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jameui · 3 years

Text

MOVIE DATE

PAIRING: Hwang Hyunjin x Manager!M!Reader

GENRE: Angst, Fluff

WARNING: Hyunjin being a jerk

SUMMARY: You boyfriend, Hyunjin took you out on a date to watch your favorite movie.

You sighed in exhaustion and as if the world was trying to test you, a fast running bicycle came your way causing you to jump to the side, so fast that you forgot about the takeouts you had in your hands and at a blink of an eye the neatly boxed items fell to the ground, all the food now spilled on the floor with your eyes widening in fear. "Shit!" You yelled out and tried to get back to the restaurant again, but as soon as you got there the line was already long and it'd take you ages to get to the counter to order, again.

You were at your way to your work with your phone squeezed in between your shoulder and ear as you talked to your co-manager on the other line who seemed agitated for your tardiness, while you tried to balance the foods you were made to order. "Yes, sir. I'll make sure that won't happen again." You told the male before the call was cut short when he decided to hang up all of a sudden.

Looking around, you saw a chinese restaurant that had the smallest line, so you went there and bought the food there, even though the orders of the group was not exactly what they wanted for you to buy. You just couldn't go back empty handed.

After a few minutes of walking, you finally arrived at the venue of the fansign event and got there just in time before Stray Kids were called to the stage for their activity to be done, but the moment you got there you saw that the people present were already eating their food away. They noticed your presence entering the room whilst their head turned to look at you. "I... Good morning, everyone." You greeted them. 'Guess their manager got their food delivered.'

You didn't get a reply, except from the group who was more than happy to see that you had food on your hands. "Hyung! Thank God. I was starving." The group's youngest, Jeongin said as he helped you put the foods down on the table. "You're seriously a life saver."

You smiled at him giving him a muttered thanks that earned you a smile from Jeongin. Honestly speaking, Jeongin was the second best person you ever liked in the group, the first being Lee Felix since he was the only person to ever approach you on your first day since he was able to see how much you were so nervous. Felix was also one of the members who taught you korean, the other being Bang Chan. You had always knew the group back then, and now and you were damn thankful that you got the opportunity to be in their circle.

Knowing how young you were to be working for them, they treated you nicely, not because they needed to, rather cause it was in their nature to be caring. Well, at least except one person. You were the closest to Felix who treated you like his personal manager and a friend as well, going out on friendly dates with you to the park, dog cafés, just anywhere Felix would find interesting to visit.

Who's the person that seemed irritated whenever you were around you ask? Why, the one and only visual king, Hwang Hyunjin. He doesn't actually treat you bad, but the way his eyes would always turn dark or displeased when you show up in his line of sight made you feel so small and felt totally unwelcomed. That was then, apparently, since today the male looked a little too quiet and didn't even bother to look at you. Believe me or not that's actually the kindest thing he's done to you.

You would try to go to him to try and talk to him, worried by his silence. You just furrowed your brows and sighed completely aware that no matter how much you try to talk to him he won't even dare to acknowledge you being there for him.

"M/n, are you just gonna stand there? Come and eat." Chan told you, but you just politely declined his offer with the shake of your head before telling him that you had just taken your breakfast and that you were full, more and you feel like your stomach's gonna burst. "Hm, suit yourself, but I'll be leaving mine untouched, so you can eat it when you get hungry, yeah?"

"You're so kind, Chan." You gave him a smile that got Chan smiling also showing his deep dimples that you could just dive in it anytime soon.

"Hey, hey, hey! We've known each other the longest. Why do I still have to call you 'hyung' and M/n doesn't?" Jisung, one of the group's rapper, pouted with folded arms as Chan chuckled before ruffling the kid's hair that Jisung angrily shook off.

"Well, since he's not that spoiled, unlike you." Chan answered Jisung who gasped dramatically. "And he also gained my permission, so—"

"Whenever or not he's around, is he the only person that ever comes into your mind?" That all too familiar voice spoke out, all your heads turning towards the person. He scoffed and stood up with a smirk on his face, probably in disbelief that the whole group was talking to you and always thought about you. "I mean, come on. There's gotta be something else to talk about other than this... person." You felt his eyes look at you while your eyes stared at him with rising anger. "There's sports, other artists, songs, music, so many and you chose to pick him as the topic of your talk."

"Hyunjin, that is very disrespectful." Chan gritted out, but Hyunjin knew better than to listen or to even stop.

"I'm really not, hyung." Hyunjin's smirk grew wider eyeing you with a suspicious look on his eyes. An idea popped in his head as he opened his mouth to talk. "But, if you want to, I could show you how disrespectful I can get." Without any warning, he took the take-out container and bottled drink in his hand and gave you no second to react as he poured all of its contents onto your head with a loud gasp coming out of you. "There. I'll call it a masterpiece even."

"Hwang Hyunjin!" Bang Chan's voice boomed through the whole room a still smirking Hyunjin turning around to face the older male who was fuming with anger. "You—"

"Chan!" You called out to him before things got a little out of hand. For pete's sake their going to just fight because Hyunjin had made a mess of you? You were not even worth the fight. "No. I'm fine. I can just quickly change, that's all. I'll be right back and I better get no reports about you two fighting." You told the two, Chan rolling his eyes.

You got out of the room and ran as fast as you can to the nearest restroom, cleaning yourself as soon as you arrived. Times like this you would immediately bawl your eyes out, but with the constant behavior that Hyunjin showed to you, you grew used to it. Heck, you even sometimes feel that the other boys only act like they liked you being there and when you weren't, they'd stab you behind your back. "Goodness, why won't this get off."

"Need help?" A raspy voice came from the entrance of the restroom, turning your head around to see Felix leaning himself on the door frame with his arms crossed, then untangled them to let his hands rest inside his pockets and stepped inside as you smiled at him. "Do you need more tissue?"

You shook your head at him, your attention back on your stained favorite shirt wiping them clean with the tissues the place's restroom owned. "Nah, there's plenty here. Besides, I'm all dried up now." You said and showed yourself to him, Felix knitting his brows in worry.

He seeped air through his teeth and cocked his head to the side, unsure if you should be wearing that now dirty shirt when you'd be with them during the activity the whole time. "I don't think you should be wearing that."

"Why? It's my favorite sweater." You chuckled half-heartedly.

"Yeah, I know, M/n, but it's dirty. Plus, I think it gets pretty uncomfortable seeing that stain on your shirt and it gets sticky. Yeugh." Felix pretended to barf which got you laughing softly. Felix, though not trying to be funny, whatever he does it always seemed so funny to you.

"Fine, fine. I'll go change, the problem though is that I didn't bring an extra shirt with me today." You told Felix scratching your nape.

"Really? Well, I guess we have to borrow from one of the group's." Felix suggested, but your eyes grew sizes bigger upon hearing that and waved your hands.

"No way, Felix! I have already done enough damage, I can't afford to borrow a shirt from one of the members, or to you even." You told him, but it all fell on deaf ears as Felix refused to listen. "I'm just trouble, Felix. You don't have to worry about me."

Felix hummed with two fingers pinching his chin gently. "Yeah, I don't think so." He took your wrist and started to drag you back to the dressing room. "Come on, I know there's someone willing to let you borrow a shirt." You just sighed, knowing that Felix won't even dare to change his mind when he had already set them on something.

Alas, as you two got there, none of the members even had a spare shirt to let you borrow. They were very willing and even tried to look around if there was anything, but to no avail. Although, there was one last person you didn't ask. "Hyunjin. You were the cause of this mess, you let him borrow your shirt." Felix sternly told the older male who pilled his brows together.

"What?! No way! Are you telling me I'd offer to do something for that guy? No!" Hyunjin retorted making Felix growl.

Felix was so ready to throw punches at the male who didn't seem to be bothered by the situation, but you just put a hand on Felix's shoulder and assured him. "That's alright, Felix. My sweater was thick enough to not get my undershirt wet. Although, I'm grateful for your effort." You smiled at him and sighed.

Just in time, you heard a call from one of your co-manager that the group was already being requested to be at the stage right now. You gave them an encouraging smile as they all did the same. "Alright boys. It's time to go out there and meet millions of your fans."

The group all shouted, excluding Hyunjin, hurray and hurried out to get on stage, you following behind after you were able to discard your sweater, leaving you only on your black t-shirt. You shivered at the cold now that you were left with a thin clothing that wasn't appropriate for the type of weather you were having and not mention that the place was fully air-conditioned.

Your shaking was not too evident, but one of the members, Seungmin, was able to notice it. Feeling pity he made his way to Hyunjin and tried to convince him. "Jinnie, M/n's cold. Please lend him your jacket, at least. He'll get sick if he continues to get exposed to the cold."

"Better for him."

"Hyunjin, please... Besides, you're already wearing thick layers of clothes why not let M/n borrow." Seungmin reasoned out and solemnly knitted his brows to persuade the male, Hyunjin rolling his eyes at his bestfriend and huffed before taking his jacket off of him and handed it over to Seungmin who silently squeaked. "Thanks, Hyunjin." Hyunjin brushed it off with a 'whatever', the younger of the two jogging his way towards you and gave you the jacket he got from Hyunjin. "I noticed your shivering, so I want you to take this jacket and no, you can't say you can't accept it."

You nodded your head at him and took the jacket from his hands. "Thank you, Seungmin."

"My pleasure." He smiled at you with those puppy dog like smile. He skipped back to reunite with his group while you put on the jacket that Seungmin offered you. You were still in thought though how Seungmin was able to convince Hyunjin to let you borrow his jacket. You knew Hyunjin owned the jacket since he wouldn't let them go since the moment you arrived.

You noticed how the jacket was too big for you, since the sleeves of the piece of clothing only let your fingers peek out through the holes while the flaps reached further down your hips, but it totally felt cozy and smelled like... Hyunjin. How do you explain it? You don't even know where to begin. It was him. The reason why you wanted to work with Stray Kids. You didn't want to look like you were some type of stalker, but all you ever wanted was to befriend Hyunjin.

The befriending process didn't go the way you actually thought it would go. Everytime his eyes met yours or you heard his voice you'd get all flustered and so nervous that your tongue always gets tied, the words you want to tell him gets trapped inside your mouth. It all started to be just an admiration towards the slightly older male until your determination to become his friend gradually became an unknown feeling towards Hyunjin, until realizing later that you actually liked the group's rapper, despite all his bad treatment towards you.

Back to reality, you hugged yourself and took in the wonderful scent the artist gave off until one of your co-worker nudged you. "Hey, stop sniffing the clothes. You totally look like a sasaeng."

"W-what? I wasn't sniffing anything." You denied it earning an eye roll. Later, you heard the whole place bursted into shouts of joy and excitement as Stray Kids made their appearance on the stage greeting all their fans inside and outside of the place. They all took their turns taking the mic to express their happiness and gratefulness to their ocean of fans that filled up the whole place.

Soon, the group was seated at a long rectangular table that was a perfect fit letting all the members seat on their respective seats. There were chairs as well settled in front of the table with each settled across a specific member.

You were appointed to keep guard and stand behind Hyunjin, in any case of fans throwing shade at him or any forms of harm or hate towards the member who had just been caught up in a supposed bullying rumor.

The line started to form as people who were present inside the place took their turns to talk to each member and get a sign from them. So far, you could only wonder how paranoid the company was to keep you on guard of Hyunjin when all these people here are Stays and they wouldn't do such thing to throw hate to any members in the group. Right?

The line was still too long to be gone in just minutes making you sigh, hearing your tummy rumble hoping that no one heard that. You now finally regret not eating that noodles that Chan offered you, the hunger finally hitting your system as your tummy continued to grumble. You pursed your lips and forced your eyes closed while you brought your head down in embarrassment. 'Fuck... why now?'

After a short while, the line was starting to get shorter and shorter, you thanking the heavens for the fast passing by of the time. But, the moment you least expected to happen happened. You felt a harsh tap on your legs and another and another after it finally took your attention, getting a little shocked that the action was done by the person who hated you the worst. "Take it before I change my mind." He told you. You complied and bowed at him politely as he tuts his tongue. "Who would even think of going to work on an empty stomach?"

'You... poured it on me?' You thought then shrugging it off before you looked at the treat offered to you by Hyunjin. You wondered what type of bread it was and hesitated, although Hyunjin's back was facing you he was able to sense your hard time on trying to eat what he gave you.

"It's not poisoned, M/n." He whispered as he signed the album that had his photo on it, then looking up at the fan who would like to talk to him.

Their talk wasn't audible to you, but you opened the packaging of the nicely wrapped pastry and bit on it with your body facing the wall so your back was turned against the people to cover yourself while you ate. One of your co-manager did notice your unwanted behavior and stomped his way to you and took the baked good from your hands and threw it to the ground to step on it and crush it good. "What do you think you're doing, L/n?! You're being inappropriate right now." He gritted out to you with a small voice almost like a whisper so no one else would hear you two. You bowed your head subtly before a hand was placed right below your chin as you looked up at him confused. "Spit." He ordered, referring to the food you were chewing.

You nod your head and spit out the food that was in your mouth into his hand while he picked up the wasted food and left, then threw it all at a trash can. "Fuck." You sighed as you held your chest and slowly turned around to face the non-existent line, the group now interacting with their fans.

Just looking at them now, you were able to remember when you were the one who was there seated at the chairs shouting out the name of the person you would call as your bias, which is no other than Kim Seungmin. At least, when you still didn't take the job to be one of the group's manager. Usually, it would only take one manager to manage the group, but why did this group require another one? You questioned yourself. It was all unexplained to you, but all you gotta do was to just be glad that you get to be friends with the people you see as your role models.

"Hyunjin-ah! When did you start trading jackets with your manager?" The question came out as a shout that got everyone laughing, including the group. You were only able to chuckle knowing that it was Seungmin who convinced Hyunjin to let you borrow his jacket.

Hyunjin didn't get to answer the question, when another fan spoke from the crowd that got every fans' attention. "Are rumors true that you don't treat Manager L/n well?"

Chan furrowed his brows and picked up his microphone. "Where did you get this story?" He chuckled trying to make it sound that it wasn't true and just pure bluff. Chan looked at Hyunjin with the face that told Hyunjin that he should start treating you well if he didn't want the netizens to know about his treatment towards you. "Anyways, it's seriously not true."

-----------

A few minutes later and the event was finally finished and the group was bidding their goodbyes to their fans as they started to walk backstage. You waited for them at their waiting room with a handful of bottled waters for the boys to pick up once they get inside. The door soon opened revealing the group with a tense atmosphere following them that got you so confused. "Hey—"

"Hyunjin. If word gets out about your mistreatment to M/n, that would be a serious damage to our image and to M/n as well, 'cause he's obviously in pain because of you!" Chan yelled at the trouble causing male who only rolled his eyes paying no heed to his warning.

"Atleast, I never went too far as to really hurt him physically." Hyunjin deadpanned Chan growling at his response. Your eyes flickered to Hyunjin, then to Chan not knowing what to do in this situation.

"You are seriously being a jerk right now, Hyunjin." Chan fumed in anger while Hyunjin just continued to act deaf and played on his phone. Chan, giving up, sighed and plopped down on his seat. "Ayayay."

They took turns in getting your glances as you thought of a way to calm the atmosphere. You had already been their manager for a over a year now and this was the only time that Hyunjin ever spoke up to Chan and, to top it off, with sass and without the slightest feeling of being bothered. That was the moment you felt like you had enough. You've had enough with all these things. You were tired of yourself to even think that Hyunjin would finally soften up to you and be his friend. You were wrong to even apply for this kind of job. The group wouldn't be fighting if it hadn't been for you appearing in their lives all so suddenly. "Guys... let him do as he pleases. I'll be the one to take of whatever the netizens hear."

Chan raised his eyes up at you with furrowed brows. "What do you plan on doing? Whatever it is don't do it."

You smiled and nodded. "I won't, Chan." You held up the bottles in your hands and turned on a toothy smile. "Water? Anyone?" They all sighed in relief and got their turns in picking their own bottled water, the last one not being picked up by Hyunjin, so you decided to give it to him. You brought the cold drink to his face making him flinch as he looked up at you. "Thank you for the bread, by the way." You told him and giggled. "I've already packed your jacket in your bag." You informed him and patted his back.

The once crazily terrifying atmosphere now turned into a more comfortable one, the one you always would want to see. You didn't know what got you the courage to speak or blurt out whatever you had in your mind, but you looked at Hyunjin and said: "Hyunjin, can I talk to you privately?" Thankfully, their loud voices was able to distract themselves from hearing your request to Hyunjin who sighed and nodded his head. He stood up from his seat and started to move outside of the room. You followed behind closely, feeling intimidated by the month older's tall figure. "Hyunjin..."

"Cut to the chase, M/n. I don't have much time." He told you as you nod your head in understanding and fiddled with your fingers.

"I know, you'd probably like hearing this, but could I have the permission to quit as your group's manager?" You asked him, his forehead creasing that made him pull his brows together. "I was able to notice what the group had become the moment I became your manager—"

"And do you think quitting would change it?" Hyunjin asked you with a raised brow. "If anything, it'd probably—no, it would break their hearts to know that you quitted. If you do so, you're not only quitting as a manager, but as their friend as well."

"And you're able to say that after you purposely tried to have me fired or suspended from work by offering me that bread?" You sarcastically answered, Hyunjin clearing his throat.

"Well... that wasn't my intention. I didn't even know it'd get you fired." Hyunjin replied making you chuckle.

"Yeah..." You replied with a sad smile. "But, I don't wanna be the reason why you and Chan would always fight. Stray Kids is Stray Kids because they're fun and loving, caring. And I don't want to change that by being around the group." Hyunjin never replied anymore and you sighed. "I'm heading back now." You said and as you started to walk back inside, Hyunjin spoke.

"I wish you never entered our life, at all, M/n." He told you that got your heart broken into pieces. Sure, you admitted that he never liked you even just a bit, but him saying it so bluntly to you, it's like he does really mean it and could only care less. You were about to speak when Hyunjin beat you to it. "If so, I wouldn't be able to garner these undeniable feelings I have for you."

You froze. Were you hearing right? You just cleaned your ears this morning, well you do it everyday. Is your ear trying to play with you? "W-what?"

"DAMN! WHO WOULD'VE THOUGHT?!" You gasped with your mouth full of popcorn, your boyfriend, Hyunjin seated beside you at the movie theater. He smiled at you admiring how cute you looked with your shocked expression that was being illuminated by the big screen. "Jinnie! Look, they're gonna kiss! AH!!" As the two actors in the movie was about to kiss, one of the movie's cast bursted out of the door cutting the kiss and earned a few 'oh's and 'I hate you, Chan's. "Chan is such a cock blocker."

"Watch your mouth, babe." Hyunjin told you making you pout.

"It's true, though!" You retorted and Hyunjin could only laugh at your cuteness and honest opinions.

#hwang hyunjin x male reader #bottom male reader #x male reader #bxb #male reader #idol x male reader #kpop #fanfiction #stray kids x male reader #skz x male reader #stray kids #boy group #angsty #skz #skz hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin

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ptergwen · 3 years

Note

I think your requests are open (I didn’t see anything that said otherwise but I suck at this app lol) but I was wondering if you could write a peter x reader (likely college-age) where they have an academic rivalry and just tease each other a lot and lots of fluff and shit? It can be an established relationship or like a friends/rivals to lovers or really whatever you want. Sorry if this is super specific! Anyways, I love your writing, it always cheers me up :)

friends close, enemies closer

ik this is cherry BUT i had to

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing and hints of suggestiveness

a/n: thank you my love ! i’m actually obsessed with this concept so i’m super super happy with how it came out n i hope you are too :,)

you wipe sweat from your upper lip, peeking at peter’s laptop screen. he’s more than halfway through the paper your english professor tasked your class to write. he looks to have not a worry in the world as he continues to type away. growling at this, you dive right back into work.

you’ve been at each other’s throats since the beginning of classes when you both wanted the same spot. first row, middle seat. peter had officially claimed it in the end. you’d flopped down next to him and his irritating smirk.

the dude is smart, you’ll give him that. his knowledge of literature is almost as impressive as yours. almost. he raises his hand any chance he gets, effectively stealing your thunder if you dare to participate.

peter is also a bit of a people pleaser. he’ll chat up your professor at office hours, fascinate her with his hot takes on things or stupid anecdotes. you often get so annoyed that you bail before you even attempt to woo her yourself. the sight of you storming off is something peter thoroughly enjoys.

bottom line is, golden boy peter parker never loses. underneath the sweet, innocent persona he hides behind is a ruthless fighter. you’re determined to end his winning streak, thus sparking your ongoing competition to be better than the other in every way possible.

this time, your goal is to meet your ten page paper requirements the fastest. they aren’t due for weeks, but you and peter are banging them out in one sitting.

you’re hauled up in the campus library, sat side by side despite your wishes for peter to get his own table. he’d insisted on sharing with you. why, you haven’t a clue. you can’t stand him, and he isn’t the fondest of you either.

that’s what you tell yourselves, at least.

“progress report?” peter requests from you. “page three. you?” you grunt back. he props his feet up on the table, arms flexed behind his head. “finishing up page seven. you already knew that, though... creeper.”

god, you can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.

you glance over at peter, doing your best to ignore how his biceps bulge under his hoodie. nerdy little parker is ripped.

“worry about yours, i’ll worry about mine. thanks.” you reread the sentence you wrote prior to peter’s chiseled body distracting you. “oh, the irony,” he sighs and nudges the edge of your laptop with his sneaker. scowling, you shift the screen away from him.

about a minute of silence goes by until it’s unfortunately filled by peter. he stretches his arms out, finally removing his dirty shoes from the table.

“i’m gonna take five. maybe, you could use it as an opportunity to catch up to me,” peter cockily suggests. “spare me your charity, peter. i’m doing just fine without it,” you retort, letting out a scoff. peter raises his hands in defense. “if you say so, princess.”

here you were, naively thinking peter couldn’t become any more insufferable than he already is.

you slam your laptop shut and jab a finger at his chest. “jesus christ, how many times do i have to ask you not to call me that?” a patronizing pout adorns peter’s lips. “aw, i love it when you get all bossy on me. so cute.”

he grabs your hand still on his chest, pressing a light kiss to the back of it. you’re quick to wipe it off on his hoodie. nevertheless, there’s an undeniable heat rushing to your cheeks.

“well, i hate it when you call me princess,” you deadpan. peter tilts his head to the side. “do you?”

of course not. deep down, you live for the fuzzy feeling you get whenever the nickname slips from his tongue. oh, his tongue and the things it can do. poking out as he focuses hard on a question, running across his pink lips…

you have to reel it in. this is peter parker you’re fantasizing about, your mortal enemy.

“yes. i hate it, and i hate you,” you unsuccessfully convince the both of you. “no, you don’t,” peter rasps, darkened eyes scanning over your features. his stare is intense and intimidating. he grasps your chin between his thumb and index finger, slowly leaning in closer.

he’s not going to stop until you make him. you don’t want to, but you will.

you shove his shoulder, dragging your laptop towards you again. “on second thought, i could use that catch up. you’re not gonna throw me off my game, parker.”

your rejection seems to disappoint peter. his expression matches that of a kicked puppy, brows furrowed and arms crossed over his chest.

“we’ll see,” he murmurs and swings a leg over his chair. “alright, i’m gonna run to the caf. you want anything?”

he’s offering to buy you food now? what’s his angle here?

“i’d say yes, but i’m afraid you’ll poison it somehow,” you half joke. peter hops to his feet. “don’t give me any ideas,” he warns, snatching his backpack off the floor. “i’ll just surprise you.”

although you’re curious what his mystery snack choice for you would be, you can’t accept. you’d be going against your entire dynamic.

would that be so terrible?

absolutely.

you wave him off towards the double doors. “i’m good, peter. really. i’m not that hungry, anyway.” shaking his head, peter throws a backpack strap onto one shoulder. “y/n, your stomach’s been grumbling for the last hour. you gotta eat.”

he’s not wrong. you’re starving, but you’ve been too preoccupied by your essay to break for dinner.

“fine, surprise me,” you concede. peter flashes you a smile, this one void of its usual condescendence. “i’ll be back. try not to miss me too much,” he calls as he walks backwards to the library doors. “i won’t. shoo already,” you dismiss him, a laugh falling from your lips.

peter winks at you, then disappears into the night. you’re left with a serious case of butterflies and a certain freckle faced know-it-all on your mind.

that’s a problem.

you’ve managed to get another page done when peter reappears. he sits back down and slides a bag across the table, you closing your laptop. you dig into it to figure out what he picked for you. you’re not too pleased with his selection, however.

“oh, yummy. vomit in a cup,” you announce as you hold a green smoothie in your hand. peter reaches over and pats your thigh. “it’s good for you. drink up, princess.” you slap him away. “hard pass. i’d rather you have gotten me nothing.”

narrowing his eyes, peter pulls two cookies wrapped in a napkin from his pocket. “i’m guessing you don’t want these either? more for me, then.”

they’re chocolate chip and m&m, your favorite in the cafeteria. they just came out of the oven, so they’re still warm.

“how… how did you know i…” you trail off, peter setting the cookies in front of you. he offers you a lopsided grin. “i know a lot about you, believe it or not. i pay attention.” you surprise yourself by returning his smile. “thank you, peter. how much do i owe you?”

“nah, it’s on me,” peter assures you. “enjoy.” pushing aside your unappealing drink, you seize the cookies instead. “you have to eat, too. let me at least split these with you.” there’s a beat before peter nods. “fair enough.”

that results in you two munching on your cookies while pretending to write your papers. you’re sneaking glances at each other whenever the other isn’t looking, in reality.

once it’s about time for the library to close, you’re on the verge of passing out. peter is concluding his essay until he hears a thump from your side of the table.

he finds you with your cheek smushed against your keyboard and hitting random letters, snores escaping you.

chuckling to himself, peter places a hand on your shoulder. “hey, y/n?” he speaks in a hushed tone. you awake with a gasp, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth. “easy there, princess. it’s only me.” he rubs circles on your back, and it’s oddly comforting.

