#im too tired to correct my spelling

[eras-mus]

HIII I HAD A THOIGHT THAT HAS BEEN KILLING MY MIND AND I NEED TO TELL IT TO SOMEONE OTHERWISE IM GNA EXPLODE

get this . everyone chilling at ramshackle dorm doing their own thing, yuu (and grimm by extension), ace and deuce sitting by the table talking about whatever crosses their mind

Eventually the conversation escalates to birthdays and holidays and ace asks how old Yuu is. Azul interjects with saying Yuu's age from the contract they signed a few months ago, but then Yuu pipes up and tells them that they're one year older than that.

Theres a small moment of confusion until it dawns onto Deuce that Yuy's birthday was a month or two ago and they never spoke a peep about it. Not even to grimm!! And when asked, Yuy makes an excuse like "that was when __ was kind of close to overblotting and I didn't want to make it about me because that'd be so nitpicky—"

It was based off an audio i heard and idk if i want to write it into a short drabble for myself i probably cant since im only on book 2 ueue). But like. its a fun prompt methinks. what would all of them do when they find out Yuu deliberately didn't say a thing about their birthday

🎉

THAT WAS YOUR BIRTHDAY???

★Reader is Yuu and is 17 years old

★gender neutral

★takes place after the third book

Sorry it's short, hope you like it!

-

"Can we start yet!" Ace complained, head slamming onto the table.

"I told you we're waiting on a couple more people." The perfect told him "I invited Kalim and Azul to join us since Sebek and Jack couldn't make it"

Tonight was the Ramshackle dorms weekly game night, normally it was just the freshmen but Sebek said that Malleus 'needs' his protection and Jack was just to tired from Spell Drive practice.

"They outta hurry up" Epel started, country accent slightly showing through "don't they know it's rude to be late."

A awkward silence fell over the dorm for a moment before a knock echoes through the dorm.

When y/n opened the dorm they were greeted with a cheerful smile and a hug.

"Thank you so much for inviting me!" Kalim smiled "I hope you don't mind that I brought Jamil, I also brought food, well Jamil did, he made it!"

Y/n blinked for a moment, taking in all the words one guy manged to say so fast. They looked over Kalim's shoulder just in time to see Jamil face plant.

"Thank you for the food Jamil" They smiled, giving him a wave.

"If was the least I could do perfect" he stated, not returning the wave.

Luckily Azul showed up before y/n could shut the door.

Just a few minutes later the group was playing some sort of trivia card game where they would either have to answer a question about someone else playing, a question about themselves, or just a random fact. If they got it wrong the next person would answer the same card, whoever got the most questions right won.

"Who is the most followed person in Magi Cam?" Epel read, "That's easy, Neige"

He revealed the answer to show it was correct.

"Of course you would get that one right" Ace complained "Vil never stops going on about it"

Every one just ignoring him looked over at Deuce, who was next to pick a card.

"How old is the person sitting to your right?" He looked over at y/n. "I'm not sure...18?"

They just shook their head.

"I know this one" Azul butted in, ready to take another point "Our contract from a while ago said that they were 16."

One again y/n shook their head. "I just turn 17 last month"

The room went silent for what seemed like forever.

"WE MISSED YOUR BIRTHDAY!" They all shouted in union.

"Riddle is going to have a heart attack when he finds out" Deuce commented, Ace nodding in agreement.

"You should've said something, we could've had a huge party" Kalim whined.

Y/n scratch the back of their head, "It's not big deal, it was right after one of the overblots, plus where I'm from birthdays aren't that big of a deal."

"Jamil we need to plan a party right now" Kalim said, getting up from his seat.

"We have to too" Ace said "Or get Trey and Riddle to do it for us"

Soon everyone had said something similar and got up and left leaving a confused Ramshackle perfect.

#kalim al asim #Jamil viper #azul ashengrotto #ace trapolla #deuce spade #epel felmier #grim twst #twst yuu #twst x reader #twst scenarios #twst x male reader #twst x female reader #Twst x reader

[goldenempyrean]

Can you do something with the prompts “Woah... Why is the room spinning” and “My head feels funny” with sick!natasha

Her like falling asleep during a important meeting cause she’s sick but won’t admit it to anyone

Plans And A Patient

Hey! This fic isnt too long but I tried to stretch it out, hopefully its good enough for you :) Im finally feeling better after being practically knocked out for the week so Im back to writing again. I tried to grammar check this but honestly im too tired rn so excuse any spelling/grammar errors

Summary: Nat’s not feeling too great during a meeting, but its just some sniffles, right?

Wordcount:973

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In your mind you had the perfect job. You were able to help people and thats all that you cared about, however there was a slightly less fun aspect of your career that you utterly despised… Meetings.

It wasn't just you who disliked meetings. Your girlfriend Natasha was also not too keen on them. The whole sitting down and talking thing really wasn't her style, she much preferred to be out in the field, beating some agent's ass for information.

Thats why when you and Natasha were called in for an urgent meeting, you couldn't help but groan. You felt especially bad for Nat, she’d recently gotten back from a mission and she’d seemed to pick up a rather miserable cold and it had finally hit her in full-force that morning, making her feel absolutely horrible. You tried your best to get both yourself and Nat an excuse to miss the meeting but unfortunately your efforts were futile.

You couldn’t help but feel sorry for Nat as she quietly sat down in the seat beside you, trying to silently sniffle against her finger.

“You gonna be alright?” You whispered quietly, taking advantage of the loud sound of chairs scraping as everybody seated themselves around the large meeting table

“I’ll be fine.” Nat replied in a less then assuring voice, her voice shaking as she spoke.

Over the course of the next hour, you couldn’t help but feel your worry grow as Natasha rubbed at her temples continuously. You sighed as you watched her stifle a series of painful looking sneezes into near silence. Luckily for her, only you had seemed to noticed and you placed a hand on her thigh, silently blessing her. Natasha seemed to understand what you meant as she looked up to flash you a small smile.

The room grew loud as the team discussed potential plans on capturing hydra agents so you took the opportunity to lean over towards Nat and ask, “How you feeling?”

“My head feels funny.” Nat admitted quietly with a sniffle, rubbing the sleeve of her leather jacket against her nose.

“That cant feel nice.” You tutted, discreetly leaning back in your chair to grab the box of tissues from the small table behind you, placing it on her lap – sneakily out of view from the rest of the team.

“Thank- Hh’gnnxt!” Natasha’s sentence was interrupted by her twitching nose, making her head bob bob downwards with a sneeze louder then she would’ve liked.

“Bless you.” You hummed, moving the strands of hair which had fallen back behind her ear before turning to try and concentrate on what Tony was saying.

In all honesty you weren’t really paying attention at all. All you could focus on was Natasha’s state of health. You’d noticed that she had begun to repeatedly swipe tissues and attempt to quietly blow her nose though her efforts seemed fruitless.

The meeting only seemed to drone on as the team got into disputes over correct techniques. You were trying your best to participate and voice your opinion but you couldn’t help but grow endlessly bored. It was in your bored state that you had let your eyes wonder, searching the room for some form of entertainment. In your search, yours eyes glanced over at Natasha… Poor baby. You hadn’t noticed it until now but she was resting with her head in her hands, her eyes closed as small stuffy snores escaped her slightly open mouth.

“Natty.” You gently nudged her shoulder, pulling her from her sleep.

You’d tried to not bring attention to her but Tony had witnessed the whole thing and didn’t seem very impressed, “Am I interrupting something?” He spoke firmly, staring at the both of you.

“No.” You repressed your groan, Tony’s usually bright personality could easily be shifted when he wasn’t being listened to. You knew more then anybody that he didn’t like to he interrupted.

Nat opened her mouth to speak but instead a series of damp coughs left her, forcing her to muffle her head into her elbow. You reached out and ran your hand down her back, rubbing circles down her spine.

“Natasha?” Tony’s once asserted voice had become smaller, it now held the same worried tone as your own.

“I’m fine.” She sniffled once she’d recomposed herself. Earning herself a sideways glance from yourself only your eyes turned soft as you saw her nose begin to twitch as she looked up towards the light, “Hhuh’tsss! Hh-Hh’hehtsoo!”

The group blessed her as Natasha rested her head against your shoulder, sniffling as you swiped afew of the tissues from the box which was still sat on her lap. “You should use these.” You whispered, pressing them into her hand just as her breath before to hitch.

“HuhS’CHIEW!”

“Y/N, Nat.” Tony grabbed your attention as the pair of you turned to look at him, “You’re both dismissed from this meeting.”

You nodded silently mouthing a thank-you as you stood from your chair. Nat slowly pushed herself up from her seat only she stumbled backwards into you as she stood.

“Woah- Why’s the room spinning.” Nat mumbled against your neck, her burning skin connecting with yours. You sighed, wrapping your hands around her waist, pulling her from the meeting room and out into the hallway.

“Baby, your burning up. Your on fire, why didn’t you tell me you had a fever.” You muttered, guiding her to the elevator at the end of the hall.

“I didn’t want to worry you.” She sighed tiredly, yawning against her palm

“Sweetie when it comes to your health, always tell me if somethings wrong.” You kissed the back of her neck, causing her to shiver a little, “Lets get you back up into our room and into bed.”

Natasha let herself smile as the doors to the elevator opened, “That sounds nice.”

#sickfic #snzfic #marvel sickfic #whump #marvel snzfic #femreader #fluffy #mcu #snzfuck #natasha romanoff #sicknat #sick!natasha x reader #sick natasha romanoff #femreader x natasha #natasha romanoff sickfic #reader x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff snzfic #sick natasha

[jbird-the-manwich]

jesus christ, that was NOT clear from your post. being condescending isnt helping you come off any better, literally did not know about offline ways to do it.

anyone who had examined my blog in the least, or my tags I mention on my ai posts with any sort of interest in critically examining the things I say and defining for themselves missing context with an intent to learn more about a topic that illicits in them a kneejerk utterance.... would've simply not come off like such a dumbass. rather than simply repeating an ECHO of .... the last thing they heard on social media??? (much like an untrained ai, or a conservative, tbh) to someone far, far, far more well versed in your chosen just-for-popularity-based-entirely-in-anti-intellectualism-ass-factually irrellevent guilt trip, you could've shut the fuck up for free and examined and LEARNED. FOR FREE. ENOUGH. ON MY LITTLE TUMBLR. To not make that mistake. Think a second for how much nicer the world would be if only people who had verified their statements to be true and correct for the context EVER. FUCKING. SPOKE.

You'd've learn that I don't use chatgpt, chatgpt is not smart enough to hold me, I use bard, and when something smarter comes along, ill know about that before you do too, especially if you don't change the way you verify statements THAT YOU MAKE WITHOUT BEING INVITED ANYWHERE. You'd also know I'm a right fun sort if you're not an ECHO.

so uhhhh that's still on you. for not knowing shit about what you talk about. As I had said. And approaching me on FIRST INTERACT with some kinda fun fact im supposed to be new to. Why? You think smart people are a myth? We're out here. And we're tired.

And hey I'm not just a sexy hacker I'm also a witch so here's a fun spell my followers have seen but you probably don't know:

Take, to a stream running north, the entire basket of my fucks,

and commit them to the waters;

The one that floats against the current, shall be the one I most especially don't give about the opinions of people who SAY SHIT IN MY INBOX WHEN THEY DON'T KNOW NOTHIN ABOUT THEIR CHOSEN TOPIC OF MISINFORMED GUILT TRIP OR HOW I COME OFF WHEN ACCOSTED BY SUCH MOTHERFUCKERS MAKING THE MISTAKE YOU MADE LIKE THE INTELLECTUAL EQUIVALENT OF A PISSANT.

I'm also a hillbilly. so a traditional hillbilly greeting, for you, and people who do like you when they could've bothered to learn something about anything, or anybody, BEFORE THEY SPOKE:

Fuck off somewhere, and when you get there, do better, asshat. The shit is embarassing. I don't owe you civility when you're showing up for the thrill of making *me* look stupid. I can smell my own inbox bro. I'm not dumb.

And anyway about the environment:

DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY NATIVE SPECIES I PLANT IN A WEEK?!?!?!?!

no. Cuz you didn't fuckin ask you just assume shit. It's a right several.

See? Now we're learning.

This is so fun for me you people don't even know. I'm gonna make everyone who shows up on my porch either LAUGH or GET SMARTER and if you show up with dumb shit.... *You're* the joke.

Thanks for stopping by. ☜(ﾟヮﾟ☜)

#ai #do not reblog #thanks

[liliemay4]

'You Shouldn't Be Here'

In which Harry finds his lover in his place of work. Please don't judge spelling errors too hard, I'm dyslexic and trying my best, I'm also not british or from europe, please correct or give tips for anything grammar related to it a bit more accurate! this isn't based on Atyd, the books, or any other fics just something of my own, if it does remind you of a fic or something please lmk I'd love to read it!

TW: Cuts, injuries, hospital, stitches, blood (I suck at dialogue so let's ignore that) this is not proofread!!

