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roosterr · 3 months

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i've known war

john 'soap' mactavish x gn!reader wc: 9.3k (whoops) summary: you're alive. he can get you back, he can hold you in his arms again. warnings: established relationship, angst and sadness and depression, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, graphic description of injury, mentions of torture, eventual happy ending, military and medical inaccuracies, pls ignore any plot holes i beg

requested here! follow up to love you from afar, but can be read as a standalone. im so sorry this took me so long to write lmao.

it always feels like the first time when you kiss him. even now, years down the line, the sparks, the warmth, the daze that you leave him in; he truly believes it will never get old.

the way you look, standing in the open doorway of the helicopter, silhouetted against the bright blue sky, it makes his head feel so fuzzy he almost forgets why you're all here in the first place.

it's the sweet sound of his name passing your lips that pulls him back to the present, your voice sending his stomach fluttering.

"earth to johnny," you chuckle, turning to face him and resting your weight against one side of the open door, "what're you thinking so hard about?"

he can't help the smile that breaks out at the sound of your laughter. "just you." johnny replies, closing the small distance between you and snaking an arm around your waist. you smile as he leans in closer, murmuring low in your ear, "and, how i cannae wait to get ye home."

you laugh again, placing a hand on his chest but not quite pushing him back. "we've got a job to do first."

he takes your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. "then we'd better get a move on, eh?"

"i'll race you," you grin at him, haloed by the light of the sun so beautifully he has to snap himself out of his reverence to respond.

"oh, you're on."

perhaps it was slightly irresponsible the way he was rushing the others along for his own gain, but within a matter of minutes they're breaching the facility and well on their way to being done with this.

it's only when he's stalking along a dimly lit corridor that he slows down. something was bothering him, an off feeling in the back of his mind that he just can't ignore.

before he can think about it any further, a boom shakes the walls, filling the air with dust and obscuring his vision even more. it was close enough to start a faint ringing in his ears, coming from back the way he came; where he'd split up with ghost and, more importantly, you.

he should stay on target, continue with what they're here to do, his job – but what if you were in trouble? if there's a chance you need his help, he couldn't risk it. it takes less than a second for him to turn back, making the decision to check on what caused the explosion before continuing.

quietly stalking back down the corridor, it takes him slightly longer to register the fact that he hasn't heard anything over the radio; no updates, no clever remarks from ghost, nothing. they worked not fifteen minutes ago, just after you'd split up and checked them. surely nothing could've happened in such a short space of time?

he does his best to push through the sinking feeling that tries to drag him down, but it's stubborn, creeping in from the corners of his mind.

he reaches where he left you in half the time it took him to walk away, the intersection of two corridors just as empty as the rest of the halls. he points his flashlight in the direction you went, and the feeling in his gut gets worse.

something glinting in the light catches his attention. the end of the corridor is collapsed, when it definitely hadn't been before, but it's what lies in front of the rubble that he zeroes in on. partially obscured by the layer of filth and blood coating it, there's no mistaking it when he kneels down, dropping his rifle to the ground beside him, and carefully takes the metal in his trembling hand.

it's a pair of id tags.

he numbly calls your name. it bounces off the walls and echoes back to him. the blood runs through the creases of his hand, staining the flesh. the letters of your name are clear through the dirt.

no. you can't be gone.

he looks up to the rubble, shrouded in darkness, back down to your tags, back up to the rubble, and there's a hand just visible under the concrete that looks sickeningly like yours and–

he tears his gaze away, back down to your tags. the chain is snapped, like it had been ripped off in a hurry, as if you'd known you were going to die and wanted to make sure he would find them–

no, no no. you're not dead. you can't be. he just saw you fifteen minutes ago, he bumped his helmet against yours in lieu of a kiss like he always did before you parted ways. you were fine and you were smiling at him. it was only fifteen minutes, you were right here, he can still hear your voice taunting him about the race between you, it was only fifteen minutes–

a heavy hand comes down on johnny's shoulder, startling him out of his panicked daze and instinctively he jumps up and swings his arm at whoever stuck up on him.

ghost catches his forearm easily, his eyes moving between your tags clutched in johnny's fist to the wreckage behind him. when he meets johnny's watery eyes again, the coldness in his gaze seems to soften as he arrives at the same conclusion.

the ringing in johnny's ears hasn't left. in fact, it's gotten worse.

"we– we gotta find 'em," johnny's breath comes out shallow and ragged, the panic slowly rising in his chest through the initial numbness. "fucks sake, they cannae– we– we–"

"johnny." ghost interrupts his sputtering short, bracing both hands on his biceps and giving him a gentle, grounding shake. "...come on."

"no! simon we–" his breath catches in his throat, heart constricting painfully beneath his sternum as he grips the front of ghost's vest in desperation. why was ghost giving up so easily? didn't he care? didn't he want to find you?

ghost lowers his gaze, tearing away from the distraught expression on the sergeant's face. "they're gone, soap."

"shut the fuck up!" johnny growls, despair seeping into his voice with every second that passes without you. he tries to shake ghost's hands off, but he doesn't budge. "ye dinnae ken that! they're still here somewhere, we cannae leave without 'em!"

he's gripping your tags like a lifeline, the metal searing against his palm and heavier than anything else he'd ever carried. he shouldn't have them, they shouldn't be in his hand, they should be around your neck, you should be here, with him, and not…

it's too much. his knees give out from under him and, despite ghost's firm grip on his shoulders, he sinks to the floor with his head in his hands.

"simon, fuck– please…" it's a whisper, under his breath, but he knows ghost heard from how he crouches down beside him, laying an arm over his heaving shoulders as he steadily begins to sob.

it's not real. it can't be real. he wants this to be a nightmare so fucking badly, but the pain in his chest is far too real, his tears burning tracks down his face, the weight of your absence pressing down on him and crushing him under the pressure.

he barely notices when price and gaz appear in the hall ahead of them, just about registering the sound of the debris crunching under their boots as they approach. the pair don't say anything as they take in the scene, looking down with furrowed brows at where johnny and ghost are crouched on the floor.

the captain opens his mouth to ask, but ghost cuts him of with a solemn shake of his head.

words are exchanged, but johnny doesn't hear them. his head feels impossibly light, an expanding pressure beneath his temples that makes it hard to think. the ringing keeps getting worse.

the sound of gunfire makes it through the fog. gaz and ghost each take one of his arms, hauling him to his feet and essentially dragging him after the captain as they make their way back out of the building. he can't bring himself to fight them. he blinks, and finds himself strapped into his seat, the one next to him hauntingly empty.

price is talking into the radio, to laswell he assumes, but johnny doesn't register anything he says – anything except the last two words:

"...one k.i.a."

the air is thick with a kind of tension he's never felt before, a shroud of numbness that he can't seem to shake. when they land it follows them, seeping into the air on base and pushing down on whoever crosses their path. none of them have to ask to understand what happened.

johnny keeps your tags, clutches them close to his heart, and practically bites the head off of anyone who tries to take them from his white-knuckled grip, even as he gets checked out in the medical wing. his quietness puts the medics on edge, he can tell. something about the way he doesn't even flinch when they cleanse his wounds, the polar opposite to his his usual talkative nature, it tells them there's no use trying to console him. they try to convince him to let the tags go, but he doesn't acknowledge their words.

the broken chain stays firmly wrapped around his palm until he's staring down his own hollow face in the bathroom mirror. he'd turned the sink on fifteen minutes ago to wash the blood away, the water so hot it fogs up his reflection, but he can't bring himself to put his hands under the stream.

because it's your blood, not just the usual grime from missions. if he washes it off, he's washing you off, and he doesn't want to do that, no matter how disgusting it is.

there's a knock at the door, and only then does he realise how long he's been staring at the red that decorates his hands. he still makes no effort to move.

despite his lack of response, gaz opens the door and meets his eyes in the mirror. there's a pause as he waits for johnny to say something, but when he only lets the silence go on, he takes it upon himself to approach.

"soap…" he utters, brows tilting in concern watching his friend continue to stare absently into the mirror. with a deep sigh, kyle takes his empty fist and pries his fingers from his palm. johnny's eyes gravitate to the fresh blood that wells up in the crescent indents. watching the red droplets fall, disappearing into the running water, the pain finally registering in his mind when kyle presses a cloth to his hand.

the sting of the hot water is there, a distant feeling as johnny allows him to wash the blood away, never saying a word as he watches kyle's efforts, like an observer of his own form, right there but looking in from the outside.

kyle reaches for your tags, but his fingers barely brush the metal before johnny is shoving him back with a rush of anger that happens so fast he doesn't even have time to process his own reaction.

with a thud, kyle's back hits the wall and for a moment neither of them dare move. they watch each other in silence, wide-eyed shock mirrored in both their expressions.