“keep doing that,” you purr, momentarily forgetting how much you’re supposed to despise peter. he lets his fingers dance across the exposed skin of your lower back. “we should probably head out. it’s kinda late,” peter decides.

you sit up, bones aching and eyes forced open. “not yet. have to beat you first.” you start to delete the gibberish you accidentally typed. peter cups your cheek to turn your head towards him, your movements halting. “this one’s a tie. you did good, y/n/n,” he coos. “finish the rest another day.”

“why’re you being so nice to me?” you nearly whisper. peter uses his thumb to swipe the drool from your lips. “‘cuz i care about you. i might not show it, but i do,” he admits with the hint of a smile. “besides, i need you… for the, uh, the healthy competition.”

laughing softly, you twist his hoodie strings around your fingers and tug. “your intentions are pure as always. sure that’s all you need me for?” peter’s gaze darts to your lips, then your eyes. “we’ll see,” he repeats.

rivalry be damned.

“mm. i care about you too, parker. thanks again for tonight,” you hum. a blush coats peter’s cheeks, even in the dim library lighting. his sweet and innocent side might truly exist. “no problem.” peter links your pinkie with his, the gesture giving you that fuzzy feeling. “i’ll walk you back to your dorm?”

you lean over and kiss his pinkie intertwined in yours.

“lead the way.”

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker au #peter parker smut #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction

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snelbz · 3 years

Text

Life As We Know It {Chapter 19}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

A/N: Well, we promised a chapter today, so we decided to follow through on that. Even if we did post a surprise chapter last night. Oh, well. Enjoy! 🙃✨

Cassian sighed as he opened his eyes.

Another year older, another year wiser.

Well.

Another year older, anyway.

He blinked as he looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. 7:58. Two minutes before his alarm would have gone off.

He hated when that happened, when his mind woke him up just before his alarm went off. There was no time to go back to sleep, it was perfect sleeping time wasted.

It was bullshit.

With a yawn, Cassian swung his legs over the side of his bed and got up. He stumbled to his dresser and pulled on a pair of sweatpants, just in time for his alarm to go off.

“Fuck you,” he muttered, quickly turning it off before flinging open his bedroom door.

It smelled delicious.

He meandered down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Nesta was icing a giant cake.

Her eyes darted to his.

He blinked.

“Get out!” she ordered.

“What the hell are you-.”

“Out!” she ordered, yet again.

Nyx babbled something at the top of his lungs that closely resembled, YEAH!

He did as he was told, blearily blinking as he stumbled back into the living room. He dragged a hand down his face. “Can I at least have some coffee?”

“In a minute!” She called and he heard quick footsteps, followed by the back door opening and closing. It opened again and she said, breathlessly, “Okay. You can come in now.”

Tentatively, Cassian rounded the corner and he found Nesta placing a platter of cinnamon rolls on the counter in place of the—

“Where did the cake go?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Nesta was lifting a cinnamon roll onto each of the plates in front of her, cutting the one for Nyx into tiny bites for him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He blinked again, half-wondering if he’d imagined the decorated monstrosity he’d seen on the counter, but he sniffed, smelling the air again.

It mostly smelled like the sweet and spicy scent of cinnamon, but—

No, that was definitely cake he smelled.

“Right…” he said, pulling forks out of the silverware drawer and setting one next to each plate. “You’re up early.”

“Had a lot to do before renovations start this morning. I’m meeting Helion and the contractor at the restaurant at nine.” She sipped her own coffee, not looking at him. Mixing truth and lies, it seemed, since he knew she was meeting the contractor this morning. As for a lot to do, he knew everything at the restaurant was already taken care of. She cleared her throat. “I wasn’t expecting you to be up so early either.”

Cutting into the gooey cinnamon roll, he said, “I gotta be at the bar in an hour. I’m talking with Kallias this morning before my shift starts.”

She set her coffee down and finally looked at him. “You have to work today?”

“Yeah,” he replied, popping the bite of pastry into his mouth. He resisted the urge to moan. “It’s Tuesday. I always work on Tuesdays.”

She hesitated, deciding whether she should speak or not. “But it’s your birthday.”

He couldn’t stop his smirk. He knew there had been a cake.

“And who told you that?” He asked, leaning over to wipe Nyx’s face off. The poor kid had icing all over his face, all the way up into his hair.

“That’s not important,” she said.

“Elain, then,” Cassian went on with a grin.

Nesta pretended like she hadn’t heard him and took a giant bite of her cinnamon roll.

“I’ll take Nyx with me to the bar,” Cassian said. “Viviane texted. She has the stomach flu.”

Nesta cringed. “That sucks. I...wait - you’re taking a baby to a bar?”

Cassian shrugged. “He’ll be fine. I only have to stay until two or so.”

“A baby,” she repeated, blinking. “To a bar.”

“You prefer to take him into a construction zone?” Cassian asked. “One that you’re in charge of? That sounds stressful.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “I can ask Elain to watch-.”

“I’m taking him with me and he’ll be fine,” Cassian said, shaking his head. “I promise.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. And he held up both hands. “I promise,” he repeated.

“Fine. But call me if you need to and I’ll come get him,” she sighed, shaking her head. “I’ll be in my office most of the day, so it’s not like he’ll be running around in a construction zone.”

“And I’ll take the carrier and physically wear him all day, so it’s not like he’ll be running around the actual bar.”

Nesta groaned. “Fine. Fine. But take the pack-n-play, his monitor and toys. He can entertain himself well enough.”

“Okay,” Cassian nodded, finishing off his cinnamon roll. He pulled Nyx out of his high chair, who was now playing with and wearing most of his food, rather than eating it, and said, “I’ll give him a bath while you get ready.”

“Okay.” He was nearly in the living room when he heard, “Cass?” He turned and looked back at her, still not completely used to the familiar nickname from her. She was blushing slightly. “Happy birthday.”

Smiling, he said, “Thanks,” and turned to head up the stairs.

Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Any birthday plans?”

“You’re looking at it.”

Kallias chuckled as he observed Cassian, a wiggly baby strapped to his chest, counting the liquor bottles that lined the wall.

“How old are you anyway?” he continued, wiping down the bartop. “Thirty? Thirty-one?”

“You wound me,” Cassian muttered, scribbling a number down on his clipboard, not bothering to tell Kallias just how close to thirty he was getting to.

“I would say we should do shots to celebrate your big day,” Kallias began, taking Nyx’s outstretched hand. “But, I think your little housewife would disapprove.”

Cassian snorted. “If Nesta Archeron ever heard you call her such a thing, you’d lose a very important body part.”

“Not interested in that, thank you very much,” he muttered. “She ever gonna stop in, so I can see this terrifying woman you’ve told me about?”

“About that…” Cassian pulled Nyx out of the carrier and carried him into the back office, setting him down in the play pen. Grabbing the baby monitor, he made his way back into the front room.

Kallias looked up from where he was cutting limes at the bar. “About what?”

He leaned a hip on the bar and crossed his arms over his chest. “Nesta is going to be expanding the restaurant, adding a bar. That’s actually where she is right now, why I’ve got the kiddo with me. Didn’t really want him in a construction site.”

“Hot nanny couldn’t keep him?” Kallias asked, grinning.

Cassian rolled his eyes. “No, she’s sick. But, uh-.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m gonna be leaving and going over there, managing for her.”

Kallias eyes widened. “Oh. Shit.”

“Yeah. And I’d like you to come over there with me. Be my assistant manager at the new place.”

Kallias stopped cutting, mid-lime. “You do realize we are two out of five people that work here, right?”

Cassian nodded, slowly. “Yeah, I do. And I also know we can hire more people here.”

Kallias looked back down at his half-cut lime. “Assistant manager, huh?”

“It’s in a great part of town, we’d get amazing tips on top of already being paid more,” Cassian said. “It’s an amazing opportunity.”

“So I’d be stupid to say no, then?” Kallias asked, continuing to cut his limes.

“Incredibly stupid,” Cassian agreed.

Nyx’s happy babbling came through on the baby monitor.

“I’ll think about it,” Kallias said, at last.

“Think about it, then tell me yes, because I’m not going there without you,” Cassian said.

Kallias snorted. “You’re a shitty liar. You’re going, whether I go or not.”

“And why wouldn’t you come with me?” Cassian asked, facing his friend. He and Kallias had worked together for years, since Kallias came in at twenty-one, during his senior year of college. “You want to be stuck in this dive bar forever? I know you. You’re a creature of habit. If I leave you here, you’ll be here for the next twenty years.”

Kallias didn’t bother telling him it wasn’t true. He just shook his head. “I guess we better start interviewing people, then.”

The day did not go as planned. Cassian had to stay and help out until nearly five-thirty, and by the time Cassian walked in the front door, Nyx was knocked out cold in his car seat. He gently set it down and unbuckled him, carrying him into the kitchen. It smelled divine, like roasting herbs and cooked veggies, even if he couldn’t see anything radiating the delicious smells.

Nesta was also nowhere in sight, so he took Nyx up to his nursery and laid him down, setting the baby monitor back up where it usually sat. He slipped the screen in his back pocket and made his way back downstairs, hurrying out to his truck to get Nyx’s diaper bag and the folded up playpen.

As he was setting it back up in the living room, he heard the sliding glass door open and close and made sure he was making enough noise to alert Nesta of his presence.

“You’re home,” she said, leaning on the doorway. “Nyx asleep?”

“Out like a light,” he said, tossing the few toys he’d brought with him back into the pen. “He had fun though.”

“Good. Dinner is almost done,” she smiled. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving,” he sighed and took another deep breath in. “It smells amazing.”

Turning, Nesta walked back into the kitchen. “Steak, garlic mashed potatoes, roasted carrots and green beans, and homemade rolls.”

He watched as she took the carrots and green beans out of the oven and placed them next to a plate of steak she must have just brought in from the grill.

Cassian’s mouth was damn near watering.

He looked at the spread as she spooned the mashed potatoes onto his plate. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Nesta tensed, then something like nervous laughter sputtered out of her mouth. “Well, I had to cook red meat for you on your birthday.”

“Does that mean you’ll be having yourself a steak, Archeron?” he asked, taking the full plate from her outstretched hands.

She gave him an amused look. “Hell no. You get both. I have a chicken kabob on the grill.”

Cassian licked his lips as he took his plate to the table. “Consider me a lucky man. Thank you.”

“Of course,” she said, clearing her throat. She piled her plate high with potatoes and veggies before going onto the deck and coming back with a grilled chicken kabob on her plate. She sat across from him. Cassian’s mouth was already full.

“How is it?” Nesta asked, cutting up a carrot before popping it into her mouth.

“Delicious,” Cassian said, mouth full. “So good.”

“If you don’t slow down, you won’t be able to enjoy the flavor,” Nesta said, knowing full well that he wouldn’t listen. Cassian practically inhaled everything on his plate within minutes.

He moaned, stretching back in his chair before running a hand through his hair. “I must say, Nes, you really outdid yourself.”

“Well, it was the least I could do after you worked and were on baby duty all day,” she said, popping a few green beans in her mouth.

They talked about their days as she finished eating. He told her about Kallias’ agreement to move to the restaurant, she told him about the beginning of construction.

They’d kept half the restaurant open, putting up a temporary wall to keep as much noise and dust out as they could, but the sooner the build was done the better. They both agreed on that.

“So, despite your switch with the cinnamon rolls this morning,” Cassian said from where he sat as she rinsed off their plates, “I’m fairly sure I saw a cake when I came downstairs.”

“Really now,” she said, and he saw the small smile on her face.

“Mhmm,” he nodded. “And, you know, I like cake.”

“And why, exactly, would I make you a cake?” She crooned, that little smile remaining.

“Because I’m the world's best roommate and uncle, obviously,” he said.

Nesta laughed as she stood. “Yeah, whatever.”

After exiting through the back door, she returned a moment later with a big, homemade cake.

It was exquisite.

Perfectly decorated and topped with vanilla and buttercream frosting, it read Happy birthday, Cassian!

As Nesta placed it on the countertop, Cassian asked, “Nesta, when the hell did you find time to make this?”

She shrugged. “Stayed up later and got up early. Didn’t have to be too early since you decided to sleep in today, but…” Her words trailed off. “I figured it was the least I could do.”

His mouth tightened, emotion he wasn’t expecting hitting him and he cleared his throat. “You gonna sing to me?” He asked, cracking a joke to break the tension that was slowly growing.

Nesta threw her head back and laughed. “Absolutely not.”

Cassian bit back his retort and the monitor in his back pocket went off, crying coming from upstairs.

“I’ll get him,” she said, standing up. “I’m sure he’s hungry. Will you cut up green beans and carrots for him?”

He nodded, the cake forgotten as he did what he was told, and Nesta returned with a bleary-eyed Nyx a few minutes later.

“Hi buddy,” Cassian said, chuckling at Nyx’s hazy expression. He was already sitting at the table with a plate of cut up food.

The second Nyx saw the display, he was whining and reaching for it.

“Slow down, you need to be buckled into your seat first,” Nesta said, shaking her head.

“I can’t blame him,” Cassian said, as Nyx was strapped into his high chair. “I’m starving when I wake up, too.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Men.”

The second Nyx’s diapered butt hit the seat, he was stuffing his mouth.

“I guess we should wait for him to eat the cake,” Cassian said, looking longingly at the cake.

Nesta chuckled. “No patience?”

“When it comes to homemade baked goods?” Cassian scoffed. “No.”

She snorted, which had Cassian raising an eyebrow. She looked at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied, shaking his head. “That was just…cute.”

Nesta didn’t reply, but he swore she could see her cheeks heating as she turned to put the leftovers from dinner away.

Once Nyx’s plate was cleared, Nesta cut three slices of cake. One was barely a sliver, one was mostly icing and one was damn near a quarter of the cake. She took the one with extra frosting for herself, placing the small one in front of Nyx and the larger one in front of Cassian.

Again, Nyx wasted no time scarfing it down. Cassian didn’t either, helping himself to another, much smaller piece afterwards, but not touching it yet.

“You sure you don’t want to sing to me?” He asked, taking a bite of the cake. “It would complete my day.”

Nyx, an impending sugar crash, was already dozing again. Apparently, his day with Uncle Cassian had well and truly worn him out.

She rolled her eyes and wiped the excess cake off of Nyx’s face. Pulling him out of his high chair, she said, “No, I think I’m good.”

“I’m just saying,” Cassian pushed. “If you wanted to really wish me a happy birthday, a song would do.”

Nesta snorted, taking Nyx in her arms and swaying, back and forth. “You’ve never heard me sing.”

“If your singing is as good as your cooking, it must be amazing,” Cassian promised.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Have I told you that you’re full of shit?”

Cassian pretended to debate it. “Maybe once or twice.”

Nesta chuckled, and said no more about it. “Finish your cake, Nazari. This little monster is ready for bed. I’ll put him down. It’s your birthday.”

It wasn’t that putting Nyx to bed was exhausting. Although sometimes it could be a chore, Cassian nodded and took another bite of his cake as Nesta and Nyx disappeared.

In their absence, Cassian cleared his plate.

The cake was delicious.

He knew Nesta was an amazing cook, but didn’t know that her baking skills were just as good. It was the best cake he had ever eaten. He was even considering getting himself a third piece, but decided against it as she rounded the corner back into the kitchen.

She sighed, falling into her chair. “That may have been record time to get him down. He was practically asleep before I’d even pulled the curtains shut.”

“He had a big day,” Cassian said, eyeing the piece of cake on her plate that she hadn’t even touched. “Taught him how to make a mojito. He’s a pro. Maybe we should hire him on at the bar.”

Shaking her head, Nesta cut into her cake and took a bite. She chuckled. “I’m sure that doesn’t violate any labor laws.”

“Nah, we’re his guardians,” Cassian said, waving a hand. “We can certainly get some free labor out of him.”

She rolled her eyes. “I honestly can’t tell if you’re kidding or not.” She took another bite of cake, and Cassian’s eyes dipped to her mouth. He was quiet for long enough that she asked, “What?”

He hesitated but said, “You’ve got a little—”

He didn’t finish his sentence, instead he leaned forward across the small space between them and swiped the frosting that was on the corner of her lips away with his thumb.

Nesta didn’t move.

She didn’t push him away, didn’t tell him to stop touching her, either.

Cassian’s thumb lingered against her lips, and when she looked up, he was already watching her, quietly.

She opened her mouth to say something.

What? She wasn’t sure.

But, when her lips moved, Cassian’s did, too.

He kissed her, softly, slowly, and Nesta melted right into it.

#snacmc lawki #snacmc collabs #snelbz tacmc collab #life as we know it #lawki #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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amjustagirl · 3 years

Text

Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi's heart has always pointed north. He wonders if it's broken when it starts to point inexorably towards her.

Set in the aftermath of The Astrophile, in the same universe as Storm Chaser.

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi / f! reader

Genre: Fluff, angst, romance

Wordcount: 7.8k

Masterlist link here

A/N: Dedicated first and foremost to Ami @softsakusa, one of the first people to convince that my writing isn’t shit and that I should keep creating fics.

This fic is also for all the readers who wanted a happy ending for the reader in The Astrophile (which sets out the backstory of the reader, Iwaizumi and Oikawa), and also follows the events of Storm Chaser (which follows the turbulent relationship of Miya Atsumu and now wife - I named her Kaiyo in this fic to avoid confusion!).

Hope you like it - reblogs and comments are always dearly appreciated <3

It must be the worst meet cute of all time.

That is – if he’s using that phrase correctly. It keeps appearing in the god-awful English movies Bokuto and Miya keep playing during team movie nights that makes him want to tear his hair out.

But yes, he meets her at Miya Shino’s seventh birthday party, the birthday girl the apple of Miya Atsumu’s eye, the princess of his castle, the most perfect angel in the entire heavens - the list of pet names growing longer and longer the more the obnoxious setter prattles on about his daughter.

And apparently Miya Shino is a chip off the old block, and is as obsessed with volleyball as her father. Which means that he, one Sakusa Kiyoomi, is forced to turn up on a Saturday afternoon for a birthday party to teach a group of children roughly about the same height as his kneecaps how to play volleyball.

There are plenty of other MSBY players that Miya Atsumu could have rounded up to fritter away a Saturday afternoon. Hinata, for instance - the sunny, fiery headed opposite hitter a perennial favourite with young fans. Or Inunaki - the liberio has an amiable personality that he certainly wouldn’t mind snot nosed children hanging off his arms like a walking, talking monkey bar. But no, Hinata is apparently busy on a weekend meditation retreat, and Inunaki is at his sister’s wedding party, so both of them managed to escape this travesty of a birthday party.

That leaves him with Bokuto who’s practically a child himself, beaming, bumping balls at screaming children with one hand, the other hand lifting another child above his head. Meian’s here too but his own kid is somewhere in this gaggle of monsters anyway, so he’s here to carry out his parental duties – hopefully his presence might balance the sheer chaos he’s sure he’s about to face.

‘Omi-omi you made it!’ Atsumu greets him with a slap to the back.

Sakusa resists the urge to bare his teeth. Is this what hell is? Screeching gremlins underfoot, the nauseating smell of fried food permeating the air.

And it’s probably because he’s still in a horrified daze at the situation he’s put himself in (which Atsumu is either too dense to pick up on or already immune due to the series of similar expressions he pulls at him on a daily basis), Atsumu manages to snap a party hat on his head, before he prances off in victory.

Sakusa snarls, ripping off the red paper hat off his head.

Why on earth did he agree to this again?

‘Sakusa-san! Thank you so much for coming!’

His glare softens by a fraction.

Miya Kaiyo, Atsumu’s long suffering wife approaches him, careful not to touch him, waving at him instead. He appreciates her thoughtfulness, so he thaws a little, giving her a slight nod in greeting.

Right, she’s the reason why he’s here.

He’s always been fond of her - competent, patient, intelligent, far too good for her idiot of a husband. Approximately a year ago, he sought her professional help with his accounts. He graduated with a business degree from Chuo University, so he can tell there is obviously something fishy that his manager is pulling with his finances, but the accounting courses he took weren’t in depth to pinpoint the problem. Miya Kaiyo, on the other hand, a trained forensic accountant with a nose like a bloodhound for fraudulent accounts, nailed down the problem within a week. So when she asked him after a game whether he’d be free to attend her daughter's birthday party, he hadn’t been able to turn her down.

‘It was no problem’, he says stiffly, already itching to spray the whole place down with disinfectant. ‘I’m glad to be here.’

Kaiyo laughs at his obvious lie, tugging at his sleeve to seat him in a corner. ‘You don’t have to go play with the kids if you didn’t want to! I invited you so we could catch up, and besides, I did want to introduce you to someone.’

‘Hm.’

He doesn’t try to mask his reluctance this time. Kaiyo means well, he knows, but between her and his mother, he’s tired of having to fend off match making attempts. It’s not like he can’t get a date – he can and he has, it’s just difficult to find someone willing to put up with his prickly personality and busy schedule.

‘Well she’s not here yet, so you’ll have to wait. And while we’re waiting, tell me how’ve things been, Sakusa-san?’

Grateful that he’s not going to be forced into shepherding children into playing anything remotely resembling an actual volleyball match (he suspects he might have more luck teaching cats how to do the conga), he settles into his seat, mouth stretching into something resembling a smile. He lets her chatter about work, and they’re deep in a discussion about his plans post-volleyball (because he can feel the countdown on his career in his creaking bones, his aching sinews) when Atsumu swoops in on him again, like a vulture seeking easy prey.

‘What’cha doin’ with my wife, Omi-omi’, he slips a hand around Kaiyo’s waist mock possessively.

She swats at him. He ducks, raising his hands in surrender.

‘I enjoy talking to an actual adult sometimes, ‘Tsumu!’

‘Oh come on, I already have to share you with ‘Samu most of the time, now you’re leaving me for Omi-kun?!’

‘Dramatic ass.’

‘Please, you chose to marry me.’ He crows, flipping his hair. He looks ridiculous, he always does. Kaiyo seems to agree -

‘And I wonder why sometimes.’ She retorts, Atsumu squawking indignantly at her response, hair ruffling like an offended chick. But Kaiyo ruins the effect of her words by laughing, leaning over to affectionately peck her husband on the cheek.

Sakusa should be annoyed by this display of childishness, but for some inexplicable reason, a frisson of longing bubbles in his chest instead. It’s strange. Marriage or even serious relationships have never been something he’s actively sought. After all, it always seemed horrendously illogical to put all your eggs in one basket and hope nothing trips up – but his heart pays his mind no mind, and the strange sensation continues to trickle down his throat into his chest.

He makes up an excuse to slip to the bathroom for a tactical retreat from this madness.

Then he takes a breath.

Rinse. Lather hands with soap. Rinse. Repeat again .

Familiar motions, bred out of a desire to do things right, transformed into an unbreakable habit. Cold water, washing away soap bubbles.

Right. Now he’s ready for another plunge off the deep end .

He’s a foot past the threshold of the community hall where the party is being held when Miya Shino darts towards him. She’s very clearly her father’s daughter with his penchant for mischief because she dives between his legs, making him stumble in confusion. Then Meian Shugo’s eldest son Makoto barrels towards him, intent on reaching the ball held aloft in Shino’s hands.

Athletic reflexes be damned in the face of a pair of hell-spawn.

‘Shino!’. Kaiyo shouts.

‘Makoto!’ Meian thunders.

Sakusa flails, decidedly without grace, and in his attempt at not squashing the two little devils, he manages to do something even worse .

Much, much worse.

He manages to trip over his feet and bump right into the woman Miya Kaiyo wanted to introduce him to (this, he finds out later). It’s a lost cause – he’s six foot two of pure muscle, dwarfing her by a mile, and she’s carrying a huge box in her hand.

He ends up face planting directly into her chest.

His brain short circuits at the feeling of plush softness and vanilla and – ,

‘Woah - Omi-omi, never thought I’d have to defend the honour of my cousin in law’, Atsumu laughs.

The sudden flare of irritation at Atsumu’s words kickstarts his brain back into gear. Rearing back in alarm, he promptly topples over onto his butt.

‘Uncle ‘kusa, I’m sorry’ Shino screeches, distraught. Makoto merely snivels. Kaiyo is evidently the only one with working brain cells, because she rushes over to help them up.

The-woman-with-the-mysterious-box makes Kaiyo take the box first. It holds precious cargo - Shino’s birthday cake, he later finds out, but because she manages to cling on to it with admirable tenacity, it emerges more or less intact. Then she turns to him, still sprawled on the floor. He scoots away, still dazed.

She offers him a steady hand. ‘Hello’, she says. ‘It seems we’ve gotten off to rather a bad start.’

There is a hint of mirth in her voice, but her eyes are kind.

He takes her hand with a rare smile.

Miya Kaiyo grins behind the cake box. It turns out her daughter is a better matchmaker than either her or (heaven forbid) her husband.

It turns out that Miya Kaiyo wanted to introduce him to her cousin, newly moved to Osaka from Tokyo. She’s a sports journalist, used to cover volleyball even, but for some reason their paths never crossed. She too, is tired of her cousin’s well intentioned meddling, but asks him if he’d like to meet her for dinner one day ‘if only to get Kaiyo off her back, because she’s persistent’, and funnily enough, he agrees.

He doesn’t mind making a new friend, he reasons. She seems decent enough.

They go out for dinner on a Tuesday night. She doesn’t complain when he tells her that due to his diet planned by MSBY’s nutritionist, most restaurants are off limits. Instead, she asks intelligent questions about whether the sources of protein and fibre he’s relying on are varied enough, even suggesting alternatives like tempeh, a Southeast Asian soy product.

He appreciates that.

She doesn’t also fawn over the fact that he’s a professional athlete. That makes sense, considering she’s probably interviewed dozens, if not hundreds of individuals who are just like him. It’s nice - he’s tired of groupies who start dates off by staring at him starry eyed, but ending it with disappointment in their eyes when they discover that he’s just a guy who practices hitting balls enough to do it for a living. And best of all, she doesn’t mind that their conversation sometimes wanes into silence. She doesn’t seem to feel the need to fill empty spaces with inane drivel, nor expect him to entertain her like a circus animal.