The fluorescent lights above me flicker ever so slightly, machines beeping all around me, the cloth pressed firmly against my wrist collecting the drops of seemingly endless blood flowing out of it, turning the previously white washcloth and maroon red. The clock hits 11 at night, feet patter against the floor of the room surrounding me, my eyes fluttering around desperately hoping to find someone who can help, anyone but him, anyone but Harry. Finally, i connect eyes with someone who then makes their way over to my side...

"What happened here?" They lead me to a bed, white sheets tucked tightly against it.

"Slipped and cut myself, pretty deep too" I slowly remove the damp cloth, revealing the glittering red that drenches my arm. "Got it cleaned up as much as i could before i came here, thought it woulda stopped by now, seems to be deeper than i orignally thought."

"I'll get everything i need to get you cleaned and stitched up, I'll be right back!" She leaves.

Alone. Yet again, eyes now frantically searching this time in hopes of seeing harry, not him seeing me. After a few minutes i give up my searching, not noticing his gaze staring me down from outside the door, eyes filled with fear, unsure of who hes staring at. He practically races in as the previous nurse sits down beside me again.

"Joans..." He breathes out "You're needed in the ICU..." He lies "I'll take over here for ya" He stares me down throughout all of his words.

My previous nurse, joans, assures me im in good hands and leaves. Harry yanks the curtain closed behind her and drops to the stool she left behind.

"You aren't supposed to be here, you should never be here, not like this" He examines the cut, "Why didn't you call me, love? What happened?"

"I fell, didn't want to stress you out over a small cut..."

"Oh y/n darling..." He looks up at me with soft eyes "I think you stressed me out more when i saw you sitting here covered in blood without a clue of what was wrong" He preps the wound for stitches

"Can you hold my hand and do the stitches at the same time?" I laugh out.

He smiles, "I wish i could baby, but if i'm gonna do it right i need both hands" He rubs my arm gently before numbing my arm, "This shouldn't hurt, ok? Let me know if you can feel it, alright?"

I nod, closing my eyes tightly, tears already forming glossing them over. A few minutes pass before i finally feel harrys calloused hands agaisnt my face.

"Look at me love, you're all done, you did wonderful" My eyes flutter open meeting his green ones, i glance down at my arm to see it already wrapped and bandaged.

"i didn't feel a thing"

"I could tell, thought ya fell asleep or passed out on me for a minute there..."

I smile up at him, my eyes drowsy, "Is your shift over yet?"

"It's been over for about thrity minutes now, sweetheart" I glance at the clock, showing 11:30.

"Can we go home then? I'm quite tired and dinner is probably cold by now..."

"Whatever you want, love...Whatever you want"

He helps me out of the white clothed bed, the sheets now crinkled and loose. the sounds having overwhelmed my mind before no longer seem as prominent, all that matters is he's with me and we're going home. To our home.

#harry potter x y/n #harryjamespotter x reader #harry james potter imagine #harry potter #fluff #love #my man my man my man #medic harry potter #james potter #lily evans #golden trio era #lovers #the marauders

[we-r-loonies]

i love you: incorrect quote turned drabble oh my gosh

jegulus!!!!!

saying "i love you" had always come easily to james. from the moment he was able to burble out a string of consecutive words to when he was a young man with a lover's mouth following the curve of his neck.

i love you,

i love you,

i love you.

it was intertwined with the hours he'd spend planning pranks with sirius. it was mixed into his chicken scratch handwriting when remus was too tired to take notes. it was a bright red paint wash that highlighted every word he spoke to lily.

and, of course, there was regulus.

james' love for regulus was ruthless and comfortable, unabashed and private, hideous and perfect.

that's why he didn't quite understand when regulus never said those three tiny words.

"i love you," he'd murmur, burying his face into regulus' chest as the stars tiptoed up the inky sky. regulus would hold him closer.

"i love you," he'd tease as they sat curled up on the beaten armchair, elbows deep in homework. regulus would laugh wryly and carry on writing.

"i love you," he'd mumble into regulus' mouth as they stumbled back onto the bed. regulus would kiss him harder, but the words never fell past his lips.

and it hurt.

the thrum he'd become so accustomed to having around faltered, just a tad. did regulus not feel the same? was james rushing in again, like he always did? he was freefalling into the waters, bracing himself for the shocking splash when...

"oh, of course she loves me. she doesn't say it, but she always makes sure ive eaten and she pokes me when im zoning out in class and..."

of course he loves me, james' thoughts echoed.

regulus' love for james was a book he'd found enthralling left on james' bedside table, early morning quidditch followed by early morning sex, a slim hand correcting his spelling in his passion-fuelled essays, an almost invisible touch of fingers as they passed eachother.

of course.

"i love you, reg,"

"... take my jacket, it's cold outside."

#the marauders #marauders #jegulus #starchaser #james potter #regulus black #too much writing #drabble #marauders drabble #teeny tiny writing

[tainsan]

YES I DEF THINK THAT TOO!! im just rlly bad at spelling and meant jongho might just use ur name/a shortened ver 😞 yeosang would DEF use ur name but like in the nerdiest way im sorry. hes just a little dorky if that makes sense! i 🫶🏻 nerds tho

on the contrary wooyoung would use the cringiest nicknames ever whether ur there or not. 'my little sugarplum cupcake' 'my honey booboo bear' hed start saying into recipes atp like 'my 1/4 cup of sugar with five large marshmallows!!' thanks man. how sweet!

IM SOO EXCITED!! i need fluff rn these past few chapters have hit me like a train and i am SICK and TIRED of their shenanigans. just kiss it out! i will not sue promise maybe just scream a little 🤗 this fic has everything i love AND an amazing incredible spectacular funny kind author

yeah its not terrible until you have to do it ☹️ its a workout esp when ppl keep messing up 👿👿👿 i think im the side kick here tbh! us against the world though 🤞🏻(and misfit atz. ik yk what theyre gonna do and how theyll improve but IIII dont so until then.. they better sleep with one eye open)

hopefully ur mental health is good or i will uh. fight ur brain! 🤺 and i hope ur inside and safe now 🫶🏻🫶🏻

ok thats my super duper long message for now 😎 thank u for listening and sorry for the wall of text. i WILL be back🐺

-🦝

ME TOO I’m terrible at spelling bc I’m dyslexic😭 auto correct and grammarly are my saviours omg

OKAY I feel like Jongho would be too shy to call you a nickname at the start of the relationship but when he gets fully comfortable he will use babe and baby. Yeosang is such a nerd I love him. I have a thing for nerdy boys (seonghwa and Yeosang have me in a chokehold) (everytime I see seonghwa geek over Star Wars and Lego I will go feral)

NO BC YOU HAVE A POINT😭😭 wooyoung would 100% be using all the cringey weird petnames UNIRONICALLY. Bro woukd come up to you and be like “what’s up my pookie bear” dead serious and won’t understand why you are laughing at the name💀 LDKAOAOA 1/4 CUP OF SUGAR HAD ME ON THE FLOOR. But cupcake and muffin are defo gonna stick bc he thinks you’re the sweetest person alive!!!!

The past few chapters have been HEAVY and I’m so happy to be finally releasing some chapters which I know everyone has been waiting for😭. YOURE FLATTERING ME STOP ILY I’m happy you like the story and also me 🥹

I can’t understand :(( when I was in high school we did Matilda the musical and I was one of the kids in the back 😭😭 my teachers loved the fact that I have a history in gymnastics so they made me flip around and do tricks off a mini trampoline. And OMG THE LEAD FOR MATILDA WAS SO BAD IT WASNT EVEN FUNNY idk who casted but she couldn’t sing or dance or act😭 we did so so so many retakes and every retake I had to be flipping around and I was so done by the end of it

We can both me main characters 🤭 us against the world bae🫶 yeah yeah I have no idea what they are going to do we are both in the blind….🤫

I’d love for you to fight my brain it’s a mess but I’m improving slowly. the last few months have been super super tough for me so I hope that I will get out of this period. But I’ll be fine !!!

NEVER APOLOGISE FOR RANTINGGG

You better be back 🐺AWOOOO

#🦝 anon

[thelocalconstellation]

hEY!

i am sligihtry unwrll hoep youu are doijgn better than me. evause i am not having a fun time wlel it is fun only im not sured id liek to do it again yet

I... am amazed you managed to misspell that many words, actually.

I am concerned. I think the problem I have is that I have to be really tired to not correct my spelling, I think I've written too much fanfiction and therefore my spelling cannot be bad because I refuse to let anybody I interact with regularly read my fics, which means no beta reader.

Anyways I'm going to use you as an example for if I ever need to write a character who cannot spell when typing to save their life now, I hope you know there's no escaping that

#Auresponds

[aery-c]

its a daily struggle to live as me...

a perfectionist aligning my trilingual self with all 3 types of english classes passed (literature, language and general eng), 2 types of mandarin chinese (south + northern chinese), 2 types of cantonese (hk + canton) and a whole lotta accents ive picked up over the years :c imagine all that on top of having cultural appreciation being aware of not to be appropriation, then get directly accused and shamed for "not speaking sensibly with issues in the brain" when im literally speaking accordingly to different people with different personally curated tones of voice cos i reciprocate as a common trait of respect ! YES ITS FVCKING TiRING.

even my English can go from British to aussie to kiwi to American accents.

then get taken onto an ambulance for not walking on a straight fkn line with my speech. cos i came off narcissistic for the way i was raised in a broken Chinese family that negative connotations and insults are a form of sarcasm and jokes. its fkng offensive and emotionally painful to face vice versa. and tuning my speech from east to west with translations on linguistics to psychological reckoning of a 2020 vision intercepting all micro expressions and empathy etc.. the list goes on in my mind when converse with new people. called me hypersensitive but my mood changes by my ovulation cycles hormones and environment too. I just feel alot as a damn female human being k. its exactly why id rather compartmentalize and hid my own language at birth - throughout the whole fkn 6 years of my high school days. No one knew what I spoke at home and no one got near me not cos i was stuck up or stubborn, but i was protecting my self worth that i knew from the start i never wanted to be near the opposite sex and end up having accidents through school life like my parents. I wanted a quality life with no regrets on the actions i take and the paths i took. Depression was diagnosed since all the suppression and all the familial secrets were given to me by no consent. yes. Its common and normal to feel this way, and even the secret of my dad attempting to hang himself was uncovered by my damned medical specialist NOT ONCE but TWICE!!!!!!! - given by nurse she told me it was spelling corrected! but after reading through multiple times hard to swallow pills it was worse than first copy of the papers. The systems rigged. I want no affiliation to government, my parents nor my relatives. Theyre so toxic manipulative abusive. fk it all.

#me #not a narc #empath #dark empath #life

[jxpcloud]

I guess this is it

i wont lie ive searched the web countless times and all silly little blogging websites all ask for stupid card details, or have some extortionate "happy" feel to them and thats just not the vibe. so ive reverted back to my 14yo self and went back to trusty tumblr. unfortunately loading it up, i was greated loveingly by my deadname and countless images of gerard way so there was mixed feelings.

ive definately grown apart from my 14yo self in so many different ways but i am still them, 14yo me was living their truth. as difficult as it was i kninda knew who i was at that point...no clue now like man ive gone so far off the original plan. am i ahppy about that? honely im not sure but im definately not upset by this, im trying to live my truth and i think thats all 14yo me could ever ask for, that and my chemical romance tickets (that i wasnt able to get cause they sold out im so sorry)

im kinda here just to tell my story, consider it a one sided chat with a rando on the internet. honestly not even wanting to gain a massive audience or anything like that, kinda treating this like therapy at this point and if i can make one person smile or even see this and scroll passed because who uses tumblr dude, i think thats enough for me.

ill try not to be too trauma dumpy but its my tumblr i make the rules and unfortunately i am a bit trauma dumpy buuuut this means i have a great sense of humour so we have that to be thankful for. so if you want to follow a journey of self acceptance, trying not to die and unusable coping stratigies, maybe follow me. it might make you think theres others struggling too. so hello! my name is jxpcloud, i am a transgender youth (ftm) who stuggles quite badly with their mental health and is just so tired of it not functioning like nurotypical people. im also dyslexic and cant be fucked to spell check...you get me for me and somehow im making not correcting my spelling feel better for myself.

cheers :)

[another-middle-child]

I am going to do something I feel is kind of terrifying and post a sample of my writing below. This is a story/novel idea that I have been developing for several months but only in the last few weeks started writing it.

I don't know if it's the higher Prozac dose, being off for summer and having crushed this year at a four-year university, or a combination of factors, but here we are. Me feeling confident enough to allow people to read a rough draft (as in the first draft) of a chapter in the overall story I'm working on.

It is rough. As in, there are spaces like this ______________ indicating where I need to come up with a name. Also, I am sure it is lousy with grammatical or spelling mistakes that I didn't catch. So, I am not really looking for help in the technical aspect of writing.

I am more interested in thoughts concerning the overall story and such.

