.”
You eyed him warily and clutched your open book, “...it’s okay.”
He grinned and scooted closer to you, peering over your shoulder at the book. “What’re you reading?”
“Oh I love that book! My favorite character’s Ron, who’s yours?”
Surprisingly, the conversation was pleasant before he was dragged away by a glaring Tommy. You might actually make a friend after all. Later that day after school, Tommy once again stopped you in the school yard. This time, he shoved you to the ground and started to shout at you.
“You do not talk to him, freak! You’re gonna mess him up, he talks to me and me only. Do you unde-undastunend?”
You gulped and shakily spoke up, “yes, and it’s ‘understand’, not ‘undastunend’.”
His glare intensified before he reared back a fist. You yelped as you curled into a ball with your hands protecting your head. Before he could hit you, you heard the stomping of shoes against the concrete.
You could feel a hand on your back and a gentle voice asking if you were alright. You hesitated before you looked up to see an older boy with a mop of curly brown hair on his head and wire glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He reminded you of Harry Potter. Looking past him, you saw a tall pink haired boy glaring and lecturing Tommy, holding the struggling boy in place with a firm grip on his elbow. Tubbo was just behind him looking down and shifting on the balls of his feet.
“I am so sorry about Tommy, are you alright? He didn’t hit you did he?”
You shook your head and the boy heaved a sigh of relief, “that’s good. I’m Wilbur and that’s Technoblade, we’re Tommy and Tubbo’s brothers. What’s your name?”
He smiled at you, “that’s a lovely name.”
“Wilbur, let’s go. This one,” Technoblade shook Tommy’s arm, “needs to talk to Dad.”
You watched as Tommy’s movements stopped and he looked up with wide eyes. “No, please don’t tell Dad. Please-”
Wilbur stood and helped you up before grabbing Tubbo’s hand and lead him away, “you aren’t weaseling your way out of this.”
You watched the brothers leave, feeling guilt wash over you. You didn’t want to get him in trouble, punishments were the absolute worst. Even though he shoved you and almost punched you, he didn’t deserve any punishment. With guilt weighing down on your shoulders, you walked home. At least Mama was in a good mood, she made you some mac n cheese for dinner.
The next day, Tommy trudged up to your desk and put a tupperware dish on your desk before sitting down in his seat and ignored you. Tubbo sat in his seat next to you and smiled at you.
“Open it,” he jumped in his seat slightly as he watched your expression change to shock. In the container laid five chocolate chip cookies. You had only had cookies once in your life and that was during a class birthday celebration a year ago. “They’re our Dad’s secret recipe, I helped make them! Um, Tommy wanted to apologize to you.”
You glanced at Tommy. He was glancing at you over his shoulder and blushed a bright red when he saw you looking at him. Tubbo cleared his throat and gestured at Tommy. The blond crossed his arms and looked off to the side. “Sorry,” he mumbled halfheartedly.
After that, they started to sit next to you during lunch. Tommy was a bit cold towards you, but you found yourself beginning to relax around Tubbo’s friendly aura. Soon enough, you started to supply him with more than a few words per sentence. Tommy eventually got bored of eating in silence and would join your conversation. You three became thick as thieves that year, you even met their Dad. He was very different from Mama; he never yelled at you, he was always giving you snacks, and he even smiled at you often.
That house became like a second home to you. Eventually, you ended up spending more time at the Minecraft residence than you spent at home with your mom. Over the years, she got worse with her drinking. She was always passed out on the couch and when she wasn’t, she was swaying on her feet in the kitchen staring at a portrait with dazed, wistful eyes. You can remember when you first realized that she had a problem and always being unhappy and drunk was, in fact, not normal for a parent.
It was a warm spring day in seventh grade. Luckily, you had your health class with Tommy and Tubbo. You were currently learning about alcohol dependency and the effects it had on the body. The teacher listed all the symptoms your mom had; the uncontrollable urge to drink, the aggression, the shakiness and dizziness, everything. When you came to the realization that your mother might have a problem, the teacher started to explain the disorders and diseases that could come from heavy drinking, most of them having the potential to be fatal if the drinking persisted. You felt like you were drenched in icy water as your body seized up in fear for your mother. You stared unseeingly at your notebook at the symptoms of alcoholism and associated disorders. You didn’t want your mom to die. You had to do something before it was too late for her.