He likes that.

So when the night ends, he asks her whether she’d like to have dinner with him again. ‘Just as friends’, he’s quick to clarify.

‘Sure’, she nods, and they bid each other goodnight.

They start having dinner every Tuesday night, subject to their erratic schedules.

He enjoys her company. She’s thoughtful, bringing him home made baked goods like zucchini cake (low sugar, of course), sneaking him chocolate scones for his cheat days after she discovers his hidden sweet tooth. She’s considerate too, never blinking an eye at his compulsive need to make sure everything is just in order, even if the waitress stands behind them aghast when he insists on using disinfectant to wipe down their table. She doesn’t even call him paranoid when he passes her a bottle of sanitizer.

Slowly, he finds himself confiding in her about things he’d maybe only tell his cousin, Motoya. Or at least, the things he would tell Motoya if the guy would only pick up his calls.

‘Sorry’, Motoya texts back after a couple of missed calls. ‘ Practice has been brutal recently.

In a remarkable display of restraint, Sakusa does not point out that EJP Raijin is below MSBY in this season’s rankings.

So he tells her instead about how he’s contemplating retirement, how he’s trying to chart out his next steps career wise. She surprises him by listening to him gravely, pointing out that he can lean on his business degree to possibly land an office job in event management or with sports associations, putting him in touch with one overly excited Kuroo Tetsuro. He tucks her suggestions away carefully at the back of his mind.

It’s nice to have a friend, he tells himself, his lips quirking ever so slightly when her hand grazes his as they walk down the street together.

He invites her to the monthly gatherings that the MSBY players take turns to host for their family and friends, making the excuse that he needs a human shield in any event hosted by Miya Atsumu. She agrees easily, perking up at the chance to spend a Sunday afternoon with her cousin and niece - ‘ and Kaiyo’ll need help, especially since she’s pregnant’, bringing far too many cupcakes topped with the lightest, fluffiest cream cheese frosting he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting. Even Miya Osamu gives her a nod of respect after stuffing his face full of her cupcakes. He, unlike his twin, has good taste.

Her brow furls into a concerned frown when he quietly sneaks himself a second cupcake. ‘You don’t have to force yourself to eat it just to be polite! I made it, so I know it has so much sugar and butter it would make your nutritionist weep. If you want, I snuck some zucchini cake in my handbag for you instead.’

He stubbornly shovels a large bite into his mouth. ‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’

She bursts into laughter, leaning forward to wipe away the smudge of frosting on the tip of his nose with her thumb.

Miya Kaiyo shoots him a knowing look across the room, waggling her eyebrows in an eerie imitation of her husband. He fights to keep his face blank, refusing to feed her satisfaction, but fails, a hot flush rising in his cheeks.

‘Traitor’ he mouths at her. Her smirk only deepens.

Fortunately, the gathering ends with no further mishaps, either to his physical well-being or his dignity. Makoto is packed off with Meian, the little boy whining for more time to play with Shino. Hinata and Bokuto prance off for some ridiculous buffet on the other side of town.

As for himself, he hangs back with her to help the Miyas put their house back in order, expelling an amused puff of a laugh from his nose when she forces the very pregnant Kaiyo to ‘stay still, for goodness sake!’ on the couch, dancing around the house with a mop, Shino trailing after her waving a feather duster with gusto. He refrains from telling the little girl that she’s more likely to spread the dust than to actually clear it – at least she’s not causing more havoc this way.

‘I can’t believe I could’ve ever taken this for granted, y’know’, Atsumu comments from behind him, mouth wide in a tender smile. ‘It’s the best feeling in the world to have a wife and kid who loves ya to the moon and back, welcoming ya home after a long day at work. They make everything worth it.’

He’s thrown for a loop at this rare display of emotional vulnerability from the usually obnoxious setter and for once, does not resort to hostility, choosing instead to acknowledge the blonde setter’s words with a tacticum nod.

The Miyas’ apartment is far too chaotic for his tastes, with colourful toys scattered on the floor, mismatched picture frames of the little family on the walls, but laughter hangs in the air, and light spills from the windows, illuminating the warmth and love and fondness in every look and word the Miyas gift each other.

His father gave him a compass when he was a child, as a present to celebrate his first match. His mother clucked her tongue because it’s a strange gift for a child - delicate, fiddly, its gold exterior tarnished with age. But his father chuckled and told him that he’s old enough to appreciate that the compass is his father’s, and his father’s father before that, an heirloom to remind their sons to work hard at everything they do, and to keep their hearts on course, pointing north.

And Sakusa thinks he’s done that. He’s worked and worked and worked at perfecting his skills in his chosen sport. He’s accepted his solo course, so laser focused on carving out a career in professional sports leaves little time or space for intimate relationships. Not to mention the fact that watching the disaster of Atsumu’s early years of marriage from the sidelines, made him swear off similar heartbreak for himself.

But there are times when he can’t help but feel a little lonely - when he has to struggle to find a date for MSBY events, when he has no one to celebrate the holidays with, when he goes home every day to his neat, cold apartment with space for only one occupant.

The compass in his heart creaks. It starts to turn a few degrees just off-course.

‘Do you ever wonder what it’d be like to get married?’ he asks her as he’s walking her home that night.

‘I did, once upon a time’, she shrugs carelessly. He misses the sudden strain in her smile. ‘Why do you ask?’

He stays silent for a while, the length of the quiet street giving him time to properly ferment his response. He considers the effects of adding splashes of colour to his dull life, weighs it against his long cultivated instinct to avoid the potential chaos of any emotional entanglements. He finds himself suddenly craving the sweetness of cream cheese frosting, and wonders how it’d be like to come home to light, fluffy cakes baked by her hands.

When they reach her apartment block, she tilts her head at him curiously, obviously awaiting his answer. He tugs his words together, strings his swirling thoughts into a decipherable sentence.

‘Because Atsumu and Kaiyo seem happy together. And I wondered if we’d be happy together too.’

He watches her puzzle over his words, her brow furling into a confused frown. ‘And I wasn’t proposing, by the way’, he feels the need to clarify.

She snorts. ‘I didn’t think so.’ With a directness that he very much appreciates, she looks at him squarely and asks - ‘Are you asking me out, Sakusa Kiyoomi?’

He meets her gaze. ‘Yes, I am. We’ve known each other for a decently long time for me to conclude our personalities are well matched, and we’re both mature adults who respect each other’s work schedules and commitments. And if you don’t mind that I can be overly blunt and quiet sometimes - ‘

‘ - which I don’t’, she interjects, with a chuckle.

‘I think we might be happy together’, he concludes, with a small smile that’s becoming more common in her presence.

He allows her the space to turn his proposition over in her mind.

‘Alright’, she finally says. ‘I guess we can give it a go’.

So much for Atsumu accusing him of having a heart made out of tin. Flesh and muscle works overtime to pump blood into his cheeks as she slots her fingers between his and gives his hand a squeeze.

Being in a relationship isn’t too different from what they had before.

They still keep to their standing date to meet every Tuesday (schedules permitting, of course). But now he doesn’t have to make up excuses to ask her out on outings that aren’t food related. At first he tries his best to adhere to dating norms, arranging for romantic dates at candlelit restaurants, buying her massive bouquets that make her sneeze.

‘It’s fine, Omi’, she tells him gently after they spend another uncomfortable evening in a dimly lit restaurant eating off plates too large for the laughably tiny food portions. ‘I’m happy just hanging out with you. You don’t have to go out of your way to impress me, I’m not holding on to any ridiculous expectations of you’. He stops after that, glad he doesn’t have to suffer another night trying to decipher which utensil to be used at which course, or having to put on starched formal wear to yet another stuffy restaurant.

She’s noticeably happier when they accompany each other on trips to the supermarket, each holding a stack of coupons to take advantage of the latest deals. She shields him from any overly zealous obaa-sans with gusto, throwing elbows and using her grocery basket as a makeshift battering ram before they crowd close enough to him to trigger his anxiety. He helps her reach for things on the top shelf ‘to prevent her from scaling the grocery shelves like an overgrown teenager’ , he snarks. He’s worried his attempt at teasing lands wrong, but she snorts and thanks him good naturedly anyways.

On the weekends, they develop a habit of meal prepping for the rest of the week at her apartment. His kitchen lacks the fancy mixers and blenders that she has, and in all honesty, his dark, spartan apartment lacks the sunlight and warmth that spills into her apartment from the windows, so it’s only logical that they should spend the bulk of their time there. It’s an oasis of calm for him, chopping vegetables and chicken into small cubes, sautéing them for the week ahead, while she bustles around whipping eggs and flour and milk together to form another delectable cake that they always end up sharing at the end of the day.

He starts to dread matches away from home a little more than he used to. While hotel rooms are as spartan as his own apartment, he doesn’t have the option of heading over to her apartment to bask in her quiet warmth. His meals come in styrofoam boxes instead of the glass tupperware she stacks on her kitchen counter, and he turns up his nose at store bought cakes that his teammates offer him, only craving for those baked in her oven. He even starts looking up to the stands for a glimpse of her, only to remember that she can’t be there to cheer the team on.

‘Cheer up, Omi-omi! We’ll have a home match next week’, Atsumu tells him jovially.

‘It doesn’t matter either way to me’, he mutters resentfully, but the setter only grins.

‘Trust me, it matters a great deal to have the girl ya love cheering ya on, y’know?’

He stalks off to the changing room, ignoring the peals of laughter from the blonde annoyance he leaves in his wake.

The tight coil of loneliness only loosens when he sees her waiting for him at the station when he returns. She ignores his protests to snag his suitcase away from him, the case looking comically large against her small frame, but she uses it effectively as a tank to force a path through the crowd, and drag him back to her apartment in no time.

‘You need a home cooked dinner to make up for all those industrially prepared food you must’ve been eating this entire week’, she tells him, bustling around the kitchen, only stilling when he takes her shoulders in his hands.

‘Are you happy?’ he asks, when he cups her face to carefully brush the dusting of flour on her cheek away.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ She laughs, the sound fond.

‘Just checking in’, he tells her, closing his eyes as she pulls him down towards her for a kiss.

All in all, it’s a happy, uncomplicated relationship. He likes it that way.

If his heart were a compass, he’d suspect it’s broken because instead of pointing north, it starts to inch inexorably towards her.

But there are strange quirks he notices about her that niggles at his brain.

She refuses point blank to check out the planetarium when she attends an event held at the adjacent Art Museum as his date, professing to have an irrational dislike for stars.

‘They’re just balls of burning gas and light ’ , he points out. ‘What could you possibly have against them?’

There’s a flicker of irritation in her eyes that he does not miss. ‘I know it’s stupid but just humour me, ok?’ Her tone verges on a snarl, before she storms away, ostensibly to the bathroom to freshen herself up.

She returns later with an apology for her behaviour. Though he’s confused, he respects her privacy and does not push for an answer.

He’s at her apartment preparing meals for the week ahead when the doorbell rings and an enormous bouquet of white lilies are deposited into her arms. She stares dumbly at the flowers, their sickly sweet scent permeating the air.

His brow furls. ‘Today isn’t your birthday, is it?’

His words jolt her out of her trance. ‘No’, she answers, before inexplicably storming to the living room and dumping the bouquet with a vengeance on the coffee table. Pollen flutters to the floor, delicate white petals crushed in her hands.

‘It’s nothing’, she tells him as he shoots her a questioning look.

When she disappears to the washroom, he peeks at the card. There’s no name on it, just a simple message - ‘consider it, please?’

He doesn’t question her about it when she returns to the kitchen. She doesn’t offer him any answers either.

He finds himself wondering about them.

It was refreshing at first to have a relationship free of any expectations. She never asks for more than he’s willing to give, seems happy enough to slot herself into the pockets of time he offers, only attends his games when he gives her tickets, doesn’t get upset with him when he inevitably forgets to text.

But therein lies the issue, doesn’t it?

If she truly likes him, wants to pursue a relationship seriously with him, shouldn’t she be demanding more than the crumbs of affection and attention he shows her? They’re both past the age of thirty, shouldn’t she be looking to get married and settle down, maybe spawn a demon child or two?

He’s tried raising it with her once, but she responded with confusion.

‘I don’t have any expectations of you, Omi’, she’d replied. ‘We both have busy lives, so whatever you’re willing to give, I’m happy to take’.

There’s technically nothing wrong about her answer. It’s wholly considerate and kind - very much her.

Still, it makes him wonder - if her heart were a compass, would it point towards him?

He manages to hold his tongue until she gets another delivery of flowers.

This time he opens the door when the doorbell rings, assaulted by the heady scent of lillies, pollen smeared on his sleeves. This time, there’s a name on the card.

Oikawa Tooru .

It takes a couple of seconds for him to realise why the name is so familiar. It’s the same name Hinata and Kageyama used to buzz about every Olympics - the famous Argentinian setter who started his career as a schoolboy from Miyagi, a prodigious setter who never made it to Nationals in high school, refused to give up and forged his way to success in a whole new land, continents away.

‘How do you know Oikawa’? He asks her. ‘And why does he keep sending your flowers?’

‘He’s just an old acquaintance,’ she admits. ‘He’s just sending the flowers to persuade me to attend his wedding.’

His forehead crinkles in confusion, and he tries his best not to leap to conclusions, but since she doesn’t seem to be forthcoming with further clarification, he presses her further.

‘And why won’t you attend his wedding?’

Her shoulders slouch in obvious reluctance as she turns away, focusing her attention on the mixing bowl. But Kiyoomi isn’t easily deterred, so he firmly takes the mixing bowl from her and sets it on the countertop. He raises an eyebrow at her, clearly seeking an answer.

She huffs a sigh through her nose. ‘Because he’s getting married to my ex-boyfriend, ok?’

He blinks. That was unexpected.

‘It happened half a decade ago. Ancient history. I’m over it.’ She mutters to the floor.

‘Why didn’t you tell me about it?’

‘Because it’s none of your business’, she snaps, grabbing the mixing bowl again, beating the batter with a vengeance.

‘You’re going to ruin the texture if you whisk it too hard’, he tugs the bowl away from her again. She refuses to relinquish her grip.

‘Leave me alone!’ she snarls, yanking the bowl back. Confused by her sudden fury, he lets go of the bowl, only for her to stumble back, eyes wide as she loses her balance, knocking her head against the countertop.

He drops down onto his knees, not even noticing the batter soaking into his pants, combing through her hair, scouring the back of her neck for any sign of injury. It’s only when he’s satisfied that her fall has resulted in nothing more than a bruise that should go away by tomorrow that he notices her tears soaking the front of his shirt.

‘Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?’ he asks, wiping her tears away with a batter splattered thumb.

She hangs her head, body still shaking from her sobs. ‘I’ve already made such a mess of things – don’t want you to have to listen to my nonsense – am just bein’ stupid, that’s all - ’.

He patiently waits until her sobs dissolves into mere sniffles before speaking. ‘I want you to tell me what’s wrong. If you’re up to it.’

So through more broken sobs and hiccups, he listens to the tale of Iwaizumi Hajime, a boy who was her world, who only realised he was always in love with Oikawa Tooru, a fortnight before she and he were to wed. Her voice wavers as she tells him the full story of the white lilies, explains that her irrational dislike for stars stems from the reminder that she chose to give her world up to a boy-king burning brighter than the stars in the night sky combined.

He waits until her words run out, and she’s leaning against him, broken and pliant in a way that makes his heart ache.

‘I wish you told me about it earlier’, he tells her, tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ear. ‘That you would trust me enough to tell me about the things that hurt you in the past. And I wonder about the state of our relationship if you don’t even trust me enough for that’.

‘That’s unfair. You never asked - ‘

‘How could I ask about something I didn’t even know about?’ He takes hold of her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. Hurt and anger and shock simmer in her eyes, each swirl of emotion fighting for dominance.

‘I didn’t want to expect anything more from this relationship than you were willing to give’, she admits after a pause.

She’s scared of being hurt again. He doesn’t miss the subtext.

‘Shall I tell you what I want from you then? I have a list, if you’re willing to hear me out’ he asks, with a smile that’s growing more common the more time he spends around her.

She nods, but keeps her gaze stubbornly on the ground.

He takes his time to choose his words. He’s never been verbose - not like Atsumu or Bokuto or even easygoing Motoya, choosing to only say what is strictly necessary, using the precise amount of words, nothing more, nothing less. But this is a situation that requires more emotion rather than precision, so he inhales a shaky breath, letting it fuel the sentiment in his heart as he exhales.

‘First. I want you to trust that I’ll never hurt you like he did’, he says, and with a self-deprecating smile he adds - ‘I don’t have any childhood friends to be secretly in love with besides Motoya, and I’m hardly going to be pining after my flake of a cousin’.

That triggers the corners of her lips to tilt upwards, and encouraged, he carries on.

‘Second. I want you to be open with me about what you want - your dreams, your expectations of me. I want to hear them all because you’re important to me.’

That makes her flush pink, and she sneaks a glance up towards him.

‘Third. I want to wake up each morning with you by my side and come home to you every night. I want to watch you fight cranky old ladies in the supermarket in my honour, be the first person to taste test all your baking experiments - even the failed ones that are only fit to feed Atsumu. I want us to be happy together. Forever, if possible.’

He lifts her bodily into his lap, brushes his nose against her cheek. ‘Now that I’ve told you what I’m willing to give, is that too much for you to take?’ he murmurs against her lips.

Her blush blossoms into a deep scarlet, but her eyes are iridescent pools of startled delight. She doesn’t speak, sealing her answer instead with her lips.

His heart’s compass is irretrievably broken, the needle melted into place. It doesn’t point north any longer, no – it’s always going to point towards her.

They move in together after that.

He gives up his apartment, professing to prefer the warmth and light of hers. The Miyas help him move in even when he tries to refuse their help, Atsumu helping him to lug cardboard boxes up the stairs, Kaiyo helping him sort out his belongings, sorting them into his allocated cupboards.

When they’re done, they order pizza and she bakes a cake to celebrate. ‘An impromptu housewarming’ she says, toasting Miya Kaiyo with a slice of pepperoni pizza with a laugh.

Kiyoomi shares a slice of chocolate cake with Atsumu in complete defiance of their nutritionist’s advice, jostling forks over the very last bite. She and Kaiyo scold them teasingly, telling them to behave like they’re actually thirty and not teenagers on the cusp of adulthood. Atsumu pulls at Kaiyo’s ponytail in retaliation. He refuses to engage in similar tomfoolery, reddening instead when she reaches over to ruffle his curls.

‘This is nice’, he remarks to Atsumu later, when their significant others are out of earshot, gossiping and giggling about something or other.

‘It is, isn’t it’, Atsumu replies, a dopey smile on his face as he stares at his wife.

It truly is , Kiyoomi thinks, staring at her.

He takes over most of the cleaning, it clears his mind, he tells her. So to split the chores evenly, she insists on doing their laundry and cooking, and he doesn’t even nag her too much when she forgets to split the white and coloured clothes and stains some of his shirts once in a while.

Wedding invites printed on expensive cream paper and bouquets of white lilies start to litter their doorstep every day. He tries his best to dispose of them before they reach her sight, but every so often, he comes home too late, catches her wilt as she brushes white petals from their doorstep.

‘I don’t blame either of them’, she tells him, after he asks if she’d like him to call Iwaizumi and tell him to drown himself in a vat of batter, thank you very much.

‘You’re too kind to both of them’ he says plainly, as they share a pot of tea, his head pillowed in her lap. ‘I would’ve just set them both on fire and left them to rot.’

‘Hajime loved Tooru for almost all his life - I just wanted to see him happy in the end. Argh - I sound so stupid and sentimental like an old grandma, just laugh at me already’ she complains, hiding her burning cheeks in her hands.

‘You aren’t stupid for being kind.’ He hums, quiet and low. ‘It’s why I love you so.’

He relishes the soft light dawning in her eyes, captures her whispered affection with careful fingers, spins them into gold.

He has to turn off the stove to answer the door when some rude lout bangs on their front door far too early on a Sunday morning.

With his coldest sneer and thinking resentfully about his breakfast, Kiyoomi swings the door open, fully intent on looming over the disturbance with his full height, but takes a step back instead when he finds one Iwaizumi Hajime hanging off the door knob.

‘Hello’, Iwaizumi looks up at him confusedly.

‘Hi’, he nods a greeting back at his old Olympic team trainer. They stare at each other.

‘Eh - I think I’ve got the wrong house’, Iwaizumi scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. ‘Sorry about that, Sakusa-san.’

He’s about to close the door in Iwaizumi’s face when her voice chimes in, clear as a bell.

‘Who’s at the door, Omi?’

The shorter man shoots him a look of barely contained rage as he uses his bulk to push his way through the doorway towards her. Kiyoomi tries to stop him, protesting that he can’t barge into someone’s private property without an invitation like that, but it’s as futile an endeavour as trying to block the path of a raging storm.

Iwaizumi reaches her first, raising a hand as if to cup her face by instinct, before letting it fall back limply by his side. ‘You weren’t answering any of my messages or calls’, he says. ‘I was worried about you.’

She stares at him blankly for a moment. Then fire sparks in her eyes.

‘Well, as you can see, I’m completely fine’, she replies, jaw and fists clenched. ‘You don’t need to do a welfare check on me, we’re not involved anymore.’

The scorching pain in Iwaizumi’s eyes is evident, even from a distance away. ‘Yeah. Well. I thought we were friends. You didn’t even tell me you were dating again’. He shoves his hands in his pockets, tossing another heated glance in Kiyoomi’s way.

‘I didn’t think I needed to update my ex-fiance about my love life, especially not when he’s trying to drag me to attend his wedding that I already said I’m not going to attend’, she bites back.

Iwaizumi opens his mouth, then closes it with a resounding snap. ‘I’m sorry’, he says, with heartbreaking honesty. ‘I told Tooru that you probably didn’t want to hear from us, but he insisted and I got worried when I didn’t hear from you for months’.

Kiyoomi can see her glare soften into molten sympathy. The tension in the air crackles with electricity. He’s neither blind nor stupid – he can sense the years of longing and love not quite lost between them.

He thinks she loves him, Sakusa Kiyoomi – weird habits, cold disposition and all, but the doubt clogging up his arteries and veins is enough to make his heart seize – and if she’s going to break his heart, he’d much rather she not do it in front of Iwaizumi.

‘Hajime - ‘ she begins to say, and at this point he jumps in -

‘I’ll excuse myself so you both have the chance to catch up’, he says, waving aside her protests as he slips on his shoes. Even in his haste to leave the house, he clicks his tongue at the mess Iwaizumi left behind at their genkan , kneeling down to arrange their shoes, only standing up when he’s satisfied they’re neatly arranged back in place.

‘Omi, you don’t have to leave’, she says, holding the door open.

He shrugs his shoulders at her, nose and mouth already obscured by his usual face mask. ‘Let me know when you’d like me to come back’.

If she’d like him to come back. She doesn’t chase after him, after all.

It’s a beautiful Sunday morning, but the golden sunshine feels more like a taunt rather than a balm to his mood. His stomach growls, making him long for the scrambled eggs he was in the middle of frying before he was so rudely interrupted, but his growing sense of nausea keeps him from seeking out an alternative meal.

Instead, he makes his way to the park, sits on a relatively clean bench. There are couples a-plenty, strolling around hand in hand, families picnicking merrily around him, compounding the growing chasm of loneliness in his chest. He tries to count the seconds by his breaths, tries not to let the minutes expand the insecurities crawling, inch by inch up his throat.

He sits alone. Poised, yet short of breath.

He wonders if Iwaizumi Hajime has finally figured out that stars, for all their brilliance, cannot compensate for their lack of human kindness. And if so, he wonders which direction her heart would point towards if it were a compass - whether it’s as broken as his, and whether it points towards Iwaizumi or him.

He waits.

Then his phone buzzes.

Ah.

She’s asking him to come home. He does not dare to overthink the meaning of that single word. But he does not hide that his steps back home are lighter than when he left, though the key in his hand shakes so hard it takes him three tries to fit it into the keyhole. He does not try to suffocate the seed of hope budding in the soft earth of his heart when he realises Iwaizumi’s shoes have vanished without a trace.

“Omi?”

She’s waiting for him, slipping warm arms around his waist, tangling her fingers in his curls, ignoring his complaints about letting himself wash his hands first.

‘Am I silly for missing you, even though it’s only been an hour?’

He refuses to be distracted by the affection in her voice.

‘But what about Iwaizumi?’ he frowns, hesitation still poisoning the well of thoughts in his mind.

Perhaps it’s a testament to how well they’ve grown to know each other that she doesn’t need to read the silent subtext of his statement. She smiles, bringing his palm flat against her chest, does not answer until his pulse matches the steady beat of her heart.

‘I love you , Omi’, she tells him. Her heartbeat does not quicken, her smile does not waver. ‘You told me not to long ago to always be upfront with you about what I want so I’m going to be honest with you now - Iwaizumi is only ever going to be my past, and I want you from now on’.

If her heart were a compass, the steady beat of her heart tells him, it would point only towards him.

‘That is – if you’ll have me’, she adds, a shadow of doubt suddenly appearing on her face.

‘Don’t be ridiculous’, he scoffs, burying his nose to breathe in the familiar scent of vanilla in her hair. ‘Who else would I rather have than you?’

Who else would he be lucky enough to call his home – a woman with a heart large enough to fit a whole ocean within its depths, with kindness in her eyes and mirth in her smiles.

She laughs in spite of the salt in her throat and water in her eyes, leaning on her toes in a vain attempt to reach his face. He lifts her into her arms, laughs when she squeals indignantly as her feet only find air, toppling them both onto the couch where he can seat her between his legs, press kisses to her cheeks.

She’ll tell him later that Iwaizumi came looking for her because he’s never outgrown his overprotective streak, and he’s truly happy for her - for them, because they’ve both moved on with their separate lives. And she ended up agreeing to attend his and Oikawa’s wedding on one condition – that an invitation is extended to him, Sakusa Kiyoomi, to attend with her as his date.