---- I'm adding a content warning because this is a crime piece that centers around a woman being wrongly convicted of killing her child she claims is missing. The topic matter might be too much for folks, especially right now. So this is your trigger point. If you are not comfortable with that kind of material please just scroll on by. Writing is how I cope with a lot of things and tonight, I really wanted to work on this project.

----

Also, not that I think Im some brilliant writer or anything but please don't steal my work or ideas or anything. Be cool. <3

---

Chapter of Gone But Not Forgotten (working title)

The walls of the prison had aged from pristine, sterile white to an uncomfortable beige that held the smell of decades-old smoke and mold. Bright, fluorescent bulbs hummed in long, dusty lighting fixtures, the cheeriness of the light betrayed the tiled halls. In the distance, doors opened, women laughed, a guard yelled, and the endless shaking of keys rattled. There was never a moment of silence. You would never hear a pin drop.

Maya Albright waited patiently at the end of the desolate corridor, checking her watch once again she groaned and craned her neck as if this might cause her partner to appear. He was new and younger with dreams that went beyond the public defender’s office. In her 50’s with soft, warm features and firm, kind eyes, Maya had worked for the city for the last 30 years. The clients she met, and the families she worked with… kept her from ever wanting to leave. One of the most defining cases of her career sat beyond the door patrolled by a somewhat annoyed corrections officer. Maya had only been working as a public defender for a few months when this case fell into her lap.

Tap-tap-tap.

The rhythmic sound of expensive men’s shoes against gritty tile echoed in the distance. Maya straightened and smoothed the crease from her suit. As he closed the gap, the guard began unlocking the door, pulling it open with a grunt. “You’re late. Did you read the briefing email I sent you?” Maya asked, waving a thank you to the corrections officer while hurriedly taking a seat at the bolted-down table. The room was void of natural light and joy, being winter, the air was too hot and dry for anyone’s comfort. Her partner took the seat next to him, frowning at the oppressive heat, and gently slid his jacket off and to the back of his chair.

“The client isn’t even here yet.” He noted, pulling a file out of the briefcase. Maya shook her head.

“They can’t bring her in until we get in and settled.” She sighed, holding the back of her tongue behind pursed lips. “That means you didn’t read the email.” He began to answer but the door had started to re-open and in-stepped their client, tired and spent but still holding a wry smile.

“Did you come to say Merry Christmas in person this year?” She joked, sliding into the chair on her side of the table. The officer explained he would be right outside, and, with a thud, the door slammed shut. Maya returned the smile and extended her hand across the table, giving the clients a squeeze.

“Something like that.” Maya’s partner straightened and coughed as if to offer a reminder of his existence. The client’s eyes shifted to the newcomer, and she withdrew her hand. Inhaling and sitting back in her seat, her smile slipped to a resounding expression of calm anger.

“This is _________, he just started at the office a few months ago,” Maya explained, easing the immediate tension, though the client’s eyes refused to move from meeting ________’s. He cleared his throat and finally darted his eyes away. He was used to clients being angry, but this felt deeper than that; her expression was that of knowing _______ all his life and judging with rage all his poor decisions. “_________ is the lead on your case now, but I told Wallace I would help.” The truth was, Maya hated the idea of giving her case over to someone this new and, frankly, arrogant, and yet, nothing could be done. She had her own allotment of cases and Wallace was on his way out, finally, and the new boss had plans to change things up.

The client exhaled slowly and loosened her demeanor to a more relaxed state. Still feeling a little uncomfortable, __________ allowed Maya continue to lead the room.

“Not the best Christmas gift,” The client said slowly, her lips curling to a smile. “But not the worst, either. Elinore,” she said, extending her hand toward _______, “Most folks call me Lore.” The way she said it determined he, too, should consider himself lucky enough to be allowed the honor. Lore slid back, lank brown hair falling to her waist, she hardly seemed the type to murder her child. Then again, thought ________, this job had taught him he knew less about people, crime, and behavior than he once believed.

__________ had graduated at the top of his law class and wanted to work for the state prosecutor’s office, then go into politics. Taking a few years to work as a defense attorney, he reasoned, would only help his chances of an election later in life. He was young and energized and had planned his future far beyond this position. Despite working for indigent clients, ________ always wore sharp, tailored suits, and carried a leather briefcase. In his brief tenure as a public defender, ________ was growing accustomed to the overburdened caseload and working his way into what he felt were successful plea bargains and arrangements. A rising star, Wallace had exclaimed with a pat on the back when ________ was introduced to the new management. _________ remembered this and smiled, reminding himself of this exchange, and shook off the nerves his newest client had given him. Why bother learning everyone's name, __________ thought, when the idea is to get a good deal and move on to the next?

The sound of laughter brought __________ back to his senses and cleared his throat, trying to draw Maya and Lore to once again remember his presence in the room. They quieted and their expressions held a deep fondness and respect for the other.

Having run from one appointment to the next, _________ had not read the case file or Maya’s email, despite her sending it multiple times throughout the week. She had been on leave, but the news found her, anyway, in form of Lore’s older brother. He called her cellphone and had to repeat the story several times before Maya could fully understand or process what exactly had happened. By the end of the conversation, she was booking a return flight home, writing an email to Wallace and the incoming boss, and attempting to schedule an appointment to meet the client in prison as soon as possible.

Giving up this case was not a possibility, though Maya contended she would be willing to share it. Wallace went to bat for her, explaining that no one knew this client or trial better. The new boss worried about bias and Maya quickly agreed to be a chaperone only. She would be able to attend meetings and help _________ develop the next steps. But she could not let ___________ be alone today, not for the news that needed to be delivered.

“So.” Lore laughed, punctuating the silence as Maya inhaled. “Did someone die?” She guessed. Maya shook her head.

“No. The opposite of that.” She offered, still trying to find the means to tell her.

“A…. birth?” Lore suggested, shaking her head with a wry smile. “Maya, come on, what’s going on?” She chuckled.

The truth had to be easier than silence.

“We think we found Trudy.” Maya exhaled and met Lore’s eyes, nodding a reassurance to what had been said.

But Lore could not see her, in fact, she could not see anyone in the room. She was no longer in the prison that held her for the last 30 years.

Bryce’s face flashed bold in her memory, smiling bright and wide, enveloping her in a bear hug. Then, suddenly, the pregnancy test loomed before her with a positive result as a wave of darkness washed over Lore’s memory. Bright, calling light illuminated every cell and fiber of her being. Trudy. Tru. Gertrude Mae. Named after Elinore’s grandmother, Gertie’s great-grandmother. Lore called her every name except just Gertrude. In an instant, the roundness of her baby face turned to the excited determination of a toddler walking, then running, falling in the grass. The sky is wide-open, deep, everlasting blue without, endless and cloudless, stretching for miles in every distance. Without warning, all is consumed by smoke and fire, endless screaming, wailing, and the howling of a mother robbed of her child. The interrogation, trial, and sentencing all blur in an ear-piercing roar of a runaway train, one taking her to desolation and emptiness. The shrill noise of a life set on fire, the smoke alarm, the screeching of every name except Gertrude, and finally Gertrude because why was Gertrude not in her bed? Not in the yard? Gone. Swallowed whole by a resounding silence.

The silence.

“Elinore? Lore?” Maya sounded far-off, down a well.

“Should we get a medic or…” ______suggested, unsure of what to do.

Lore had gone still and appeared to have stopped breathing, her mind working around the words of a new reality. A reality where Trudy is alive and other people know it! She finally exhaled but found herself unable to move forward. She started several sentences, then, finally, after a brief silence, cleared her throat and smiled.

“Before I get my hopes any higher…. Maya, how…in what state did you find Gertie?” Lore finally asked, trying to steady her breath, her leg shaking beneath the table.

“We think she is alive.” Maya began, pulling a portfolio folder from her bag. Lore choked back a sob and took a deep breath. “Two weeks ago, around Thanksgiving, I got a call from your brother, _______. He was hard to understand and at first, I thought he might be drunk. I know he has been sober for a few years, but slips happen.” Maya opened a notebook, rereading her notes as if she had to convince herself they were true. Thirty years had come and gone. “He wasn’t, thank God. He was crying and it took him a few tries until finally, his husband put the phone on speaker to help.” She smiled at the thought of __________ and __________ coming together to deliver the news. “A few years ago, your brother took this DNA test to learn more about where your family came from. The commercials were everywhere so his husband bought __________ one for Christmas a few years back. Then, two days after Thanksgiving, he checked his email and learned a genetic connection had been made. After writing back and forth with the individual, including swapping photos. __________ started putting it all together and, once he saw the photos, he knew. He couldn’t believe it, but he knew.” Maya smiled and slid the closed portfolio folder gently over to Lore, who placed shaking hands on the folder but could not yet bring herself to open it.

For thirty years, Elinore Vance waited in agony without any knowledge of what happened to her daughter that cold night in 1987. They had gone to bed and then, in what felt like minutes later, the smoke detector echoed off the walls of the trailer she shared with her daughter and, sometimes, boyfriend and various friends in need of a place to sleep. At first, Lore thought someone had come in to claim the sofa for the night and set off the alarm while making something to eat. This had happened before. When she opened her bedroom door, however, Lore knew this was unlike any other situation she had faced before. The living room and kitchen were engulfed in flames and smoke. For a split second, Lore panicked but then, she was off, racing down to the far end of the trailer, skirting the flames. Coughing, she pushed open Trudy’s bedroom door and, for a moment, thought her eyes were deceiving her because the bed was empty. Her covers had been disturbed but there was no Tru. Lore checked the closet and again, no Gertie. The flames and smoke thickening, Lore stumbled out of the trailer, screaming her daughter’s name over and over again, in every iteration. She howled into the night as the neighbors called the fire department and police. Soon, the flames had consumed her home in its entirety as firefighters worked to secure the scene. One neighbor had wandered into the backfield with Lore, shouting Trudy’s name, looking for any sign or clue of where she had gone. The police joined at first but, once they got Lore to the station, tactics changed and her case morphed from an accidental fire to arson, from a missing child to a murdered daughter.

In the present once more, Lore bit back her anger and resentment and finally opened the file. She took a few deep breaths and looked at the first photograph. Though time had stolen the better part of a lifetime, Lore knew immediately the face staring back was that of her daughters. Her hair may be dyed, her arms full of tattoos, piercings up and down each ear and in her nose but the smirk of a smile and soothing sea-green eyes remained the same. Lore tried not to cry but soon, the tears flowed freely and turned into deep, heavy sobs. Maya pulled tissues from her bag, giving Lore the peace of silence. She looked to __________ as if to say, Now do you understand? He exhaled slowly with a careful nod, though he was unsure of all the details, ___________ realized his usual tactic ‘treat them and street them with a plea bargain’ no longer apply. For the first time in many years, ___________ felt uncertainty in both himself and the law. No matter what the police officer found, he reasoned, at the end of the day a prosecutor took on this case. From the little he gleaned from the emotional briefing, this woman had been charged with murdering a child that had always been alive and missing.

[Copyright Nash C. Lennox. Stealing is for meanies!]

#creative writing #crime novels #nanowrimo #mystery #novel writing #writing #rough draft #first draft #original novel #healing #mental health #writing helps me cope #prozac #college #summer

[rosykims]

had to google how to spell wednesday just now. ya its gonna be a goooood writing day im sure <3

#I MEAN I KNOW HOW TO SPELL WEDNESDAY I JUST. FORGOT. #I WAS LOOKING AT THE CORRECT SPELLING OF IT AND IT JUST LOOKED SO FUCKED UP AND WRONG AND I HAD TO CHECK #SO I WAS CORRECT. BUT THE DOUBT WAS THERE #anyway. the bane of my existence is that my best writing occurs when im too tired to exist but im also. too tired to exist lol #i wanna go back to bed #wednesday. what a stupid fucking day AND word smh

[mack-and-cheese]

Does anyone else ever feel like their brain is a different person than themself? Like, they’d be a different person if their brain shut up for once?