"i…" i'm sorry. the words catch in his chest, falling into the void there and never escaping for gaz to hear. he can't let him touch your tags. it's the only part of you he has left. "...don't touch 'em."

kyle squeezes his eyes shut, breathing a deep sigh through his nose. "alright, i'm sorry, i won't touch them." his tone is low and careful as he steps closer again, hands open so johnny can see them. he feels like a feral animal, being coaxed to let kyle approach. "but you need to rest, mate."

the weeks blend together after that day. some days johnny feels like the shock will never wear off, like he's living on autopilot. others, it all comes crashing down on him and even dragging himself out of bed becomes a challenge.

his dreams are plagued with images of you, lifeless and cold. it stops him from sleeping most nights, but others are filled with memories of your life together playing on loop, a constant reminder of what he can never have again.

the room you used to share is always filled with flowers; gardenias, gladioli, forget-me-nots, and anything else he sees that he thinks you'd like. when they wilt, and eventually die, he presses the petals in the pages of his sketchbook, keeping them in a box next to the very first flowers he ever got you, the memories preserved forever under your – his bed.

that same sketchbook that's filled with page after page of your image, some from the multitude of pictures he keeps of you, and when he inevitably runs out of references, he draws you from memory. it gets to the point where he can't pick up a pencil without your face haunting him; you always did love his art, even if he didn't think it was any good.

he knows he's not the only one taking it hard. the others are different too; gaz is quieter, something more serious in his eyes now. the captain doesn't appear moved on the surface, and neither does ghost, but when they look at the empty seat where you used to sit, the memory of you is evident in the way their shoulders deflate ever so slightly.

once word spreads about what exactly happened, the never-ending condolences and pitying looks from the people around base gets old very quickly. they tell him how they're so sorry for his loss and what happened to you was so tragic, and it shouldn't annoy him as much as it does, but he can't help the anger that bubbles up in his chest when they talk about you.

he doesn't want to hear it, and every time he has to listen to their pitying comments it only makes him resent them more. they didn't know you, they didn’t care, they probably didn't even know who you were before you died. they could never hope to understand what you meant to him, to the taskforce, the gap in their team that you left behind.

it's when someone suggests moving on from you that it all finally bubbles over.

six months later, a long time since that day but somehow no time at all. he'd gone out for drinks for the first time in a while, after some gentle coercion from simon, along with another group of soldiers staying on base.

he didn't even want to go, not really, but something in him knew he couldn't carry on like he had been. he needed some form of normalcy, one night where he can pretend everything is fine and you're just waiting for him back home, to just forget.

it didn't take him long to realise going out with them was a mistake. almost immediately he was dragged into a conversation with a few guys from another unit, and despite his many attempts they just wouldn't leave him be.

somehow, after about an hour of mindless chatter, they land on the topic of their love lives and recent conquests, and johnny immediately felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. he wanted to slip away, avoid what he knew was coming at any cost, but he couldn't get away fast enough.

one of them brings up your name, they all look to him with a sort of curiosity that makes his skin crawl. they ask him if he's planning on staying hung up on you forever. johnny says it's only been six months. one of them laughs and tells him it's just sad, and from the looks of it you weren't anything special.

johnny smashes a glass over his head. price benches him for a few weeks after that.

it's hell, being left behind, alone, while the others went on like usual, and truthfully he starts to resent them all, bit by bit from the first time he's left on the tarmac. it felt like they didn't care, that johnny's heart, his life, his soul has changed but they carried on without looking back once. he isolates and shuts them out in a fit of misplaced anger, building the walls around his heart higher and higher and letting that resentment fester.

the day of your funeral brings it all crashing down. after all those months of waiting, johnny didn't even make it more than five lines into the speech he'd prepared before he's breaking down and stumbling out the side door in a hyperventilating mess. simon follows behind like his shadow, sitting down with him when he slides down the wall with a hand clutching his chest. he cries into simon's shoulder for rest of the service, releasing all the pent up anguish he'd been trying to keep inside in a catharsis he didn't realise he needed.

when they get back to base the next morning, johnny’s practically begging to be allowed back in the field. he found himself missing the chaos, the unpredictability of the battlefield was where he was in his element. this job was how you met, how you got together, how you lived. he never felt closer to you than when he was out in the field with adrenaline pumping through his veins.

it takes some convincing, but price gives in and everything feels like it's back to normal. missions are quieter than they'd ever been, but johnny finds it doesn't bother him anymore. he feels your presence by his side like the sun on his back, always with him, like his guardian angel.

it's six more months before anything changes.

in the back of the helicopter, a few minutes out from the landing site, an oddly comforting sense of déjà vu washes over him. the bright blue expanse of the sky, the warmth of the sun on his skin, he almost feels that if he turned to his left, he'd see you sitting there with that same smile lighting up your face.

his fingers tighten around your tags.

"you watchin', bonnie?" he presses his lips to the cool metal, feeling your name under his skin as he mumbles to himself. his gaze finds the roof of the helicopter, and even without looking he knows the others are watching him, that familiar solemn look on their faces.

they were doing this for you. everything johnny did was for you. he puts your tags safely away in the pocket if his vest closest to his heart.

the helicopter jolts as it lands, and with no more than a second's hesitation he's shooting up from his seat, a renewed energy flooding his body to the tips of his fingers. they step out into the biting air, a chill than not even the afternoon sun could stave off, and quickly begin their march into the small facility.

"you two, take that side. gaz, with me." price commands, and with a sharp nod from the three of them, they split up and begin their canvassing. they were here for intel, but there was no guarantee they were alone, despite the emptiness of the halls they move through.

their footsteps echo off the walls, only the distant howling of the wind outside to accompany them. the hairs on the back of johnny's neck were on end, an unease setting off alarm bells in the back of his mind following behind ghost.

the déjà vu from earlier isn't comforting anymore. he doesn't feel you watching over him, and the feeling only gets stronger as they approach a doorway ahead, bathed in a red light.

ghost pauses in the entrance, looking back at johnny and waiting for his affirming nod before pushing forward. the room is empty, the same as the rest of the building, save for the table sitting against the far wall.

there's something else there, he notices as he creeps closer to get a better look. a frown darkens his expression. it's a laptop, untouched and central on the table, a strange contrast to the almost methodical emptiness around it.

"oi, check this." johnny calls, turning around as ghost stalks over with a similar confusion on his face.

"that what we're here for?" he asks, examining the laptop with a deep frown casting shadow over his eyes.

"looks like it." johnny replies, slowly and carefully picking it up as his frown deepens. he was half expecting it to somehow blow up, but when he lifts the screen it lights up to the desktop with no issue. "that's convenient."

"very convenient..." ghost grunts, jerking his head in the direction of the door and speaking into the radio as he walks ahead of johnny. "price, we've got it. headin' to exfil now."

back on base a few hours later, the four of them with the addition of laswell sit around the table in a meeting room with the doors firmly shut, eyes locked onto the laptop with rapt tension as gaz opens the only file they could recover from the device.

the video starts abruptly with 'the mask' – the pretentious alias of man that heads the organisation they've been steadily eliminating all this time – in front of the camera, the dingy room behind him barely lit, the walls splattered with what johnny could only assume was blood.

"i trust that my message has found you well, task force one-four-one." his voice comes through the speakers, crackly and distorted by the low quality recording. "you have been relentless in your pursuit of us, and i applaud you for your efforts, but it's time to put an end to this."

johnny looks back at price, watching as his expression hardens and his fingers dig into his arms where they're crossed over his chest. it's obvious they've been set up, but it's too late to be concerned with that now. the problem now is how they're going to continue knowing the enemy has information on them that they shouldn't have.

the sound of something being dragged brings his attention back to the video, facing the screen again to see another masked man dumping a person with a bag over their head onto a chair in the centre of the room.

"i have something i believe you will be interested in." the chuckle is audible in his voice even beneath the mask and through the screen.

their wrists and ankles are tied together, and if it weren't for the laboured rise and fall of their chest, johnny wouldn't be sure if they were even alive.

"fuck– a hostage?" price spits, and even without looking he knows laswell is already working on finding a location, if the sound of her rapidly typing is any indication.

"something very… precious to you."

the figure moves to stand behind the person in the chair and yanks the bag from their head. he grabs their jaw and forces them to look up, a sickening laugh meeting johnny's ears as they make eye contact with the camera.

it's…

it's you.

you're beaten and bruised and covered head to toe in blood, but it's undoubtedly you when the faceless man yanks your head up.

johnny's sure his heart stops.

you're alive. you've been alive all this time. in the hands of a terrorist, and within an inch of your life, but…

you're alive.