He’ll tell her later that he’s happy to attend the wedding with her, just not to expect him to smile in any wedding pictures. And more importantly, he’ll tell her in his plain way that the list of expectations he has of their relationship has expanded yet again.

He’ll lay out his dreams of a pair of matching golden rings to bind them to lifelong companionship, of hellspawn of their own and a dog, maybe two.

He’ll ask her if it’s too much for him to ask of her.

She’ll tell him that she’s willing to give him everything he asks for and more.

It’s Miya Shino’s ninth birthday party.

He’s retired from volleyball proper, and is thankful he insisted on getting a business degree from Chuo University before going pro, because it comes in handy working alongside Kuroo Tetsuro at the volleyball association.

Miya Atsumu insists on inviting him to the party, though he supposes he’s invited not by virtue of being a former teammate, but because he’s also Shino’s uncle by marriage now. The thought that he’s related to Miya Atsumu, however distant and most definitely not by blood, still fills him with dread.

The birthday girl is a little less imbued with her father’s chaotic energy this time, though she still squeals when her birthday cake is unveiled – though to be fair it’s less a cake, more a tower of cupcakes with cream cheese frosting spelling out her name.

‘Thank you Auntie!’ Shino cries, flinging her arms around her. Kiyoomi flinches at the sight of anyone, even his nine year old niece, coming in close contact with his extremely pregnant wife, but a sharp glare from her subdues any complaint he dares to make.

He fusses over her the minute he has the chance to corral her away from the clutches of Miya Shino. ‘Are your feet hurting? What about your back? I don’t know why you insist on walking so much when you know the doctor said you should be on bed rest soon’.

‘Stop fussing, Omi! The baby and I will be fine’, she replies, exasperated. ‘This is the last social event scheduled before I pop and I’m determined to enjoy it while I can.’ Then she scuttles off faster than he imagines her frame allows, leaving him floundering in her wake.

‘Just let her be’, Miya Atsumu laughs, slapping his back. Kiyoomi is on the verge of pointing out - pot, meet kettle, reminding Atsumu that the last time Kaiyo was pregnant, Atsumu didn’t stop fretting until she went into labour and delivered a healthy baby boy. But then he remembers the grief etched into Atsumu’s face when Kaiyo miscarried in the stands during a game, so he holds his tongue and rolls his eyes instead.

‘I’m just worried she’s pushing herself too hard’, he admits in a rare bout of vulnerability.

Atsumu smiles, genuine for once. ‘Those crazy women, eh? They’re always gonna drive us up the wall, but they’re worth every minute of it.’

He looks at her, belly swollen with their first child, peach blossoms blooming in her cheeks. His past self would never imagine that he’d find this much joy and contentment in being a husband and a father, but then again his past self was satisfied coming home alone day after day to a cold apartment. He knows better now - life is so better when he has her, sharing stories of their day of over steaming mugs of tea at their kitchen countertop, listening to her hum as she bakes treats for the weekend, warmth and laughter and love abound in their cosy apartment for two, soon to be three.

So feeling vaguely drunk though he hasn’t had a drop of alcohol in the months since she whispered during their anniversary dinner that they were expecting, Kiyoomi laughs aloud.

Atsumu lifts his eyebrows in surprise.

‘She really, really is’, Kiyoomi says, breaking into an unguarded smile.

If you wanna know more about the backstory of the reader - check out The Astrophile, and if you wanna know more about Miya Atsumu’s relationship with his wife, check out Storm Chaser.

As always, reblogs and/or comments are so very appreciated <3

Taglist:

@snoozless @softsakusa @moondaius (yeon i’ll be shameless and tag you cos I know you’re an Omi stan!)

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cevans16 · 3 years

Text

I Did Not Recognize You

Summary: WARNING - SMUT

Sebastian as Tommy Lee is sending you to another planet. I am not romanticizing Tommy Lee, this is about Sebastian in that role.

“Hey doll, what time are you coming over?” Sebastian asked you on the other end of the line

“Hmmmm well I can come over before you guys wrap up for the day, I want to see you in your role, its so different” you said to him

“I can send you a picture...” he teased you, you can practically imagine his smirk by the tone of his voice

“No, I want it to be a surprise, but hey I gotta go, I’m meeting with my agent really quick” you said

“Okay love you, see you later” he replied before hanging up.

You and Sebastian had been dating for almost two years now, first meeting on set for Captain America Civil War, you two had been dating other people at the time but became good friends. Once you were both single for a while, you hit it off and have been together ever since. The rest of the cast knew somehow you and Sebastian would date eventually, you were just like magnets for each other.

You had a quick meeting with your agent in downtown LA before heading towards Sebastian’s set. You walked in looking for him but had yet to spot him, you spotted Lily James first. Well you didn’t recognize her until she called out for you.

“(Y/N)!!!” she yelled your name

You looked around, recognizing her voice but not finding her until she waved at you.

“Oh my gosh! I did NOT RECOGNIZE YOU!!!!” you said running over to her to give her a hug. She looked amazing dressed as Pamela Anderson.

“You look HOT!!!” you said twirling her

“Thank you! As do you, I know Sebastian is here somewhere, you haven’t seen him yet have you?” she asked smiling

“No, I wanted to see his outfit in person” you chuckled

“Well I think he’s somewhere over here, come with me” she said leading you to another side of the set

You walked past two sets, you saw someone leaning on one of the walls but you didn’t focus on their face. Lily gave you a quick tour of the set, she was obviously hiding something because she had a mischievous smile on her face.

“You’re up to something aren’t you?” you asked her

“Noooo” she said but smile even wider

You narrowed your eyes at her motioning the “I am watching you” towards her. You could see her laughing harder which then confused you until you felt someone grab your waist causing you to yelp. You turned around to see someone with black hair, shirtless, covered in tattoos and nipple piercings, you were going to push him away until you realized it was your Sebastian.

“Sebas-” you said in awe not even finishing his name

“Did you not recognize me?” he said laughing

“No! I didn’t even recognize Lily, holy shit, I’m not normally into this look but you look hot baby” you said to him, not even realizing that you were eyeing him up and down.

“I’m still here” Lily said laughing

“I’m sorry....you set me up...this is why you were giggling” you said to her

“He was watching us from the other side this whole time, we made a bet to see how long it would take you to notice him...thanks for the twenty bucks” she said, bringing out her hand to Sebastian

“You owe me twenty doll” he said to you as he handed her the money, rolling his eyes

“Not my fault you look entirely different, I’ve never seen you with black hair, it brings out your eyes more” you said ruffling his hair softly

“She’s more in love with you now, I have to go I’ll see you two later at the bar” Lily said walking away leaving you and Sebastian alone.

“Babe, I don’t know why I am digging this look on you” you smirked at him. He leaned down to give you a kiss, then playing with the string of the straps of your summer dress.

“I can make it permanent” he teased

“Please don’t but I do enjoy it, you look hot, you’re going to kill it as always” you said to him, “stop playing with my straps” you said playfully smacking his hand away, he scoffed at you before pulling you in for another kiss.

“I need you right now” he whispered in your ear, “let’s go to my trailer?”

“Sebs isn’t the staff still here?” you asked

“No most of them are gone for the day” he said shrugging.

“What are you going to do to me?” you raised your eyebrow at him

“Maybe I can show you if you follow me” he said pulling you towards his private trailer

You guys went inside, he made sure to lock the door, pushing you back and setting you on the counter

“Sebastian - I didn’t” you didn’t finish your sentence since he kissed your neck, getting your sweet spot causing you to moan

You pushed him back slightly to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants to push them down. Meanwhile Sebastian was pushing your straps down and pushing your dress up.

“You always kill me with this dress” he said to you kissing you back again.

“And you’re killing me with this look” you looked up at him.

He bit his lip, observing your face for a moment before he dove back onto your lips. One of his hands on your waist while the other hand trailed south. He gasped when he didn’t feel anything else underneath.

“No panties” he practically squeaked

“It’s been a while babe” you said back to him

Sebastian rubbed his fingers along your thighs, teasing you, you opened your legs further for him to get the hint

“Impatient are we?” he asked chuckling

“If I remember correctly, you’re the one that dragged me here” you said sticking out your tongue tongue. You were about to laugh again when you felt two of his fingers dive into your core, causing you to moan again. Sebastian fingered you deeper, moving his fingers in a hither motion. He loved his other hand to choke you gently with the perfect amount of pressure around your neck. You were a moaning mess, trying to close your legs at the sensation.

“Nah uh doll keep them open for me” he sternly said. You nodded your head, moving one of your hands to grab onto his forearm.

“Please... Sebs” you moaned

“What baby?” he teased

“I need you, I need your cock now” you said, gripping his hard on through his briefs, this time Sebastian was the one to gasp.

“Fuck.. I don’t have any protection on me doll” he said

“I don’t fucking care at this point” you said quickly

Sebastian stopped moving for a second, looking into your eyes, his blue ones staring deep into your soul.

“Are you sure?” he asked, “I know you’re not on birth control doll”

“I’m not....are you sure Sebs?” you asked him

“Uhmmm yes” he said moving his fingers out of you and sucking on them.

He moved closer to you again, you could feel his member slide along your wet core. He leaned down to kiss you again, trailing to your breasts, and back up to your neck

“I love you” he whispered

“I love you too” you said

Sebastian stroked himself a few times, moving himself along your slickness. He looked at you once more to see if you’d oblige, you didn’t, you bit down on your lip knowing what was next. You two had never had sex like this.

He slid in you painfully slow, allowing you to adjust to his girth, you felt yourself grow hot, your breath hitching when he bottomed out in you, you clenched around him causing him to groan.

“Fuck” you both moaned in unison

You kissed him back passionately, tugging on his hair gently, you moved your hips forwards causing his hips to stutter.

“Fucckkk doll” he groaned against your lips, he bit down on your lip, finally moving his hips into a steady rhythm in and out of you.

“Sebastian” you moaned against his lips, you could feel him smiling against them. You now began rotating your hips on his, both of you gripping each other closer, Sebastian hands were tight on your hips while yours were around his neck. Even though he was dressed drastically different, he still wore his cologne, intoxicating you beyond notion. You kissed his neck, gently biting down on his shoulder. You could feel yourself getting close to climaxing.

“Baby—- please” you kept moaning. You moved one of your hands to place them on the counter, allowing you to lift yourself up slightly so you could ride Sebastian.

“Ohhhh fuck doll don’t stop” he whispered, moving his body fully onto yours. You two became one, the sound of skin slapping on skin filled the room, you felt like the temperature was boiling at this point, you had one goal for each other.

“Babe I’m close” he said, his eyes fluttering at you

“Me too” you replied

“You sure?” he asked again

“Yes I need all of you Sebastian” you moaned

Sebastian went into overdrive, his gentle pace changed into a rough one, signaling that he was closer than ever. You never felt each other without protections, this time you felt like your senses were heightened down there. You couldn’t help but keep clenching around his girthy cock slipping in and out of you.

“Sebastian ....yes... yes... oh right...Sebastian!!!” you yelled, feeling your abdomen explode in pleasure. Your eyes rolling back, legs shaking around his waist, you felt Sebastian’s rhythm falter and then he pushed deep inside you, feeling him engorge within you. You heard him groan and then you felt his hot and sticky load spurt inside you, you never thought it would feel this amazing. You thought you would have another orgasm at the sensation of his cum exploding in you. He thrusted in a few more times, not allowing any cum to fall out. His head fell on your shoulder, trying to catch his breath.

“Fuck that was - now I know why babies are made” he joked

“Shut up” you giggled smacking his shoulder. You turned your head to kiss his temple.

“I love you” he whispered

“I love you too” you replied

“Don’t get mad at me if I end up getting you pregnant from this” he said laughing

“Maybe I want to make you a daddy” you smirked at him causing him to scoff and then kiss you on your forehead

“I’d be okay with that” he said.

And that he was okay with, because sure enough, you had a positive pregnancy test three weeks later. You both already knew what had sparked that...

#sebastian stan x latina! reader #sebastian stan x latina reader #sebastian stan x reader #Sebastian Stan #sebastan stan imagines #sebastian stan imagine #Sebastian Stan smut

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

My Kind

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warning: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having been chosen by the gang to be a guest streamer on today’s stream of Among Us, it’s safe to say Y/N’s super excited but also a bit nervous. The whole of her anxiety gets lifted off her when she meets someone with the exact same vibe as hers - yeah you guessed it.

Requested by @monizzle96 Hi dear! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! I’m so terribly sorry it’s taken me so long to write and post it but here it finally is! I hope you come across it and read it and if so I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

This has to be the fiftieth time I’ve checked my setup in the past twenty four hours. But no, I’m definitely not nervous, what are you talking about. Pshhh. Nah, being nervous isn’t in my brand. Plus, what do I have to make me nervous - a group of famous streamers inviting me onto their stream to play Among Us with them because they enjoyed my own streams? Ok yeah, that’s a pretty good reason. Not gonna lie, I almost chucked my phone out of excitement when I received that DM from Toast, telling me they’d picked me to be their guest streamer for today’s date. My stomach was doing somersaults for a good forty-eight hours following that text and then the anxiety slowly started setting in fueled by the expectations they probably have of me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not inexperienced in the streaming field, I’ve been a streamer longer than some of the members of Toast’s streamer gang actually. But I never managed to garner that big of a following which I’m honestly quite ok with. I have a modest - ok, maybe larger than modest - following consisting of incredibly loyal fans which I will never stop being grateful for. They are all so respectable of me, my privacy and my boundaries. They know the main rules: no shit-talking in the chat or in any of my comment sections, no bashing other YouTubers in my comments/chat, and most definitely not asking for a face reveal. Fun fact: I didn’t even set up that last rule, they all just collectively know not to ask for it.

I’ve been keeping my brand pretty low-key to avoid garnering some unwanted attention - some of which I’ve already experienced on certain social media platforms following the full body pictures I posted on there - face not visible of course. I tend to also have my webcam on, facing towards my hands working away on the keyboard sometimes when I stream. I don’t know why people obsess over faceless content creators’ hands, but I appreciate the enthusiasm - it also drives me to do a manicure every now and then which ain’t so bad, self-care and all that you know.

Now, back to the subject of my ridiculous nervousness.

You see, it has layers.

I’m nervous of ‘preforming’ underwhelmingly and I’m nervous of what my own fans will think of the person I will become during this stream. They know me as a super chill and laid-back person, which I am by the way, but they might think I’m putting on a show if I exhibit any nervous gestures/vocabulary. I highly doubt they would, but the possibility is not letting my mind rest. And now that it’s about ten minutes till the stream starts, I’m getting doing my best to calm my nerves.

They are all just people. You know they are super chill too. Just be yourself, that’s why they invited you, because you are yourself on all your streams. They liked you for your personality, humor, maybe even your gaming skills. So chill the hell out and be yourself, damn it!

Easier thought than put into action that’s for sure.

I start my stream five minutes early just so I can vibe with my viewers for a little while before I have to meet the gang. My fans always have a way of injecting me with confidence, they remind me of where I was when I started and how far I’ve come. How much I achieved when I thought I’d be nothing and no one, someone the algorithm would simply overlook. But then they entered my life and I entered theirs and it all became much better than I ever thought it would get to be. I rarely tell myself ‘good job’ for the milestones I’ve reached or the hard work I’ve put into my content, but that’s probably cause I orient myself based on that quote from the movie Whiplash: ‘There are no two words in the English language more harmful than good job’ - simply put, I’m never satisfied with what I do and I always strive to do better. My fans, however, make sure I don’t go overboard with it - always serving as a reminder that I’ve done plenty for myself and others. And that’s what makes an amazing fandom, one I consider family.

Whoa, when did those five minutes fly by?!

Ah shit, here we go. Deep breaths, Y/N you got this.

“Hello!“ I say as I enter the Discord call, subconsciously biting my lower lip, grateful the camera isn’t capturing it. However, I make a mental note to keep my hands steady cause that’s the one part of me people can actually see and the last thing I want is for them to see how much my fingers are trembling.

“Oh hi, Y/N!“ Toast is the first one to greet me, “Welcome to the stream! Thank you so much for accepting our invitation.“

“Thank you for having me and inviting me, Toast. This is a huge deal for me. You guys are basically YouTube legends, this is unreal to me.“ I reply, cringing immediately afterwards because of my fangirl rambling. Great way to make first impressions, Y/N. Bravo.

To be fair, they already have an impression of you. Quit stressing.

Aright, you’ve got a point, me.

“Oh please, we owe all that to our fans. We’re really nothing special. All streamers are almost completely alike, we all owe where we are to the people who helped us make it there - our fans. We’re no legends.“ Toast says, bringing a small smile to my face as well as a light pink blush to my cheeks, “And from what I’ve seen, you yourself have quite the following. And your fans seem to adore you.“

“And I absolutely adore them.“ I chuckle, “They mean the world to me. They are the reason I’m here today.”

“Then we have to give them a special thank you, don’t you think?“ The teasing, familiar giggle, widens my smile - it’s Rae, “Nice to meet you, Y/N! I’m Rae, and, no cap, I’m quite a fan of your content. No joke, I binged your entire series of Resident Evil 7 as soon as I found your channel when Toast said he’d invite you.“

This rattles me a bit. I can hardly believe it - am I really receiving a compliment from an A-list name in the streaming world? My fans must be hella proud of me right now. A quick glance at my chat confirms that they indeed are. That in and of itself fills me with joy and newfound confidence.

“Oh Gosh, thank you so much Rae! That means the world to me. You’re all so sweet.“ I reply, lifting my ice cold hands to cool down my burning cheeks, my lips spread into a grin, my stomach filled with butterflies.

“Oh please, we have some real savages around here.“ A male voice, seemingly Charlie’s scoffs, “Don’t overlook us please.“

“Wait, we do?“ A deep voice, one I immediately know the owner of speaks up, “Who? How come I don’t know about that?“

I can’t help bust snort, “Nice to meet you, Corpse. Sarcasm central, I see.”

He laughs, “Just returning it to where it’s due. Nice to meet you too, Y/N. Sick Outlast series, by the way.“

Ok, wait, I have two A-list streamers complimenting my content. Ok, I’m bound to crack open a few beers to celebrate later cause OH MY GOD.

“Thanks! I’m a horror junkie so I’d be lying if I said I haven’t binge watched all your story-times. Personal favorites are the deep web ones, they fascinate me.“

“Oh, you’re one of my kind even more than I expected, huh?“ He replies, the tone of his voice changing, raising a bit due to what I can only describe as excitement and enthusiasm. “I’ve had people tell me it’s twisted, but I really like seeing the lengths to which the fucked up human mind can go to. Like, the shit I’ve read is insane! Some stories I didn’t narrate cause I would’ve probably had my video taken down, it was that messed up.“

My eyes widen, sharing the same excitement at the thought of digging deeper into this phenomenon, “Careful, Corpse, you’re walking a dangerous line of tempting me to deep-dive on Reddit in search of those exact stories.”

“No need.“ Corpse says, his tone now taking up a bit of a cocky note, “I still got them all saved, I can send them to you no problem.“

“Please do! I seriously gotta read them now. If I can’t sleep afterwards, I’m blaming you, Corpse. Just FYI.“ I say, giggling slightly, finding myself all but completely comfortable now. I wonder where all that anxiety went?

“Blame fully taken. Given that I’m not much of a sleeper, I’ll keep you company whenever you think there’s a killer hiding in your closet or fear a red room pop-up will appear on your computer screen.“ He replies, chuckling.

“Um, that’s oddly specific.“ Charlie comments, “Been there yourself, buddy?”

“Perhaps.“ Corpse wheezes, getting a laugh out of me too, “I will neither confirm nor deny.“

“You know what, I’ll just private message you my number so if you see it call you at some ungodly hour, you don’t freak the fuck out. Sounds good?“ I ask, already prepping to type it out and send it to him.

“Perfect. Wait...“ he pauses for a second, sounding puzzled for a second, “You don’t have mine.“

“Oh, do I not?“ I reply with a sinister tone - thought to answer the question, I of course don’t have his number.

“Oh, do you?“ He sasses me right back. “If so then you don’t need me to send it to you. Cool.“

Ah, shit

“Wait, no! I-I need to confirm it’s the correct one!“

Damn, never did I think I’d be complimented by some of the most important streamers on this platform, but to get a number of theirs too? That’s a whole another level that will take me time to process. But I’ll do that another time, right now, I have to kick these people’s butts in Among Us and later I have some deep web stories to read.

Turns out, all it takes to get comfortable in a new surrounding is someone of your kind. And Corpse is definitely one of my kind.

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse

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holylulusworld · 3 years

Text

Her substitute (1) - Need you

Title: Her substitute (1)

Summary: Once you were her best friend. Now her widower seeks shelter in your arms.

Square Filled: Cordell Walker

Ship: Cordell Walker x fem!Reader, Cordell Walker x Emily Walker (widowed)

Characters: Stella Walker

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of loss of a loved one, grief, unrequited love, smut, protected sex, scared of feelings, guilt, sneaking around, secret affair

A/N: This is partially an AU. Cordell didn’t go undercover. Emily and the reader’s boyfriend died together on their way to Y/N’s birthday party. And the reader is Cordell’s partner for the sake of my story. His partner from the show will have an appearance either way.

Word Count: 1,7 k

Created for: @walker-bingo

Her substitute masterlist

2021 Walker Bingo masterlist

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Once upon a time life was good to you, great even.

Life was all you ever dreamed of. Until. One day. Your world exploded.

One day your best friend, the woman you considered family, and your boyfriend got killed after you tried to arrest an unforgiving man. You and your partner lost the people you love on the same day.

While you tried to pick up the pieces and put your life back together, Cordell preferred to despair, and to use you as an outlet for his pain, grief, and frustration.

He can be gentle and cruel within a heartbeat.

Emily was the love of his life but Jason was just someone you spend your days with to fill your empty life. Sometimes he calls you cold or heartless only as you gave Jason’s belongings to the Salvation Army after one year of grieving.

Cordell can never know the reason for your fast recovery…he can never know…

“I need you—“ it always starts with these three words, followed by a desperate look and his hands. God his large hands reach out for you to touch, caress and grope. “Baby Girl.”

“We talked about this, Cordell,” you weakly press your hands against his chest, shaking your head ever so slightly. “I can’t do this. We are partners and she was my best friend.”

“Didn’t stop you from fucking her widower not six months after she got killed,” here we go. The sweet and desperate Cordell is gone, replaced by a blank nerve wanting to hurt and drag you down. “Only as you got over Jason like he meant nothing to you doesn’t mean I can just stop grieving.”

“Then why do you come here to fuck me?” he takes off his cowboy hat, nervously playing with it. “Cordell, we shouldn’t do this. It’s no good for you or me. What if your kids find out?”

“All I can think about is to have you underneath me, pinned to the mattress and my cock so deep inside it hurts,” he drops his hat, steps over it to grasp for you. “I want you, baby girl.”

“Shit—” pinned to the wall seconds later you find yourself falling for your best friend’s widower all over again. It’s not a secret you were in love with Cordell before Emily even met him. He just never showed interest in asking you out and when Emily came into the picture, you backed off like the good friend you were.

“Say you need me,” he buries his face in your neck, inhales your scent deeply. “Baby girl, tell me that you need me and that you want to feel me.”

“Cordell, fuck baby,” you whimper his name, ignore the guilt eating your soul up once again. All you can focus on are his hands grip your waist to hoist you up, holding you midair until you sling your legs around his waistline hands cradling his face to kiss him deeply. “I need you.” It’s not a lie. You always needed him; he just didn’t know it.

“I need you too,” he kisses you fiercely, almost desperate to forget all the pain and his empty bed at home when he tugs at your clothes or moans your name. “Give in, baby girl.”

You are a mess, both of you. While you let Cordell strip you bare, not just your body but your soul and heart, he pants, moans, and whines on top of you.

It doesn’t take long for him to slide into you and pin your hands above your head to make sure you know this isn’t love-making.

Two sides of the very same coin hit you where it hurts the most. Every. Single. Time. He doesn’t take his time to be gentle and loving. Its raw, unadulterated lust driving him into you.

“Fuck, baby girl,” he watches your lips part and your eyes dilate when he starts to move his hips. “Look at me.” It’s a command you follow immediately. He holds your wrists pinned to the mattress to make sure you can't touch him gently. “Good girl, always so good for me.”

“Cordell, you need to—” his lips kiss your protest away, force moans and tiny whimpers out of you. “Please.”

“Just tell me you need me as much as I need you, Y/N,” he finally says your name, not baby girl, and you nod, ashamed you let the widower of your best friend fuck you like a whore on cheap sheets.

“I need you,” you choke the words out, looking away, not wanting to hold his gaze when the familiar burn is back, the one pushing you violently over the edge only to leave you hollow in the end.

“Look at you, so responsive,” his hands finally let go of your wrists to roughly cup your breasts. His thumbs toy with your nipples leave them hard and throbbing. “Those tits, so pretty,” he dives in, suckles one nipple into his hot mouth to push you closer to the edge.

He moves slow, deliberate, plays your body like an instrument. You are in trance, only feel his body press yours to the mattress, mind blank once again.

Another deep thrust makes you moan his name loudly. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you grasp for his shoulders to bring Cordell closer to your heated body to hold him, even if it’s only for this fleeting moment. “Cordell.”

“So tight and warm for me,” his hands grip your thighs to spread you wider. He loves to watch his huge cock disappear in your pussy, the one only he owns. “You take me so well and deep, baby girl.”

You cry out in pleasure, back arching off the bed when his cock hits that spot taking your breath away. His large hands cup your ass, squeeze it tightly.

Cordell holds himself inside your body, stops moving to feel you clench tightly around his thick length. Just staring down at you.

“Cord, what’s wrong?” you whimper breathlessly.

“Just wanted to feel you cum before I fill this cunt up,” his pace becomes brutal after your orgasm.

He moans, eyes glued to your face as he tries to pretend you are only a warm body he can use, a toy to fulfill a primal need, not the woman he could fall for…

“Oh—” you watch him move on top of you, memorize his features, the way his hair is glued to his sweaty forehead, and those obscene veins in his arms, popping out. “I want you to cum, let me feel it, Cordell. Fuck me.”