#not me contemplating life in the middle of the night #but like if my brain weren't a bitch i feel like i would be a totally different person #like when i let my brain take over and i dont control it i become an asshole #or if im tired the same thing happens #when im tired i either have no filter about my personal life (usually through jokes) or about what i think of other people and what they do #when im tired i will correct you on your grammar so sorry about that one #i hate when things are spelled wrong but i only correct it when im too tired to sensor myself #cuz when im tired i dont have the energy to control my brain #idk maybe this is normal maybe im going insane #someone helppp

[feua]

Hello

#r.txt #ive been on tik tok for the last like 4 hours 😳 #idk why #deadass just like forgot about the world #i saw one anout tsking medicine snd it reminded me to tske my medication so thanks tok #im too tired to correct spelling errrore sorry #k bye its like almost 1am i need to sleep ig

[a-constant-gay-panic]

His hot mother

masterlist

pairing: sub!milf!wanda x dom!gn!reader

warnings: actual smut this time, oral sex(wanda receiving), swearing, wanda and vison being divorsed, poor grammar and spelling (as usual 🌝)

summary: you're dreading going to his house but you need to drop some of his things off. that dread turns to excitement once his mother, wanda, opens the door. she's all alone and soon all you feel is lust. you don't regret coming over anymore.

a/n: this is based on my obsession with wanda maximoff cause she's hot as fuck 🍒  

(not proof read) 

�� — — — — X — — — — —

you're driving down a familiar street, listening to music, trying desperately to clear your head of any and all thoughts. you're well aware of who wanda maximoff is. you're well aware that she's the scarlet witch. the last thing you want her knowing is how you feel about her. you've always found her attractive, you've always seen her as more than your ex's mother but you've never done nor said anything. you've always pushed the thoughts aside and kept them to yourself knowing that it was wrong to think of her that way, but now, now that you've ended things with brett, the thoughts and images that float through your head are overwhelming. if you had it your way you'd simply never go to his house again, however you need to drop some stuff off. (preferably before you find yourself burning them all in a barrel outside in your backyard.) 

the next song has come on and the sudden drop in base pulled you from your thoughts. listening to ‘hayloft II’ on full blast, remembering all the times he complained about your taste in music, a single thought passes through your mind ‘i don't get how he dosn't like mother mother... this shit is fire’ the song finishes all too soon as you pull up outside the house, immediately cursing at yourself seeing that wanda's car is indeed in the driveway. 

you figure that you better make it quick and get it over with so you step out your car and walk up to the door, box filled with brett's shit underarm. you ring the doorbell and after a while you see wanda answer the door, she gives you a welcoming yet confused smile. “y/n! this sure is a surprise... i didn't know you were coming over?” you smile slightly “neither did i to be honest but i thought i should drop some things off... unless now's not a good time...?” she quickly shakes her head to stop you from possibly walking away. “no, no not at all! come in, come in please, no need to stand outside!” she's always so cheerful and friendly, contrary to you who hates social interaction (and people in general.) 

you step inside and ask “is brett home?” you turn around as she's closing the door and see her shake her head. “no, him and vision are out camping so it's just me for the next two days or so. why?” 

you quietly cringe at the mention of her ex husband, slight jealousy coming over you but quickly clearing your head you reply smoothly, “well i have some of his shi-” quickly stopping and correcting yourself, not knowing if your vulgar language will offend her, “stuff... hence the box im carrying around” you chuckle slightly as she flushes, too focused on you to see the box. “oh... that makes sense... sorry, i've been so stressed lately, i don't seem to notice much anymore...” she sighs and sits down on the couch. “have you tried sleeping? that's how i escape all my problems” you joke with her. she smiles but shakes her head “as much as i want to, i never seem to sleep much longer than a few hours funnily.” 

before you can register what's going on, you find yourself muttering “i could always tire you out” you quickly cough, watching as wanda's face contorts into one of confusion, not hearing what you said. “what was that?” 

you know that if you don't change the subject, you'll loose any and all self control that you managed to muster up. “hm? i didn't say anything.” you reply, trying your best to act confused. “i'm going to go put this box on his bed... arms are getting a bit sore.” you rush upstairs after spewing your excuse of escape to her. 

opening brett's door and putting the box in the desk in the corner, you take a deep breath to calm yourself. 

‘shit... get a hold of yourself...’ walking down the stairs, you see that wanda is no longer on the couch. wanting to get out if there as soon as possible, you head for the door but your hand dosn't even get to turn the doorknob when you hear her say “leaving without saying goodbye? i thought your mother would've taught you better.” 

you turn and see wanda with her arms crossed, a small smile on her face. “sorry... you weren't in here and i didn't want to bother you further.” she shakes her head,

“you're never a bother and besides, i'm virtually alone here... the company is nice.” you hesitantly close the door again and lean against the frame. she slowly starts walking closer to you, “earlier... what did you say exactly?” 

“what do you mean? i didn't say anything.” you shuffle on your feet. “oh come on... i heard you say something. what was it?” she's directly infront of you, looking up at you due to the height difference. you opt to not say anything, face centimetres away from hers, her hand coming up to rest on your cheek. “no need to be shy дорогой... you act all tough but can't answer a simple question.” the smirk that's plastered on her face is enough to finally set you off. 

you grab the hand that's on your cheek and use it as leverage to abruptly turn her around, trapping her between the door and your body. you're glaring down at her while she's looking up at you in shock, your hand holding hers above her head. “watch it. you may be older than me but i sure as hell won't be pushed around by you.” she let out a soft whimper at the change in your demeanor. “are you going to tell me what you said or not...?” she quietly says. you smirk lightly, “you said you're never tired enough right? well, i said i could tire you out.” shock covers her face and confusion clouds her mind, not entirely knowing what you're implying. 

a heat creeped up her neck and onto her cheeks. “tire me out...? what do you mean...” you shake your head and lean closer to her face, your lips only centimeters away from hers. “i think you know what i mean...” you lightly brush yours against hers, she shivers at the touch “i don't follow...” she wants you to say it. she wants you to confirm her thoughts. 

your lips ghost over to her ear, leaving soft kisses in their path. “im speaking about sex. i can tire you out by fucking you so hard and good you won't be able to think straight...” 

she squirms against you, her legs parting which allows you to quickly slip one of yours inbetween them. she gasps when she feels your thigh press against her. you lean back to look in her eyes. “if you don't tell me to stop now, i won't be able to control myself...” you're making sure she's ok with all this and she shakes her head quickly before you can think to stop “no, no please... don't stop...” you immediately lean down to kiss her, her lips fit perfectly with yours and you feel like you're in heaven. your tongue presses against her lips, seeking an entrance. she gladly accepts and your tongues dance together, flighting for dominance which you quickly win. 

she starts to subconsciously grind against your thigh to relieve some of the tension between her own. you hike her dress up so that the only barriers are her panties and your jeans. she moans into your mouth and her arms wrap around your neck, pulling you impossibility closer. your hands travel down her body, tracing every shape through her dress before coming to rest on her hips. 

“i think we should move this upstairs...” she whispers inbetween kisses. wordlessly you pick her up, her legs wrapping around your waist as you carry her upstairs, lips still connected. you silently thank whoever is out there that you didn't trip on your way up as you reach her bedroom. 

you enter and walk over to her bed, dropping her onto it before crawling on top of her. “are you sure you're ok with this?” you ask out of breath. “yes! please just do something!” she gasps out. you pull her into a upright position before pulling her dress off. once off, she lays back down and you start slowly kissing up her thigh, avoiding the place she needs you the most. you trail your lips up her stomach while you reach under her to unclasp her bra. 

you pull it off and immediately take her left nipple into your mouth, tongue flicking it while your hand gently kneads the other. the sounds she's releasing are music to your ears and after giving the other side the same attention, you start kissing your way down her stomach and stop just above her waistband. looking up at her, you pull her panties down and throw them onto her dress

on the floor. you lick a single stripe up her slit, making her release the most pornographic moan you've ever heard. her thighs automatically close around your head and you grab them, forcing them apart. 

your mouth wraps around her clit while your middle finger slowly enters her. one finger turned to two and then three and soon enough she was a moaning and whimpering mess, squirming and whining as you ate her out as if she was your last meal. “please... please! don't stop!” you had no intention of stopping anytime soon. your fingers hit that one spot inside her and she snaps, releasing all over your face, you lap up everything she has to offer. you pull away when she calms down and admire the fucked out look on her face. 

“fuck you're gorgeous...” you say in awe, moving up the bed to rest next to her. she blushes a deep shade of red, 

“this may be selfish of me to say but im glad you and brett ended things... i've wanted you for so long now...” she can't help but admit. you smile at her confession “well if that makes you selfish then i must be too... i've always wondered how you would look under me...” 

you roll over her so that she's caged within your arms “how you'd look moaning and withering for me... it's hot.” “i should go get cleaned up...” she whispers, face blushing a pretty red. however you don't budge, refusing to get off her. “wanda... if you think i'm letting you go just yet then you've got another thing coming... i haven't kept my promise.” 

her brows furrow in confusion. “promise...?” 

“i promised to fuck you until you couldn't think straight... but by the looks of it you can. i'm no where near done with you.” you lean down and capture her lips in a lust filled kiss. you take back what you said about coming back here. 

you don't regret it at all.

— — — — — X — — — — —

#wanda maximoff #Wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda smut #Wanda maximoff smut #lesbian smut #marvel x reader #marvel smut #wanda maximoff x female reader #fem!reader #dom fem!reader #dom!reader #smut #lgbtq #lesbian

[long-cosmos-overhead]

Hi! Just found your blog but im too shy to reveal my useename so here i hide in the anon haha could you do an hc on Elrond, Lindir and Glorfindel (hope to god its the correct spelling!) reacting to their S/O whos clearly overworkedand exhausted but refuses to sleep because "this task was given to me, specifically, i need to finish it."

A.k.a modern!S/O who needs a long nap but anxiety and ADD wont shut up

Aw don’t be shy message me in dm and we can be mutuals if you’d like xx

(I do not own LoTR or The Hobbit or it’s characters/ gifs not mine)

Elrond

Elrond is a master at planning out his time he has likely planned out your time with your permission beforehand

He’s proud that you are working but his pride slowly converts to concern after it’s been hours and you’re looking awfully drained

Elrond stays up with you despite telling him he can just sleep but when it turns so late even he is having trouble staying awake he rests his hand gently on top of yours halting your writing

The ‘5 more minutes’ don’t fool him he knows you well enough to know it won’t be five minutes it’ll be hours

At first he tries coaxing you to bed or at least to rest, as time goes on he becomes more stern giving you that look that you know you shouldn’t ignore

If it comes down to it Elrond will pick you up and lock his arms around you so you physically cannot leave the bed until you’re rested

No matter what he will give you praise Elrond knows you work hard but he’ll also give you fair criticism on your time management, he will make a timetable for you by morning

Lindir

Lindir starts his morning with you already working and tells you to make sure to eat, drink and rest before he goes out to do his duties

He is horrified when he returns rather late to see you in the exact same position eyes red and far too drained for his liking

Immediately Lindir panics believing it was somehow his fault because he didn’t check up on you if at this point you haven’t stopped working congratulations Lindir is now in panic mode

He will plead with you to at least eat and drink it breaks his heart when you tell him you just can’t because the work was given to you especially and you need it done by the deadline

Lindir knows how stressful meeting a deadline is by as your lover he cannot stand by and let you work yourself into a grave

He offers his help whether it be a massage or to split your work so he can do some if you don’t agree to any of his help Lindir will talk to the person who gave you the work

He feels so happy to have gotten you an extension or another person to spilt the work with that he races right back to so he can finally have you in his arms resting

Glorfindel

(There’s no gifs for him I’m so mad)

Glorfindel understands the importance of hard work, he himself has run into burnout through work so he has less of a concept of when enough is enough

In the beginning he encourages you firmly he is so proud to have a hardworking partner

His concern comes over slower than the rest but it is not any less strong he sees your tiredness as normal until you struggle to eat or move from fear you won’t complete the task

Glorfindel definitely urges you to rest he brings you over food and drink but gets hugely concerned when you don’t touch it

Glorfindel tries getting you tired and relaxed enough to come to bed willingly by running his fingers through your hair, leaving kisses and warm touches all over your skin

If you still won’t leave he just picks you up and drags you away, he doesn’t care if you’re protesting or trying to fight back, he’s far stronger than you and he is putting you to bed

He rewards you with kisses and a warm embrace when you finally give up and reasons with you to take breaks and lower your workload if not you’re to come to him and he will help you sort something

#glorfindel headcannon #Glorfindel x reader #elrond headcanons #Elrond x reader #Lindir x reader #Lindir headcannon #fluff #ask #request #middle Earth #the hobbit #lotr x reader

[nctsworld]

two nights, one you

✩‌ jaemin ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fuckboy!jaemin | strangers (who f*ck) to (brief) enemies to lovers | ‌10.9k 

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ a last-minute one night stand gone awry is extended into two nights when you’re snowed in at the cute (but rude) stranger’s apartment on christmas eve. [loosely based on the movie, two night stand] // part of the x-mas in ncity collection  GENRES ⇾ crack | smut | fluff  WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌lots of bickering and dialogue, smut, oral s*x (f and m receiving), fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, swearing, bit of angst before the end, jaemin’s an asshole... or is he? RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen​ 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ it’s late (and long fsldkm), srysry but here it is! i hope the humour comes out in this and look away if falls flat zzz fingers crossed that i can finish the last two installments for this collection asap! 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Maybe it’s because it’s the evening of Christmas Eve Eve and you’re feeling more lonely than usual.

Maybe it’s due to the two glasses of wine you guzzled down in the span of fifteen minutes that get you buzzed.

Maybe it’s your prominent six-month dry spell and you’re in desperate need for some much needed rain in your drought.    

Or maybe it’s just pure impulsiveness.

Regardless of the reasons, you’re aiming to get laid tonight.  