“(Y/n)?” You jumped and looked at the person who called your name. Tommy and Tubbo were giving you worried stares. “Are you okay?”
You shakily started to put your supplies away into your backpack. The class had been dismissed and you didn’t even realize it. “Y-yeah. It’s just- I’m worried.”
“Yeah, I’m worried too,” Tommy laughed as you followed the two out of the classroom and to the courtyard. “That essay’s gonna be awful.”
“Oh god we have an essay?”
“Yeah, Mr. Smithers assigned it to us before the bell rang, are you sure you’re okay? You’re usually on top of this stuff.” Tubbo threw a worried glance towards you.
“Yeah, just a bit distracted today. I uh, have to go home. Like right now, my mom wants me home right after school today.”
You sprinted off towards your house. When you reached your neighborhood and ran past the wired fence. The bulldog that lived there was now old and gray. You found out that his name was Buster and he was actually a total sweetheart if you slept next to him on the other side of the fence on more than one occasion. Buster watched from inside his doghouse as you sprinted into the house. Luckily for you, the door was unlocked and your mother was passed out on the couch surrounded by glass bottles. You locked the door behind you as you rushed over to her intensely watching for any sign of movement. She looked dead, her skin was pale, her hair matted, and her mouth gaping open showing off her yellow stained teeth. She wasn’t moving, were you too late?
Just as you started to panic, she snorted and started to breathe. You slumped in relief as you stepped over the beer bottles into the kitchen. The table was sparkly clean with a pristine picture frame resting in the middle, a stark contrast of the beer bottles that littered the floor and the piles of dirty dishes in the sink. It was of a man standing stiffly in a military uniform saluting at the camera with a stern expression. He was an exact copy of you. Well, you were an exact copy of him; that man was your late father.
“Hey Dad, how was your day? Mine was awful, I learned about alcoholism and cirrhosis today and- and I’m worried about Mom. She’s been drinking a lot lately.”
You stared at your dad’s face behind the glass as if expecting a response. You wanted some reassurance from the man. You wanted him to tell you everything was going to be okay and that he’d handle it so you could be a normal kid. Like usual, his steely expression didn’t budge one bit.
You sighed to yourself sadly and trudged to the refrigerator opening the door. The beer bottles stared back at you tauntingly. Your fingers twitched on the fridge door as you contemplated the consequences of throwing away the offending glass bottles. You remembered in second grade when you hid your mother’s alcohol she punished you by withholding food from you. She’d probably do worse this time, but the consequences were worth it if you were going to save your mother’s life.
It took you ten minutes of tossing alcohol into the garbage can until the fridge was left barren of the drink. Without the green bottles, the fridge was completely empty with the exception of milk and a few probably rotten eggs. You struggled to take the trash out to the curb and started to work on homework in your room.
At seven at night, you could hear her roll off the couch and stumble into the kitchen. A series of frantic rustling and banging sounded downstairs before you could hear pounding footsteps storm up the stairs. Your door flung open to reveal your red-faced, livid mother.
“What the fuck did you do?”
“M-mom I hid them because we learned about alcoholism and cirrhosis and-” You cut yourself off when she walked over to you with her arms extended towards your trembling frame. You tried to scoot as far away from her as possible, but she grabbed your shoulders with clammy but firm hands, shaking you roughly.
“Are you saying I have a problem?! You spoiled fucking brat, you’re the problem! Everything was amazing before you came and fucked up my life. You took him away from me. YOU FUCKING KILLED MY HUSBAND.”
You could feel tears start to drip down your cheeks as you remembered that day in first grade when you begged your dad to get you some McDonalds for dinner. When he relented, you cheered and your mom laughed at your excitement. She was so full of life back then; her hair was shiny and bouncy, her skin was unmarked and flawless, her eyes were lively and bright. Her laughter was perhaps your favorite memory of her. Then everything went to shit when your dad never came home and your mom got a phone call saying that your dad was killed in a car wreck on impact. You could remember your mother’s heart wrenching sobs as she collapsed to the floor and pulled you tight against her body. As if she was trying to protect what was left of her husband.