“Fuck, you—shit Y/N,” he groans, hips jerking violently before he allows himself to let go.

When it’s over he rolls off you to dispose of the condom, already looking for his clothes on the floor.

You have a routine. He comes to your apartment, convinces you to let him fuck you, and leaves you alone and cold moments after your high.

Tonight, you wrap yourself into a sheet and turn around to not watch Cordell hastily put his clothes back on. You would give the world for him to stay the night, but you know he will leave soon.

As usual, you take deep breaths to hide the tears forming in your eyes. “Thank you,” he says, and you feel like a fool all over again.

“I got a job offer in New York,” you casually say. “Do you remember? I always wanted to be with the FBI. Three years ago, they didn’t have a position for me, but last week, I got a call.”

“Oh—” is all you get. You can hear the ruffling of clothing, and then the door opens. “You should take their offer. Being my partner is a dead end. A girl like you shouldn’t stay a Texas Ranger,” the coldness in his voice breaks your heart.

“Yeah, maybe I should,” you clear your throat while you try not to cry. “I will call them on Monday. Have a great—” the door closes before you can say another word. “Figures…”

“FBI?” Stella blanches. “You want to go to New York to work with the FBI, Y/N?” she cries. “You can’t leave me too. Why is everyone leaving me?”

“Stella bear, nothing is decided yet,” you sit next to her on the steps, patting her thigh. “They called me two weeks ago, and I just thought I should at least fly to New York to talk to them. Don’t you think?”

“I don’t know,” she sniffles. “What did dad say? You are his partner, Y/N. He needs you,” you sling one arm around Stella’s shoulders, hiding she just added another crack to your fragile heart. “We need you. You are family to us. Mom loved you.”

“I loved your mom too, Stella bear,” giggling at the awful nickname Stella leans her head against your shoulder, and you feel the guilt overwhelm you once again. If only the girl knew you are banging her father. “She was my best friend and your dad is my friend too.”

“Y/N?” Cordell walks toward his house with long steps. “Is there an emergency? Do you need my help? It’s Sunday.”

“Your mom invited me for dinner, and I met Stella in town and drove her home. If you don’t want me here, I understand,” you try to keep the sadness out of your voice.

“Grandma wants a family dinner, dad,” Stella grumbles. “If I must spend time with my lame brother and you, I want Y/N to join us. At least she’s cool.”

“Cool?” Cordell smirks, glancing down at you. “I remember there was a time when she had braces and was a shy little mouse.”

“Y/N shy? I don’t believe a single word, dad,” she nudges your side. “Right, Y/N. You never were shy.”

“I hate to admit it, but I was a little shy. Your mom helped me break out of my shell and become the woman I am today. I miss her,” you sniff, watching Cordell sit next to his daughter.

“Emily, she always talked about you. How you helped her get better grades,” Cordell says. “She loved you too, Y/N.”

When you sit at his table half an hour later, watching Cordell with his family you decide your last encounter was the last time. You won’t risk messing his family up even more...

“We can’t do this again, Cordell,” you sigh when he leans in your doorframe, that look in his eyes again. “I told you after the dinner with your family we should stay only friends.”

“Y/N, we are friends but—” he cups your cheek with one hand, thumb swiping over your lips, “I need you, baby girl…”

>> Part 2

Walker Tags

@mimzy1994, @rach-12, @jaredpadaleckisbride

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#Her substitute (1) - Need you #cordell walker #cordell x reader #walkerbingo #cordell walker x reader #cordell walker fanfiction #cordell walker x fem!reader #smut #grief #loss of a loved one

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forsworned · 3 years

Text

[♥] collegeau! to date or not to date {rengoku kyoujurou x reader}

Genre: Comedy, Slight Fluff, Slight Sensual Themes

Categories: F/M

Relationships: Renguko Kyoujorou/Reader

Word count: 2,791

a/n: continuation of unintentionally roomates which you can find here ,,requests are open

➽────────────── ────────────── ──────────── ❥

It had been some weeks since she had gotten used to Kyoujurou being her roommate. So far neither of them had walked in on each other naked--yet. He was pretty tidy and would call her out in a teasingly kind of way that she'd sleep with her mouth wide open which made her pretty insecure, but he insisted it was "very cute." Which didn't make it any better. He could concur that it probably wasn't a good idea to show her the picture he had taken of her (he actually would look at it when he was having a bad day or he just wanted a good laugh; he also nearly made it his homescreen but decided that was maybe a little too far).

Mid-terms would be coming up soon and Kyoujurou wanted to do something fun before all the stress would settle in from piles of homework assignments and study guides. He suggested that the both of them should go to the amusement park and [name] was more than delighted to go, but there was a small issue with this. She didn't know if it was a date or just them simply hanging out. He just brought it up so casually when they had just finished a round of Super Smash Bros. and [name] was trying her hardest not to be a flustered mess about it.

"Just ask him." Shinobu's usual singsong voice was now monotonous. She had had enough of [name]'s shit to say the least. Always inquiring about Kyoujurou since Shinobu and him had been in the same graduating high school class and friend group. Not to mention mid terms were coming up and pre-med was no joke.

[Name] visibly sulked at her friend's tone. She didn't like being a nuisance to Shinobu, even though it wasn't hard to irate her nerves, but this time she seriously needed help and Shinobu was being nothing less than unpleasant.

"Shinobuuuu," [Name] whined. "This is a big deal for me. Please give me advice and I won't bring it up ever again."

The ravenette's eyes darted to the [h/c] pleading gaze, and it was enough to make to [name] squeak. Shinobu let out a sigh before speaking.

"Fine," [name]'s expression brightened, but Shinobu's finger pressing into her forehead made it falter a little. "but you don't need to stop talking about him. Just do it a lot less. I need to focus on exams."

[Name] cheered in triumph and fist pumped into the air, which in turn made Shinobu laugh. She wanted to be there for [name] in anyway she could, just within some restrictions and limitations. Shinobu's face suddenly went gravely serious.

"So here's the game plan."

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°

[Name] took a deep breath before looking at her reflection. Her outfit was subtle yet cute. A simple blue top and beige skort to prevent panty reveals yet still have the illusion of wearing a skirt. Hair was pinned and pulled back abover her neckline since the sun would be beating down and she wanted to take every precaution to avoid any excessive sweating. Make up was light to circumvent it from melting off her face. Yes, [name] was over meticulous because she was resolute in this hang out/date to be absolutely perfect. And if Kyoujurou had decided to reject her than at least she'd look hot getting her heartbroken.

He had already left over an hour ago since he had to tutor a student in history at the tutoring center. A work study job that he picked up to help cover his tuition and endlessly spoke about when he got back to his dorm when you two were winding down from your day.

[Name] spritzed her best perfume to all her pulse points to extend the life of her scent as it hit her body. She threw it in her bag along with her make up just in case she needed to freshen up. One last look in the mirror and she was finally off to her date, er, hang-out thingy.

The autumn air was irregularly warm and humid. Well, not irregular for Okinawa at least. It was a sub tropical climate which meant mild winters and the moist summers were what [name] favored most about it here.

As she walked out of the dormitory and into the student parking lot, she was nearly blinded by the blond tresses sitting on the bench. Like quite, literally blinded. The sun was bouncing off his fiery hair more than usual and it was causing [name] to squint at him when she approached him. For some reason (she had an exact reason being that she looked super hot), [name] felt bold, and advanced toward Kyoujurou with hands concealing his vision. He visibly tensed and she couldn't help but feel a smile tug at her lips.

"Guess who."

His body now relaxing at the sound of her voice and she felt the apples of cheeks rise into a grin against the palm of her hands. "[name], you're finally here!"

She released her hands as he got up to face her and his jaw went a little aslack as he oggled at her profile. [Name] was stunning, indeed. His adam's apple bobbed up and down as he dryily swallowed. His hair that was now pulled back in a high ponytail let his bangs frame his face beautifully, swayed in the small gust momentarily. She could've sworn that he was blushing at her, but then again it was quite hot...

"You look--um, quite sharp!" He stammered. Kyoujurou mentally socked himself in the face. Sharp? That was the best he could come up with?

[Name]'s expression was now in a state of bemusement before she laughed melodically. To him it was a beautiful melody that he always tried to sway out of her with corny jokes and memes. "Well, thank you Kyoujurou. You look quite sharp, too!"

[Name] wanted to die. She looked sharp? Sharp?! No, she looked Hot! With a capital freaking "H".

Nonetheless, [name] shook it off. She was determined to make this flawless even if it was off to a rocky start. Thankfully the ride to the amusement car was starting to make up for it. The both of them jammed to the playlist they had put together earlier and discussed which rides they were excited about most.

"$50?!"

"You really don't read things thoroughly do you, [name]."

[Name] ignored his attempt at poking fun at her. It was always like this whenever she freakishly exclaimed about information that was news to her, but had been there for well however long the inital post had been there for and Kyoujurou had always made it a point to call her out for it.

"Well, I can't make you pay for it." She deadpanned. And she absolutely meant it. Kind of. Not really. It would mean that it would technically be a date, right? Right? A guy paying always meant that it was a date. [Name] mentally nodded at herself reassuring herself.

"Well, that's too bad." He inserted his card into the chip reader and thanked the attendant while grabbing his receipt.

[Name] bit back a smile as they walked side by side into the park. "Well, I'm going to pay you back."

He looked at her with an uncharacterstically sultry gaze. "No, you are not."

His voice demanding, dropped an octave and it sent a shiver up her spine. [Name] would be lying to herself if she said that it didn't make the her stomach knot up. Kyoujurou pulled out his phone pointed it towards her, trying to get a good angle and lighting.

"Now, give me a smile!" He beamed in his usual cheery tone. [Name] smiled posing her usual peace sign as he clicked away at his phone. Had she just imagined that?

The day seemed to slip past them as they took pictures with their phones and disposal camera they bought at the one of the stands for a whooping $25. Which was a total rip off, but then again bottled water was $5. The pair were laughing as they looked through the pictures they had taken throughout their trip.

"Oh, no. You are not keeping this one." She reached over to tap the trash can on his phone screen to get rid of the terrible photo that was her inhaling funnel cake. But before she could, Kyoujurou moved his screen away from her as he chuckled at [name] getting flustered. There was no way he'd let her get away with such a cute picture.

"I am definitely going to be framing this as soon as we get back." And that made [name]'s face inflame in embarrassment and shock. She was definitely, not going to let him do that.

"You delete that, right. Now!" She tried her best to extend her arms in every which way Kyoujurou was flexing his arms out but to avail. [Name] knew she wasn't going to get her hands on his phone, but she kept leaning over in an attempt to get an advantage on his long arms. That was until she clambered into his lap, face first into his crotch.

Kyoujurou froze and his breath hitched as he lowered his arm down and let unholy thoughts pass through his head but he quickly shook them off. "A-are you alright, [name]?"

Nope, now [name] was definitely going to die. She slowly rose out of his lap and plopped back into her seat, trying her best not to make the situation even more awkward. She shot him a smile in a strive to shake off the graceless action of diving face first into the crotch of her crush.

"I'm all good." She took a deep breath before looking up at the darkening sky. Kyoujurou couldn't tell what she was thinking, but it looked almost as if she was unfazed which he was very thankful for.

"Let's go on the ferris wheel before we leave!" That snapped him out of his thoughts. A grin now making its way back onto his face and a sound of approval emitted from his lips. "Let's do it!"

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°

[Name] snickered to herself as they entered the ferris wheel seating after letting several people ahead of them. It was all going according to plan, well, not the face planting into Kyoujurou’s lap. That was definitely not in the plan she and Shinobu had concocted.

“So, here the game plan.” Shinobu stated matter-o-factly. Her name were in a crouched position as if in a very important football team meeting. “You’re gonna look hot. Like I’m talking Jennifer’s Body hot. And then—“

”But i don’t have clothes like that.”

“Shut up. We’ll go shopping. And your make up has got to be perfect like I’m talking no melting off your face looking like the Corpse Bride. Oh, and you’re drowning yourself in sexy perfume every thirty minutes.”

”But I—“

”Speak out of line one more time and I’ll kick your ass.”

“Fine.”

“Back to what I was saying. You’re gonna take loads of pics start it off friendly and lighthearted and then bam! You get him on that ferris wheel and get your flirt on. End the night off with a kiss at the top of the ferris wheel.”

Shinobu was extremely gifted in giving pep talks and revving them up. Which was probably why she was captain of the cheer team at their university.

[Name] felt like she was a crazy high. She could practically run four miles nonstop with the attitude she had in that moment.

Shinobu and her high fived, one leg kicked up in to the air with the most triumphant looks on their faces. “We got this!”

She shook her head as if to shake away the thought.

”You, ok?”

She smiled at the slightly dampened Kyoujorou who’s cheek were tinted pink from the heat. Beads of sweat has slid down his temples, but that only seemed to add to his sex appeal.

”More than ok. I love ferris wheels. They’re so romantic.”

Those words left her lips and turned in a smile that was as sweet as candy. Kyoujurou’s heart leapt in his chest as he eyed her intently.

”You could say that.”

He done fucked up again. Kyoujurou wanted to kick his own ass at this point. Why was he so terrible at flirting? It made him look like he didn’t pick up any social cues at all. Which wasn’t entirely untrue. There were many times where Tengen would point out that a girl was being extremely flirtatious with him but it would simply go over his head. He would usually reject the notion claiming they were just being nice which in turn would lead to Tengen face palming. And he thought he was doing such a good job at the start.

The silence was deafening as they reached the top of the ride and it suddenly came to a jerking stop. The view was wondrous. The sun kissed at their faces and grazed the tops of trees and the peaks of roller coaster rides. Brightly colored lights flashed simultaneously down below, but [Name]’s stomach felt like it was caving in the longer she stared. Very romantic, indeed.

Her face must’ve looked a little green because Kyoujurou’s expression turned into a worried one. “You sure you’re okay, [name]? Have some water.”

She grabbed the bottle he handed to her and instead of water falling like she usually did, she pressed her lips against the same place his had been. Kyoujurou’s eyes widened in surprise as she absentmindedly guzzled his drink down and gave it back to him. His hands turning into fists as he flexed as hard he could to keep the warmth that was rising away from that region.

“Thanks.” She gasped. [Name] wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as she leaned back against the seat. So much for her game plan. She sighed to herself as she collected her thoughts. What difference would it make if she just told him right now.

”Kyoujurou.” The name left her lips so effortlessly. He loved the way she said his name. He would think about it mostly in the shower, but more innocently before he went to sleep.

He raised his eyebrows fully attentive now. She turned to face him as she leaned forward. A different look on her face. Soft and flustered. “I like you, a lot.”

His body stiffened for a moment and a cool breeze swooped past their longing gazes. The sudden realization had dawned upon him that those words weren’t just make believe. She had really uttered them into existence. He hadn’t noticed how close her lips were to his until he felt her minty breath fan against his nose. He didn’t pull away.

[Name] closed the distance between their lips and Kyoujurou instinctively leaned in more as soon as they made contact. His hand cupped her cheek to deepen the kiss and she sighed in delight. A smile now etched on her face had now infected him and he pulled away to look at her. He caressed her cheek as she giggled and he gazed her puzzled.

”Did I do something wrong?” If he kissed her wrong he definitely wanted to know. One thing about Kyoujurou was that he was always open to constructive criticism. She shook her head. The content look on her face still evident.

”Not at all.” She leaned in once more. “I just didn’t expect you to be so frigid.”

She giggled again at his surprised, yet embarrassed mien. However, [name] stopped giggling when she saw the determined look on his face.

”Well, I can do better.” He suddenly captured her lips and she instantly melted at his hot touch. His hand loosely on her waist and she moaned a bit as their kisses turn into feverish open mouthed ones. His lips detached from hers as he felt the the ride coming back down. [Name] felt like her whole body was in flames and there Kyoujurou was sitting there as cool as a cucumber.

The ride shifted the shuttle as the two got up and his hands slipped in hers as he lead them out. She couldn’t believe the stunt he just pulled. Her fingers on her lips still feeling the ghost of his. He laughed heartily at her reddened face and that captured her attention.

”Don’t worry. We can continue that when we get back.”

[Name] was speechless, but somehow was even more flushed than before. Kyoujurou chuckled at her again as he pulled her in for a side hug as they headed back to his car. The smug look never left his face.

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dropsofletters · 3 years

Text

the whisper in the obvious [bbh]

—summary: she hasn’t had enough time in her life to date because of her work. in order to fill the void of romantic intimacy and domesticity, she lurks online for brief videos or recordings to make her feel better. it works for a while, much more when she finds a man who does boyfriend roleplays—blue moon. it’s not like she’ll ever get to know him, right?

baekhyun doesn’t have much luck in romance. whoever he dates end up either cheating on him or turning their dates into the worst date of his life. growing older by the day, without someone by his side and a job that he hates, he creates a patreon account where he pretends to be people’s boyfriends…blue moon, he has called himself. it’s not like someone he knows will look him up, right?

they’re completely wrong, that’s for sure.

—title: the whisper in the obvious —pairing: byun baekhyun x reader —genre: friends who banter to crushes to lovers!au ; anonymous asmrtist!au ; technician!au ; doctor!au ; meet messy!au —type: fluff ; humor ; angst ; suggestive ; slowburn —word count: 18,768 —warnings: mentions of sex (though the act is never shown on the narrative on itself), alcohol, some descriptions of sicknesses and wounds but nothing graphic.

This is downright pathetic.

Aching limbs flail on each side of her body as she lays on her bed, splayed much like a star as her eyes set on the ceiling. Her earbuds let a manly, somewhat lighthearted voice breathe out words in a faceless manner, straight from a monthly subscription to a Patreon account. Had anyone told her that the only way she could ever get the relief of having a relationship when she became an adult was going to be through a man speaking softly into a microphone about how her day was and what she had eaten, giving vague answers whatsoever, she would have probably given them a laugh.

But life is laughing now, because time runs too quickly during the day when she works in the ER, and it has been well over two years since the last time she had any kind of physical touch with a man. Period. Most times, she doesn’t need it—what can be done by a man to her body can be done by herself much easier, but the kind of warmth that comes from a cuddling session after a tiring day and the endless conversations that come with having someone by her side that she wholeheartedly trusts, only to receive a kiss of comfort at the very end, has long died in her routine.

Now, all she has left is the company of some stranger that has a quite wide fanbase for his boyfriend roleplays—pathetic, she wants to call herself once again, but Blue Moon Whispers does the trick. She gets a boyfriend that she doesn’t have to talk to throughout the day, that cares for her like no one will and a plus, of course, that she’s not the only one that spends money on a man doing this for her.

Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic.

Yet, she closes her eyes, tries to even out her breaths when Blue Moon speaks into the microphone. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He drags the last few words, a sigh following his statement before he chuckles softly. “My job is so boring. I’m really good at it, but…I don’t know, it’s not what anyone would want to do for the rest of their lives.”

She tries not to wonder about his workplace. Maybe, he’s a nine-to-five worker, or with that voice, he could be one of those telephone workers that pick up sex-lines calls in order to please other people. She could imagine it, there’s some mischief in his tone that tells her he’s not just quite as sweet as his voice recordings.

Humming, she tugs her covers up her neck, listening to more of what he says.

“But enough about me, how was work for you?” Terrible. Working as a doctor is far more difficult than studying for it, and she felt like tugging at her eyeballs when being in med school. Constantly being screamed at by specialists and being questioned by family members when she gives a diagnosis is not quite what she imagined, and her blood pressure is up the roof when she has to save someone last minute. Tonight, she had a patient with atherosclerosis have a heart attack and it was quite possibly the most stressful time of the day. The patient is alive, thankfully.

“I see…” Almost as if he has heard her internal rant, Blue Moon responds. “But I’m here to distract you, aren’t I?” His voice drops at that moment, pressing a kiss into the microphone that has a smile appearing on her features. Okay. Pathetic, has she said that already? She feels like a teenager at this point. “What do you want to watch tonight?”

Her voice gets caught in her throat when she thinks of the first show that comes to mind.

“The Rookie, right?”

Wait, how did he know what kind of show she wanted to watch?

Blue Moon was, quite possibly, the only man that had fit her just right…and that comes from someone who pays a stranger on Patreon to get her dose of domesticity. Her past boyfriends, though not many, always felt lacking. Assholes, for the most part, she adores someone who shows their true colors at the very end and they end up being the most rancid shade of poop-colored brown. The sarcasm is ever present, but all her past boyfriends have been close to pieces of shit, if not entirely so.

It’s not a surprise that she did not try again. Her thirties are only getting closer and she can’t bring herself to put her dating profile out there again. It’s scary, downright stupid and she knows that it won’t ever end well.

“Let me cuddle closer to you—”

Someone shouts her name at the top of her lungs in a sing-song tone, and she recognizes the deep voice quite well. Chohee, her friend and next-door neighbor, is the only person to use her spare key for whatever excuse she has inside her head and invite herself inside her apartment as if she pays half the rent. Just as her fingers fiddle to get her earphones out, sitting up on the bed with widened eyes, Chohee opens the door, pushing her long black hair off her shoulder.

“I brought some cheeseburgers—” At the steady rise and fall of her chest and her disheveled hair—in her defense, today’s day of work had been hell—, Chohee stops speaking. “Were you watching porn?”

What is easier in this ungodly situation of adult life, to admit that she’s hearing a man speaking into her ear while pretending to be her boyfriend, or that she is watching something quite relatively normal? “Yeah.” The latter is easier. She doesn’t want Chohee peeping into her stuff.

Chohee purses her thin lips coated in a glimmer of gloss. “Do you want me to leave you to it or…?”

Well, that option was awkward as well. She could’ve denied both. Shit.

“No, it’s fine. I—It’s not…It wasn’t…It wasn’t doing the trick, I guess.” Locking her phone, she pushes it underneath her pillow before patting the spot in front of her. Chohee takes it without much of a question on the tip of her tongue.

“I hate when that happens.” With that, Chohee tugs at her phone, trying to unlock it—and fuck, she really does know the password. “But I’ve been subscribing to OnlyFans accounts instead. There are some really cute guys there—”

Alert. Red alert. She can’t let Chohee look at the most simplistic of intimacy in the form of an online boyfriend, that only lasts a few minutes to an hour with her. “Uh, Chohee, you don’t have to.”

“No, girl, I have to.” Chohee says, splaying the plastic bag of cheeseburgers on the bed just as she’s reaching forward for her. The taller woman ducks back, trying to unlock her phone. “You haven’t been with a man in a while, I need to help you make your alone time as worthy as possible. I think—”

“Chohee, don’t check my phone.”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ve seen dicks. You have definitely seen dicks.” Chohee rolls her eyes just as she takes her phone in between her fingers, but never does she once relent on letting go of it, tugging at it instead. “What’s the problem?”

“I just don’t want you to look at it.”

“But why are you so ashamed? It’s really nothing you should be embarrassed about—”

Between the tugging back and forth, her phone clashes against the flooring, enough to make her widen her eyes when she sees it falling face down. “Shit.” She curses, ignoring the apologies that rake from Chohee’s vocabulary when she lowers herself to pick it up.

The screen is broken and when her thumb presses on the button, the screen lights up in different colors of the rainbow, and she can’t even see the lock-screen.

“Is it broken?”

She scoffs. “Shattered. Broken. Destroyed. What’s another synonym?”

“In my defense,” Chohee says and the chewing that comes soon after tells her that she’s already diving into those cheeseburgers. “You were the one hiding your porn from me. Are you into feet or shit like that?”

She clutches her fists together. “I’m into men eating shit, that’s exactly it.” She replies sarcastically, turning around to watch Chohee staring at her with surprise. A sigh leaves her lips. “I’m kidding, but now I need to get my phone fixed. My patients and other doctors contact me through here.”

Her friend swats her hand in the air. “Baek can fix it.”

Oh, over her dead body.

Byun Baekhyun is Chohee’s best friend, annoyance on legs, too overexcited, the kind of child teachers had a headache for. Baekhyun has been in her life for more than six years, as long as Chohee had been—the man that drunkenly screamed her name at the top of his lungs during her graduation, or the one that almost ran over her foot at his birthday party when he was learning how to drive and didn’t know how to park backwards. Baekhyun, though great, is just the type of person she can’t stand for more than an hour. Let alone for fixing her phone.

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” Chohee corrects. “You know he wouldn’t ask you for money just to fix your screen.”

“Still,” Something for free sounds excellent at this time where Chohee interrupted my time with my faux boyfriend and also destroyed my phone in the matter of minutes, but I have to deny it. “You know how Baekhyun is. He’ll probably be asking me a bunch of questions—”

“And?”

“I don’t enjoy people prying into my business.”

Chohee smiles at that, pushing her black bangs away from her small face. “He doesn’t do it with a bad heart,” She tells. “Part of me thinks Baekhyun just doesn’t like feeling lonely, so he speaks a lot just to…have attention. It’s the child in him. Let him.”

Somehow, guilt takes over my body. Maybe, I’ve been too harsh judging the man. “…Okay.” I breathe out, standing up and moving towards the bed, laying parallel to Chohee before taking a bite of her cheeseburger. “Tell him I will be at his workplace tomorrow morning. At like eight, I have a shift tomorrow.”

“Why don’t you tell him?”

Waving my phone into the air, I sigh. “Someone decided to break my phone.”

“Right…”

I can already tell it’s going to be a long week.

###

An engineering degree could only get him so far. Or, if he had completed his time in that engineering program, he may have had his own office by age twenty-eight, or at least, would have had the opportunity for a better salary. Baekhyun had heard it from his mom that he’d regret dropping out of university, but only now does it really become something that he thinks of.

For one, the morning is too dimmed to let the turquoise on his chemise shine brightly—he has to wear the same uniform every single day, tucked inside his jeans, accompanied by a dangling presentation card on his neck. The picture comes from when he was twenty-three, when he started working here, but he has been a technician ever since.