It’s 9:45pm as you make the rounds on Tinder. You’ve used it in the past, searching for a relationship in vain, but haven’t used it much since you broke up with your last partner. Bringing the app alive again, you’re already bombarded by distasteful messages, off-putting one-liners and jokes, and swiping left more than you’d like.

You haven’t had a one-night stand before, but isn’t there anyone on here that is just a little bit attractive, nearby where you are, around your age, and is somewhat chivalrous about the topic besides saying DTF? Maybe you need to lower your standards if you want to get dicked down tonight.

But then, you land on him.

One Na Jaemin, 20 years old, and only four miles away from you.

Scrolling through his profile pictures and Instagram feed, you assume that he’s into photography, is on the athletic side from the various hobbies he partakes in, and he must be at least half-aware of his beauty because there’s the occasional pic that shows off his lean, toned arms, which, if you can be frank, is more flattering than the shirtless ones you constantly see. Oh, and he attends the same university as you.

The cherry on top? His bio is simple and upfront:

“Not up for anything serious, but always down for a good time ;)”

You swipe right without hesitation.

“It’s a Match!” flashes instantly at you. Your mouth swings open in disbelief.  

Usually, you’d wait for your matches to message you and play hard-to-get, but not tonight. Tonight, you’re initiating and leading all the conversations, completely driven by your thirst.  

Messaging Jaemin is a breeze. He types with more than half a brain, and he flirts, but it isn’t overwhelming or repulsive. Segueing the current topic, you drag your bottom lip upward as you send the following message:  

so, hypothetically... if one were to have good time with you would tonight work?

Not even twenty seconds later and he replies with:

-wow, dont you go straight to the point -im impressed -but yeah -tonight works ;)

He’s quick to send his address.

-let me know when ur here and ill come get you out front!

Smacking your lips together, you squeal to yourself in the comfort of your home, excited to meet with him, but then a thought hangs over you—this feels a little too good to be true. Horrible scenarios run through your head, so your fingers dash across your phone’s keyboard:

tbh i haven’t really done this b4 so im kinda new to this is it ok if we video call or smth? gotta make sure you’re real and not a serial killer i’m sure you understand 😛

-for sure for sure -totally get it -ive had my fair share of fake girls and serial killers so i feel u 😛

Grateful for his consideration, you rush to rearrange your hair after you send him a Zoom link, hoping you look decent enough to not have him back off from his initial offer. He appears in the video call on his phone with the front-facing camera on a few seconds after you connect.

“Hi,” you chirp.

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey.”  

Okay, he’s definitely cuter in real-time than in his pictures.  

“You know, I’m not gonna lie, but I lowkey expected to see a dick or something,” you joke in an attempt to dispel your nervousness.  

“Same,” he chuckles, running a hand through his black hair.

Oh God, he’s not just cute—he’s devastatingly gorgeous.

“So, this is my place...”

Jaemin moves around with his apartment in the background, revealing his living room first. Envy prods you as you note the brick walls, high ceiling windows, and well-appointed furnishings.

Recalling his address, you ask, “How’d you get a place in the heart of the city?”

“Lucked out,” he shrugs. His phone shakes a bit as he’s still moving. “My friend slash roommate—who is at his girlfriend’s place tonight, so we have the place all to ourselves—his parents own the condo and they gave me a friend discount on the rent.”

He finally stands in one place and turns the light on to reveal a room. “And this is my bedroom.”

Nothing out of the ordinary. A desk table with a gaming set-up, in tow with a gamer chair, and a decently-sized bed beside a nightstand.

“Oh, and here’s my closet.” Jaemin’s on the move again as he opens his closet doors. “Just to make sure you don’t think I hide the skins of my past one-nighters in here.”

A bubbly laugh rises from you. “Okay, I didn’t think of that before, but now you’ve planted the seed in my head. Maybe you hide them in the other rooms.”

“Nah, my roommate would kill me if I did.”

Both of you laugh in unison, and you bob your head with puffed cheeks.  

“Okay, it all seems very promising. I’m going to get ready and I’ll guess I’ll see you in a bit, Jaemin.”

“Sounds good,” Jaemin nods, then winks. Although you’re sitting down, he’s still able to get you weak in the knees. “See you soon.”

You end the call and rush to bundle up for the snow starting to come down outside. A twenty-minute train ride later, you’re at the front door of a rustic, industrial apartment complex. After informing Jaemin you’re outside, you glance up at the snowflakes falling from the dark pink-grey sky, anticipating for what comes next.

Sex with a hot guy, what can go wrong?  

So, you must’ve jinxed it because the sex is...  

Unsatisfying. Finished faster than you’d like it to be. Sadly, overall disappointing. If you had to rate it, three out of five stars, at best.

But hey, he came, and you sort of did, and it wasn’t the worst sex you’ve ever had. It half-quenched your dry spell.

And enough happened that it tired you out, leaving you passed out in the handsome stranger’s bed until morning.

In the morning, your eyes slowly flicker, unused to the foreign, sweet scent engulfing you in your bed. Correction: Jaemin’s bed.

Your eyes flicker faster as you glance through the almost wall-sized window. The snow hasn’t let up from last night. On the contrary, it seems like it’s snowing non-stop. You groan at the thought of going home in this weather.

The bed is without Jaemin’s presence as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 10:36AM and a few notifications greet you. You rub your eyes and start combing through them, rising upward to sit up on the bed.

“Morning. You’re finally up.”

Peering up from your device, Jaemin’s standing by the door with folded arms. His plain sweater and sweatpants match the colour of his hair. The dazzling smile he gives is so contagious, you’re not even conscious of catching one too.  

“Out you go.”

You blink.

Once, twice, and then you tilt your head as you stare blankly at him, uncertain if you heard him correctly.

After a few moments, because you’re not moving an inch, his smile dissipates and he cocks an eyebrow in expectancy. A serious expression rolls over his face.  

Suddenly, Jaemin strolls to the side of the bed and hitches his thumb towards the door.

You definitely heard him right.

And he’s dead-serious.

You replay the video call from last night, dissecting how you thought he was nice and funny and—

Realization dawns on you.

Why would you expect anything more from a two-faced fuck boy?

Still awestruck by the situation, you’re still solid as a statue, so Jaemin takes matters into his own hands and grasps you by your elbow, casually dragging you from his bed like he’s taking out the trash.  

“What the fuck?!” you screech.

“C’mon, let’s go. Out out.”

“My clothes, though!” you protest in the middle of the hallway. He sighs in frustration, scurries to the bedroom, and returns with a small pile in his arms, then continues to drag you to the front door.  

“Are you always this pleasant with your guests the morning after?” you rage, putting on the rest of your clothes by the door. “You don’t even have the decency to offer me tea or coffee?”

“This was a one-night stand, not a bed and breakfast, sunshine,” he says as he watches you put your shoes on. He’s folding his arms again and leaning against the wall, his attitude dripping with smug. If he wasn’t a stranger, you’d punch it off his face. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were new to this, huh?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you’re a borderline virgin who needs to toodle-loo, get going and gone because you’re overstaying your welcome as we speak.”

Finishing putting on your coat, you’re fuming as your jaw hangs at the personal jab over your skills in bed. Jaemin swings the door open and shoves you through it.

“But I’ll admit, it was still nice having sex with you!” he chimes with a sickening grin and a hand on the door.  

“Aw, thanks asshole, wish I could say the same,” you sarcastically reply, resting a palm upon your chest.  

He scoffs. “From what I heard last night, I think I can confidently say that you had a great time.”

Flashbacks replay in your mind of your screaming fest from underneath him. Little did Jaemin actually know—

“You know, for someone who I assume has many one-night stands,” you spit with squinted eyes. “I’m surprised you can’t tell when girls fake it.”

You must’ve hit a sore spot because he grinds his teeth and you could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Oh yeah, you’re definitely the winner in this fight.

“Okay, you know what, Merry Christmas and fuck you. Have a great life!”

“Fuck you, dickface. Wishing you a miserable Christmas!”

With a bitter smile, you flip him off as he slams the door in your face.

Carrying a basket filled with dirty clothes, Jaemin’s on the way down to the laundry room in the basement of his apartment with his shoulder scrunched up, squeezing his phone to his ear.

“Bro, she had the audacity to say that I didn’t make her come when she was screaming my God damn ear off—”

As he steps down the short flight of stairs and passes by the foyer area by the main entrance to the building, he notices you’re still here.

“Shit, uh, Jeno,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He stuffs his phone into the pocket of his sweats and calls out to you as he strides closer. “Are you resorting to stalking me by my front door now?”

With crossed arms, you peer over your shoulder, eyes full of bitterness.

“Like I wanna be anywhere near you right now,” you grumble. You jerk your head towards the thick, wooden door. “It’s jammed from the snow.”

The laundry carrier shakes his head and places the basket onto the floor. “A little snow never hurt anyone. You’re probably just too weak.”

Stepping aside and holding out an arm, you signal for him to give it a try.

Jaemin twists the handle and, lo and behold, it doesn’t open. His forehead crinkles as he tries again and again, using more force each time.

Glancing through one of the partially frosted windows adjacent to the sides of the door, he notices the snow has piled enormously high, almost to the height of his chest.

“Well, shit.”  

Reluctantly, Jaemin brings you back to his apartment. You’re technically his guest and if he left you in the foyer to freeze, trouble would surely come his way, whether it be in the form of his landlords (also known as his roommate’s parents) or the police.

Without a word, he settles a spoon in a bowl, a carton of milk, and a box of cereal onto the small kitchen table.

At first, you stare at it venomously in rejection, thinking you can easily last a day without any hand-outs from this son of a bitch, but your stomach roars ferociously three seconds later.

As you chew across from him, you enjoy the company of your phone over him, while he does the same but with a cup of coffee in hand.

After finishing your food, you adamantly place your phone down and lean back into the chair, boring holes into his head.

“Why are you such an asshole?” you seethe observantly.

“Why are you such a bitch?” he retorts, not pulling his gaze away from his phone.

“Because you started it,” you say slowly, stating the obvious.

“No, you.”

You sigh defeatedly at his childish behaviour. The weather apps predict the snow will (hopefully) die down by tomorrow morning, thus you’re officially stuck with him for the next twenty-four hours or so. Your hands rake through your hair.

“Whether we like it or not, the snow isn’t going away until tomorrow. Merry Christmas Eve to us, I guess.”

He’s still glued to his phone. You exhale another sigh.

“Since we’re not getting out of this until then, can we just...” You soften your voice. “Start over?”

His eyes are still on the screen, but from the way his shoulders tense and how he stops scrolling, you know he’s considering your proposition.

“At least call a stalemate over this.” You drift your hand in the air, gesturing between you and him.

Blowing out air and shaking his head, he rests his phone onto the table.

“Fine.”

He crosses his arms, imitating you, and the two of you sit there, staring at each other in a long silence.  

One minute, to be exact.

You’re the one to break the silence game by running your hands over your face, letting out a hybrid of a groan and laugh.

“God, the fact that we had sex makes this kinda awkward, huh?”

Jaemin’s exterior melts slightly, letting out a snicker. He shrugs, “Then let’s just pretend that we didn’t have sex.”

“We can’t just pretend that we didn’t have sex,” you say, holding two upturned palms near your face.

“We did it, it’s done. I’ve seen your penis, you kicked me out, and you labelled me a prude—” You dart a finger towards him. “—which I am far from, by the way. All of those are pretty huge things.”

One of the corners of his mouth raises high. “Are you saying my penis is huge?”

“No, the implication of said penis is huge. Wipe that smirk off your face.”

He stretches an arm, holding an imaginary microphone to your face. “Do you deny that my penis is huge?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his fist away. “What am I, on trial here?”

“Do you plead the fifth then?”

Annoyed, you roll your eyes again. Why do you get the feeling that you’re probably going to be doing this a lot more today? Another feeling tells you that if you don’t answer his question, he’ll probably pester you until you do.

You tilt your head side to side. “It’s... decently sized.”

“Bigger or smaller than average?”

“Perfect...” His eyes light up. “...ly average.” And a frown rolls over.

He squints his eyes accusingly at your sneer. “Are you lying like you did before about faking it?”

You scoff. “I wasn’t lying about faking it, and I’m not lying now about your average sized dick.”

Jaemin releases a disgruntled grumble and lifts his cup to his face. You notice he likes to take his coffee black and bitter, presumably like his heart.

“So, Miss I’m-Not-A-Prude-and-I’ve-Definitely-Had-Sex-Before.” His eyebrows perk up on the word definitely. “What’s your story? Why the last minute one-night stand?”

Shrugging your shoulders to your ears, you reply, “Haven’t had sex in a while.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?” he asks mid-sip.

“Half a year ago,” you respond nonchalantly, perching your chin into your palms.

Jaemin immediately chokes, almost spraying the coffee through his nose.

“Half a year?!” he gasps. It takes him a few hits to his chest to dispel the coughing. “Six months?!”

“Wow, you can count!” you exclaim in a condescending tone. You change the position of your hands so that your chin is now atop of the back of your curled fingers and tilt your head. “Can you also spell?”