You were snapped back to reality when your mom shoved you back onto your bed. The happy, beautiful woman that you saw was replaced by the shell of a broken woman. Her silky hair turned dull, her smile turned into a grotesque scowl, her loving eyes turned cold. She truly was a husk of her former self.
“Stop crying, you’re not the one who’s life was ruined. I want you out of my house in ten minutes. You’re gonna not step foot anywhere near here for two weeks. If I even see you on my property before those two weeks are up, you’re fucking dead.”
You frantically nodded and watched as she stumbled out of her room. You packed what you would need in your spare backpack and ran out of the house past your mother sobbing and babbling incoherently to your dad. You flinched when you could hear a bang and the sound of glass shattering when she threw a bottle at your retreating figure.
You ran until you couldn’t run anymore. Your legs brought you to the park where you spent most of your childhood. Everywhere you looked, you could see glimpses of your mom and dad pushing you on the swing, Tommy and Tubbo running from you playing tag, Mr. Minecraft putting a bandaid on your scraped knee. Tears streaked down your cheeks as you pushed yourself up and went to your safe place. It was a little nook deep in the vegetation where nobody could see you. You originally found this place when you were playing hide and seek with Tommy and Tubbo. They never knew where you hid.
Tears moistened the soil underneath you as you pulled out a blanket you had hid in a plastic grocery bag and spread it out on the floor. You curled up on it and cried freely into your hands. You didn’t sleep much that night.
That was the first time she had kicked you out for that long. You barely ate in those two weeks, wolfing down any food you could get your hands on at lunch. Lunch for you was the small scraps of food that Tommy and Tubbo shared with you. Mom never packed you lunches or gave you money to buy things anymore. To make matters worse, they had told their dad that they thought you had some form of eating disorder.
About a week into your exile, you finally visited the Minecraft residence after avoiding them for a week. You remembered how the blond man pulled you aside into the kitchen. He gently sat you down and pushed a plate full of chicken and vegetables in front of you. You looked at him confused as he gestured towards the plate.
“Eat that, I heard you haven’t been eating much lately.” When you made no move to eat, he smiled at you. “Go ahead, it’s okay if you don’t eat it all. Just eat some of it.”
That was all you needed to hear, you began to eat quickly like a starving wolf. It’s been a while since you had more than half an apple to eat, let alone an actual homemade meal. When you were done, you looked up to see the older man looking at you worriedly.
“...Are you not getting enough food at home?”
You scrambled to find a lie, “my- my mom is away a lot on business trips. We don’t really eat much.”
His worried expression grew tenfold as he moved to kneel in front of you and put his hands on your shoulders. “You need to eat three meals a day, especially now that you’re growing. You’re always welcome here when your mom’s away, our door’s always open. Is she away now?”
“Yeah, she won’t be home until next week.” You felt bad for lying to the man that put bandaids on your scraped knees and took you to the father daughter dance in fifth grade when he heard that your dad was dead. He was always so kind to you, which you never quite understood. Despite feeling bad for lying to him, you felt incredibly relieved that you didn’t have to be alone anymore.
From then on out whenever she kicked you out, you went to the Minecraft residence. They welcomed you with open arms and treated you like you were a part of the family. You and Techno bonded over your love for reading and mythology, Wilbur made sure you took care of yourself, and Philza (he told you to just call him Phil at that point) treated you like his own child. You didn’t think that it was possible for you, Tommy, and Tubbo to be any closer than you already were, but you three became inseparable. You told them everything one night when you couldn’t sleep. You told them how you felt like you were the cause of your mother’s decline and your dad’s death, how she would usually punish you, her ‘hobby’. They were about to tell Philza, but you begged them not to. After a while of pleading and assuring them that she’d never hit you, they hesitantly agreed and made you promise to call them whenever you felt unsafe in your home.
You kept to that promise, calling them whenever she would get too drunk to know what she was doing. They would calm you down from panic attacks late at night and invite you to their house in the daytime. They felt like your actual brothers and you started to refer to them as such. You three gave each other a shoulder to lean on and gave each other comfort when needed. One night when you were in your freshman year, however, your mother caught you sneaking out to see them after she sent you to your room. That was when she started to hit you.