When he opted for this job, he thought he’d be like the others. Spend one year or two here, then flee away for something better. That didn’t happen, and with each portion of his life slipping away from his fingertips, he’s left to find other ways to meet ends as he mirrors himself on the oldest phone technician at his work place.

Suhyuk, above his fifties, working here for more than ten years. His wife divorced him just because he had not moved on with his life, and his children buy Samsung just not to have him fixing their iPhones.

Not even Suhyuk is here at such an early morning. Had it not been for Chohee’s constant texts, he would’ve probably gotten to work a bit later.

Yet, someone is already waiting for him. Chohee’s neighbor, his friend-that-doesn’t-really-want-to-be-friends-with-him, seated on the sidewalk, with her back leaning against the glassed door of his workplace.

“You’re here early.”

She scoffs, standing up when he extends his hand forward. She is not exactly his type, but his eyes rake down her body for a fraction of a second longer than usual. She’s not wearing scrubs, that’s new. “No, you’re here late.” Her fingers point at the watch under her dark denim jacket. “We said seven thirty. It’s eight thirteen.”

Baekhyun runs his fingers through his black hair, playing with the keys dangling from his elegant and long fingers before starting to open the door. “Who is awake at seven thirty?”

“Everyone who has a job, douchebag.” There it is. The name. Baekhyun can practically count with his fingers the number of insults people have thrown at him—all in different occasions and under different circumstances, but the only one he doesn’t feel particularly offended by is the ones she tells him. Douchebag, she had started to call him on his twenty-fifth birthday, when she had eavesdropped on his conversation with Chanyeol about Scarlett Johansson’s tit—

“I don’t get it. Why do you keep calling me a douchebag?” Baekhyun questions, opening the glassed doors and letting his finger twirl against the switch until all the white lights across his workplace brighten the white, spotless place.

She moves behind him, following after his steps and responding with what he can judge as a smile on her tone. “You’re just one.”

“You’ve been calling me that for years,” He says. “And just because I said Scarlett Johansson has nice tits. I didn’t even say tits, I said breasts. I was a whole nerd about it and you called me a douche—”

She chuckles at his words, the melody somewhat foreign. Serious has taken over every portion of her life, and he thinks it has been years since the last time he has seen her actually grin with happiness. He gets behind the counter, taking the phone that she lends him before looking at the screen.

Cracked as cracked can be.

This screams Chohee.

“I know what you said, and it wasn’t breasts.”

Baekhyun looks up, fixing the rounded glasses on the bridge of his nose. “I know what I said.”

“I’ve read enough textbooks to have photographic and audible memory. You said,” She clears her throat then, making her voice a bit higher than her usual tone. That’s not his voice, he thinks to himself. “If I had to convert to a religion, it’d be Scarlett Johansson’s boobs. Can’t believe Ryan Reynolds dated her and I didn’t.”

Taking a small screwdriver between his hands, a smile takes over his features. Yeah, so he was drunk and he may have said that, but— “I said boobs.”

“Breasts, boobs, tits, fat with nipples, it’s all very douchey, if you ask me.”

“I was just saying something that I’m sure a lot of people think.” Baekhyun shrugs his shoulders, his frame looking slimmer on the oversized chemise. Definitely not very fitting for him. “Look me in the eye and tell me she doesn’t have nice boobs.”

“She does.”

“Well, then?” Baekhyun puts the screen to the side, kneeling down to search through his utensils. “It’s not cool that you don’t call me by my name.”

“It just rolls off easier. Douchebag.” She elongates the words then, leaning her elbows against the counter as she tries to connect her gaze to Baekhyun’s. The man stands up then, just as she continues with her train of thought. “As if Scarlett would have dated you over Ryan Reynolds.”

Baekhyun widens his eyes. “You don’t know that!”

“Of course, I know!” She replies. “Ryan Reynolds could break you in half with just one hand and you still think that she’d pick you?”

“I happen to have a nice body, too…you…”

“You’re trying to look for an insult?” With cheeks tinted red, he looks down at her phone, trying to work through the broken screen before his body jolts at the sound of her voice. “You can call me ‘bitch’ if you’d like.”

Wait. Pause.

Baekhyun squints his eyes, a strand of his hair curling against his forehead when he looks at her. “The real question is…do I want to die today?”

“Come on, I call you a douchebag, it’s only fair if you call me a bitch.”

Baekhyun shakes his head, returning to his work. “You’d kill me, and I’m not sure I want to anger someone who knows the human body better than anyone else.”

Truth is, Baekhyun has always thought of her as an ideal when it comes to success. Never giving up, even when her career will never let her stop studying. God, he can’t imagine how difficult it is to read as much as she does.

“If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done so by now.” The somberness of her voice does nothing to him. He has heard that before, as wicked as it sounds. “Come on, call me a bitch.”

“I won’t—”

“Just once. I don’t want to feel bad.”

“I—”

“Baekhyun, this is the only and last time I’ll ask. If not, I’ll start calling you a bitch myself.”

“Okay, bitch, calm down.” He finalizes, laughter following his statement when he sees her lips parting in surprise. “You told me to say it!”

“That came out a little too naturally—”

Baekhyun squares his shoulders then, ready to throw a joke her way only to see her more annoyed. His specialty. “Maybe, I’ve had one girl or two asking me to call her that.”

She rolls her eyes at his words. “And then you wonder why I call you a douchebag.” She adds. “I can’t imagine one single woman who would like to date you.”

He can imagine a few, but that’s not something she knows about. Baekhyun has always prided himself on one thing—on his voice and his way of getting someone to like him. Only that it comes with a downside: he doesn’t know how to pick the right women. So, more often than not, his dates ended up in disasters, relationships tangled in cheating and of course, how to forget? The day he decided to create his own ASMR Patreon channel for boyfriend roleplays just because he needed some money, only to end up with over thirteen thousand faux partners.

These days, people have wanted him to venture more into a world of rated recordings…and truth be told, his mind wanders. Part of him thinks it would be easier, perhaps more profitable for him, and no one would even look at him or notice who he was. Another part of him feels far too embarrassed. Sure, one thing was recording himself, another thing was publishing it.

“…That’s because you have bad tastes.” Baekhyun conquers, using his screwdriver again before pressing his long index finger to the turn-on button. “I think we’re done with your phone…”

“Bitch.”

“Huh?”

“You were about to say my name.”

“I won’t call you a bitch.” A smirk appears on his soft, delicate face then, merging his features until the screen lights up in between them. The phone is working. “I think you like it a bit too much, huh?”

Maybe, there are some portions of life worth remembering and there is a reason why he is still a phone technician, because he gets to see her otherwise serious expression turn into a laugh when she shakes her head.

“I’d rather be dead than have me in your bed, Baekhyun.” She takes her phone in between her hands, opening her purse just then. “How much is it?”

By the time she is out the glassed doors, blending in her darkened colors with the light, blurring sky, Baekhyun realizes one thing…

She didn’t call him a douchebag. Maybe, it slipped her mind or perhaps, she was nervous when she spat out her last few lines.

Yet, it’s true. He could never imagine the two of them being together.

###

“I’ve officially found the girl who’s going to be in your Patreon with you.”

The Manager Complex, write it in psychology books or Baekhyun may sell it to psychologist in order to get some money, but the concept exists within Chanyeol. Once he had catched a glimpse of Baekhyun’s microphone set-ups and he had to explain the point of his Patreon to his friend, there was no going back. With an agenda on the side of his elongated body, and a professional look on his face, Chanyeol has taken it upon himself to ‘plan out’ his channel…and sure, he’s thankful, but it somehow makes him feel as if he’s a product.

Chanyeol takes a seat across from him on their usual diner. Pink tiles, black and white walls and red tables do make the place justice, but what keeps them there is the fried chicken and pancakes. To die for, and much more if they accompany it with some vanilla ice cream after.

“You have?” Baekhyun asks. He’s not entirely sure if he’s sold to the idea of recording himself with someone else, pretending to be a couple. After all, he’s meant to be the listener’s boyfriend, not with someone else, but more people have joined asking him to be accompanied for heavier subjects on his recordings and truthfully…he wants to expand his horizons a little bit, or he’s, at least, thinking about it. “You can’t just find someone you think is hot and not tell them I plan on recording our voices—”

“She’s more skilled than you, dumbass.” Chanyeol ties his brown hair behind his back, opening his almost-empty agenda before sighing. “I’ve set you up on a date to see where things head and whatnot, but she’s another ASMRtist…and she has done rated recordings, so I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

Oh. So, this is real.

Shit, he thinks it could be easy, but when he really ponders about it…there is this tinge of awkwardness and shyness that overtakes him. Sure, it would make his channel grow and hence, give him more money to spend at the end of the day, but he has to take a swig of beer to push down the bitter taste.

It feels void. People like him for pretending he is the nicest boyfriend in the world, borderline fake at times, but at the end of the day, they only want him to either give comfort or fulfill fantasies. None of them will understand him or want to be with him for who he is, or how he is. Loud-spoken, extroverted, sometimes pensive, mischievous with tinges of cheeky.

“Do I have to?”

Chanyeol looks up from his agenda then, playing with the edge of a piece of paper before shaking his head. “Record yourself? No, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, Baekhyun.” He closes the agenda in one go, his frown becoming more profound by the second. “But I do recommend you to go out on a date with her. She’s different from what you normally go for…and she’s cute. There’s nothing wrong with having fun with someone normal every once in a while.”

Looking around the diner, he spares a smile towards Chanyeol. “Okay, I will go out on a date with her.” With how busy he has been with the growth of his Patreon and his real job on top of that, he hasn’t quite gone out much…and that leaves him to take Chanyeol’s opportunity. If he thinks they are a match, then it must be true, right?

“You’re going to love her.”

“If you say so.”

“Cheers for you getting some after a while.” Chanyeol pushes his bottle of beer forward, only to have Baekhyun chuckling.

“Can’t promise that, but cheers!”

###

A thumping headache follows after every sigh that leaves her lips. Somehow, the isopropyl alcohol-scented emergency room does nothing to purify the utmost tiredness inside her body. Instead, she’s left sulking for the number of hours still left in her nightshift. It’s twelve at night and she, still, has to wait until three in the morning arrives to be able to go back home.

She hears a bag of food plopping against the counter, enough for her to lift her eyes ever-so-slowly. Seriously, she thinks she is half-asleep at this point, unaware if she is dreaming or wide awake. Seeing Jaebeom in front of her may be a dream; the second-year dermatology doctor smiling down at her. While he’s radiant, with his long brown hair cascading down his face and reaching his earlobes, wearing the typical white robe and his baby blue scrubs underneath, she has settled for her burgundy scrubs. The ones she wears every single day.

Truth is, everyone is talking about Lim Jaebeom these days. Even the nurses, for fuck’s sake. He manages to send a smile every few days, enough to have everyone going back to their jobs with hope dangling from their every movement, but the rest of the time, his mysterious persona and magnetism is what keeps everyone at the edges of their seats.

Including her. Of course, she’s included. Be damned the day someone decided to put a mole on his eyelid and not expect everyone to fall in love with it when he smiles.

The scent of sliced vegetables, soy sauce and noodles fill the air, enough to make her lick her lips. “Oh, you’re eating here?” She’s about to move away from the counter, make some space for him to splay his meal and sit down, when Jaebeom shakes his head, the waves of his hair moving with it.

“We are eating here. I don’t think I’ve seen you sit down since the morning.” Jaebeom starts to get the containers of Chinese food out of their confines, quirking one of his defined eyebrows in the process. He’s tranquil, he always seems to have his life put together. The envy. “You have a twenty-four-hour nightshift?”

“Oh God, no.” She groans at the idea. She already has had enough of those the past month. “I’m here until three. Or, until Dr. Jones decides to arrive.”

Jaebeom hisses at the sound of her voice. “So, until four.”

It’s common knowledge that Dr. Jones forgets to not turn off his alarm. “Thanks, Jaebeom, exactly what I needed.”

Though, he does bring her something she needed, giving her a pair of chopsticks and dragging a plastic chair towards her, just as he sits down. “I’ll wait here until then, if you need to.”

Dermatologists normally don’t have nightshifts. They’re only there if there needs to be some kind of abstraction of sorts. “You don’t have to. Besides, you shouldn’t be here on the first place.” She tells, looking over at his seated position, long legs extended in front of him, wide shoulders making her retreat her vision and glare back at his eyes instead. Concentration is key when dealing with a man like him. “Did you forget something or do you just enjoy to eat surrounded by emergency patients?”

Jaebeom slurps on his noodles, a few spots of soy sauce sprinkling against his lips. “Seventy-three old patient with a black head on her back the size of my index finger. I had to take it out because Dr. Kim is out for her wedding.” The specialist and the doctor in charge of the residency only now had the time to get married, in the middle of July, for fuck’s sake. “It was awesome.”

The gruesome smile on his face has her grinning back at him, aware of not showing her teeth just in case they are filled with vegetables and noodles. “You have some pictures?”

“You can bet I do.”

Jaebeom pushes his seat closer to her, until his robe is caressing the barely covered skin of her shoulder, pushing his phone towards her face to showcase an old, wrinkly back with a black head being extracted. “She said she got it because she couldn’t reach for her back for the last twenty years and did not wash there.”

“Typical.” Trailing her gaze away from his phone, she nudges his side. “Did it hurt?”

“Not that I know of.” Jaebeom replies, looking down at his food when he puts his locked phone face down on his thigh. “Rumor has it I have good hands.”

There is not a single ounce of mischief on his face, not until a longer second of silence finally settles on him when she tries her hardest not to look down at his hand and think of what he is even trying to say.

“Oh, fuck.” Jaebeom chuckles at his own words, borderline cackling when he shakes his head. “I didn’t mean it like that. I sounded like such a creep.”

“You didn’t.” She replies, trying to conceal the heat on her face. God, she really needs to get her mind out of the gutter. This is her coworker, a fellow doctor— “I happen to have heard that about you.”

Jaebeom tilts his head to the side, half-laughing at her words, as if amused. “You have heard things about me?”

Truth is… “Who hasn’t?”

Jaebeom pulls at some of the noodles with his chopsticks, pensive for a second before plopping them inside his mouth. Not before saying: “What have you heard about me?”

“Half of the hospital is in love with you.” She replies, as easy as possible. The least she can do is let him know that he really does look at good as he thinks he does. “Don’t even get me started on the nurses. I think they have a cult by now. They have started to care about their skincare routines because you told them to. And because they want to look young enough to be by your side.” Most of the nurses at the hospital are over their forties…but who knows? Jaebeom might be into that.

“Really?” He questions, looking down at his food. “I thought they were just being nice.”

“They were,” She accepts. “But they’re doing it because they kind of want to be your MILF’s.”

His nose scrunches up. “That’s a no.”

She shrugs her shoulders. “You never know, Dr. Lim.” She jokes around, only to have Jaebeom expanding his hands in the air, waving them along with the shakes of his head.

“I know one thing and that is that I don’t want those women anywhere near me in that way.”

Attentive of his speech, she hums. “Then, I’ll keep them away from you. I can save lives, what’s one more going to do?”

Jaebeom’s smile tightens at that, resting one hand over her forearm as she chews on her food. “I’ll have to pay you in some way.”

“Oh, no, no—”

“Let me take you back home.”

“You’re not losing hours of sleep just to take me home.”

She had not realized Jaebeom had finished his meal until he placed the empty container back on its plastic bag. “I’ll lose hours of sleep if I let you go home alone at three AM, you know?”

“You sure?” She asks, aware of the shyness in her tone as Jaebeom nods.

“I’ll be your little helper for the next of the shift.”

Somehow, that doesn’t sound so bad.

How can it sound bad when she has practically ogled at the man and swooned at his antics for as long as he has been working here? Perhaps, one year and seven months, even more…

###

He’s a creature of the night, in the way he blends perfectly well with the dark sky, almost colored like the Americano she craves to drink, with his tiredness completely noticeable but still, one with the crickets around him, making a symphony for him. His car is parked in front of her apartment complex, one much better than what she would have imagined—chic, not simplistic at all, coming from his hard work that will only pay off more with the passage of time.

The wind blows on his hair as she pulls her bag over her shoulder, desiring nothing more than to touch her bed, close her eyes and doze off to a world of dreams, white noise and no responsibilities at all. “Jaebeom, thank you so much for everything.” She breathes out into the air, voice lonesome in her approach, unaware of how tired she sounds. “You’re an angel sent straight from heaven.”

“Some say hell, but I’ll take it.” Jaebeom replies quickly, smiling at her with his gums before placing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Get inside before it gets too cold.”

“Okay, I will.” She starts to walk towards the door, jotting down the password before looking over her shoulder. “I want to wait until you drive off, though.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You never know, Jaebeom. You could get into an accident. We’re doctors. We know this happens out of the blue—”

“You can always text me to check if I’m alright.” Lacking his robe, Jaebeom rests his hands on the pockets of his scrubs before sighing. “And if you really want to make sure if I’m doing alright, you can check up on me physically on Saturday. I’m free and my friend just opened a Thai restaurant downtown, so…we could meet there.”

She knows better than to think a one-on-one situation means a date. This could be colleagues having dinner together, just to check up on each other, but Jaebeom is not the type to go out alone with anyone. Not that she knows of, and gossip runs around the hospital far faster than stretcher-bearers should. If Jaebeom had been with one of the interns, the students or a doctor, either no one knew about it or he hadn’t, really.

“Ah…it sounds great.” She opens the door wider, slipping inside. After this, she doesn’t think she’ll have enough balls to wait for him to drive off. “You’ll text me the details and we’ll meet there?”

Jaebeom scoffs at her words. “I’ll pick you up.”

“Are you my chauffeur or what?”

“I’d consider myself your date for Saturday, but who knows?” Jaebeom waltzes towards the car, making her hide behind the door as a chuckle leaves her lips. “Maybe, I should ask one of the nurses.”

“Don’t you dare.” She threatens, lingering with a comedic tone.

“Oh, why?”

“You already asked me.” She replies. “And you have a date on Saturday with me.”

“Atta girl.” Jaebeom finalizes, opening the door of his car just as he waves his hand in the air. “See you at work.”

“See you. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Once she closes the door and walks up the set of stairs, she lets herself close her eyes tightly and squeal.

The Lim Jaebeom had just asked her out on a date. That has to be a golden badge after her drought period. Just as she moves through the stairs, she starts to think through outfits, ideas of conversations, anything that could make her first date in a while worth it, but the thoughts inside her head grow less fond of the silence when someone’s voice pierces through the air once she gets to her floor.

Spread in front of her apartment door, seated there, is Byun Baekhyun. The douchebag in all his glory. His hair is done a mess, he rests his cheek on his knees and he’s calling out her name as his eyes widen. Finally, he straightens his back, standing up in the matter of seconds.

Too polished for a simplistic night, he seems to be, with a white button down tucked inside a pair of lightweight jeans. “Why are you here so late?”

She huffs at his words, grabbing her keys with sloth-like movements before moving towards her door. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? Why are you here so late and at my doorstep?”

“I need somewhere to stay.” Baekhyun’s voice sounds somewhat pouty and when she looks over her shoulder, ready to glare at the man with the rounded glasses and messy hair, she sees that he is actually jutting his bottom lip out. And is that panic on his face?

“Ask Chohee.” The reply is simple, tugging at her doorknob before the white door welcomes her apartment. Just as she slips inside, she hears Baekhyun pushing the door before she could close it at his face, but not inviting himself inside fully.

“Please.” He begs, his face far too close as his eyes twinkle with a tinge of sadness. “Chohee is asleep, like a normal person.”

“Ask Chanyeol.”

“He has a girl over.”

She rolls her eyes. “Of course, he does,” She mumbles, grabbing her doorframe with her free hand. It’s too fucking late after a nightshift to be dealing with Baekhyun’s dramatics. “Do what The Douchebag would to. Trademark copyrighted and all. Ask to join in and become part of a threesome. Chanyeol is a nice-looking dude and he’s blonde now. Fuckable enough.”

Baekhyun scrunches up his nose at the idea, shaking his head as a shiver goes up his body. “I’d rather have my dick sliced in twenty little bits.”

She raises her eyebrows. Okay, time to play. “I can do that. Medically speaking, if you need me to slice your dick—”

Baekhyun’s shoulders fall then, resting his forehead forward until it almost touches her shoulder. “Okay…” He raises his head then, speaking far too fast for her to comprehend. Typical of him. “Chanyeol set me up on a date and I was dumb enough to ask her to have dinner at my place but she is batshit crazy and she brought wedding magazines over and I didn’t have the heart to kick her out, so I told her I was going to go buy something and I ran away from there.”

Wait.

She tries not to laugh, but the irony of the situation has her tugging at the sleeve of his shirt, pushing him inside when a smile of relief takes over his dulcet face.

“So, you left a complete stranger inside your house?” She asks, plopping her bag down on the floor and moving towards the kitchen to wash her hands. Baekhyun follows suit after taking off his shoes.

“Chanyeol knows her,” He says, as if it’s rocket science. “Besides, I was hoping she’d just go in the morning.”

She hums, rubbing the soap more into her skin. “What time did you tell her you were going to buy something?”

“At nine…”

She gasps at that, looking over her shoulder to see Baekhyun seated by her kitchen counter. “You have been here for six hours?!”

“I didn’t know where else to go!”

Baekhyun may be the life of the party, a socialite through and through, but he can count his friends with the palm of his hand. She knows that. “She’s going to be there tomorrow.”

Baekhyun groans, covering his face. “How do you know that?”

“You’ve given her reasons to be angry, Baekhyun, and she was attached to you already. Now, she’s going to question the root of your relationship and become even more attached because she’ll want to fix what you destroyed and—”

“Oh my God…” Baekhyun trails his voice at that moment, running his fingers through his black locks. “When am I going to have a normal person as a date?”

Cackling, she pats her hands on a towel. The next step is having Baekhyun sleep on the couch, take a quick shower and be off to sleep. “When you become an average person, Baekhyun. You’re just too Broadway for your own good.” She says. “You’ve seen American Psycho? Now welcome Korean Douchebag.”

Though, she still moves towards the living room, opening one of the drawers in her coffee table to grab the blanket she keeps there, just in case. “Says the person that is home at three in the morning.”

Sighing, she remembers the awful nights of working. “I was working since the morning. I had a nightshift, but not a complete one.”

“And you came here all on your own?” Baekhyun must know about her lack of vehicle, because he immediately rests one hand on her shoulder, making her turn around once she has stood up. “That’s dangerous. No one should be out at this hour of the night.”

That reminds her, she should text Jaebeom to see if he’s gotten home safely. “Someone gave me a drive home.”

“Someone?” Baekhyun questions, grabbing the blanket when she tosses it at him.

“Uh-huh.”

“…A guy?”

“Yes, and I’ve got a date with him on Saturday.” She wants to shut out all questions that he may have, pointing towards her couch with an open hand. “You can sleep there until I wake up in the morning. I can’t promise breakfast or a comfier place because you definitely won’t share a bed with me, but it’s warm, at least.” She pauses. “I’ll take a shower and I’m off to sleep—”

“Wait!” Baekhyun says, a sigh ripping from her throat when she turns around to look at him.

“Yes, Baekhyun?”

Standing there, he looks a bit heartbroken, like a puppy after being stepped on or an old man bathed in rain after a car passed by him. Truth be told, Baekhyun is one of the unluckiest lovers she has ever met…and she’s one of them, for all she knows.

“And do you trust him?” He questions, pressing the blanket to his chest. “Doctors are trouble. I mean, Dr. House? Trouble. Derek Shepherd? Trouble. The guy who created Frankenstein? Definitely trouble.”

It seems like someone is worried that she may end up falling for someone who breaks her heart. “Listen, if you mention Dr. House and Derek Shepherd in the same sentence and comparing them to my date, you’re only further enticing me because they’re hot characters.” She shrugs her shoulders, only relaxing when she sees Baekhyun worried expression. “…But yes, I do trust him. I’ve known him for like, two years. He’s caring and serious and sweet. That’s all I have ever wanted on a guy.”

Apart from lack of headaches. She needs the type of love that doesn’t fall into boredom but that doesn’t have unnecessary drama.

“Okay, just…be careful, okay?” Baekhyun asks, and she nods, watching as the man plops down on the couch. “And thank you for not kicking me out.”

Little does he know that she would have never done such thing. “You’re welcome, douche.” She says, turning off the lights after saying her goodbyes with a last: “Sleep tight.”

Though, the light of her phone accompanies her when she types down on her phone:

To: Lim Jaebeom.

Text me when you get home.

Thank you for everything.

If I don’t respond it’s because I have fallen asleep.

And she doesn’t get an answer, at least, not one that she recalls.

###

Nine thirty in the morning and Baekhyun is ready to take off.

Though, his lips remain pursed in concentration, rummaging through her refrigerator for the umpteenth time only to come up with nothing. Seems like she hasn’t done the groceries and hence, he has nothing to prepare for breakfast. Still pretty much knocked out on her bed, Baekhyun doesn’t have the heart to wake her up and take her out for breakfast. Until another time, it may be.

Leaving a note on the coffee table about his whereabouts, he puts on his shoes, extending his arms over his chest once he opens the door to her apartment and closes it behind him. One thought crosses his head at that moment—apart from the quite clear hollow spot in his stomach that begs for food—and it is that he, probably, still has someone in his apartment. A stranger that wants to marry him, and sure, people in his Patreon must feel that same way, or some of them might, but Minjung is a whole another level…

Just as he’s about to take off, the door next to her apartment opens, welcoming the sight of a barefaced Chohee, with her hair high up on her head and a surprised expression on her face.

“Oh, I thought you were—” Just as Chohee is about to say her name, she stops herself. “What are you doing at her place?”

Baekhyun goes over to where Chohee is, resting his hands on the depths of his pockets. “My date decided to plan our wedding ahead and I grew scared, so I left her there and crashed at her place because you were probably asleep.”

“I was,” Chohee rubs her brown eyes then, pointing towards her place. “But I got up early to practice my tarot readings before breakfast.” Baekhyun knows where this is going, and he’s not quite sure he is against it. After all, he doesn’t know what awaits him at his place once he arrives. “Do you want to be my subject? I promise hot cakes and a lot of insight in whatever you want.”