"drop your investigation of us, and i will let them live." the masked man stalks back around to your side, still holding your jaw in a vice grip. the way you cower, as much as you can with that man's filthy hands on you, it breaks something in johnny. how long have you been in their hands, how long have you been abused by them?

how long have you been waiting for him?

he feels sick to his stomach, but he can't tear his eyes away. the lacerations on your face, the endless bruises littering your skin – when he spots the ones around your neck, he has to swallow down the bile – and how you just seem so tired, barely even fighting to keep your eyes open.

the masked man looks down to you again, pausing as he directs you to look at him through what seems like a black eye. the five of them watch, frozen by shock or anger or both, as the man rears his hand back and slaps you across the face so hard your head whips in the other direction. a pained, defeated sound escapes you, and johnny’s sure a knife to the chest would hurt less.

"do not disappoint me, captain price, or your sergeant will regret it."

the video cuts to black.

the sight of your face is burned into johnny's retinas, every time he blinks your features are there, dripping in your own blood, the only thing he can see.

"kate, tell me you can find this." price growls behind him, his words sounding distant to johnny's ears.

she hums distractedly. "working on it."

their conversation doesn't register, floating in one ear and straight out the other. you're alive. he can get you back, he can hold you in his arms again. it's like his prayers have been answered for once in his life, and it may be some cruel trick from god to find you like this but johnny finds himself praying his thanks anyway.

"johnny…?" simon lays a hand on his shoulder, turning him in his chair to make worried eye contact with his shell-shocked expression. it jolts him out of his thoughts, the energy of the room a controlled kind of frantic as he comes back down to earth.

"that's– it's them, they're–" johnny sputters, gripping ghost's forearm with an absent desperation in his glassy eyes, "simon, they're alive."

he can't stop thinking about how empty your expression looked, the way you didn't have any fight left, and the gravity of what's been happening to you since the moment he lost you slowly creeps up on him.

have you given up hope of them finding you?

"we'll get 'em back, soap, listen to me," price drops a heavy, grounding hand on his other shoulder, halting his spiralling train of thought, "they're comin' home." his voice is resolute, no room for argument where he speaks it almost like a command.

johnny can only nod.

his head is still light as more rushed conversation happens around him. simon's hand is still on his shoulder, and that might be the only reason he hasn't completely fallen apart yet, but the thread is pulling taught enough to snap. his nails carve dents into his palms but he doesn't have the mind to unfurl them.

"sir, we've got a hit." gaz speaks up from where he's leaned over kate's shoulder, a determined glint in his eye when he meets the captain's gaze. johnny’s head snaps in his direction, his pulse quickening with every word that sparks new hope in his chest. "two hundred klicks northeast of where we found the laptop."

"good work, you two," price is pacing back and forth, scratching his beard with a calculating look on his face. they watch him for a moment, waiting for his command on what their next move will be, but johnny finds his patience wearing incredibly thin.

"the fuck we waitin' for? let's get out there'n go after the wee bastards!" he growls, his narrowed gaze darting between price and the others as he steadily grows more and more restless.

simon shakes his head from beside him, "hold your horses."

"this is delicate, we have to do this one right." price pauses, his eyes losing their hardness as he meets johnny's desperate face. "i know how much this means to you, but you're too close to this, soap."

the pause that follows that is so thick with tension it makes it hard to breath. a boiling type of rage bubbles up in his chest, extending to every trembling limb and turning his vision red. there was no way in hell he wasn't going to be there for you every step of the way when – not if – they rescued you.

"ye can get yersel' right tae fuck!" he spits, his face contorted with anger as he shoots up from his chair and points an accusatory finger at the captain. "that's too far, price, ye cannae keep me outta this!"

"johnny, sit down." simon warns, using the hand still on his shoulder to put some space between him and price, but johnny doesn't budge; this was far too important.

"yer aff yer heid, both of ye's! if ye won't let me come, i'll go mysel', ye fuckin' hear?" he growls, shaking free of simon's hand. his glare travels between him and price, hands wound into fists at his sides.

the air turns heavy as they stare each other down. if price thinks he'll back down on this, johnny would love nothing more than to prove him wrong.

he's moments away from meeting his fist to price's face when gaz stands up and gets between them. "that's his other half, sir. respectfully, he deserves to be part of this." he reasons, giving price a firm look and a small nod to johnny. "you'd be the same in his position."

the tension is palpable. he watches over gaz's shoulder as the captain deliberates, clearly having an internal battle over the decision, but eventually he sighs and fixes johnny with a stern look.

price closes the distance between them, patting gaz on the arm as he passes. "screw your head on, mactavish. we only get one shot at this, i need to know i can trust you not to fuck it up."

a spark of hope makes johnny's heart race, and he gives price a single resolute nod of confirmation. "i won't, sir."

laswell stands and walks around the table to stand beside price, a similarly firm expression. "we have to play this carefully. they wanted us to find that laptop, i have no doubt they wanted us to find where they are too."

"so what's our angle?" gaz asks.

laswell and price share a look.

"this has to be off the books, there's no way we'll get clearance for this." laswell answers, her expression turning noticeably darker, looking over to price as she continues, "if we want them back alive, we'll have to act fast. that means we're on our own."

the captain nods with no hesitation. "we are getting my sergeant back. i don't care how we have to do it."

they're loading into the back of a helo not even an hour later. the five of them, along with two field medics and the pilot, with the strict instructions in johnny's head to bring you home or to not come back at all.

there's only one coherent thought racing through his mind for the entire; you. getting you back, taking you home, finding the man that took you away from him – and hurt you – and making him pay.

he fishes your tags out of his pocket and presses them to his lips in a lingering kiss, just like he always does. soon, he thinks, it would be you he'd be kissing, not just a remnant of you.

the flight passes by so quickly it's almost as if he'd blinked and they were landing again.

the air is glacial as they ready themselves, preparing for the mask to put up a fight that they fully intend to win. the plan was decided on during the journey; kate and ghost would provide support from a distance while price, gaz, and johnny would confront the bastard head on. his focus is razor sharp, marching through the trees and underbrush, blood rushing in his ears and jaw clenched painfully tight.

the sky is just as strikingly blue as the day he lost you.

bring you home, or don't come back.

they reach a break in the trees, surrounding the small facility they tracked the video to that looked more like a derelict warehouse than a base. either way, the dark figure of their target is visible against the brick wall, surrounded by a number of his own soldiers – johnny counts six as he, price, and gaz make themselves known coming through the treeline. they share a quick look; they know how this will end.

"well met, captain," the mask calls, slowing to a stop and leaving a few metres of space between himself and the three of them, "will you make the right choice, or will your sergeant suffer for your pride, i wond–"

his monologue is cut short by a shot from the darkness of the treeline and lodging mercilessly into the base of his throat. his deadweight hits the ground with a thud that echoes, and in less than a second bullets are flying.

soap tightens his grip on his gun, raising it to glare down the sights and firing at the soldier nearest to him and dropping him with one well placed bullet to the leg and another to the face once he was on the floor.

another shot from the treeline drops one more; four left.

gaz and price take out another two between them in a similar fashion to soap, leaving two still standing – one of whom was advancing fast with the barrel of his gun pointed at soap while the other backed away.

one more shot rings out from the trees and one more body falls, but the last hostile was far too close for comfort now, johnny had no choice but to tackle him to the ground, narrowly avoiding being shot himself on the way down.

a few seconds pass as they wrestle on the ground, both trying desperately to gain the upper hand but falling just short because of the other. from his peripheral soap can see price running to his aid, but his momentary distraction allowed his assailant to take the upper hand and roll on top of him.

hands constrict around his neck, cutting off his airflow, but a well timed shot from price sends him falling over sideways, sputtering blood from the wound in his side.

soap heaves and cough, pulling air back into his lungs and glaring at the body of the man who almost got the better of him. this only meant they were one step closer to getting you back; he was one step closer to having you in his arms again. it didn't matter if he got hurt in the process.

price's outstretched hand suddenly appears in his vision, "get up soap, we've got a job to do."

his daze melts away and he takes the captain's hand, allowing himself to be pulled upright with an affirming nod shared between them.

"good aim, ma'am." gaz calls over the radio, looking down his nose at the steadily declining state of the mask; his infamous facade now cracked and broken, revealing the agonised face beneath.