Just as you were about to sneak out the front door, your mother started to scream at you incoherently. When you flinched away from when she got up in your face, she became even more enraged.
“WHERE WERE YOU GOING? I BET YOU’RE WHORING YOURSELF OUT, AREN’T YOU LITTLE SLUT?”
Without thinking, you yelled back at her, “I would never! Why-” You were cut off by a harsh slap to the cheek sending you to the ground. She quieted down and stared at you and her hand, a glint of shock shining through her dazed eyes. Without a word, she turned around and left to go talk to your dad. You sat there listening to her rant about how she failed as a mother, how she wanted to do better but she didn’t know how, how she wished that he was there with her. You scrambled up and ran to your room. You looked at yourself in the mirror, there was a bright red mark on your cheek in the shape of a hand. There was a small cut where her wedding ring connected with your cheek. A single drop of blood dripped down your cheek and curved down the dip of your chin before dripping onto your shirt. Without doing anything else, you plopped down onto your bed and sobbed into your pillow, crying yourself to sleep.
When you woke up in the morning, you realized that you slept through half of the school day so it was useless to go to school now. You reached up to run a hand down your face only to hiss and pull your hand away. You once again looked at yourself in the mirror.
You looked terrible. Your eyes were bloodshot and swollen like you were crying in your sleep. Hair was sticking up in all directions and matted slightly. The slap mark was gone, but the cut had bruising around the edges with dried blood crusted on your cheek and on your pillow. It was a small cut, but it bled a surprising amount overnight. You couldn’t see Tommy or Tubbo like this, they’d flip out. Luckily for you it was a Friday and you had the weekend to heal.
Your mother gradually started to hit you more and more. It started off as a once-a-week thing whenever she was really angry, but then it divulged into something that would happen daily over the smallest things. You became her punching bag for her to release some steam. Makeup became your best friend at that point; you used what little savings you saved over the years for dollar store makeup.
Soon after it became a struggle to hide the cuts and bruises from Tommy and Tubbo, so you gradually started to avoid them. Your face, once synonymous with the Minecraft residence and Tommy and Tubbo, became a rarity. They tried their hardest to contact you, but you always dodged their calls. After a few months of you dodging Tommy and Tubbo, you finally told them that you didn’t want to be friends with them anymore.
It broke your heart to say it, but it had to be done. They were getting too close to the truth and you couldn’t have that; the government would take you away from your mom and she’d end up dead. You were the only one keeping her alive at this point, she lost all motivation to eat. The only thing she did nowadays was hit you, drink, and hug your dad’s photo to her chest.
The beatings got to the point where you could barely walk without feeling pain. School became something that you’d rarely attend. Tommy and Tubbo stopped trying to talk to and call you. Buster, your previous confidant, had long since died so you were truly alone in the world. The neighbor’s yard looked barren without the dog house and the graying dog. The only person you had left was your mom.
When you had accidentally burnt dinner late at night, she completely snapped. She grabbed your arm and held it on top of the burner. Pain hit you immediately as you screamed and cried apologies to her. When you instinctively hit her with your other hand, she dug her nails into your arm and pushed your arm closer onto the burner. Nerve endings screamed at you to get away from the pain. The pain was becoming too much, so you looked on the countertop next to you for something to defend yourself with. A metal fork was lying close to your other hand.
You grabbed it and, with a distraught apology to your mother, drove the prongs deep into her arm. She screamed in pain and let your arm go. You ripped yourself out of her grasp and started to run for the front door. A force collided with the back of your shoulder making pain explode in the area. You didn’t know what happened at first, but after hearing the shattering of glass, you realized that she threw a beer bottle at you. You could feel the sting of alcohol and glass mingling with your open wounds on your shoulder. The sting was almost as bad as your arm, but you didn’t stop running especially when you glanced behind you to see her running at you with a knife raised and the fork protruding from her arm.
You flung open the door and sprinted out without bothering to close the door behind you. As your bare feet hit the sidewalk, you could hear your mother stop at the end of the stairs and shout at you to come back. You never stopped.