Baekhyun snorts out a laugh. “If you can give me some hindsight on my love life, I promise I’ll be the first one to subscribe to your YouTube channel.”

With one hand placed on her hip, jutted out, Chohee exudes all airs of confidence. “Oh, honey, I can read you like a book.”

Chohee goes all out with decorations. Dreamcatchers in pink, walls a cryptic white, decorations in shades of the most gorgeous pastel colors. There is a pattern and a scheme here, organized to have her tarot space in the living room, with a shelf behind her containing endless stacks of tarot cards packages. Baekhyun is midway through his bite of his honey-coated hot cake when he watches her hands working on shuffling the cards.

“Spirits, what can Baekhyun expect from his romantic life?” Baekhyun can’t help but gape at the choices of words. He will never get used to the word ‘spirits’ whenever Chohee reads him. It’s freaky how she—almost always—gets something right and talks to these invisible creatures. Ghosts? Who knows? “What is Baekhyun’s love story—?” Three cards plop out at that moment, two reversed, one on its original position. Chohee tilts her head to the side, as if deep in thought. “Okay. Spirits, give me two more cards. We need to know Baekhyun’s—” Two more cards come out.

Baekhyun stops munching on the hot cakes, chuckling at Chohee’s expression. “That bad?”

“Horrid.” She explains, fixing the cards into their position. “From what I can see, you’ve met your match already. One of the many soulmates life gives us…” Chohee’s voice trails, as if rearranging her thoughts. “But dude, you fucked it up big time. I get the sense of speech being the source of your match’s disappearance, though not completely, but those feelings train took off long ago. Maybe, you were too silent and unapproachable or too loud and open. I think the latter.” She plays with another card deck, placing it underneath the first line of cards. “There will be a period of separation, but I’m not sure if it will be prolonged. I get an immense sense of indifference? I don’t know, Baekhyun, like she doesn’t care that you’re not together.”

That’s weird. Baekhyun would have never thought of going back to one of his exes. Too much of a hassle. “Is it one of my exes?”

Chohee shakes her head. “No, I think it’s someone you took for granted.”

“I never do that.” Pride swells his chest when he leans back on his chair, legs parted in the process. “I know when to take chances.”

“Not this time. You either get on the ride or it’s taking off without you, Baek.” She rearranges her cards then, clearing her throat.

Curiousness overtakes him. He can’t be the only person in this world who won’t find love, or that has to go back to one of his choices that don’t seem all too factual at this time. He spits out her name, as if it was the second word he learned growing up, and that’s enough to have Chohee frowning.

“I mean, it could be…”

“Not that.” Baekhyun shakes his head. Sure, when they first met, he had initially thought she was one of the greatest looking women he had seen, and he had taken his shot at the time, only to go completely ignored…but that was long ago, and he doesn’t think something would ensue between the two either way. From her part, at least. “What do you see in her reading?”

“Ooh,” Chohee perks up at that, shuffling the cards once again. “Spirits, what do you see in the love story of the second unluckiest person I know in what love consists of?”

Five cards come out almost immediately, taking him by surprise. “Wait, wow—”

“She also lost a match in the past. In her case, it seems like it was ignorance that took part on it.” Her long nail splay on top of one card, he can’t quite recognize it, but Chohee seems interested. “But someone else has come along. Perhaps tired from the eccentricity of past lovers, she wants tranquility…but I see a portion of miscommunication in this partner, too.” She hums in the process, but Baekhyun is long lost in his thoughts. How in the flying fuck is it that the mysterious doctor is the love of her life? Or, at least, one of her soulmates? Sure, she doesn’t believe in tarot, but Baekhyun does…and it’s almost impossible that someone he didn’t even know about is going to be part of her life for longer than intended. “Maybe Jaebeom really is the right choice for now.”

“Jaebeom?”

“The cutest dermatologist I have ever seen. He’s sexy and chic and he has this stare, ugh.” Baekhyun bites his tongue, not wanting to say anything about the fact that there are going out on a date and that, in hindsight, if his stare is enough to have Chohee rolling her eyes back, it may not come as a surprise that she starts dating him, for real.

Why does that bother him?

“And why do you think it’s him?”

Rearranging her cards, Chohee shrugs. “She has a tiny crush on him. Too sly to ever be noticed, but she likes him. She doesn’t do anything to get his attention, though, a complete waste.”

Baekhyun takes one last bite of his hot cakes, rubbing his hands against his pants before standing up. Truth be told, maybe he should stop being a complete douchebag—as she calls him—and take matters on his own hands. Minjung may have been trying to point out to something wonderful and while pushing people away, perhaps speaking too much for his own liking, he has lost the opportunity of living through romance. Hell, the only person he thought he could be sharing his solitude with now has a date and a possible love affair right at the corner.

“Thanks for the food and the existential crisis,” Resting a kiss on top of her head, Baekhyun sighs. “Bye, Chohee.”

The next thing he needs to do is apologize to Minjung.

###

A ding of her phone accompanies her in the silent Saturday night. The swoosh of the wind against the windows of her apartment makes them creak thanks to their oldness, a reminder to bring a thicker coat with herself to her date, but her phone takes away her attention. Perhaps, Jaebeom wants to change plans, or he’s asking if she is ready for their date.

Lo and behold, she’s wrong about both options. A notification from Patreon takes over her screen when she presses down on it, a written post by Blue Moon taking most of her attention. She hasn’t had enough time to check up on his posts, or replay the ones that she had enjoyed the most. Turns out, life continues to move on its axis and if she does get this date to go somewhere profitable and good, she may not need of Blue Moon anymore.

Her eyes read over the post, surprised to see an emoticon at the end. He always uses those, even when his voice borders the depths of comfort when he speaks. However, her heart picks up at the idea that he is plastering on the post. A collab is coming soon, including a famous rated ASMRtist, and she can’t help but let her eyebrows raise.

Luck exists in some people, inherent to their souls, and though she doesn’t know Blue Moon personally, has not raked her pupils up and down his physique in order to judge him as her type or not, she’s sure she’d like him. Enchanting, somewhat funny, mischievous. Boredom is not part of his vocabulary, and he sounds extremely sweet in the process.

And now, she’ll have to hear her faux, online boyfriend roleplay guy get it on with another girl.

She gets out of the application before she can think any further about it. At the most part, she can just skip it. Someone like Blue Moon obviously gets a lot of people to like him, just from his personality alone, so she has no say in this. She either supports or she doesn’t. Besides, she has more important things to take care of, like Dr. Lim, for example.

To: Jaebeom.

I’m ready.

You can pick me up whenever.

Bring a coat. I think it’s going to be cold tonight.

From: Jaebeom.

I’ll be there in fifteen.

To: Jaebeom.

K. Drive safe.

With the passage of time, and the texts they have shared—as well as meals exchanged between the other—, that contact name will be shortened, perhaps sweeter with time, and that’s the natural movement of things. Who knows? Maybe, she won’t need Blue Moon anymore. She doesn’t seem to do so right now, and it’s probably for the best.

###

Pieces of heaven sprinkle on his gleaming pupils, holding cups of ice cream on both their hands as they walk up the set of stairs that lead to her apartment. Cladded from head to toe in black, Jaebeom sports an elongated coat on top of a skin-tight sweater and jeans to match. What brightens him up is his smile, the tinges of sunshine in his speech and the pensive look on his face as she speaks to him.

“It’s funny how whenever we see each other, there’s always food involved.” She tells him, spooning the last few bits of her ice cream before plopping them inside her mouth. Jaebeom’s eyes trail down there, licking his own as he takes the empty cup from her hand to stack it up with his own, finished even before they got to her place.

“You reach the heart from the stomach.” Jaebeom instructs, only to have her chuckling in the process.

“Anatomy by Lim Jaebeom, and wronged, at that.” Her reply has a wide smile taking over his features, his eyes turning into half-moons when he nudges her side, grabbing her forearm before she could lose her balance.

“You’re such a perfectionist.” But truth be told, Jaebeom may just be trying to reach her heart through her stomach, just like he says. Two more stairs and they are in her hallway, the man following after her as she speaks.

“No, but seriously, thank you for picking such a good restaurant. I didn’t know your friend could cook so well.”

“Nah, he just owns it. He can’t cook for the life of him, he just has good tastebuds.” Jaebeom replies, just as she’s rummaging through her purse to get her keys out. “We could go there again.”

“Whenever you want. I’m down.” Her voice comes out softer than intended when she gets her keys between her hands, turning around to point at her door. “You want coffee to wash down the ice cream?”

Jaebeom runs his hands through his hair, his slim arms sadly covered by his layers of clothing. “Coffee at this hour?”

“We’re doctors. I think we’ve all had coffee at this hour.”

“True.” Jaebeom replies, giving one step forward before interlocking his hands together in front of him. “But I think I have something in mind that could keep you awake, since you’re so sleepy and bored during this date.”

Oh no, that’s what her words meant. She can practically hear Chohee smacking her in the head for being so goddamned stupid. Of course, drinking coffee means that she wants a caffeine intake, hence she isn’t feeling as energized. God, she should have offered tea—

“That’s not what I meant.” Jaebeom takes one final step towards her, wrapping his arms and hands around her waist to bring her closer, his taut abdomen flushed against hers, chest to chest as he looks down at her features.

He chuckles, his chest shaking with her own. “I know that’s not what you meant…” His fingers hook a strand of her hair behind her ear, his thumb caressing her jaw, her cheek, before settling on her bottom lip. “I’m just looking for an excuse to kiss you.”

Two years. Two years since the last time she had kissed a man, and even then, her last date’s kissing skills were not the best. Her heart picks up at the idea of touch, craving it because it’s him. The man she likes, or whom she feels attracted to.

“Search no more.” She whispers, resting her hands on each side of his face before pushing herself forward.

Fireworks are not there. They don’t explode right at her face, but tranquility is what she has always looked for. Chilled, relaxed, that’s more of what the kiss is like. Jaebeom takes his precious time to let the finger that was caressing her bottom lip trail down to her neck, grazing the column of her neck before deepening the kiss. Pressed to her door, she grabs him by the front of his shirt, bawling the fabric in between her fingers before she feels a small tug of his teeth against her lips.

He doesn’t take risks. He keeps it simple, sexy, classic. There is not a lot of playfulness, neither does it feel like it has a deeper connection. It is what it is, and that’s about it.

But why does it disappoint her, to certain extent?

He doesn’t say anything. Does not pull away to whisper sweet nothings against her lips, to compliment her or say how much he waited for this. Instead, he keeps kissing, his thigh in between hers, his breath fanning against her skin softly when she runs her fingers through his hair. A raptured moan never makes it out his lips, it rests on the back of his throat and he pushes it down. Bummer.

He pulls away, chest heaving, heart thumping softly while hers is rushing a mile per minute, until he dives in again, her left hand coming behind her to twist the key with as much expertise as she can to get the two of them inside when suddenly, her phone rings.

It’s not a ping. Not a text, but a full-on ring.

Jaebeom pulls away the slightest, stopping his hands on her waist when he says: “Do you want to pick it up?” His voice is hoarse, and even then, it doesn’t reach the depths of her soul. The most she does is make her crave for him, but it doesn’t get past physical need.

“Not really.”

Jaebeom chuckles, scattering kisses along her neck, making her giggle to herself. “Why not?”

“I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“I’m not doing anything yet.” The connotations of her voice are clear.

“So, let’s change that.”

When Jaebeom continues kissing her, she expects the phone to stop ringing, but just as the call is over, the contact starts calling again and that is enough to have Jaebeom pulling away again, bloodshot lips swollen from their make-out session, though shortly lived.

“It must be an emergency.” He whispers, and she hums in the process, opening her bag to take her phone out and read the contact’s name.

If someone had seen the devil while being in heaven, this would have been their expression. The one she sports when she sees that, out of all people, Byun Baekhyun is calling her.

He’s the devil. Jaebeom is an angel.

And she’s about to kill him to see if he’ll stay in hell or not.

“What do you want, Baekhyun?” Her voice comes out sharp as she speaks on the phone, sparing one glance towards Jaebeom, but the man is on his phone instead. He doesn’t seem to mind that she’s talking to another man while on their date. He just can’t be this chilled out, right?

Baekhyun has never sounded so serious, but he does at that moment. “I’m in the ER but I won’t get checked if it’s not with you.”

Her heart picks up for whole different reasons, straightening her back as she imagines all the horrible possibilities that could encounter Baekhyun in the emergency room. Her workplace. “Wait, why? Why are you in the ER? Is everything okay?”

“Would I be calling if everything was okay?” Baekhyun whispers for one second, awfully close to a voice she has heard, but she can’t quite pinpoint it when she is already strutting down the hallway, followed by Jaebeom calling her name and trailing after her step. “I broke something.”

“You broke something? Be more specific, douchebag.” Though, she fears what he could have broken. Was he in an accident of sorts?

“My fingers, I think. I’m not sure. I don’t want anyone to see me if it’s not you.” He hisses in the process. “It really hurts and I know you are in your date, but I think I’m about to die.”

Well, there goes the date to welcome Baekhyun’s dramatics. She doesn’t know why she entertains him, or why she is worrying so much. “I’ll be there in a few. Just…stay still and don’t scream or cry or anything like that.”

“Okay—”

She cuts off the call before Baekhyun could continue, running down the set of stairs as Jaebeom repeats her name.

“What happened?”

“One of my closest friends is in the ER and he’s stubborn, so he wants me to check up on him.” She looks over her shoulder at that moment, though briefly, an apology in her voice. “Jaebeom, I know this is not what you expected out of your date, but could you drop me off at the ER?”

A sigh rips from his throat, dangling his car keys in between his hands before humming. “Sure, let’s go, workaholic.”

When down the set of stairs, she presses a short kiss to his lips. No spark, but favorable in feeling. “Thanks, Beom.”

A new contact name arises.

###

Never had she expected to be in this position, holding a folder with Baekhyun’s information as she drags the blue curtains of his small consultation room open. Jaebeom trails right behind her, pulling the curtains closed when Baekhyun lifts his gaze, half-laying on the bed as if his entire body was writhing in pain and it wasn’t only his fingers.

Truth be told, worry overtook her with his call and on the way here. Calling him ‘one of her closest friends’ to Jaebeom had been quite the surprise, too. Never had she thought of Baekhyun in that light—he has always been the one that would never grow up out of the group, but now it seems to be completely different. Maybe, he’s that one leech she won’t ever be able to take away, or she actually enjoys having him suck up blood every once in a while. Metaphorically speaking, he’s just fun to be around.

“Okay, tell me the story and show me your fingers.”

Baekhyun is still looking at Jaebeom, scrutinizing each portion of him with squinted eyes. “Shouldn’t the consultation be private or do my fingers need a dermatologist?” Truth be told, she doesn’t think they do. When Baekhyun extends his left hand, she touches his index and middle finger, barely grazes them in their elongated yet reddened glory, and he hisses in the process.

Jaebeom places one hand on her back. “I think I’ll see myself off.”

She looks over her shoulder, shaking her head. “No, we can continue the date after if you want to.”

“I’m tired and I’m not sure if I want to be working at this hour.” Jaebeom finalizes, ready to finish the date, before he rests a kiss on the crown of her head, bowing his head towards Baekhyun. “Hope you get better, man.”

“Yeah, I sure hope I do.” Baekhyun is never this sharp with his words, but as it seems, he’s not in a good mood. When she tries to flex his fingers, they do. They’re not broken, that’s for sure, every portion of his phalanges feel as though they are in place.

“What happened to you, Baekhyun?” A rosy tone takes over his features when she asks that question, sitting up when a small whine leaves his lips as she continues to bend his fingers, testing their movements.

“You don’t want to know.”

“I’m a doctor now, of course, I need to know.” She tells him, pulling away and opening the folder to check through his information. “And for the embarrassment you pulled me through by both telling everyone in this ER that you wouldn’t consult yourself if it wasn’t with me and ruining my date, I need to know.”

As she’s checking the X Rays, she sees Baekhyun’s fingers, perfectly put in place, definitely not broken. It may be a strain or a tendinitis, it depends on what he was doing. “It’s embarrassing…”

“Could’ve been your dick that was hurting. That would have been embarrassing.” She tells him, trying to ease into his mind before sighing deeply, putting the X Rays down and looking into his eyes. Baekhyun looks like he had gotten ready in a hassle, gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt covering his body. Slippers, too. “Baekhyun, I won’t judge you. I really won’t. I’ve seen worse things. I can promise you this is nothing.”

Baekhyun looks over to the side, fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose before clearing his throat. “I was with the date I talked to you about…Minjung…” He trails his voice, and she already knows where this is going. This is definitely a sex emergency. “And I don’t know, well, I do know. I was using my fingers…” Baekhyun covers his face, and she tries to stifle her laughter. Oh, she definitely knows where this is going. “Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not laughing.” Though, a small chuckle follows after her statement, enough to sneak a smile away from Baekhyun.

“You sound like you’re laughing.”

“That’s just my voice.”

“You never laugh, what are you talking about?”

“Just tell me what happened.”

Baekhyun winces when he pushes his hands onto his face a little too harshly, left to look up at the ceiling as splotches of red and pink come up from his neck towards his face. Beet red. “It was supposed to be just me fingering her but…uh, she was a little too harsh and she wanted to ride my fingers, and I guess she jumped too hard and broke them.” He closes his eyes tightly, pursing his lips just at the same time that cackles leave her own. “Tell me they’re not broken. I don’t want to have broken fingers, please, it hurts a lot.”

“They’re not broken, douchebag.” There it is. The perfect title, but this time around, the douchebag was the one being played. She takes a pen from the table next to the stretcher. Clicking on it, she starts to write down the diagnosis. “I think you strained a ligament, that’s all. None of your bones are out of place and I don’t feel any substantial difference on your muscles. You can still bend your fingers and they are not particularly swollen. I’ll give you some medicine for that and I need you to ice it for as much as you can. Exercise them, too.” Though, she stops herself at that moment. “Just no fingering, okay? Keep those fingers for yourself.”

“Stop laughing.” He differentiates every word with a punctuation, and she smiles up at him.

“Why are you still seeing her, though?” She slides the prescription towards him, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear when she looks at him. “You said she was too pushy and you didn’t like it. I’m sure you can get other women to finger.”

“I said stop it!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” She rests his folder on his thigh, getting closer to him to speak in a softer manner. This is her patient and she can’t out what he had told her as so. “Baekhyun, really, stop seeing her—”

“I’m not telling you to stop seeing Dr. Fancy Eyes over there.” Baekhyun juts his chin towards the curtain. “Maybe, I just gave Minjung another chance because everyone has someone and I want to have someone, too.”

Handsome comes short for what she thought Baekhyun was when they met each other. She was twenty at the time, in Chohee’s birthday party, trying t stifle her laughter when he made a fool of himself in front of her. He was drunk, clearly, dancing and swinging his hips in the air as he spoke to her in the most typical of manners. They were younger then, and while she had grown—become more somber and serious with the day, Baekhyun still kept that lively personality of his, matched with some sprinkles of weightiness here and there. She can always count on him for a good stifled laugh.

“Okay, valid. You can keep seeing her if you want to.” She tells him, pointing at his hand with her pen. “But just take care of that, okay?”

She’s about to send him off when Baekhyun reaches for her forearm with his non-injured hand. When she turns around, Baekhyun’s face is serious, void of any of his usual jokester manners.

“Are you sure you’re into him?”

That question is unexpected coming from Baekhyun. At this age, she knows what she wants, but she isn’t sure if Jaebeom ticks off all the squares in her bucket list. “He’s nice. The spark is there.” She lies through her teeth. “He’s a doctor, so he’ll understand me better than anyone else…I think he’s great. And hot.”

Baekhyun nods in the process before sighing. “Haven’t you heard that you shouldn’t date doctors?”

“I have.” She says. “Mostly from you, for some reason, but I’d still do it.”

“Just look at Lee Jinki’s character in Descendants of the Sun—”

“Baekhyun, you give some examples that just make me want to date a doctor more.”

The man gets off the stretcher, standing in front of her before whispering: “He just looks like more of a douchebag than I am. I’m just protecting you.”

That voice. It sounds oddly like Blue Moon when he lowers his voice the slightest, and for some reason, she cringes at the thought. Yeah right, as if she could daydream and go to sleep to the sound of Baekhyun’s voice—

“He’s a nice guy.”

“He looks like he asks for blowjobs on the first date.”

“That’s up to me to decide.” Swinging her hips from side to side, she opens the curtains, only to hear Baekhyun scoffing from his spot.

“Please, not with him. He’s not the kind of person I imagine you with—”

“If you could get your crazy fingers inside someone and interrupt my date to save you, I can do as I please.” Playing around with Baekhyun is funnier than expected, much more when his face falls at those words, turning around to look at him. “Now, give me the keys of your car to drive us to a pharmacy to buy everything we need and then, we’ll stay at my place just so I can check up on you.”

Baekhyun tosses his keys towards her, trusting her with his car completely, and she can’t help but smile. The only man she thought she’d have over tonight was Jaebeom, but turns out that the one who stayed home was Baekhyun.

How ironic life is.

###

Three weeks have passed since the last time she saw Baekhyun and she can say one thing…

Life is a little bit more boring without the man.

It’s funny how the complexity of their friendship is misunderstood, even by herself. When he’s there, she likes to annoy him—and he sure does back—, but when he’s gone, she misses him. Sure, she will never say it out loud, but she finds herself smiling at the thought of jokes that Baekhyun had let out in the air between them. Hence why she rushes towards Chohee’s apartment when seeing his car parked in front of her apartment complex.

She really needs to get a car for herself, she thinks on the way there. Stop procrastinating and become a full-on adult instead of taking the bus every time, but the thought washes away from her brain by the time she knocks on the door and it’s opened by Baekhyun himself.

As always, he’s wearing glasses, vision ruined as it can get, with his black hair messily falling over his forehead. This time around, he’s sporting a rose gold sweater to frame his nicely shaped hips, masculine and defined, just like his thighs. And just when she catches herself looking at his legs, she pushes her gaze to go up. A smirk is already plastered on his face.

“Look who’s here.” He says, opening the door wider for her to enter, but she shrugs her shoulders while passing by him.

“Look who is here,” She repeats, sparing him a glance over her shoulder when he closes the door. “Chohee better get some insecticide for all the cockroaches hanging around in her apartment. All the freaking time.”

Baekhyun crosses his arms over his chest, and since when has Baekhyun sported such a nice body? “You said cockroaches. I’m one cockroach, meaning that we’re a little family over here. And you’re in her apartment, too. So, shame is on you, you called yourself an insect.”

“Don’t get smart on me, douchebag—”

Chohee merges from the kitchen, holding a tray filled with cups of tea. “Don’t tell me you’re starting with your arguments this early on.” Right behind her, her bleached blonde boyfriend emerges. Haesol is a biology teacher, much different from what one would imagine from him, with thick glasses and oversized clothes, in love with someone who believes in everything spiritual but nothing physical. Couples have to be totally different in order to be together, at times. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here, let me brew you another cup of tea.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” She waves her hand towards Haesol. “Haesol, you’re alive!”

“Questionable. Depends on what reality you’re living.”

“Or if we’re living at all.” Continuing with his train of thought, she splays herself next to Baekhyun, who has taken a seat in front of the coffee table with the tray of tea in between his hands. “Sorry I invited myself inside. I was missing you guys.”

Haesol properly sits on the couch, while Chohee excuses herself to go look for some cookies. “It’s okay. You help me accompany Chohee when I’m not here, after all.” In somewhat of a long-distance relationship, she doesn’t know how Haesol and Chohee do it. He lives two hours away, but given to his job, he can’t always drive back here.

“I’m the one that checks up on her.” Baekhyun instructs, taking a sip of his tea after giving Haesol his own cup. “She is never here. She says the incense makes her have allergies.”

“It’s too strong!” I reply, nudging his side before I see him holding his cup with his injured hands. “How are your fingers doing?”

“Great.” Baekhyun replies, a glimmer of blush appearing on his cheeks. “They’ve healed and I haven’t strained them any further.”

“Good.”

“Wait, you know what happened to Baekhyun’s fingers?!” Chohee peeks her head from the kitchen, her bangs falling across her eyes until she moves them away. “He hasn’t told anyone.”

The beam that appears on her features is almost unable to be stopped. Truth be told, she’s not entirely sure if she supports the baggage that comes with Minjung as Baekhyun dates her, but that moment of his life will always be funny to her.

“I do.”

“Don’t you dare tell her.” Baekhyun nudges her side, the scent of him taking over her, musky and mellow. Not too strong for her sensitive nose.

“Why can’t we know?” Haesol asks from his spot, as tranquil as ever, just as Chohee takes the seat beside him. A pillow for her, the kind of tranquil love she has ever wanted, with how he places his arm behind her neck for her to lay on.

She spares one look at Baekhyun. Bright. Shining. Explosive. He’s all the emotions at once, some that she can’t even comprehend and she doesn’t mean to find them out.

“I was his doctor, so I can’t really tell you.” She grabs his hand then, bringing his injured fingers up to her lips and planting a soft kiss on them. “I’d die before compromising these two fingers. You won’t ever get the secret out of me.”

The smile that appears on his face is compliant, wrapping his fingers around hers and giving a small tug before pulling away. “You heard her.”

Chohee sighs deeply, munching on her cookie before shaking her head. “Guys, keep fighting. I don’t think I can stand you two being real, normal friends.”

But maybe, the warmth that spreads on her stomach says otherwise. Being Baekhyun’s friend is not half bad when he looks at her from the corner of his eyes that way, as if his trust on her is never-ending.

###

The pressure of a new relationship’s happy ending is the worst nightmare to ever exist, much more when it feels nonexistent. The covers of Jaebeom’s mattress curl on each side of her face when she is laid down on it, her jacket long thrown on the floor, but what’s important here is the lack of movement. Even when Jaebeom does his best to enthrall her in a kiss, to wrap her up in his engulfing warmth when hovering over her, with his taste becoming one with her own, lemon chap-stick a memory that has long engraved in her brain…they’re stuck in the same position. In the same ‘we are but we aren’t’ dilemma that she is tired of living.