"bring 'em home, boys." kate replies, and though he can't see her face johnny can imagine the commanding look she's undoubtedly wearing.

gaz backs away as johnny crosses the mess of crimson and dirt to where the mask lays, sprawled out and immobilised by his injuries but still very much alive, giving the fellow sergeant a respectful nod as he goes. "he's all yours, mate."

johnny stands over his fading form, watching with a detached look in his eye as the blood spills from the gaping wound in his neck with every struggled breath, his disjointed intake of air and the pathetic sputters as he inhales his own viscera. there's not a shred of mercy in him as he gazes down at the man, every bit of agony was completely deserved for what he did to you. the death that claws at him would be a blessing.

he gurgles to johnny, raising a weak arm to brush the hem of his trousers as he attempts to expel the words, "pl–ea– plea-se–"

johnny scoffs, dry and venomous. he has half a mind to leave him to suffer until the life finally bleeds from him, but the pure rage he feels listening to this bastard plead for help after putting you through hell for a year is far too strong for him to restrain.

it's unconscious, the way johnny's arm raises to point the barrel of his pistol squarely at the centre of his forehead. he pauses for a moment, if only to see the fear creep into the bastard's expression before his fingers squeeze the trigger and the light is gone from his eyes.

his chest stops heaving and his hand drops back to the mud, leaving nothing but a few bloody fingerprints in his wake.

johnny pulls the trigger again.

and again, and again, and again, until his face is nothing more than a cavity of gore and lead and the ringing in his ears blocks out everything else around him.

a firm hand comes down on his shoulder and it’s only then does he notice the tension in his muscles and the fierce sneer pulling at his features. his eyes snap to the dark figure in the corner of his vision, meeting the bone white of simon's mask and the frown underneath.

"that'll do, johnny." simon murmurs, his own darkened eyes glaring down at the mangled corpse laying at their feet. he nods, somewhat absently, and turns away from the offending body.

there were more important things he needed to keep his head on straight for.

neither him or simon spare the remains of the mask another glance as they leave him behind. price and gaz are waiting by the entrance for them, and as soon as they're close enough they head together into the dark corridors of the building.

as the creep through the abandoned building, now deep in the cold basement, weapons poised and on high alert, there's a new sense of dread that forms in the back of his mind; what if you're not here after all? what if the mask was bluffing and you're already dead?

johnny grits his teeth and shakes his head to rid himself of that damning train of thought. he couldn't afford to think like that, he wouldn't, but another corridor of empty rooms has his heart sinking like an anchor to his stomach. he's trying to stay hopeful, but every dead end only makes him feel worse.

price grips his shoulder, firm and comforting, with a look in his eye to match as he catches johnny's gaze. "we'll find 'em, soap."

"i know." he replies, but there's a waver in his voice despite the certainty of his words. price doesn't release his gaze or his shoulder until he moves to follow the others.

he doesn't say much else as the search continues. the ringing in his ears is back, amplified by the eerie silence of the halls. he can feel the air getting colder after each empty room the clear.

the time passes arbitrarily, until there's one last room to check. johnny watches gaz and ghost pry it open, the sound of the lock breaking only just reaching him through the fog over his senses.

gaz pauses once the door swings open, his eyes locked onto something in the room as they widen dramatically. he still doesn't tear his gaze away as his jaw falls open, something frantic in the way he yells, "soap!"

a spark of hope strikes his heart and travels to the very ends of his limbs, a new burst of energy filling him as he shoves past his teammates to stand in the doorway and look into the room himself.

it's you.

curled into yourself in the corner of the damp cell, shivering with your face buried in your knees with your hands clamped over your ears. it's almost uncanny, how small you look. the tremble in your limbs, the fear in your quickened breaths, it was the exact opposite of how you should be, but despite it all…

it's really you.

johnny feels his heart swell painfully with relief, and without another second of hesitation he's skidding to his knees beside you and gripping the cold skin of your wrists. you let out a muffled sob at the contact, and johnny feels his blood turn cold when it meets his ears.

"don't!" you cry, weak and desperate. johnny's caught off guard with how you try to rip yourself away from him, the shakes that wrack your body only increasing when he keeps his hold on you. "get off! please– please don't!"

his heart cracks anew at the distress in your hoarse voice. he feels his eyes well up with hot tears that he has to fight to keep from falling.

"hey, it's me! it's johnny, it's your johnny! look at me, sweetheart, i'm here!" he tries to calm you with his words, keeping his voice low between you both, but you keep your eyes screwed tightly shut.

johnny lets go of your wrists to cup your face in his hands instead, gently turning your head towards him and using his thumbs to stroke soft shapes into your cheeks. the gesture makes your breath hitch audibly, and your eyes slowly open to meet his. "that's it, I'm here, i got ye, yer alright."

"don't– i don't– i can't…" whatever you're trying to say is broken up by the effort it takes you to keep breathing through your sobs. you still try to lean away from his touch, but johnny doesn't let you move far. he has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back his own breakdown.

"no-one's gonna hurt you again, darlin', i promise ye." he murmurs, searching your glassy eyes while he continues to smooth his thumbs over the skin of your face, wet with your tears. "c'mere, i've got ye…"

with little more resistance from you, johnny gathers you into his arms and presses you close to his chest, they way he'd been dreaming off all the time you'd been apart. he pays no mind to the way the hard ground digs into his knees, and instead focuses on feeling the rise and fall of your ribcage against his own, your heartbeat under his fingertips, and the very real sound of your voice.

"you– j-johnny…" you stutter, your hiccuping sobs gradually fading away as you grip the bulk of his vest like a lifeline. "are you… real?"

"i'm real, darlin'," his voice cracks despite his efforts to stay strong for you. he presses his lips to the tip of your head in a lingering kiss, partly so you won't see the glossy tears in his eyes as he tries to stamp them down. "i'm here. i swear, i'm never lettin' you out of my sight again."

the simple feeling of your weight leaning against him is so overwhelming he's worried he might faint. he lets you calm down, rubbing soothing patterns up and down your arms and back and wherever he can reach, even when the position becomes uncomfortable and the dampness from the floor has seeped into his bones.

eventually though, he does pull back, softly shush you when you protest in the thought that he's leaving you, and cups your head in his warm hands.

"let's get you home, eh?" he smiles. your uncertain eyes dart between his for a moment, searching, before you nod. it's weak and hesitant, but the gesture makes his grin stretch a little wider all the same. "c'mon then, think ye can walk?"

johnny sighs when you shake your head, looking down and seeming almost embarrassed by your frail condition as if any of this was your fault. if he could kill that bastard again, he wouldn't even hesitate.

it's no bother to him to haul you up with him, holding you carefully against his chest with an arm under your knees and the other around your back. you still gingerly grip the top of his vest, your free arm looping itself around his neck and pulling yourself as close to him as you can muster. he gives a concise nod to the others, crowded in the doorway, and they begin the trek back to the helo.

the sunlight causes you to bury your face in the crook of johnny's neck, shielding your eyes from the blindingly bright rays. he allows himself a moment of distraction as they cross the clearing to revel in the feeling. he'd feel the sun on his face again, but he'd never again take for granted a single moment he spends with you.

they're almost to the edge of the clearing, almost departed from that haunted place with a graveyard of mangled bodies in their wake, but he doesn't quite make it to the treeline.

a single gunshot echoes through the clearing and before any of them can react, the shell has found its mark in johnny's leg. the force and shock of it sends him tumbling to the floor, scrambling through the blossoming pain to brace his fall on his arms so he won't land on top of you.

there's yelling, returning fire, but johnny can only focus on covering your body with his own, shielding you from any harm that might find you. even through the agony travelling up his thigh, even when the air is still again, and even when his own eyes are threatening to follow yours in falling shut and succumbing to the weakness that drags him down.

when did you shut your eyes? johnny slips his hand under your hand, grunting in his chest as his weight shifts, and to his horror his fingers come back red.

no, no no. he only just got you back, he cannot lose you again.

he doesn't even register that he's shouting – for help, a medic, something – until his weight is being heaved over ghost's shoulder and you're being taken by price, the cracks in his stony expression only fuel the sick dread making its way up johnny's throat.

back in the helo, in no time but he doesn't remember the journey, he tries to push the medic away who starts working on his leg, slurring for them to help you first. they ignore him, obviously, and if he had any energy left he would've berated them for not listening. ghost holds him down as they secure the tourniquet, and as his vision finally begins to fade, he turns his head to the side so you can be the last thing he sees as he slips into unconsciousness.

for once, he doesn't dream of you.

there are no images of your body, laying motionless under the rubble. he sleeps in blissful oblivion, his head completely silent, and wakes a day and a half later feeling more rested than he ever has despite the wound in his leg.

simon is by his bedside when he finally opens his eyes. it's late, the room dark apart from the fluorescent light bleeding in from the gap under the door and simon's phone highlighting his balaclava. he notices the moment johnny turns his head to watch him, because of course he does, and reaches over to turn on the lamp on the side table without a word.

"mornin', lt…" johnny mumbles, voice hoarse and eyes heavy as he pushes through the tiredness clinging to his senses to sit up in his bed. the light is abrasive to his eyes, but he blinks through the sting and manages a lazy smile towards simon.

"evenin', more like." he replies, a trace of humour in the way his eyes lift at the corners. "been asleep nearly thirty-eight hours."

johnny baulks at that, suddenly feeling a lot more awake from the cold shock that passes through him. "thirty–? jesus wept, i need'ta–" he sputters, wide-eyed as he throws the blankets from his legs and starts to get up, "i need'ta see 'em, how–"

before he can get his feet on the ground however, he's pushed back by simon's hand on his chest, forcing him to sit back and acknowledge the pain radiating from his thigh.