You didn’t stop until your feet took you to the Minecraft residence’s front door. Nobody was on the street as it was about eleven at night. You hesitated to knock on their door, you ignored the family for the past six months, and you weren’t sure if they even wanted you there. After five minutes of thinking, you just sighed as you walked back down the wooden stairs and walked back towards the sidewalk.
“(Y/n), what are you doing here?” You froze up at Tommy’s sleep riddled voice. You stayed frozen as you heard him stomp over to you. He placed a firm hand on your injured shoulder and forced you to turn around. His angry expression faded into a concerned one when he heard you start to sob and flinch away from him.
“Wha- shit are you bleeding?” You nodded slightly and he gently turned you back around to see a patch of darkened cloth on your shirt. You could feel him shaking as he grabbed your arm and pulled you into the house. He plopped you at the dining room table and told you to wait there. With that, he sprinted up the stairs and brought back a serious Philza holding a first aid kit.
When he saw you bruised and battered, you could hear him take in a sharp intake of breath and saw unbridled anger flash across his face. You flinched away from him when he approached you.
“Hey,” he said in a gentle voice, “I won’t hurt you. Can you show me where you’re hurt?”
You eyed him warily like a scared wild animal and reluctantly moved your burned arm away from your chest and showed it to him. This was the first time you saw your forearm; it was an ugly red that expanded up the majority of the underside of your forearm with skin burned off at the edges. Yellow, fluid-filled blisters were starting to form.
You could hear Tommy’s horrified gasp as he turned to run out of the room. You kept your gaze downwards as Philza warned you that he was about to put disinfectant on your wound. He apologized to you when you whimpered in pain at the sting of the alcohol on your exposed nerves. After he was finished wrapping your arm, he asked you to show him where else you’re injured. You turned around so he could see the growing patch of blood staining your now ripped shirt. You could feel him gently move your shirt to the side and heard him wince.
“Shit, there’s glass in here. I’m going to have to get some tweezers to get it out. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” You were then alone in the kitchen for a moment before he came back with a worried Wilbur and Techno in tow. The brunet pulled up a chair next to you and asked if it was alright to hold your hand. After you hesitantly nodded, he grabbed your hand and started to run his thumb over your knuckles. Techno held a light close to your shoulder as Philza started to tweeze out the green tinted glass from your shoulder.
Every time you would suck in air through your teeth and muffle your yelps with your other hand, Wilbur would whisper reassurances to you and hold your hand tighter. After the glass was out, the wound was disinfected, and wrapped in gauze, Philza told the boys to leave the room. He grabbed both of your hands and gave you the best reassuring smile that he could.
“Tell me what happened.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat as you felt tears well up in your eyes, “I tried Phil, I really did. She never got better no matter what I did.”
“What do you mean, are you talking about your mom?” You could hear the angry undertone of his voice. You tensed up and nodded.
“She… she needs help. She was never the same after Dad died, she started drinking. It started off with only one beer a day, but after seventh grade she was going through an entire case in a day. She’d punish me if I said or did anything about it. No dinner for a week was a popular one until she started to ban me from the house for weeks on end. She never went on business trips, Phil. She got a knife today. I-I thought she was actually gonna kill me this time, I was so scared.”
Without another word, he pulled you into a tight hug, letting you sob freely into his shoulder. “It was my fault, I couldn’t help her! She- she needed me and I couldn’t help her.” You said between sobs. He hugged you tighter and started to rub your back, making sure to avoid your shoulder. “None of this is your fault, you can’t help someone if they don’t want help. Sometimes you can’t fix someone who’s too far gone.”
“Am I too far gone?”
“No, you aren’t. We’ll help you through this, we won’t let anybody hurt you ever again. You’re gonna go on to live a good life.” You passed out in his arms after a while of crying.
When you woke up, you were in Tommy and Tubbo’s room. The two boys jumped to your side and pulled you into a tight group hug. After you tried to apologize to them for how you treated them in the past six months, they shushed you and just sat there in silence hugging you.