“As a premed student, I can assure you that I am capable of doing both,” he says with a slight strain due to the coughing fit. The humble brag brings on another eye roll. Of course he’s a premed student with the attitude he wears.

“It’s just—” He clears his throat and swallows the last bit of coffee stuck in his windpipe. “—The last time I had a dry spell was for like, a month, tops.”

So the fuckboy gets laid way more on the daily than you expect. You’re torn between being envious over how much action he gets in comparison to you, or remorseful, since you’re now just one of the many notches on his bedpost.

No matter, sarcasm is always the best defence mechanism.

“Good for you, Jaemin. I’m sure you’re very proud of that.”

There’s an awkward beat. His head hangs for a moment while his thumbs stroke the sides of his cup. A strange pinch of guilt occurs. Did you overstep an unspoken line? But then he drags himself back to reality in a heartbeat.

Jaemin brings the cup to his mouth again, mumbling, “At least the sex on your part makes more sense now; you’re rusty as fuck.”

Completely aware of what he said, you trash your guilt entirely and narrow your eyes. “What did you just say?”

Following a long sip, he hums, “Mmm, nothing.” Soon after, he stands up with his cup.

“I’m gonna go game now. Feel free to watch Netflix on the TV and stay in the living room.”

As if you had anywhere else to go...  

He begins to walk towards his room as you mutter under your breath, “I’m not a dog.”

“Says the bitch,” he pipes up, taking you by surprise.  

“Thought we had a stalemate?!” you shout, leaning your head forward as you watch him entering his room.  

“Doesn’t mean we’re on peaceful terms!” he sing-shouts.

The flinging of the closed door echoes throughout the apartment.

Regret surges through you. You just had to choose a fuckboy fluent in assholery and end up incidentally being isolated with him during a snow storm on Christmas Eve.

You wonder if you can handle being around him for the next twenty-four hours without killing him first.

During the afternoon, you’re on the living room couch, playing a show as mostly background noise while you’re on your phone. At one point, your phone unsurprisingly begins to die and you tread over to Jaemin’s door to ask for a charger and if you can also take a shower. He’s still annoyed by your existence, but at least he hands you a charger and lets you know where the extra towels are.

Stepping into the living room with the towel in your hand as you dry your hair off, you peer out the large living room window and see nothing but white engulfing the streets and buildings as far as the eye can see.

You pray the snow will eventually stop as soon as possible so you can head back home.

By the middle of the afternoon, Jaemin emerges from his bedroom and shocks you by plopping down on the opposite end of the living room couch from where you’re sitting.

“Bored?” you ask, eyes fixated on the TV screen.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p as he says it. His slings his arm around the top of the couch.

“Gotta keep an eye on you in case you do something.” Turning away from the screen, he faces you and motions circles with his hand. “You’ve got a little crazy in you, I can feel it.”

You quickly glance over at him, but try to refocus on the TV. “Need I remind you that you’re the crazy one, dragging me out of the apartment right as I woke up.”

That compels him to turn his whole body towards you. “Well, you’re the one who wanted a last-minute one-night stand.”

You match his stance. “As if I’m the first girl in your bed to stay in the morning?”

“Actually, yeah.” He aggressively tilts his head to one side. “Most girls leave before I even get up. The other percentage don’t fight me when I ask for them to go, so it looks like you’re the odd one out.”  

You press your lips together, refusing to admit that maybe he has a point, under the assumption that he’s telling the truth.

Jaemin twists his body back to the screen and adds, “I make it very clear on my profile that I don’t do morning afters, sweetheart.”

And you agree that his profile is clear about his intentions, but that doesn’t mean you can condone his shitty behaviour.

“Well, sorry that I expected just an ounce of respect instead of getting kicked to the curb after you stuck your dick in me,” you grumble, shifting back to the show and crossing your arms.

“Morning afters lead to attachments, and attachments lead to feelings, and feelings lead to relationships,” he says the string of words clinically, as if it’s a mantra that he lives by.

Your eyebrows knit together as you whip your head towards him once more, studying him.

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

Deliberately averting your gaze, Jaemin grates his tongue between his teeth, a slight tsk audibly heard, and his chin juts out. There’s definitely a story behind his ways. He huffs and changes the subject.  

“Seriously?” He holds a hand out. “You’re watching this trashy show?”

Squinting your eyes at him, you could probably interrogate him further, but you decide otherwise.  

“It may be trashy,” you concur, looking at the TV. “But it’s my trashy comfort show.”

Following an over-the-top acted out scene between the show’s main love interests, Jaemin shoots up from the couch.

“Yeah, no, I can’t handle this. Can we either put on something else or game or something?”

“Why don’t you go back to your room to game, Mr. I’m-Not-Bored?”

“Like I said, I gotta keep an eye on you,” he says while bending over in front of the TV, already setting up the Playstation. He tosses you a controller as he strides to his side of the couch again.

He mumbles to himself, “Need to make sure you don’t go crazy from the lack of human interaction.”

Either Jaemin is selfish and only looking out for himself, or he wants to make sure you’re not feeling lonely in a stranger’s home.

Likely the first reason, you deduce—because why would a guy like Jaemin care about a mere one-night stand?

Admittedly, you’re not the best at games, especially at fighting ones. You can comprehend the move lists, but you like to live by button smashing the controller and repeating moves over and over.  

So it’s hilarious when you beat Jaemin every round with your surprisingly fruitful technique.

“Okay, this is bullshit,” Jaemin complains, sticking his tongue out in irritation. His ass is currently being handed to him on a plate again since you’re almost done killing his character off. “You must be lying to me; you have to be a pro player or some shit.”

Jaemin’s health bar is dangerously low as your character jabs his with a sword. He winces out loud and you snicker.

“Why do you think I always lie about everything?! Dude, you have serious trust issues,” you joke before you steal the opportunity to slice his character. One more hit and he’s done for.

“I do not! I just—nooo!”

You rise to your feet and pump your arms in the air, turning in circles in joy over yet another win.

Sulking, Jaemin eyes your little dance from his end on the couch, but as he watches you more, a feeling balloons in his chest. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Finally coming down from your post-win high, you spot an emerging grin from the corner of your eye, making you pause.    

“What?” you eye him suspiciously.

Your suspicion pops the sensation in his chest and, like a fish out of water, his eyes widen and his grin melts away.

“Nothing, uhm.” He ruffles his eyebrows and palms the back of his neck, quickly facing the TV. “Let’s go one more round and then we can switch to another game—”

Suddenly, the TV and surrounding lights switch off. Both of you waver your eyes, anticipating for them to come back on, but they unfortunately don’t.  

Jaemin rushes over to the window. When he swivels his head towards you, his face darkens.

“Looks like it’s at least the whole block. The streetlights are out too.”

Without another word, he dashes to the linen closet and brings back several blankets. He calmly explains that there won’t be heat since it’s connected to the electricity, so it’d be best to keep warm with the extra layers.

Not wanting to scare you, he doesn’t add the fact that due to the huge windows in the apartment, more unnecessary cold air will come in, but you’re already cognizant of it from your own logic and since the remaining heat dissolves rapidly.

You groan and retreat into the massive blanket over your shoulders, turtling your head.

You can’t believe you’re going to fucking die in this asshole’s apartment on Christmas Eve.

On the ends of the couch in your makeshift blanket jackets, both of you attend to your phones for a while.

From what people and the news outlets are saying, it’s not just the block, but the whole city grid is out. You frantically text your friends, giving updates on how you are and half-jokingly telling them that you’re going to die with your dreadful one-night stand. Some time passes and Jaemin tosses his phone  off to one side.  

“Well, since there’s nothing else to do and we should probably conserve our phone batteries—” You glance up at him from your phone and pout. Slowly nodding in agreement, you toss it aside too. “—why don’t we play a game of ‘I’ll-Give-You-Pointers-on-How-to-be-Better-in-Bed’?”

A smile burgeons on his irritatingly handsome face and your eyes roll. At this point, you wonder if the reaction is conditioned into you. “It’ll be my early Christmas gift to you.”

“Wow, so thoughtful, how could I ever thank you?” You drag the blanket closer to your chest in false gratitude.

You think for a serious moment if you really want to go through with this. Hearing Jaemin run his mouth on you unwarranted is already painful, but to give him the go-ahead to do so? Especially criticizing your skills in bed?  

You blow out a sigh, noting the slightly visible cloud. You’re grateful Jaemin has thick, downy blankets.  

Well, if you’re going to die, may as well know what went wrong, right?

“Fine, but if we’re playing this game, we have to say everything honestly and take the criticism we get.” You point a stern finger. “No rebuttals, just acceptance.”

“Wait.” Jaemin crinkles his face in genuine confusion as his hand peeks out from his blanket.

“You have things to criticize about me in bed?”

Your lips tremble before you burst into laughter. Displeasure is on Jaemin’s tight-lipped face as you laugh for a while, almost keeling over in your blanket ball onto the hardwood floor. “How conceited are you, oh, my fucking God?”

He slices his hand through the air. “I’ve never had any complaints—”

“Because you’re too busy focusing on your own orgasm, you selfish dickwad,” you say as your laughter dies down.  

He sits in his snit for a few more moments until he gets over it.

“Fine, fine,” he huffs. Jaemin knows he’s not going to enjoy this, but he’s the one who suggested it. He can’t back out now. “Let’s just get this over with, you go first.”

With your blanket held by your chest, you hop off your end of the couch and shuffle over in front of him where he’s seated. Beaming, you begin.

“Let’s start with foreplay.” Jaemin’s eyes light up with confidence, thinking he’s at least decent with that. You crush his expression as your lips purse and you shake your head.

“Non-existent.”

“What do you mean?! I kissed you as you took off your clothes.”

You stick your free hand out from your blanket, extending your index finger.

“One: you only kissed my lips. You know, there are other parts of me to kiss, like, I don’t know, my neck, my arms, my shoulders.”

You extend another finger. “And, two: it’s weird to not help someone take off their clothes. Like you’re in a super rush to get somewhere or something—”

“We’re fucking!” he cuts in sharply. “This is a one-night stand, not a relationship.”

Closing your eyes and dropping your head, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh in exaggeration.

“Thought we agreed no rebuttals...” you softly sing-say.  

Jaemin’s head sinks a little into his blanket. “Sorry.”

Removing your hand, you shrug. “Maybe there’s some rule that I don’t know about one-night stands, so this could be on me.”

You start to aimlessly tread back and forth in front of him, dragging the blanket along too. “But fuck, foreplay is foreplay for a reason. You work your way up to the heat of the moment and it makes sex much better, regardless if you’re in a relationship with the person or not.”

“Next point.” You stop walking and direct your focus on him. Pointing your finger and looking him dead in the eye, you ask, “Do you know what a vagina is?”

He snorts with a simper. “Uhhh, is this a rhetorical question?”

“No, I’m legit asking,” you say with a raised eyebrow and snarky smile. “Because when you went down on me, all you flicked your tongue at was the outside of it, also called the labia if you didn’t know.”

“I’m premed, of course I—”

“Which is great! But you didn’t go any deeper nor did you go near my clit.”

You thrust your finger again. “Do you also know what that is?”

“Yes...” he groans with the flickering eyelids.

You swipe your arm through the air. “Maybe make use of it, and not only when you go down on girls. Even during sex, touching it is great.”

“And lastly,” you continue. “I’ll be honest here, you have a decent dick.”

Jaemin waggles his finger. “So you were lying before—”

“I wasn’t lying,” you retort firmly. “But anyways, you’ve got the stuff, but why don’t you put it to better use?”

With the following words, you attempt to gesture with your body and execute moves as graphic visuals. Jaemin giggles at the sight.

“Vary the speeds and the angle, don’t just slam it in me and go crazy fast from the get-go. Build up to the climax. Jesus, I couldn’t even get close to coming because you’re like a jackhammer from start to finish.”

When you finally finish, Jaemin’s giggles morph into hollow laughs. Frustration is blatant on your face, pondering if he even absorbed a single word you said.  

After he calms down, he asks, “Are you done?”

You mumble, “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you switch places. He shuffles onto his feet with his blanket while you sit back on the couch.

Jaemin pulls the blanket across the floor as he ambles. “Okay, your head game is decent—”

“Excuse you, my head game is strong.”

“Uh-uh, rebuttal,” he points out.  

You sigh. Pinching your fingers together, you drag the invisible zipper across your mouth, then wave your hand, allowing him to resume.

“Your head game is decent. You definitely can deepthroat, but—” He mirrors you from before and extends his index finger.

“One: this happened only a few times, but your teeth scraped against my dick, which is why I assumed you were a borderline virgin.”

You fume silently at the accusation, attempting to not speak up with a heap of rebuttals. But he wasn’t wrong—if you teethed on his dick, that’s a classic virgin move.

“But that’s okay, because we already established that you’re just rusty.” Jaemin flashes you a fake comforting smile as he continues to pace. You flash him one back.

“And two—” He holds another finger out. “Don’t be scared to use your hands and stroke me. Give my dick some love. If it’s too wet, just wipe your hands on the bed or something.”