"they're fine, johnny." simon tells him, punctuated with a roll of his eyes before he continues, "been in and out of consciousness, but they're stable."

johnny sighs deeply, relief flooding through his body as he slumps back against his pillows. you're okay, you're alive, you're here, and you're home and safe. his thoughts have already begun racing and despite how much his wounds are aching, he's already set his mind to how he's going to see you as soon as possible.

as if sensing his plotting, simon leans forward to catch his gaze and even through the mask johnny can see the look he's sending him.

"i'm goin' back to bed, so don't do anythin' stupid." simon begins, pushing himself to stand using the arms of his chair and narrowing his eyes as he leans even closer. "if you rip these stitches, i'll put 'em back in myself, clear?"

"crystal, lt." johnny nods, and simon holds his stare as one last warning before he turns to leave – but not without giving him a firm pat just below his bandages that makes him wince, feeling the silent threat behind the gesture as he watches simon exit silently out into the hall.

johnny swings his legs over the side of the bed the second the door swings shut again, a sharp intake of breath following the movement as his weight shifts. surely he could get to where you are without making his wound any worse, he hard could it be?

he makes it two doors down before he realises that this might've been a bad idea. the muscles of his thigh burn and his breath comes out in heavy, stuttered huffs, but despite the strain on his injured body he refuses to give up before he's seen that you're okay with his own two eyes.

the fourth door he peeks through is where he finds you, the sight of your sleeping form instantly overpowering the pain in his leg. he shoulders open the door and beelines in a limp to your bedside, his gaze never once leaving your face until he's close enough to grasp your hand in a slow, featherlight touch like you'd disappear if he made a wrong move. you don't react as he strokes your knuckles, but johnny is more than content to just sit with you, perched on the edge of your bed and taking in the way your breath fills your lungs, the gentle thrum of your pulse under his fingertips on your wrist.

time passes easily like this, until the minutes have gone by and he can find the strength to lift himself into the bed beside you, snaking his arm around your neck and shoulder to hold you close as he settles in, careful not to agitate any of your own injuries.

"i missed you, my love," johnny whispers, dragging his fingers up and down your arm, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, "i missed you so much…"

your fingers twitch in his hold, the steady rhythm of your breathing hitching as a shaky sigh leaves you. johnny freezes, his hand stilling on your bicep and his eyes growing wide.

"john–" the sound of his name passing your lips pulls him out of his shock, and he pulls back to watch your eyes twitch and flutter open. your voice is raspy and still weak, but not even an angel choir could sound sweeter to him. "johnny…?"

"i'm here–" his voice breaks, but he continues anyway, "i'm here, i got ye." he murmurs, careful to keep his voice low despite how much he wants to cry from joy. "how ye feelin'? you comfy, sweetheart? any pain?" he asks, shifting the both of you to sit against the pillows and keep you nestled against his side.

"i'm okay–" your hoarse response is interrupted by a cough that devolves into wet hiccups, your hands curling tightly into his shirt as you look up at him, "it– am i– it's–"

"shushsh, i'm here darlin', i've got ye." he coos, his eyes welling up to match yours, resuming his soothing touch over your arm. you stay like that, for minutes that could've been hours, gazing into each other's eyes while you softly cry and johnny comforts you.

it aches him to see you cry, but he can't help but awe at how beautiful you still manage to be, with cuts and bruises and tears littering your face. his heart swells in his chest with the love he holds for you.

your hand finds its place on johnny's cheek, your staggered breaths calming down at last. he covers it with his own to feel more of your skin on his. a wince crosses your expression as you try to lean up towards him, but he stops you before you hurt yourself any further and leans his forehead against yours.

you pull his face even closer, digging your fingertips into his cheek in an almost uncomfortable sensation, before brushing your lips against his in something like disbelief. "am i dreaming?"

"no, my love," he utters against your skin, taking your bottom lip between his teeth, nudging your cheek with his nose, "this is real."

your breath hitches again when he closes the little space left between you and presses his lips to yours, encapsulating you in a kiss that holds every ounce of desperation he's been holding on to. it's passionate, all-encompassing, and it reminds him of the first time he kissed you all those years ago. your free hand travels up to his hair, tangling the longer strands around your fingers and drawing a groan from deep in his chest.

he's reluctant to let you when you pull away for air, tasting the salt from your last stray tears as he chases your lips.

"say it again…?" you ask in a murmur, your eyes fluttering open again. the look you give him, one of pure hope that you won't suddenly wake up alone, it makes johnny's heart miss a beat.

he squeezes your hand, turning slightly to leave a kiss on your palm. "it's real, bonnie. i'll die before i ever let you go again."

your mouth opens to say something, but you stop yourself just before you can choke the words out, fresh tears building in your eyes again. johnny gives you an encouraging nod, holding your gaze while you muster the courage to voice what you're thinking.

"i–" you begin, your words catching on a lump in your throat, "i watched you leave without me, i had to watch the helicopter disappear and, and you…" your voice fades, eyes darting between his while they gloss with unshed tears once again.

"sweetheart…" he frowns, his heart breaking anew from the anguish that he never wants to hear in your voice.

you swallow thickly, your hold on his hair tightening ever so slightly. "i thought– i didn't think you'd ever find me…"

"i'd always find you." johnny replies, his resolute tone leaving no room for argument. he touches his forehead to yours again and lowers his voice to continue, "even if i had to go tae the ends of the earth, i'd never stop lookin' fer you."

his words release the fresh tears you've been holding back, and with a quiet sob you drop your face to the crook of his neck, gripping his hair and face tighter still. johnny softly shushes you, rocking the two of you back and forth as much as he can with you held close in his arms.

"you're staying with me tonight…" your voice is muffled, spoken into his neck and sending goosebumps rippling across his skin. a comforting nostalgia follows your words, one he can't help but chuckle at.

"would'nae have it any other way, darlin'."

#soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #mw2 x reader #mw3 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #roosterr writes

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misted-dream · 4 months

Text

🏎️ catch my drift ⋆ ๋࣭ ⭑ racer rival!mark x fem!reader

content | rivals to lovers, racing!au, slight slow burn, smut, plot centred fic, mentions of passed loved ones, some fluff

warnings | unprotected sex, head, praise(?), alcohol consumption, profanity, allusion to drugging

word count | 14k (2k of just pure smut)

synopsis | it's been a few years since you've started street racing. slowly, but surely you've been climbing the ranks and now, you're considered one of the best on the scene. however, the emergence of a totally new face sparks... interesting discussions. how could it be that no one's ever seen him before, and yet, some might argue he's on par with your level. with the end of the year race coming, you've got a lot more to prove this time round with a new enemy hot on your wheels.

author's note | i know absolutely nothing about cars but i always found the appeal of being a racer so 😟😟 anyways!! this is def on the longer side but for my first one, i decided to be a little self-indulgent. hope you give it a read!

night lights blur into a singular entity as you speed through streets, intersections, and shortcuts. the body of your hair whipped up by the wind—you know you should be wearing a helmet, you know it full well, but you rushed out of the door tonight and simply forgot. your fingers grip onto the handles of your motorcycle even tighter as your bike accelerates even more. the stinging as wind enters your eyes is becoming nearly impossible to ignore, but you persist, knowing there's only a little bit left to go.

extending your fingers to the brake, you slowly begin to come to a halt in front of a bright white sign, flashing: open 24 hours! sat on the curb below the sign was haechan. he doesn't even wince at your abrupt appearance, no flinching at how close you stopped next to him. "took you long enough," he utters without looking up from his phone.

"that took me 7 minutes—10 at worst," you shoot back.

he gives an overtly exaggerated sigh before mumbling, "whatever," but made sure it was loud enough so you can hear. shoving his phone in his pocket, he springs to his feet, "ramen?"

after pushing your bike into the somewhat hidden employees' parking slots and resting it against the wall, you follow haechan into the convenience store.

soon enough, the two of you come out with instant ramen bowls that are hot to the touch. haechan sits back down on his spot on the curb, being careful not to spill any of the hot water onto himself and you do the same.

"so," haechan says in a tone that almost mimics an announcement. "how are you feeling?"

while in the midst of setting your bowl down next to you, a breath escapes you, nearing on the edge of a scoff. "great. thanks for asking," you put your chopsticks over the top of the foil lid of the bowl.

"really?" though you're not looking directly at him, you can picture haechan's eyebrows shooting up as he says that.

you lift your head to make direct contact with haechan's gaze. "why would i lie?"

haechan doesn't shy away from your stare, in fact, he seems to study your expression for any sign of disjointedness. after a beat or two, he resumes, "people can get nervous, you know," he breaks away from looking at you to pick up his bowl of ramen, "like most of the population does. you don't have to hide it," one of his shoulders rises as if to imitate a shrug.

using the palm of your hand, you push on his arm slightly swaying him away from you. "asshole," you mutter, evoking a muffled chuckle from haechan.

you go to take the chopsticks off of the lid and uncover the bowl; steam rises, hitting your face.