Later that day you found out that your mother was found by your neighbor on the front porch with her wrists slit and empty beer bottles surrounding her. She was breathing, but just barely. Currently she was in an unstable condition in the hospital. You had a full breakdown when you found out that she almost killed herself because of you. You had run out of the house and to your safe place in the park. You hadn’t been there in a few years, so you hoped that it was still there.
Sure enough, it was still there albeit a bit overgrown. The blanket in the plastic bag was in the same place where you left it. You had no idea how long you were sitting there crying and having a panic attack, but when you came to your senses it was dark outside. You could hear crickets chirping and the rustling of leaves in the entrance of your hideout.
A brunet head poked itself in and smiled when he saw you. Tubbo fully came into the nook and gestured for someone to follow. Tommy’s blond hair made itself apparent before he joined you two inside.
“Nice little place you have here. It’s… homey.” Tubbo rubbed his hands together and blew warm air on them. You threw one side of the blanket at him and pulled your knees up to your chest. “Thanks, I used to sleep here sometimes… How’d you find me?”
“We could hear you,” Tommy pulled out his phone and typed something on it before pocketing it and sitting next to you. He covered himself with the blanket as Tubbo followed suit. You sat in silence before Tommy broke it.
“How long has she been hittin you?”
“Tommy!” Tubbo scolded him.
“She started about six months ago.”
“Six months ago… that was when you cancelled plans! I knew something was wrong Tubbo.”
Tubbo said nothing as he looked at you with a helpless expression. Just as he was about to open his mouth, you interrupted him. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. Everything’s my fault. I’m the reason my mom’s in the hospital right now fighting for her life. I wasn’t there for her.” You would’ve started crying if it weren’t for the fact that you just felt so drained and numb.
“The fuck do you mean? She was about to kill you! You told us that she was about to stab you, what else were you supposed to do, just let her kill you?!” Tommy exclaimed.
You shrugged, “maybe. If she did she’d be happy, I was just a burden to her. I- I just wanted her to be happy and I would never be able to do that as long as I’m alive. If she killed me she wouldn’t be in the hospital right now.”
“What the fuck (y/n),” Tubbo shouted, startling you. He never shouts, let alone swears. “How could you even say that? I don’t know what I’d do without you, everything would be so boring and nothing would be the same without you. Fuck her happiness, she’s a wretched woman if the only way she can be happy is when you’re dead. Fuck her.”
You and Tommy stared at the seething boy in shock. He never shouted when he was angry, he only did that once when he found out that Tommy was being bullied. Whenever he sweared, that’s when you knew his emotions were hitting him at full force. Tommy quickly recovered from his shock to join him, “yeah fuck her, man! She can go suck a dick.” He was interrupted by his phone buzzing.
“Dad’s here, c’mon he’s worried sick about you.” After they helped you out of your safe place, they both wrapped an arm around your shoulders and walked you to the parking lot. You could see the headlights of the lone car in the lot turn off before the door swung open and a figure rushed towards you. You pushed yourself behind Tommy and Tubbo and hid behind them fearfully. They both turned around and put a hand on your shoulders. “It’s okay, it’s our dad.”
You peeked over their shoulders and saw a mop of disheveled, long blond hair. Philza looked like he was just told that there was an antidote for a fatal poison he just ingested, despite the flash of hurt that showed on his face. His blue eyes were accentuated by the redness of his sclera and you can see the relief painted in them. A gentle smile was on his face as he moved his arms up. Without another word, you launched yourself at him and pulled him into the tightest hug you could manage with your shoulder.
“Are your accusations true, Mx. (L/n)?”
Your gaze flickered over to your mother sitting on the other side of the courtroom. She looked at you with no expression on her face. Her wrists were wrapped tightly in a white bandage that was a stark contrast to the bright orange prison uniform and the silver of the handcuffs. She wasn’t the woman you knew when your dad was alive. The life was sucked out of her the second she picked up that phone call.
You looked back at the lawyer, “yes sir.”
“I have no further questions, your honor.”
“You may return to your seat, Mx. (L/N).”