This would have been precious for her when she was younger. With his fingertips scalding the skin of her waist as he tries to pull her shirt away from her body. Boring, it longs to be, with the way attraction keeps them as just that. Just two people who find the other appealing for their bodies, but nothing else…and she doesn’t want that. The only thing she aches for in a partner is having a friend who listens to her but can also make her feel endlessly loved. And vice versa, of course.

Just as a sweet whisper of her name rests on her ear, giving her promises of what may come tonight, her mind goes back to the person she would wish to have hovering above her right now. Making her laugh, perhaps annoying her to bits, but still keeping that handsome face of his intact. Fogged-up glasses, certain fingertips and a lightweight persona. Though Jaebeom does an incredible job at bringing the moon down to this bed with his seriousness and overall concentration, it doesn’t feel like love.

It doesn’t get her going.

Maybe, she just needs a bit more time, needs to feel more of him or let herself be kissed by him, but then again, Byun Baekhyun comes and fucks it all when appearing inside her head. In just at this moment, and she doesn’t understand why. She captures Jaebeom by the cheeks, lowering him down to her mouth to enrapture him in a kiss, but it doesn’t matter how many times she shakes her head or tries to melt her tongue with his, Baekhyun still glimmers as a memory of the unknown inside her head.

What is he doing here?

Her mind must have taken up his name, caressed it in between thoughts and daydreams, because by the time Jaebeom’s hand is on her thigh, lifting it up to hook it around his waist, she breathes out anything but his name.

“Baekhyun—”

Wait.

What?

Her eyes widen, much more at the time that Jaebeom leans back on his thighs. A scoff leaves his lips when he lifts his eyebrows, an awkward smile taking over his features. “Baekhyun?”

“Jaebeom, I’m so sorry—” She tries to spit out, reaching for his shoulder just at the same time that Jaebeom stands up.

“That’s your friend, right?” He asks, earning a nod from head. She doesn’t know why she’s thinking of Baekhyun in such a light lately—the last time that she had thoughts like these about him was when they first met. It’s horrid to see one of her closest friends in such a manner when she’s about to get it on with whom she thought could be the other half of her next relationship. He runs his fingers through his hair, sighing. “Any valid reason why you just called me his name?”

Pushing her shirt up her body once again, she shrugs. “I didn’t mean it. It just happened—”

“You’re thinking about him.” Jaebeom reads her thoughts far too easily. Perhaps, she had let him see the biggest glimpse of it. “And if he’s the one that you want, I can’t do this.” He lifts his eyes to the dark ceiling, the navy walls blending with his dark attire.

What? One thing is coincidentally thinking about Baekhyun. Another thing is wanting him.

“I don’t want Baekhyun. He’s like a friend to me. Just friends.”

“Yeah, so why does he stay at your place whenever he has an issue?” Shit. Maybe, that does sound a bit wrong. As it turns out, Jaebeom doesn’t out his anger, remaining stoic as he speaks. “And why is he the one person you always talk about when you think of something funny? Why is it that you just said his name as we were on my bed—?”

Speechless, she licks her lips, standing up from the bed and taking her jacket in between her hand. “Because maybe, I’m just confused.” She replies, clearing her throat when she stands in front of him. Beauty grazes him, but he doesn’t feel like the man that will cause her butterflies for the rest of her life. “It doesn’t…it doesn’t feel like love with you, Jaebeom and I think that’s not really what you want, so it’s better if we leave it like this. I can’t…I thought I wanted tranquility, but I don’t want deafening silence, either.”

Jaebeom crosses his arms across his chest, looking over to the side, jaw pronounced in a sharp line. “Maybe, you’re comparing me to someone else.” He says. “Not to misunderstand me, I get you…it’s up to you to choose what you want in a man and if it’s me who you want, but…it’s difficult not to believe there is something else with Baekhyun.”

Shaking her head, she huffs. “We’re just friends. I tell you, I don’t know why he was inside my head—”

“You were thinking of another man as I kissed you, that has to be enough of an answer for you.”

It can’t be. Denial creeps up on her when she laughs, taking her purse in between her fingers and tossing it over her shoulder. “Think what you will. I think it’s better if I leave.”

Jaebeom nods, pushing his lips together just as she presses a kiss to his cheek. The touch is barely there, soft in comparison to the kisses they shared. “It was great having you, even for a moment.” He tells her, and she hums.

“Shortest moment of my life.” She replies. “But a good one, indeed.”

By the time she is out the apartment complex, her skin is bitten by the harsh wind, left in a part of the city much too far away from her home. She starts walking on wobbling legs, cursing the moment she decided to wear stylized heels to make her thighs look better, only to end up ruining it by calling Baekhyun’s name. Sure, it was clear that things with Jaebeom weren’t going anywhere, lukewarm, pointless and based in attraction only, but what was Baekhyun doing inside her head while she was getting it on.

Or almost, consequently.

The first person she decides to call is Chohee, but she’s staying at Haesol’s place for the weekend. She keeps walking, rummaging through her contact list, getting hold of some of her friends and getting denied equally. Sure, it’s Sunday, but most people should be home by now—

The letter ‘B’ surprises her then, and perhaps it’s the obsession of not wanting to continue walking and create blisters on her feet, but she calls him. Dials Baekhyun’s phone without a single ounce of guilt within her body, because it’s Baekhyun, he probably won’t answer—

“Douchebag on line, what can I help you with?”

“Mhm, things with Jaebeom are over…” She tries to avoid telling unnecessary details, tugging her pink coat closer to her chest. “And I’m in the middle of the street, away from home, cold and hungry. So, if you’re available…could you come pick me up? I can call a taxi if you’d like.”

“That asshole.” He breathes out, not knowing the complete story and how, in retrospect, she is the asshole in this story. “Don’t you dare call a taxi. Is there any store around?”

Her eyes scan the street before landing on a convenience store. Opened twenty-four hours. “Yes, a convenience store.”

“Good, stay there and tell me the address. I’ll be there in no time.”

###

He can’t physically understand it. Not a single braincell inside Baekhyun’s brain can’t begin to comprehend why someone would simply end a date with her when she looks good enough to break hearts.

Wrapped up tightly in a blanket, she brings the mug of hot chocolate he had prepared for her up to her lips, staring towards the screen as a new episode of The Rookie takes her attention away from him. Truth be told, Baekhyun was in the middle of a recording when she had called—thus, she wouldn’t know Sundays at night are the times he uses to record—, but he couldn’t bear to imagine how Dr. Lim, Dr. Fancy Eyes, Lim Jaebeom, could even think of finishing a date with the one woman that did not even blink at the sight of him.

Well, there are a handful that can’t stand him…but still, Baekhyun doesn’t know what Jaebeom was thinking.

“What happened—?”

Shame takes over her features when she munches on one of the small marshmallows that accidentally slip through her lips. A glare later and the few seconds of silence that follow after, he knows the answer she has repeated endless times since she has gotten here. “I won’t tell.”

With that, Baekhyun plops himself down harsher on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest just after fixing the glasses on the bridge of his nose. Sure, she may look like a daydream on his brown couch and blend perfectly well with the warmth of his home, but that doesn’t give her the benefit to do what she pleases in his house. “It’s just kind of stupid that I picked you up, drove you all the way here, made you hot chocolate, let you thirst over Tim on the screen and you don’t even dare tell me what happened between you and Dr. Douchebag.”

She quirks an eyebrow at that, sighing in the process. “I am Dr. Douchebag. Not him.”

“That’s impossible.”

“I get to be an ass sometimes, Baek.”

“Yes, but only to me.” He looks at her from the corner of his eyes, spreading both his hands behind his neck as he sighs through his nose. “You don’t have to tell me, you know.” His voice lowers, the same tone he uses when he is in the solitude of his home and records himself, trying to make others happy. Pathetic, ain’t it? “…But it’d be nice to know. The least I want is for you to suffer like I have,” He stops himself for a moment, giving her half a smile, no teeth. “And it sucks, to trust someone and have it once again not be the person you want or deserve, but you’re so beautiful inside and out that I truly think it’s his loss.”

Sure, he could tell anyone that she’s gorgeous. Plenty of times had he talked to Chanyeol about how adorable her smile was and how she could have him at her mercy with one twinkle of her eyes, but that’s not something he had told her since that night when they were twenty and he was a little bit tipsy.

She swears he was drunk, but he wasn’t. Vivid enough for him to tell the truth.

“It’s not his loss.” Her voice whispers, husky from lack of use. “Jaebeom is just…too tranquil. It’s good, but it’s not what I want. We can’t let relationships flow all the time. Sometimes, we have to take reigns. I need to stop wanting tranquil, voiceless, silent…because a love that is silent is a love that is not truly felt.” She scoffs at that moment, taking another sip of her drink. “I wish I was like you.”

His palm rests on her forehead, as if testing her fever. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what did you do with my friend?”

Finally, he steals a smile out of her, dizzy in the way she looks at him from below her eyelashes. “You have always been so honest about the people you like or love. Who you want to have sex with, who you want to date, who you’d marry…you always say it all and you let them know. You’ve gotten your heart broken, but you always cut ties first.” That way, he knows exactly just how wrong she is. Baekhyun has told everyone what he thinks, but not to her. He has never told her just how in love he is with the memories they have shared. In which he has made a fool of himself but still managed to get a smile out of the most serious woman he knows. “The first time I cut ties with someone is because I feel nothing for him.”

“You felt nothing for Jaebeom?”

“Obvious attraction, but who doesn’t?” She shrugs. “Look me in the eye and tell me the man doesn’t have the most gorgeous eyes you have seen.”

Those would be hers, but Baekhyun shakes his head. “Sorry. Got lost from the moment you told me you felt nothing for Jaebeom because those are the best news I’ve heard the past century.”

A chuckle leaves her lips. “Why?”

“He’s flavorless.”

“Totally not.”

“Totally yes.” Baekhyun corrects, playing around with the remote, given that they are not catching up on the episode anyways. “I always imagined you with someone better.”

“Yeah? I always imagined you with a hot ass girl with anime tits.”

“A-Men.” Baekhyun parts the word in two syllables, lifting his hands in the air as if to pray for it just to steal laughter away from her. “You take me as a boobs man only, right?”

“Scarlett Johansson told me so.”

“I look at other things apart from boobs.” Baekhyun says, shrugging in the process. “Even if they are not there, I can like someone.”

“Like what?” She asks, turning on her side and taking another sip of her drink. Cream gathers on her upper lip, and he takes the edge of the blanket to pass it over it to clean it up.

“Intelligence. Rationality. Profoundness. I want a woman who looks like she could never rule the world but has everyone under the sole of her feet. Including me, of course.” Baekhyun’s face is far closer to hers than intended, licking his lips when he looks into her eyes. “I want a woman who laughs at what I say but also knows that I’m more than just a joke on legs.”

Her eyes trail all over his features, before saying: “Those who don’t notice it, don’t know you.” She claims. “You’re far sweeter than you let yourself be known for.”

“Because I talk about tits and I make the magic leave?”

“Kind of.” She replies, a chuckle in her tone. “…And because you don’t realize just how great you are, so you go for whatever woman you think matches you. And you’re wrong. You only deserve the best.”

Heated up to the core of his heart, Baekhyun sighs. “Are you sure you’re not running a fever?”

“I might check. I’m giving compliments to the biggest douchebag I know.” She takes the last sip of her drink before smiling. “Or maybe, I just took your spot and I’m the biggest bitch now.”

Baekhyun pats her head, shaking his own in the process. “Say it. The baddest bitch.”

“I prefer to be the cutest bitch.”

“The most intelligent bitch I know.” Baekhyun replies, pushing himself away when a second too long of silence settles between the two. His hands end up on his waist, extending and flexing his back in order to ease his muscles. “Finish watching the episode while I go prepare the guest’s room for you tonight.”

And with that, he tries to control the beating of his heart. He knows better than to go back to some stupid, childish crush.

###

Turns out that romance is complicated. It either speaks in screamed words or unintelligible whispers, but it’s never going to be any easier. She thought, for once, that going with the flow would bring her happiness and now, she can’t even face Jaebeom without feeling guilt creeping up on her, as well as embarrassment. They are colleagues, after all, and maybe, making out with him for hours to no end leaves little room for her not to think about it happening…but the worst part of it all is when romance starts to go crazy, randomizes a person and then, it settles them inside her heart.

Never would she have thought that she’d think of Baekhyun in such a light that she’d find herself smiling at the thought of him, texting him with more frequency and spending more and more time with him. Never would she have thought that there would come a day that she goes to sleep so fulfilled with the life she has, even when they are nothing, that she would not need Blue Moon—who, coincidentally, sounds a lot like Baekhyun, and maybe, that’s why she was so into him—. She doesn’t need someone to lull her to sleep, because she’s tired of the complete days she’s having. With friends, with work and most importantly, with peace for the decisions she has taken in life.

So, it comes easily to her to hover over that button, staring at nights spent with someone whom she doesn’t really know…and she doesn’t want to listen to anymore. After all, the romantic thoughts inside her head are taken by Byun Baekhyun, and she still has to fix that, because that definitely won’t go anywhere…so, it’s better to start by something easier.

Are you sure you want to cancel your subscription to Blue Moon’s channel?

Accept.

###

Within a month, she already feels like she’s losing her mind.

Why the fuck did she start crushing on Baekhyun?

The tones of the city remain as gray as ever, polished by concrete and the movement of people in monochromatic clothes, but in between what she knows—what she has grown accustomed to, there is some light. Seated by the glassed windows of the small café Chohee likes to frequent once Haesol is around town is this one man that beams with happiness, eyes twinkling behind his glasses. His back hunches in relaxation, toying with the straw on his cup of coffee. She knows it probably has too much caffeine and sugar for his slim, toned body, but there is nothing that ever stops Baekhyun from getting the same order. In between brown woodened tables with red tablecloths, he shines the most, sporting his favorite yellow hoodie, one to match his best friend’s bleached blonde hair.

Haesol finally manages to find his phone, patting his hand against the pocket of his red cardigan until Chohee cuts through the air, interrupting whatever he was meaning to say.

“Not so bad looking when you stop calling him a douchebag, isn’t he?”

Those words take her off guard, putting her hands up her chest as if to protect her heart. Chohee is gleaming, holding onto her boyfriend’s arm as they stand on the other side of the street, covering the sidewalk with their bodies. She shakes her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do.” Chohee confirms. “…You’ve accidentally reignited the old flame Baekhyun and you had the first night you met at my birthday party and now you realize that all that banter throughout the years was undying sexual tension?”

“Banter does not equal sexual tension,” She reports, lifting her index finger in the air. “That’s a wronged conceptualization of romance aiming to make people believe that love can only be fueled if there are arguments.”

“…You two don’t really argue.” Chohee shrugs her shoulders, pushing her long hair behind them. “You just play argue. You like calling him a ‘douchebag’ because it gives you a reaction and a reason not to fall for him. You’ve done it for years because you’re attracted to Baekhyun and it’s easier to believe that opposites don’t attract.”

Haesol tugs at his girlfriend’s arm, pulling her with him to cross the street. She follows right after the couple. “Honey, I don’t think you should be psychoanalyzing the situation. They’re both adults and she should know how to act up on her crush.”

Huh, for someone who is so quiet he can barely be heard, Haesol has some bite to his tongue.

“I am not crushing on Baekhyun.”

Chohee looks over her shoulder once they are at the entrance of the café. “Right,” She drags her voice, sarcasm dripping from every tone. “Because you’re in love with him.”

“Chohee, let it go.” Haesol reasons, opening the door to the café just as she scoffs.

“I am not in love with him. He’s a douchebag. He’d leave me with whoever has a bigger cup size than me, wouldn’t he?”

She knows he’s wrong. Baekhyun is not as stupid as she has tried to paint him out to be.

Which is why she tugs at the collar of her coral blouse upon seeing him waving his hand at her, dragging himself on his seat to make space for her. The way his hair, disheveled as always, curls against his forehead has her wanting to run her fingers through it, calm him down after a stressful day in a job she knows he doesn’t want, but before she could give him a smile—awkward, albeit—, Chanyeol captures his attention by showing him his phone and his grin practically erases off his face.

Weird.

By the time she gets closer to the duo, she gets a glimpse of their conversation. “Chanyeol, I won’t go out on a date ever again—”

“I’m not telling you to go out on a date with Minjung, but we need to find someone with a good fanbase to make some roleplay recordings with.”

The world stops for a few seconds. Actually, it feels like years have passed by right in front of her eyes when she realizes just what Chanyeol has freed into the world. It can’t be possible that the recurrent thought of how alike Blue Moon and Baekhyun sounded could be true. After all, Baekhyun wouldn’t be able to record himself and do boyfriend roleplays just because he feels like it. It shouldn’t—

Everyone has seated on the table, but she stays upright, finally returning to her senses when she awkwardly laughs. “Roleplay recordings?”

Baekhyun hums in the process, giving a small nod as his ears tinge in red. “Well, I need a bit more money and I started a Patreon account, where I do boyfriend roleplays. People want me to expand to rated stuff, but I don’t know, I’m iffy about it.” That’s the moment she lets her guard fall entirely. He doesn’t know it, but embarrassment takes all over her body. All this time, her mind had connected with the same man in different occasions, enough to have her shaking her head when she gives one step back. “Hey, it’s not that big of a deal. Do you find it weird?”

“You were Blue Moon?” Her voice comes out in a whisper, suddenly unaware of the people around her, when Baekhyun’s eyes widen by being caught, opening his mouth and closing it subsequently, babbling to find his voice.

“I—I was…” He says. “We—Were you a subscriber?”

“Oh my God,” She gasps to herself, placing her hands on top of her face to cover her eyes. “Oh God, I just did not subscribe to your Patreon without absolutely having no idea for months.”

Baekhyun chuckles awkwardly, lifting his hand to rub the nape of his neck. “I think you did.”

“I have to get out of here.” Aware of her embarrassment, she moves towards the door, hearing Baekhyun’s footsteps trailing after her.

“Wait, no. It’s okay! I just—It’s flattering!”

“For you, definitely not for me.” She replies, turning around just as she opens the door to the café, sparing him a glance before groaning deeply. “Shit, how couldn’t I notice that the similarities were there?”

“I guess you didn’t really think I would go for a job like that.” Baekhyun gives a gummy smile, biting his bottom lip soon after. “Can we just talk about this—?”

“Sorry, Baek.” Shaking her head, she clears her throat soon after. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about this right now.”

With that, she closes the door behind her, perhaps choosing to ignore all opportunity she has had with Baekhyun, but what is she supposed to do? Admit the crush that she grew both on a faceless man speaking sweet nothings into her ear and her friend? It’s too much turmoil for just one afternoon.

###

Another card ends up under her boot when she steps inside her apartment. The thirteenth one since the last time she saw Baekhyun, coming daily for thirteen days straight. She’ll give it to him, the man is smart enough to keep her on the edge with these cards, but each and every single time, she folds them over and places them in her coffee table’s cabinet, there for her to read once she doesn’t feel like the world is falling on top of her.

It’s horrid. Awkward. Awful in a lot of ways. She can’t look at him in the eye and suddenly tell him that his voice was the one that calmed her down in so many nights but that past that, his personality was the one that captured her whole, made her dream of him and think him into her life as a memory she never wants to get rid of. For fuck’s sake, she lost the opportunity of having something with Lim Jaebeom just because she was absolutely head over heels for Baekhyun.

Her friend.

The douchebag.

When, all along, she has been the douchebag in everyone’s life.

Just when she closes her door behind her, she hears a thud and a whine following soon after. That timbre of voice makes her turn around, sparing a glance towards the door before peeping through the peephole. Much to her lack of delight—though, some relief washes over her—Baekhyun is standing by the door, wearing that terrible turquoise chemise that he uses for work and somehow, not angered that she has probably bruised his face when he holds the bridge of his nose between his index and thumb.

“Ouch!” He hisses, pulling his fingers away and sighing in relief when there is no blood. “You know, I know the ER is the best place to find you, but I’m not sure I want to break or strain any other part of my body.”

A smile appears on her face, though she tries to push it down, resting her forehead against the door as if that manages to make her get closer to him. “Baekhyun, what are you doing here?”

“Getting injured, apparently.” Baekhyun huffs out in annoyance, letting go of his nose to splay his hand on top of the door. She swears she hears his palm softly hitting the surface. “…I kept pushing notes under your door for the past thirteen days and I thought you were ignoring them, but you didn’t even read them on the first place.”

She’s not the best of people, what can she say? But it’s stupid to believe Baekhyun would ever feel anything back for her. They are total opposites, and he has already spoken about what he wants in life to her. He wants someone serious, intelligent, put-together. She’s a mess of misconceptions and unspoken words.

“I don’t want to get attached, Baekhyun.” She says, turning around to look towards the rest of her apartment, with her back leaning against the door. “I subscribed to Blue Moon because I wanted to feel less lonely. Well, I subscribed to you…and I spent months wishing I had someone like him, and then, I questioned why I wanted someone like you. Why, when being with Jaebeom, I could only think of you and only pushed him away by comparing him to how much flavor and spice and humor you brought into my life…” Her voice becomes distant, heat flaring around her face when she clears her throat. “And I painted a sky for me when I didn’t even know if you wanted to be a star in it. I suddenly realized just how stupid I was for thinking I had a chance, with Blue Moon or with you.”

Baekhyun stays silent for a few seconds, trying to twist the doorknob to no avail. “You really haven’t read the notes, have you?”

She sighs. “You don’t know how embarrassing it is to be in my position. I like you, Baekhyun. Fuck, if I want to be with someone, it’s with you and it’s pathetic—”

“Check the goddamned notes.” He says, calling out her name soon after. “If there’s someone who knows perfectly well how pathetic you feel, it’s me and truthfully, there’s no reason to.”

“You’re just saying it because you’re my friend.”

“No, I’m saying it as me. As Baekhyun. As the guy who sent you those notes.”

Her hands grab the pieces of paper in between her fingers, scrunching up her nose as she unfolds them. “What even are they, Baekhyun?”

“They are the thirteen times I didn’t tell you how much I liked you. From the moment I met you to now,” The more she reads through the letters, she sees glimpses of his mind through the years. From age twenty to now, Baekhyun had a whirlwind of emotions, never quite knowing what was a joke and what was meant to be much more. “And you always said I was a douchebag, not because of what I said about Scarlett Johansson, but because of what I said the night we met because you thought I was drunk but fuck no, I had never felt more sober in my life.” Baekhyun breathes out, just at the same time that she skims through the letters, getting in the information. In the past years, Baekhyun has liked her several times, getting over it only to move on to something else, but he always comes back to the same spot. “I meant every word and I mean it now. Don’t be embarrassed for liking me when I’m the stupid guy who has liked you for so long—”

She opens the door then, not caring if she’s a mess or the notes splay on the floor when her fingers caress the skin of his waist to bring him closer. Baekhyun feels like home, not too tranquil but rapid instead, a lake trying to move her off her boat as he grabs her by the back of the neck with one hand, digging his fingers on her hips to keep her closer. She molds into him as if made for each other, and maybe, they were, but she had always been too stupid to notice that there was more to Baekhyun than what he said.

In his silence, his whispers, his nothingness…that’s where he shined the most. When the jokes died down and all there was left of him was his sweet personality, though imperceptible at times, that was when she loved him the most.

When she pulls away, he leans in for a few more kisses, stealing a chuckle away from her when he continues to do so. “Did you just kiss me?”

“I guess I did.” She smiles, wrapping her arms around his neck to hug him tightly. “Shit, Baekhyun, you weren’t supposed to wait this long to tell me you liked me. We could have had our happy ending so long ago—”

With a movement of his legs, he swings the two of them side to side. “Well, it’s difficult to tell someone could like you back when they always call you a douche.”

“Sorry.” She pulls her face away, capturing his soft, thin lips in between her own before humming in delight. “But I’m not telling you go now, douchebag.”

He shrugs. “It’s never too late to start.”

###

The collar of his sweater fell off one shoulder, collarbones peaking out as he brought the same glass of champagne he had been drinking from up to his lips. Chohee dragged him along the masses of people in her party, wearing a tiara out of all things, as she spat out whatever nonsense she had inside her head of finding Baekhyun’s perfect match. Running a hand through his disheveled hair, he played along. It was not like he’d really find love in a place like this.

Though, when he saw her, dressed from head to toe in black, standing by a corner as she talked to Chohee’s new affair, Haesol, he thought he saw a glimpse of heaven. One of those angels that no one dared talk about because of their power, with a smile barely playing on her face, too difficult to get out, as she batted her eyelashes as softly as possible with every word she heard from Haesol. Her concentration was immaculate, unlike him, a little bit tipsy with flushed cheeks.

Chohee called out her name, one that he thought he would never forget, with her hand resting on Baekhyun’s shoulder. “…This is the guy I had been talking to you about, Baekhyun. We went to high school together and he’s been my sidekick ever since.” Chohee explained, and the woman was kind enough to extend her hand, stealing a breath away from him and settling a challenge on the top of his head when seeing her. He wanted to have her, but it was almost impossible—he knew this from just one glance. Difficult as difficult could get.

“Hi, nice to meet you. Chohee hasn’t stopped talking about you.”

“Well, I hadn’t heard about you but I wished I did.” Baekhyun spoke, taking a sip of his drink when he shook her hand with his. Soft, strikes of electricity going up his arm when they touched. “Nice to meet you, too. I’m Baekhyun, or your future husband. Whatever you want me to be.”

A laugh ripped from her throat then, continued by a wheeze, as she moved her hand away from him. “Okay, douchebag, that was smooth, but good luck with that. I’m not much of a dater.”

Baekhyun shrugged then, as if knowing something more. “Give me time, I’ll make it happen.”

And he did.

#baekhyun scenarios #baekhyun #exo scenarios #exo #kpop scenarios #writing #baekhyun au #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun angst #exo au #exo fluff #exo angst #this is an idea i got out of nowhere so #tell me what you think lol

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