"i'm kidding," haechan chews, and then swallows impassively. "i know you have nothing to be nervous about."

"hopefully, not."

"did i suddenly shake you up or something? you sounded confident enough a minute ago."

you use your chopsticks to give your ramen a stir before bringing it up to your mouth and carefully blowing on it. "no," you say before stuffing a mouthful of noodles into your cheeks. "but who knows what will happen? like, last year, those freak accidents?"

haechan seems to give what you said a careful thought. "i think we all know they weren't just 'accidents,'" he pauses at his last word. "people always take the closing race so seriously--"

"yeah, and you know why," you jump in, one side of your mouth still full.

haechan rolls his eyes. "yeah, yeah, prize money—all that. but, they act like it's worth sabotaging other people for it."

you sit with his words for a minute. they ring a certain truth to it, but to some extent, you can also understand the motive behind the so-called "sabotage" that haechan was talking about. you were sure that you would never stoop so low—but again, you've never been put into a position where you had to cross that line.

the two of you continue wolfing down your midnight snack in prolonged silence.

"renjun asked about you the other day."

and with that simple sentence, it catches you off guard. you try your best to stifle a cough by sipping on some of the ramen broth—salty to the point that it reminds you why you shouldn't have done that. "what did he say?" despite sparing no effort to sound unaffected at the sound of his name, a waver in your voice can be heard if you paid close enough attention.

haechan finishes the remaining broth in his bowl before giving you an answer. "you know, the same old." an answer that's barely an answer.

you're unsure whether you should prod to find out more, or if you should just leave the topic here. you know what you would find out if you asked, anyway, so even though your lips opened up to respond, nothing came out of you.

"he's worried about you."

the word strikes a familiar chord within you. worry. as expected, it's nothing you didn't already know; he's always been worried.

"i'm not telling you this to try and change your mind about anything; i know you well enough to know you won't," haechan continues, "but maybe just talk to him."

"and say what?" instead of sounding defensive, your tone instead comes across as helpless, and haechan simply shrugs. "we're never going to see eye to eye on this. he wants me to stop racing. if i do now, what was it all for? if i don't win now, then everything i've done, i've done for nothing."

haechan inhales a deep breath. he lifts up his hand and lands two pats on your knee. "then, tell him that," he adjusts his body so he can get up on his feet, "the both of you are stubborn, and i don't want to play middleman anymore."

haechan stands towering over you still sat on the curb, his shadow casted over the entirety of your body. he extends a hand toward you, a sheepish grin overtaking his face and you know what he's about to ask you: "be a gentleman and give me a ride home?"

you take his hand, pulling yourself up from the ground. making sure the annoyance is visible on your face, you cock your head in the direction of your bike, "sure, i guess."

...

after dropping haechan off at his apartment, you return to yours. the rest of the night seems to pass like a blur. and before you know it, you're in front of your apartment door, trying to forcibly push it open. the door's lock has been jammed for at least a couple of months. telling your landlord would do absolutely nothing and a strong budge is good enough to get it open. so you're in front of your apartment door, putting your all into getting this damn thing to move, and it does after a few attempts.

you drag yourself inside, and once again, having to put your weight into making sure the front door is locked. in all honesty, you would up and leave here any second if you could, but you're barely making the rent on time here, so forget any wishful thinking of finding another place to stay here in the city.

plopping down on your slightly decrepit beanbag, your mind starts jumping back to the closing race. the last race of the year, where the prize is always the most considerable. this year, there's a hundred grand on the line.

maybe, wishful thinking isn't so bad, after all.

you push harder and harder onto the pedal until your toes curl. in your sight, there is nothing but the finish line. in this instance, the finish line being where haechan stood with a stopwatch in his hand. your back tyres leave skid mark after skid mark on the concrete of the desolate parking lot. you speed past where haechan stood, so fast to the point where he didn't even register in your peripheral. and you come to a stop, turning so that your vehicle is now horizontal in relation to the track. kicking open the driver's door, you step out, almost with a kick in your step. there's certainty in your head that this had to be your best time.

"how was that?" you shouted over to haechan, who was now stalking over to where you had stopped.

he waited until he had reached within an arm's distance from you to speak, "not bad—1:27.03"

you exhale a deep breath, puffing out your cheeks. "1:27's better than 1:29," you had bested your own personal record. haechan holds his hand up and you meet his gesture with your own. he gives your hand a firm shake up in the air, "good job," a slight, but sincere smile appearing on his lips.

a sudden vroom catches both of your attentions from a distance. you turn your head to the entrance of the parking lot. a black blob, somewhat resembling the shape of a motorcycle, swiftly darts from one side of your vision to the other from behind the wire fence that surrounds the lot. "who's that?" you mutter.

you've never seen anyone here before. you thought that this lot was just a deserted junkyard that happened to be of good use to you, and no other racer bothered to drive out here, and to what? to practice? they simply roamed and tyrannised the streets for that.

then again, the same shadowy figure blitz past the entrance gate, but this time in the opposite direction. "they're leaving?" haechan voices, watching the figure as attentively as you.

that's weird, you thought, who just drives into a dead end and then turns around to leave immediately?

"huh," haechan pokes his tongue into his cheek.

as if you've been reminded of something, you hastily drag your phone out of your back pocket to check the time. "shit," you mutter under your breath, "i need to get to my shift." you turn on your heels, taking strides toward your car. leaning over the driver's seat, you dig around in the bag sat in the passenger for your keys. your fingertips quickly rifle through your belongings until you feel something cold and metal. swinging your keys into the palm of your hands, you walk back over to haechan. "she's yours," the pitch of your voice going up near the end of your statement, making it sound more like a question.

"i won't hurt your baby, don't worry," haechan responds to the clear concern in your voice with a teasing smile in his eyes.

you take purposeful steps toward the entrance of the parking lot, your bike parked right next to it. sliding your helmet off of the handle, you flip it over atop your head, each action carried out with an awareness of time. without hesitation, you secure on your helmet, swing one leg over your bike, and switch on your engine. a blare erupts from behind you—haechan is already lined up for the entrance with you being his only obstacle. fighting back the urge to flash up a gesture at him, you reluctantly begin to drive off to your shift.

...

"hey," you greet your coworker, almost out of breath, as you stagger into the convenience store right on time for your shift.

"i thought you weren't gonna show up, again," she comments, clearly impatient. eagerly, she makes her way out in front of the cashier counter.

you mumble a quick apology, and she doesn't respond further. she goes into the employees' lounge to collect her stuff; two minutes later, she's back and she's clocking out without a word.

seeing as there's no one in the store right now, you enter your pin to the employees' only room. there's a small circular desk in the middle of the cramped room with two teal sofa chairs next to it. you set down your bag, your jacket, and your helmet before getting out again.

as you straighten your shirt, you start thinking about the next several boring hours you're obligated to spend in this stuffy shop as you make your way behind the counter. immediately, as if it's muscle memory, your head tilts upwards to the right side of the store where the tv is positioned. on screen, they seem to be showing some celebrity reality show that you've seen once or twice but haven't kept up with. you watch absentmindedly, counting down the hours you have left before you can go home. 8 hours. 8 hours until it's 11pm. 8 hours until closing. whatever made you pick the evening shift over the morning shift, anyway? now that you think about it, 7-3 seems a lot more desirable than 3-11.

as you're lost in your regretting your work decisions, the door bell chimes, snapping you back into consciousness.

a manly figure steps through, dressed in ash grey jeans paired with a brown leather jacket, visibly worn. the figure's face is covered by a jet black helmet, one similar to yours. the figure stops in front of the glass doors, gloved hands reaching up to cast off the helmet. once it's off, the man tucks his helmet into the crook of his left elbow and attempts to adjust his hair in a rather shaggy manner with his other hand.

your eyes dart outside through the glass panes; a black motorcycle.

as the man browses through the aisles lackadaisically, you try to pay him no mind, returning your gaze back to the mediocre reality tv.

he takes several minutes, walking up and down, then down and up again through the display racks, only picking something up once. then, he approaches the counter, helmet still in his arms. he sets down a bottle of water in front of you, "can i have a pack of those?" he gestures behind you, pointing to the cigarette stand. you pick out the brand he's pointing at and scan it through on the register, then repeating the same with his bottle of water.

"that'll be 8.99."

the man sets his helmet down on the edge of the counter, careful not to knock any of the gum packets on display off. his arm reaches behind him and pulls out a worn leather wallet. as he's digging through to find his card, or cash, you don't know for sure, your eyes dart back outside. "that your bike outside?"

he seems to be caught off-guard by your small talk. the man's head snaps to look at you, eyes wide, eyebrows raised, and his lips slightly ajar. "uh- yeah," he returns his attention onto his wallet. now, his fingers look to be struggling to pull a card out.

you nod your head, almost like in approval. "what model is it?" truth be told, you knew what model it was, you even knew the make. but something about the man standing before you made you want to keep talking to him, regardless of if it was small talk.