You stood up and walked as confidently as you could past the dull eyes of your mother and back to your seat between Tommy and Tubbo. You held their hands tightly as the trial moved onwards. Buster’s owner even stepped up to the witness stand to give his testimony. Apparently he knew about the abuse from your late night conversations with Buster. He had contacted CPS and the police multiple times but the case was always dropped for some reason that you couldn’t bring yourself to ponder. A few of your previous teachers even showed up to give their testimonies. Their words, though true and slightly sweet, rubbed you the wrong way. If they ‘knew something was happening at home with you’, then why didn’t they do anything when it was happening? You tried to focus on the rest of the trial.
Your mother’s only witness was herself, and she did a piss poor job at it. She was basically digging her own grave with every word that came out of her mouth. The entire time, she was staring at you with her infamous dull eyes.
“Do you have any further points you would like to add, Mrs. (L/n)?”
“Yes, I have always loved my child. They were my husband’s pride and joy, the splitting image of him. Their rightful place is safe with their real parent at our home.”
You could feel Tommy attempt to stand up, but you pulled him back down; now was not the time for him to start yelling in anger. Tubbo squeezed your hand in reassurance and glanced at you. You were staring at the woman you called your mother with pain and hate filled eyes. You wished her words were sincere, but you knew fully well that they weren’t. The words that left her mouth would’ve been one hundred percent true and genuine when your dad was still alive, but he’s buried six feet under in a military cemetary now and he has been for years. You would’ve given anything, even your own life, for those words to be true a month ago, but you knew better now. Mothers don’t treat their kids like this, they’re supposed to give their children their unconditional love and take care of them. As far as you were concerned, she was no longer your mother. She forfeited that title the second she turned to the bottle. Philza is and will always be more of a parental figure than she’ll ever be.
After the jury left to discuss, the court was in a recess. You slipped out of the room and speed walked to the bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror. You could see heavy eye bags under your dull eyes. The dullness of your eyes, to your horror, reminded you of your mother, so you splashed your face with water. That fixed it, your eyes were slightly brighter. You could still see the faint outline of the scar on your cheek from when she first hit you. Small scars littered your face from the more recent wounds she gave you before you ran.
A knock sounded at the door, “(y/n), the recess is almost over.” It was Techno.
You patted your face dry and went to leave the bathroom. The pink haired boy that you now saw as your older brother was waiting patiently for you on the other side. He put a gentle hand on your shoulder and led you back to the courtroom. There, the rest of the Minec- no, your family was waiting for you. Just as you reached them, the judge announced that the jurors would be arriving back. The entire courtroom stood as they walked in.
“Have you reached a verdict?” The judge asked.
“Mrs. (L/n) and Mr. Langsburg, would you stand and face the jury? You may read the verdict.”
“We the jury of the state court find the defendant guilty under the charges of child abuse and child neglect.”
Tommy clapped a hand on your shoulder as Tubbo squeezed your hand. They both smiled widely at you. You, however, didn’t acknowledge them. You were only staring at the empty eyes of your mother as she was looking at the jury. Her reaction was akin to her breaking a pencil, like it didn’t matter to her. Like all the years abuse that she put you through didn’t matter was as trivial as breaking a pencil.
“So say you all?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“I hereby sentence Mrs. (L/n) to twelve years in the state penitentiary with no opportunity of parole. Mr. Philza Minecraft shall be bestowed the custody of Mx. (Y/n) (l/n) as they do not have any next of kin. Court is adjourned.” With that, she banged the gavel and the courtroom exploded in the bustling of people. You never took your eyes off from your mo- no, the monster with the dull eyes as she picked at something in her nails boredly. Just as she looked up to meet your gaze, Tommy pulled you into a tight hug, lifting you off the ground slightly. You were passed around the family in the courtroom for their individual hugs. Philza’s was comforting, Tubbo’s was congratulatory, Wilbur’s was warm, and Techno’s was slightly awkward, yet soft.
At home, you spent most of your time in the spare room Philza had given you. He had offered to help you decorate it, but you had no idea where to start. You were never allowed to have decorations in your old room. You kept the room simplistic and your possessions light.
You often stared at your dad’s portrait on your nightstand wondering what your life could’ve been like if you never asked him for McDonalds that day. Your family probably would’ve been stationed in who knows where and moved around often, as is customary in most military families. You probably would’ve never met Tommy and Tubbo in third grade. You probably would’ve never met your now older brothers and new father. You didn’t want to imagine a life without them.