“Okay, duly noted,” you hum. “Next.”

“Don’t be scared to touch me.”

“I touched you so much during—”

He shoots you a glare. You roll your mouth inward, your lips disappearing instantly.

“Your hands were mostly on the sheets, which is hot, but guys like to be felt up too.”

The attractive individual peers up for a second, thinking to himself. “Even hotter when a girl feels herself up during the fucking, but that’s beside the point. Baby steps, just remember to touch the other person.”

Jaemin does a full-stop and faces you.

“And just... don’t fake it.” Distress is evident in his pout. You hate to admit it, but it’s a little cute. He raises an arm and jerks it in the air. “Why do girls fake it?”

“Because guys with egos like you can’t handle criticism,” you reply bluntly.  

“What are we doing, having this conversation, hm?”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it didn’t snow in and keep us here together.” You peel a hand away and gesture to the window. “If I walked out of here this morning, you would’ve just fucked the next girl the same.”

He defends himself, “Faking it just feeds our egos.”

“Yeah, well, if I told you afterwards that I didn’t come, what would you do?”

“Try to make you come in other ways?”

Shaking your head, you scoff. “Guys like you aren’t that considerate.”

“You’re right.” He assents, holding his pointer finger against his chest. “Because guys like me aim to please.”

A brilliant thought leaps in his mind and Jaemin gasps. You can only assume bad things from the wicked smile he sends your way.  

“Why don’t we try it again?”

Perplexed, you squint at him.

“Try what again...?”

“Sex,” he says enthusiastically.

You blankly stare at him.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” you deadpan.

“I mean, there’s nothing else to do and it’ll keep us warm.” 

You continue to stare at him until you groan.

“Oh, my God...” Your blanket droops a bit off your shoulders as you drag your palms across your face. “I cannot believe I’m stuck in this snowstorm with you out of all people...”

Sitting next to you, Jaemin persistently reasons with you. “Think of it also as another learning experience for the future partners we’ll have.”

“Yeah, if we don’t die first!” you shriek.

“We’re not going to die,” Jaemin replies in a mocking tone and a dart of his tongue.  

Outside the window, the snow seems to have slowed down, but not by much.  

God, Jaemin better be fucking right because you want to live to see another day.  

“Fine,” you mutter and match his gaze. “But we have to be vocal throughout the whole thing. Say whatever’s on our mind.”

“Fine,” he agrees to your terms. He produces the same wicked smile again. “But can we film it then? So we can study it after?”

You fire him a death glare that melts his face off, even in the frigid atmosphere.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he says, waving his hand.

They say that jokes are half-meant true, but you think Jaemin fully meant it. Still in your blanket jackets, Jaemin snags your free hand and leads you to his room.

“You gotta give me credit for trying, though.”

“No.” You shake your head with an unwilling smile creeping on the edge of your lips. On second thought, maybe the joke was a little funny, but you still stand by your opinion that he’s the most annoying person in the world. “I don’t think I will.”

“Thank God Chenle has so many scented candles...”

On the edge of Jaemin’s bed, huddled by the blanket, you watch him light up several large jars, placing them on his nightstand and desk in hopes to brighten the room. It’s already late afternoon, but one could mistaken it for nighttime with the muddy sky due to the snow.

“Is Chenle your roommate?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin answers with a slight shiver, igniting the last candle near the bedside. He removed his blanket when he went to nab the matches and candles. “His girlfriend gets free ones from work, so she always gives him a shit ton, even though he never uses them.”

With a glowing hue against his face, he blows out the match. He makes his way to you, a cocky grin plastered on him, as he says, “Guess we’re making use of them now, though.”

Before you can even respond, Jaemin gets right down to business—sitting beside you on the mattress, he palms your face and drags you in for a kiss. You softly yelp, but immediately reciprocate.

The cover falls off your body as you reach to touch him, fingers drifting over his solid arms.

You don’t want to stroke his large ego, and maybe it’s because you haven’t had anyone else on you in a while, but Jaemin’s kisses are something else.

The cushiony pair of lips always executes enough pressure against your mouth, increasing and decreasing on command in perfect tandem and timing. His hands hover over your waist and the nape of your neck, fingers sinking into your hot skin.  

His mouth trails downward the side of your neck. You crane your head back, indulging in his caresses as soft moans trickle out.

He gently signals for you to recline back and lay onto the mattress, moving the sea of blankets aside. Inclined on his elbow, almost atop of you, his cool fingers glide under your top layers, his thumb stroking against your stomach.

Pulling away from your body, he tugs on the ends of your clothes. You rise from the bed to better the angle for him to discard of them.

The hairs on your skin are standing on end from the frigid air, but you’re too focused on Jaemin’s mouth migrating over your upper arm and your bra-covered chest to care. Without notice, he stuffs a cup of the bra to one side and takes your bosom into his mouth.

Air’s seized from your lungs and your core contracts from the pleasure. Your fingers tug on Jaemin’s luscious locks and his free hand squeezes your unoccupied breast.    

After a few twirls of his tongue and a gentle drawing of his teeth on the pointed tip, he mumbles hotly into your chest while he thumbs your other nipple, “Foreplay still non-existent?”

“It’s better, I guess,” you sigh with fluttering eyes. His chuckling reverberates against your cleavage, a sign of amusement from your obstinacy. A gasp pierces the room as Jaemin repeats his actions onto the other breast.

He aids you in taking off the rest of your clothes and, obviously aware of your goosebumps and shuddering, tells you to get underneath the blankets while he strips himself.

Under the toasty ocean of layers, despite how both of you are bare-boned and how easy it is to jump into the main act, Jaemin purposefully continues to prolong the foreplay. Side by side, your lips meld endlessly; your legs and hands are intertwined in an amorous pretzel.

Jaemin ensures he doesn’t leave any part of you untouched—the pads of fingers virtually graze over every inch of your body. Each grip and drag of his digits sends you in a frenzy. Your chest is pressed into him and your eyes are blinded with desire.

In the back of your mind, you think about how you were right about foreplay working up to the heat of the moment—literally, because you’re dripping, he’s hard, and you two have embraced so much that you don’t need the blankets anymore.  

On the other hand, you wonder if Jaemin was right about skipping foreplay, because with every whisper of each other’s name, the intimacy rises immensely. You don’t know him, and neither him with you, but you’re both freely drowning in one another in a plane beyond the lust.

Although the room’s beginning to smell of a mix of all the scented candles, Jaemin hones in and drinks in your sweet aroma and your entirety behind his hazy eyes and already tousled hair. All of a sudden, one drag of his fingers over a particular sensitive spot on your body makes you giggle.

“I’m ticklish over there.”

“You mean right—” He drums his fingers over the area again. “—here?”

With a toothy grin, he generates more suffering from you and you begin to lively howl. Soon enough, you beg him to stop.

“You’re such an asshat, c’mon, let me live!”

When he ceases, his head hangs over yours and your gazes connect.

The same feeling blooms in his chest from before in the living room.

He gulps as his eyes waver over your face, unknowingly tracing your beautiful features and etching them into his memory.

Your starry eyes. Your glowing aura. Your everything.

You barely register the change in his expression because he quickly tramples on his moment of weakness by kissing you passionately.

Jaemin whips the blankets aside as he lowers himself between your legs. Your eyes are fixated on him, matching his stare, until he starts to devour you by swiping against your lustrous folds. Your back bows, and, following a few more licks, Jaemin makes a point of his knowledge of the vagina by spreading your lips and ravishing your pussy, tongue penetrating deeply.

Rippled moans release in harmony with your undulating chest. You swear you’re getting more wet, too wet, likely making it overwhelming for Jaemin, but he’s eagerly lapping every drop up.  

“How’s that?” he inquires with a grin, hovering over your trembling nether lips. His mouth is evidently glossy, even under the dim lighting.

“Good,” you pant in the most nonchalant tone you can muster up. “Very good-ahhh—”

Jaemin kindly interrupts you by tonguing your clit as he fingers your sex deeply, shattering your fake indifference.

“Move your tongue up more,” you direct, creasing your eyebrows in despair. He follows your direction, and droning moans ensue.

Jaemin’s immersed in your pleasure, but also adding to his own. The more he laps up your wetness, the more he grinds his length against the bed, aching to be inside of you.

Your desire pulses faster, contracting tighter against his fingers, body winding tensely by the second.

“Fuck, Jaemin,” you whine, leaning your head to one side with a parted mouth. “I’m close.”

He draws back and temporarily replaces his tongue with his thumb.

“Good,” he pants, cocking his head to one side. His eyes are filled with determination. “Because I’m not stopping until you come at least two more times tonight.”

You exhale a light laugh. “That’s ambiti-ohgodohgod—”

His tongue works wonders on your clit once more, so much that he has to brace your bucking hips.

Okay, maybe Jaemin did learn a thing or two and actually listened to what you said during your critique.

But now it’s time to demonstrate to him what you’ve learned.

You don’t need much of a break to catch your breath, nor do you want to immediately freeze due to inactivity, so you pull Jaemin in for an intense kiss, tongue dipping into the remnants of your own nectar, then beckon for him to take your former place on the bed.

Perched on the bottom of your feet, you’re on one side of Jaemin, lackadaisically fisting his prominence. After a few strokes, you gradually swallow his inches, keeping in mind to relax your jaw and to not rush in order to avoid any potential teething. You do this to prove yourself worthy of giving head, but also in spite, because you absolutely do not need Jaemin to brand you a virgin again.  

You read his quiet groans and his long fingers running lazily through your hair as a positive sign and advance further.

Carefully, you rest your tongue beneath the underside of his cock and bob your head, licking him until he’s sopping with your saliva. His grip in your hair grows in strength as his length reaches the end of your throat, his groans becoming more and more drawn-out.

A needy whimper leaves him as you suddenly withdraw. Dribbles of your spit follow, and you wipe it off with the back of your hand.  

“How am I doing?” you glow in a pant, lazily stroking the doused shaft.

He simply nods with half-lidded eyes, barely able to look at you. “Yeah.”

You snicker at him in his breathless position, a prickle of pride running through your spine over the fact that you blew his mind as much as you blew his dick.

“Use your words, Jaemin.”

Teasingly, your fingers curl around his blunt head, soothing the sensitive tip and sending jolts throughout him.

“Fuck—” he pulls his bottom lip upward. “Awesome. You’re doing awesome.”

“Anything to critique?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head restlessly. You revel a bit more in having the upper hand on him a little while longer. You grip him tighter and hasten your speed, leaving him gasping for air.

“Am I still rusty?”

“Nope, nope,” he croaks, voice rising to a whine. “Definitely not rusty.”

“You sure?” His cockiness has transferred over to you.

“Yes, yes—fuck, slow down, please,” Jaemin begs.    

Granting his wish, you abate your rhythm and free his inches from your touch.

You wipe your hands on the sides of the bed while Jaemin rummages through the drawer of his nightstand and hastily rolls over the rubber over himself before he prepares to enter the body beneath his.  

Recalling your advice, Jaemin mindfully starts off slow. You sigh blissfully in sync to his thrusts. He adjust himself, attempting another angle, and you draw in air between your teeth.

“There, there—“

Jaemin’s quick-witted and keeps at it, plunging a bit more vigorously. Out of habit, your hands grasp onto the bedsheets, but you wittingly attach them to his frame. Hands grazing his neck, his firm pecs, and his taut muscles.  

“Touch-touch my stomach,” he orders in a hush.

You hands follow through and feel up the flexed valley of his abs. Feeling up evolves into desperate gripping and even the slight dragging of your nails.

“Your abs are so fucking hot,” you state thoughtlessly, eyes eating up the view alongside his cock disappearing in and out of you. “Jesus, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he rasps with that devilish smirk of his. God, you want to smack it off him, but not right now—not when you’re reaching euphoria. “You’re not just saying that?”

Oh, you’ve definitely stroked his ego now, but there’s no turning back. Truth spills from you on a whim.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” you gasp acutely.

You’re starting to wither away, yet, as if they have a life of their own, your hands drift away from him and find a new home atop your breasts.

“You make me feel so good, Jaemin...”

Jaemin’s eyes go wide. His mouth hangs at the lewdness of you touching yourself.

“Fuck, holy shit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave your ecstatic face or humming body for a second as you knead your breasts and tweak your nipples between your fingers. Your back arches further when Jaemin deepens his sweet, fulfilling thrusts. He’s holding himself back, not wanting to end this beautiful deed just yet.

The stimulation bursts over your body, both from your own doing and Jaemin’s.  

You plead, “Faster, please, faster.”

And he complies, but he also rubs your bundle of nerves, causing a tight knot in you to build up and your shallow moans transform into heavy screams. You clasp onto his back and claw at the protruding shoulder blades.  

“I’m-I’m—”

You clench, both with your core and your nails digging into him, but Jaemin’s unrelenting, capturing your second peak for the evening.

Instead of coming after you, he shockingly veers lower and closer to you and curbs his pace.