"tuono 660," basically confirming what you thought you knew, "aprilia."

he hands you his card and you take it in your hands, m. lee embossed along the bottom. you hover over the card reader until a beep sounds out. you return his card wearing a small smile on your expression, "would you like your receipt?" instinctually returning to your customer service tone.

"no... thanks," he replies, followed by a tight-lipped smile. he shoves his wallet back inside his pocket and grabs ahold of both his water and cigarettes in one hand.

"thank you," your much practiced tone and expression still dripping on each word.

the man catches your eyes for a split second, before he turns his head, then his whole body to exit the store.

a sudden eruption of laughter comes from the tv but it fades into the background of your mind. the man is now outside on the curb, pocketing his pack of cigs into his jeans before climbing onto his bike.

"haechan!" you exclaim as you push the door closed behind you. it's surprise visits like this that makes haechan sometimes regret giving you a key to his apartment. "helloo?" you call out again.

you make your way over to the kitchen island when you hear a door click. footsteps begin to shuffle on the wooden floorboards.

"yn," a curt voice speaks out.

the voice sends a sudden jolt through your body. you lift your head to see a pair of brown eyes fixated on you. "renjun," you greet him but the enthusiasm you had a second ago is now nowhere to be heard.

in your head, you debate whether you should ask how he's doing, you know, normal friendly stuff people do. would it be weird? surely not. but before you can reach a consensus in your mind, renjun cuts your thoughts off.

"haechan's in the bathroom."

your lips mimic an 'oh.' perhaps this is the one time that you regret haechan giving you his key. you purse your lips together, an "um," tumbling out of you. and now you're back to debating whether or not you should ask him about his day. seconds tick by, made evident by the clock hung up in the centre of their living room. seconds that feels like hours.

haechan bursts out from the bathroom, curses slipping past his lips. thank god, was the only thought you can form. you don't know how much more of the awkward silence you can take from renjun.

"yn! oh my god," haechan demands your attention from the other man standing right across from the pair of you.

"what?" you blurt out, unsure whether haechan's franticness is genuine, or if he heard the scene that went down before and decided to be a saving grace.

"listen!" his thumbs scroll on his phone at a rate that you're sure he can't be comprehending anything.

after waiting a few seconds for him to follow up on his eagerness and having been met with nothing, you prod a bit, "go on, then. i'm listening."

his thumbs suddenly stop, eyes scanning the lines of text rapidly on his screen. "they're saying some new kid won the league race last night." his words almost slur into one another at the pace which he is speaking with.

"...so?"

haechan must've seen the genuine confusion that's struck your face; he seems stuck in a trance-like state for a moment as he tries to register your hint of nonchalance.

"you don't get it!" he clicks his tongue and his eyes go back to his phone. "he won, by like- a lot. his time was only 3 seconds away from yours."

and that's when you begin to understand the sort of panic seeped into haechan's demeanor. in all honesty, he's acting more panicked than you are, or should be.

"what- who's telling you this?"

"people we know- it doesn't matter! what matters is they're saying he might beat you at closing this year."

you lean over to catch a glimpse of what haechan is intently looking at. your head turns to the back of you to the hallway leading to renjun's room, and he's not there anymore; his door shut as well. you would've said something about renjun to haechan but the both of you are rather preoccupied right now.

"there's no way," you whisper under your breath, more so to relieve your own disbelief than anything. "who is this guy?"

haechan scrolls up in the groupchat thread that he's in, until he lands on a picture sent by someone who you don't recognise. "i don't know," he clicks on the picture, zooming in. it obviously was taken with the subject being unaware of it. "they're saying his name- well, at least his racing name, is drift."

"a little on the nose, don't you think?" you mutter as your eyes study the picture haechan is showing you. the man pictured is in the distance, in the middle of taking his helmet off. dressed in an outfit you've seen before. that same brown leather jacket and the grey jeans that looks black due to the poor resolution. "i've seen him before," you admit to haechan.

his head turns to you as fast as humanly possible, "you have?"

you give him a nonchalant nod of the head, the corners of your mouth dropping down like in understanding.

"why do you not seem even a bit concerned?" haechan questions.

"should i be?" you distance yourself from haechan as you approach their fridge. maybe you should be, but humility has never been a strong virtue of yours.

haechan watches your every action carefully, even as you reach inside of his fridge to grab a cold soda into your hands. "i'm telling you, yn, this guy is good."

the league races sound exactly like the opposite of what they are. they're the smaller street races that take place right before the closing race for people to blow some steam off; kind of... take the pressure off the closing for some. point is, they're unimportant. to you, at least. which is why for as long as you've been racing, you've never attended one, to save some gas for the closing, that's what you've convinced yourself.

your fingernails dig below the tab of the can and a release pops. 'i guess i'll have to see for myself," you swig back a mouthful of sweet, bubbly soda. "when's the next league race?"

boring, boring, boring.

that's how every one of your shifts go. but you don't have a choice. well, you do. either you work, or get evicted, and it's pretty clear to you which one you prefer. the only strand of motivation you're holding onto at this point, is the fact that after you win closing, you can maybe start looking for a better job somewhere else. maybe even move out of that shitty apartment. but that's after the closing, and haechan would like to remind you that that's even if you win.

and as if scripted, the topic of debate between you and your best friend for the past few days steps through the glass doors to the convenience store. you don't know how you recognised him that quickly, you don't know why you recognised him, but you know it's him. once again. m. lee, huh. drift. you still haven't grown fond of his stage name.

today, he's wearing grey, baggy sweatpants, with the same leather jacket you've seen him in on all occasions you've seen him. he's browsing through the aisles again, with a cap obstructing your view of his face. you watch him more carefully this time than before. looking outside, no bike this time.

he walks over to the row of refrigerators situated on the left side of the store and pulls out a can of beer. his actions seemed to be performed with a certain kind of preciseness, meticulousness.

he saunters over to you, stood behind your counter.

you watch as he places the can in front of you, head down, once again, looking for his wallet. it's like you have deja vu. instead of scanning the can through, your fixation on watching his every action overrides your muscle memory.

"so, are you new 'round here?"

he looks at you through his brows, the same deer in headlights expression he wore the first time you've seen him. however, his lips quickly break into a small curve. "you're really fond of small talk, aren't you?"

you don't know what to make of his tone—half teasing, half amused, but his gaze is cold and hard, despite the smile lifting on the corners of his mouth.

"just being friendly," you break eye contact with him, a slight gratefulness twinges within you for your duties as a cashier as you go to scan his can of beer through to the system.

"well, in that case, yes. i am new around here."

you go to meet his gaze again, now with a small, satisfied grin on your own face. as subtle as you can, you scan his outfit, or what you can see of it with the counter in the way. the hems of his leather jacket washed out in colour; a lighter brown as compared to the darker shade on the sleeves. a light discolouration throughout that you can't deem whether as intentional or not. a sudden urge overtakes you.

"do you race?"

his off-guard expression is now back again, "sorry?"

"i saw your bike last time," you try to say casually, "it's modified, isn't it?"

he purses his lips tightly together, eyebrows lifted as if you caught him in a lie. then, his expression softens. "yeah, it is. you know quite a bit about bikes, i assume?"

"just a bit."

a smirk now dragging on his lips, "i'm delighted that you think i'm good enough to race." something about the way he enunciated his sentence made you pause for a split second. "so, how much?" his finger gestures toward the beer on the counter, drops of condensation beginning to pool at the base of it.

it should be here, you think to yourself as you begin to approach a rather quiet part of the city. haechan said it was going to be here. he would've went with you, like he'd said, if renjun—his roommate—wasn't conveniently out of town tonight.

you take a turn onto the main road, and sure enough, there's a crowd of people standing on the pavements on all sides of the intersection a little bit further down. indistinct murmuring begins to fill your ears. the sound of bottles hitting the concrete ground, laughter, music, all of it. as you get closer and closer, a heavy smell of smoke also enters your airways.

you approach the crowd a bit more, but keep your distance—about 6 feet away from the perimeter of the group of people. suddenly, several heads turn in your direction. the scene is unsettling, you've never seen it from this perspective. it's as if they're all being remotely controlled as more and more heads turn. they're not looking at you though but—

without warning, a car speeds past you.

speed is an understatement; it was in your peripheral vision for less than a second before it zooms off down the rest of the main street. right as the car passes you, cheers erupt from the conglomerate of people, all of them following the car's trajectory. a loud voice booms, seemingly out of nowhere.