After a few days of you being locked up in your room, Tommy and Tubbo came into your room with mischievous grins. You knew them like the back of your hand, so you knew the second you saw their faces that they were about to do something. You sat up and looked at them suspiciously.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re not doing anything, (y/n). Right Tubbo?”
“Right Tommy.” Tubbo nodded curtly. They still had grins on their faces. They walked over to your bed before they picked you up and walked you out of the room. You didn’t have the energy to fight them, so you laid limp in their arms. They eventually took you down to the living room and plopped you down onto the couch between them. Techno tossed them a blanket when they then used to wrap you tightly into a blanket burrito. The home screen of Disney Plus was pulled up on the TV and the curtains were drawn. Philza and Wilbur exited the kitchen with glasses of water and two big bowls of popcorn.
They smiled widely when they saw you squashed between your brothers, putting a bowl of popcorn in your lap and three glasses of water nearby. The two next to you dug into the popcorn as the rest of the family made themselves comfortable on the couch.
“What are we doing?”
“Movie night! We’re gonna binge the Marvel movies, your favorite!” Tubbo grinned at you, practically bouncing in his seat.
“Just double checking, the order is Captain America, Captain Marvel, Iron Mans One and Two, Incredible Hulk, Avengers, Thor-”
You cut Wilbur off with a mumbled “first Thor, then the first Avengers movie.”
“Glad I asked then! The timeline would’ve been thrown off.”
As the movies progressed, you started to finally feel like you belonged as a part of the family. Laughter came easier to you, mingling effortlessly with the family’s laughter. Every time you laughed at a scene, they would give you a smile and laugh alongside you. Eventually after about halfway through Captain America: The Winter Soldier, everyone had fallen asleep on the couch. Soft snores and the quiet sounds of the occasional fight scene filled the room as your eyelids started to close involuntarily. You looked around the room at the rest of your family. They all looked peaceful in their slumber. Tommy and Tubbo’s protective hold of their arms around your shoulders made you feel safe. It was in that moment that you realized that they would never let anyone hurt you ever again. You were a part of an actual, loving family. With that, you let yourself fall asleep into a peaceful slumber surrounded by the people that loved you the most.
@crybabyjabby @izzybobizzy13 @goldenstarofthunderclan @bunnyz-pxstel @averytiredfanfictionwriter @dcml04 @sparkling-gayyyy @bbigbbrainn @thaticecreambish @kiinokochii @satansphatass @bxkubitch @bxmentchildxx @roxy3457 @montygator17 @feverish-dove @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @jichuuchaeng
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[NSFW Drabbles] Genshin men Kinks x gn!reader - PART 2
Part 1 - Itto & Kaeya - Confident & Cocky Dominant
PART 2 - Thoma & Diluc: Softies <3
CW: Praising, this is a very vanilla post, so no worries about anything
iluc - Characteristic kink: Vanilla (I can only see Diluc as vanilla, I'm so sorry my kinky readers, and the lack of content results in this one being too small... I apologize in advance, Diluc simps.)
His favorite thing is making sure you feel safe in his arms.
"Are you alright?"
"If it hurts, tell me."
"If you feel uncomfortable at any time, don't hesitate to say our safeword." ...are phrases you hear ever so often during your intimate time with him, and the way he's always so careful and protective with you makes you blush. He might not be the best with words, but he will show he loves you with his actions.
Thoma - Characteristic kink: Praise
He's the absolute sweetest. He loves giving you lots of kisses, exploring every bit of your body, constantly reassuring you: "You're doing so well baby..." and when you can't contain your moans, he smiles. "I know you can take this, do it for me, okay?" and you nod. He loves hugging you and nuzzling your neck, listening to those cute little sounds you make every time he fills you with cock, at a slow and steady pace. They make him feel proud of both you and himself, and he always make sure to tell you. "You make me feel so good, Y/N, I love you."
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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!
“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.
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.
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.
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.
“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.”
“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.
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."
"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.
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.
“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?
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.”
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.
“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.
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.
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.”
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.”
“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]
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