“Was that real?”

You respond with an exhausted nod. Oddly, the smile he shows this time isn’t arrogant, but warm and teetering the line of tenderness. His lips fuse with yours before they stray towards your neck. The passion stews as he sucks your tits, all the while lunging laxly into you.  

With an obscene pop!, Jaemin removes himself from your nubs.

“Ready for the last round?”

His fast thrusts, hitting you precisely in the best spot, cloud your already weakened logic, deterring you from making any response.    

Perspiration is blatant on both individuals. For him, his forehead glistens gorgeously with his damp hair. For you, the back of your bent knees are gluing together. Your bodies are about to pass out, but you both persevere until the end.

As you convulse and perish together in beautiful agony, coincidentally enough, the bulbs in the room and in the streets leap to radiance.

Together, you collapse onto the bed side by side, panting heavily and laughing.

“Told you we weren’t going to die.”

You turn your head to see Jaemin looking at you with a cheeky grin. In retaliation, you stick your tongue out.

By nighttime, it’s finally stopped snowing outside. However, the streets won’t be cleared until morning, at the very least.

But... you’re surprisingly okay with that.

In a turn of events, the sex inexplicably makes the two of you warm up to each other. There still is targeted banter and tension between you, lingering from before, but it’s less hostile and more playful.

During a fancy Christmas Eve dinner of microwavable pizzas, you poke fun at each other’s majors and discuss your respective hobbies in depth, especially his love for photography. Jaemin even asks if he can take a picture of you, claiming that the kitchen lighting actually looks nice on someone for once.  

“Is that how you collect the memory of your one-night stands? Instead of hanging their skins in your closet, you sweet-talk your way and keep all the photos of them?” you joke, referring to the video call from yesterday night. It feels like an eternity ago, but snowstorms tend to do that.

He chuckles behind the camera as he snaps a photo of you scrunching your face cutely.

“Yeah, but you’re the first one who has clothes on,” he says, glancing down at the photo on the camera roll.  

“Ugh, gross,” you cringe and take a sip of tea.

Jaemin doesn’t add anything further. He leaves out the fact that he never keeps any traces of his one-night stands, that you’re the first girl he’s taken a picture of in a while.  

After a few hours of more talking and even some gaming with one another, sleep is much needed. Jaemin offers an extra toothbrush and a sweater and pair of sweats to sleep in. You’re facing each other on his bed, noses almost touching.  

“It’s been a while since I haven’t had sex with a girl before I slept next to them,” he whispers, adjusting himself comfortably. The side of his face rests on his piled hands. “It’s kinda nice.”

You cover your mouth as you yawn, then lay your hand back under your head, reflecting the same position as Jaemin.

“You know, it might be my sleepiness talking, but maybe you’re not the worst person in the world to be stuck with during a snowstorm.”

A lovely chuckle echoes in your ear. “I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

After a few moments, your eyes are fluttering to a close until he softly calls out your name.

“Hm?” you stir awake, but not by much.

“Do you...?”

Jaemin doesn’t know what’s gotten to him, doesn’t quite understand why the defences he built for so long are crumbling down in only a day of knowing you.  

And yet, something urges him to give it a chance.

Blowing out a shaky sigh, he anxiously intertwines his fingers with yours. You hum softly at the action and a small smile blooms on your face.

“Do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Hm?” His question doesn’t take you aback as much as you would be if you were fully awake. But even in your drowsy state, you have quips in hand. “Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, wants to go on a date?”

“Yeah,” he replies gently, brushing your loose hair out of your face.

Another yawn. “I thought you said you don’t want feelings and relationships and all that shit.”

His fingers trace your pretty jawline and shrugs. “One date doesn’t mean we’re going to be in a relationship, I’m sure you know that.”

You pause for a good two seconds, but the two seconds feel like forever for Jaemin.

“Mmm, fine. One date, just one.” You barely hold up your pointer finger. “And only because it’s Christmas tomorrow. ‘Tis the season to be giving...”

Relief washes over Jaemin in the form of a smile. Embracing the blatant feeling in his chest this time, he plants a light kiss on your nose and wishes you sweet dreams, even though you’ve already fallen soundly asleep.  

Sunlight pours over your eyes on Christmas morning.

Déjà vu peculiarly creeps up on you, but the only thing that’s the same as yesterday is waking up in Jaemin’s bed.

He’s next to you this time, deep in his peaceful slumber, instead of waiting for you to leave by his doorframe. The snow has finally stopped, and you think you hear the faint noises of snow plows outside. You inhale deeply and also notice the faded aroma from all the scented candles from last night.

The scenes of yesterday flicker across your mind. The incredible sex. The talking. The dinner. The interlocking of his fingers with yours.

The date he asked you out on.

You stare at him, watching him sleep with a sense of content.

Turning your body, you routinely check your phone, which is charging beside his. You have a slew of Merry Christmas texts from several chats and a few private messages from your friends.

Your attention falls on Jaemin’s phone when it lights up with a notification, likely texts from his friends and family too.

But that’s not what you’re focusing on.

Your heart sinks at the sight of his lockscreen.

It’s a picture of him and a girl kissing.

A twinge emerges in your chest and twists harder and harder.

Jaemin being a fuckboy, you can respect. People can do whatever they want with their lives.

But to cheat?

That’s unforgivable, and a true sin if there ever was one.

You scramble to dash out of there, careful not to make any noises in fear of waking Jaemin up. However, Jaemin’s sensitive to the sounds of the front door, so he rouses awake. His eyes flit open, noticing how you’re gone. He then sees his phone blowing up and adds two and two together.

With his phone in hand, Jaemin rushes to get on a coat and stuffs his feet into his boots, not giving a shit that he’s wearing his thin pajamas in the coldness. He’s bounding down the flight of stairs and onto the bright, white wonderland of the streets.

He swivels his head and catches sight of you almost past down the block, slowly trekking through the thick snow. Jaemin sprints, as much as he can, and hops towards you.  

He yells your name, making others on the street turn, but you don’t. You continue forward without looking back.

“Wait! I can explain!”

You’re trying to gain speed, but cardio isn’t your friend. Thankfully for Jaemin, it’s a close friend for him.

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Jaemin,” you grunt, hearing the rapid crunching of his shoes coming closer. “Get lost.”

“No, listen to me for a second.”

The boyish man grasps you by the arm and turns you around. You throw his arm away from you and he holds his hands in the air, letting you know that he respects your space. He drops his hands and sees that you’re seething, even worse than you were when he kicked you out yesterday.

“How are you going to explain your lockscreen with you kissing your fucking girlfriend?! Hm?”

“Ex,” he pants in clarification. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Your eyebrows mesh together in utter confusion.

“Okay? That doesn’t make me feel any better, knowing that you’re still hung up on your ex.”

Jaemin shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair. You note the large clouds he exhales and how he’s barely wearing any clothes. A tinge of sympathy passes through you, wanting to give him some of your clothes for extra layers, but you smother that quickly in your state of rage.  

“I’m not hung up on her. Remember you asked me yesterday why I don’t want girls to stay the next morning?”

You cock your head impatiently, as if saying, “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t want to attach myself to girls. I can’t. I...”

He lowers his head to one side. Shutting his eyes, a long puff emits from his mouth.

“She cheated on me.”

The snow plows in the distance can’t compare to the pumping of your heart in your ears. All the feelings you felt in the last day, but especially in the last fifteen minutes, jumble together in your head, making you feel uneasy and unsure of what to exactly feel or comprehend of the situation.  

But you do know one thing, despite the fact that you two barely know each other, the pained look on his face is real—that this is the untold story behind his ways.  

Jaemin lifts his head and holds out his phone for emphasis. “The lockscreen serves as a constant reminder that dating and feelings will and can fuck me up.”

Carefully, he steps a little closer to you and slowly cups your face in his shaking hands. You don’t pull away nor is there the same anger from moments before, so he daintily runs his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Until you showed me yesterday that maybe I’m willing to give it all another shot. Risk it all for fuck knows what, but you make it look like it’s worth it.”

He continues his ramble after adjusting some of your hair from the ongoing breeze.

“Sure, it’s Christmas today, but I don’t want you to say yes to going on a date with me just because it is. I want you to say yes because maybe you like spending time with me just as much as I like to spend it with you.”

You’re completely disoriented—your eyes are shifting everywhere but his eyes and your lips are quivering with no words coming out. He sighs understandingly. 

“Look, I know you’re probably having second thoughts and you don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think on it for as much time as you need, but I want you to know that I genuinely like you and I want to go on an actual date with you.”

He peels his hand away from your face and raises it into the air as if taking an oath.

“I, Na Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, will devote to monogamy once again if it means I can date you.”

His hands grab yours, kisses the back of them, and then he presses one kiss onto your icy cheek prior to walking away.

“Merry Christmas,” he says with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Later that evening at your large family’s Christmas party, you take another dreadful gulp of your wine.

It’s the happy holiday season, but why does everyone feel the need to stick their nose in your dating life? Well, really, a lack there of.

“Why are you still single?” Layers of their voices resound the same question in your head. You take another swig.

Potential unsaid answers that you kept to yourself fly around as you swish the drink in your glass.  

Because you choose to be.

Okay, not really, but it’s the easiest answer.  

Because you haven’t found the right guy to get you back in the game.

What does that even mean? What makes the right guy even right?

The right guy? It’s someone who makes you laugh, someone who gives as good as they can take it, someone who wants you just as much as you do.

The cogs move in your head as you take one more sip before you finally come to the conclusion—  

Because you didn’t find the right guy until last night.

Despite the mess of today and yesterday morning, you realize that Jaemin is... actually sort of sweet. Annoying, yes, but he keeps you on your toes. It’s a plus that he’s easy on the eyes, but it’s a bigger plus that he’s even easier to talk to.

And if he can find it in his scorched heart to trust you, you can find it in your heart to trust him too.  

You quickly say your good-byes to your family and let them know you have other plans with friends tonight.

As the Uber rolls up to his apartment building, you realize you probably should’ve messaged him on Tinder, but it’s worth a shot to see if he’s home. Anyways, impulsiveness is a controlling entity, as evident from your Christmas Eve Eve’s adventure.

And in retrospect, perhaps Jaemin was the perfect pick of the crop after all.  

Someone’s entering the building and lets you in behind them. You take the stairs two at a time and hear booming music coming from his floor. At first, you assume it’s from other apartments, but it’s all coming from one—his.

Without a thought, your knuckle taps the door.  

A handsome figure that’s definitely not Jaemin opens the door. Behind him, you see a group of young men scattered around the living room, and some have a few girls tucked under their arms.

The man eyes you up and down with a spark in his eye. He’s not Jaemin, but he surely reminds you of him.

“And who might you be?” he asks.

“Who’s at the door, Jeno?” An unknown male voice hollers in a high pitch from the couch. He’s one of the guys with a girl attached to him.

You blink. “Uhm, I’m—”

“She’s with me!” Jaemin shoves the flirty stranger aside and tugs you by your wrist, making headway to his bedroom. He flips the light switch on and the door clicks shut.

“What are you doing h—”

You cut him off with a kiss.

An innocent one, at first, with hints of alcohol on each other’s lips. Your arms wrap around the other and the passion increases with the mingling of your tongues, each party tasting and confirming the specific drinks you both consumed tonight.  

Jaemin forces himself to pull away and presses his forehead against yours. “Did you just come all the way here to kiss me, or...?”

“Maybe I came over to ask... if I can stay with you for another night?” you playfully ask, fingers intertwining behind the nape of his neck.  

He chuckles heartily. His fingers sink into the sides of your waist. “Is my dick that great? The sex with me that amazing?”

“Mmm, that’s definitely a benefit,” you agree, fluttering your nose against his. “But I want more than that—“ You poke a finger to his chest. “—I want the man behind the dick.”

Your gazes converge, bringing you together as one.

“I want to go on that date with you. I want you, Jaemin.”

He flashes a megawatt smile that could compete with a million Christmas lights, but it fades suddenly and you’re unsure why he seems like he’s about to bawl his eyes out.

“That’s so beautiful, I might cry.” He brings a finger to his eye, pretending to shed a tear.

Oh, yeah—you’re definitely going to need to hire someone to constantly shove your eyeballs back into your sockets if you’re going to date Jaemin.

“Oh, shut up,” you whisper, yanking him in for another kiss.

Three dates later, including a memorable New Year’s Eve, you finally decide to rid of the Tinder app for good.

With his arm around you on his living room couch, Jaemin glances over your shoulder.

“Really? You’re finally deleting your Tinder?”

You snort in disbelief. “That’s gold, coming from the King of Tinder himself. When did you delete?”

He turns to face the television and shrugs coolly.

“Maybe I didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” you nod, eyes still on your phone.

“Nah, I’m kidding, I did.”    

You sharply turn your head.

“No way. When?” you press with narrow eyes.  

A shy smile emerges on Jaemin’s face as he picks his pants over his thighs.

“On the night of Christmas Eve, after you agreed to go on a date with me.”

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