"and there we have it! newcomer drift takes another one!"

there's a moment of stillness before another car zooms by, one that you recognise. the voice continues without missing a beat, "and revy comes in at second!"

the crowd of people all start to move up the street towards the two cars that have now slowly come to a halt up at the next intersection, their movements reminiscent of a stampede of sorts. giving into curiosity, you follow the crowd but with the same distance you kept as before.

cheer and fanfare can probably be heard from several blocks away. excited screaming strikes your eardrums, and before you can even hope that it quiets down at least a little bit, even more screaming fills the atmosphere. you tilt your head to get a better view at what everyone is cheering at. and sure enough, a familiar silhouette steps out. the man raises a palm as if to wave at the crowd of people who all cheered instantaneously louder for him the second he did so. he walks toward the crowd, and the voice booms once again all over this part of the street. you see a boy, presumably a teenager, approach the man with a mic in one hand and a speaker in the other. the boy drops his microphone as he goes to whisper something in the man's ear. of course, you can't hear anything, but you're also a bit too far to even attempt to read his lips. it's hard to say you're not intrigued by all this commotion. and for what? for the man who you've now decided frequents the convenience store you work at? you need to find out more, we'll call it researching your competition.

you cut your way through the crowd. cars are still zooming past that first intersection, which is now behind you, but no one seems to pay them any mind.

you're behind the first row of people within the crowd and you're just about to come out on the other side when a familiar face peers out from the side, startling you just a tiny bit.

"surprised you turned up," her voice is silky smooth. a too perfect beam tugging on her lips.

"minjeong," you try your best to mirror her smile right back at her. you have no energy for trivial smack talk tonight.

"i always thought you were too good for the leagues... what changed?" her charm is undeniable. the expression on her face still as polite as ever, but you know better than to assume what you can see.

"nothing, just wanted a change of scenery."

before minjeong replies, someone else steps in to join your conversation. "come on, we have to go," they don't seem to be addressing you. you do them the favour of letting yourself fade into the background as your eyes search again for man you've been focused on prior. at that second, the two of you stare directly at each other. you force yourself to look away but you can't, it's like there's a magnetic field surrounding just the two of you. he turns his head away first, refocusing his attention to the teenage boy who is still stood next to him.

"we'll see you around, yn," minjeong waves goodbye to you but instead of rotating her wrist, she flutters her fingers lightly. her words spoke with such careful calculation, and yet her voice as sweet as honey. you eke out a small, courteous smile; no point in calling her out on her bullshit tonight.

as you're watching minjeong and her friend walk off into an alley, someone else is headed towards you. you don't notice until you turn your head and-

"so, we're stalking now?" he stands a little bit taller than you, a glimmer in his eyes as he's staring down at you. this man is an enigma. how could he come off as shy one second back at your work, and here, he's completely charismatic. must be in his element.

the people around you seems to take notice of the pair of you, or maybe just him, but you've grown used to scenes like this; it's not like you've never been to a race before where there's an attractive racer that everyone seems to go weak in the knees for.

"you flatter yourself," you can't hold back the urge to bat your lashes—just once—at him.

"if i didn't know better, i would think so," he drags his words out one by one. his response causes you to wrinkle your brows, not sure what to say to that, which earned a light chuckle out of him. "you think i don't know who you are?" a playfulness ringing in his tone. is he teasing you right now? had he known this whole time?

"how did you-?"

a chorus of voices flare up in the middle of the crowd. you turn on your heels to see people running off in every direction. suddenly, the same teenage boy from before is propped up on others, shouting out, "someone called the cops!"

immediately, you turn back around. you can feel a firm grasp on your wrist pulling you in the direction of the alley that minjeong and her friend walked into earlier. for a second, you're stood still where you are, the panic of everyone else around you freezes you to the spot. then, you hear a "come on!" from the man holding your wrist, and before you know it, you let yourself get hauled away in midst of the chaos into leather jacket man's car.

wordlessly, he starts his engine and speeds off into... you don't know where, yet, but far enough away from where the gathering was. once the two of you are at enough distance away from the race, he starts decelerating, but shows no indication that you will be stopping any time soon. you look over to the driver's seat, his gaze is fixated on the road ahead and you're not sure whether you should make conversation.

you sit in silence for about 5 minutes as you watch out of the window. you can tell that you're getting further and further away from the centre of the city, and in fact, you're nearing the beach that runs along the coast.

it wasn't long until you turn into the parking lot, and finally, come to a stop. he unclicks his seatbelt, provoking you to do the same. he flips the handle on his door and gets out, still without a word. you watch as he zips up his jacket, stuffs his hands into his pockets, and crouch slightly to look at you through his windows. he tilts his head in the direction of the beach which you took as a signal to get out of the car as well.

as soon as you step out onto the tarmac parking lot, a cool evening breeze sweeps right past you. with the wind caught up in your hair, you clasp your hands together to gain some warmth. leather jacket man is already headed for the shoreline, a lax pattern in his steps, making it easy for you to catch up to him.

"congratulations," you break the silence once you're at the side of him. he looks at you, and you continue walking down the beach. "for winning leagues tonight," you follow up.

he stops walking. when you peer back at him, you're met with the same playful expression that was on his face back at the race. "thanks," a glint reflected in his teeth. "sorry about... dragging you back there," he bends at his waist, and then sits down on the soft sand shimmering under the moonlight.

you take a step towards him, and then decide to join him on the ground. your fingers sink into the sand as you're setting yourself down. waves lap over and over at the shoreline, the body of the ocean twinkling under the void of stars up above.

"so you knew, huh?" you grab a handful of sand and delicately let it fall off your fingers.

he extends his legs and leans back on his hands that rested behind his torso. "how could i have not?" an air of confidence interweaved within his voice. you turn your head towards him, and he looks to be biting back a cocky smirk, "gotta know your enemies, right?"

you're not sure which part of his sentence you should address. "know?" what does he know about you? and it didn't register within you that he saw you as an enemy, as a threat before.

"alright, then, since you know so much about me, it's my turn to ask you something." you dust off the sand on your hands and reposition yourself so that your body faces him—your legs criss-crossed with each other.

"shoot."

"what's your name?"

he gives you a suspicious look; a slight tug at his lips and furrowed brows. he pushes himself off one hand to lean in closer towards you, "well, did you not hear the announcer? i think he said my name pretty loud and clear when i passed that finish line."

you roll your eyes, seriously considering the idea of shoving sand down his throat so he could stop with his mockery. "do you know mine?"

without missing a beat, he replies, "yn."

"so what's yours?"

he looks straight at you, a face full of careful consideration, before he gives in. "mark," a smile plastered on his face that you can't describe as other than 'dorky.'

you repeat his name under your breath, attention now back to the sand between the two of you.

a brief minute passes by as you two listen to the ocean's waves rippling quietly.

"i'm guessing it was you that day at the junkyard?" mark asks.

and so the puzzle completes itself in your mind, "you say that like i'm invading in on your space." a sudden gust of wind blows past you, sending a chill down your spine.

"it was my uncle's," mark hangs his head back, directing his gaze at the stars. "i'd recently just moved back so i didn't know it'd be empty. or that you'd be there." you watch mark watch the stars.

"what happened to it being your uncle's?"

mark's adam's apple dips as he gulps down a swallow. "he'd passed, not too long ago."

"oh..." you return to fidgeting with the sand under your fingertips, "i'm sorry for your loss."

"it happens," mark exhales a deep breath. you feel there's a change in conversation coming with the way he's readjusting his shirt, pulling down on its hem poking out from underneath his jacket. "anyway. you down to help me practice tomorrow?"

your eyebrows shoot up, not just at the sudden change in topic, but at his request, "help? you practice?" it's almost laughable.

"i mean, yeah," he shrugs, "the enemy of your enemy is a friend, right? we have plenty of shared enemies."

as promised, you show up the next day up at the parking lot that you're pretty sure you would've went to anyway regardless of if mark asked you to or not. after all, closing's in a week and you need to get whatever amount of practice in that you can.

sure enough, mark is already there. you park your car right at the entrance gate and you step out to see him controlling his vehicle expertly. at every turn, he steers sideways with a precision that's unrivalled to anything you've ever seen in person. his front wheels pointed in the opposite direction of his turn as the back tyres glide on the cement as if it was ice—a screech can heard as a result.

he begins to pick up his pace again and drive in your direction, his focus seemingly entirely on the front of your car. he wouldn't. it's not that you trust him, but he wouldn't put himself in a danger like that, would he?

and before he reaches the point where it'd be too late for him to swerve, he carries out another one of his perfectly controlled, drifted turns, stopping with his driver's side window facing right at you. you stand unflinching and notice that his window is rolled all the way down.

"flashy," you voice, "going for style points, are we?"

he juts his head out of his window. cheekily, he suggests, "you down for a race?"

not being one to back down, you agree. mark points to a spot in the middle of the parking lot and you get back into your car to follow him. you pull up right next to where mark is, rolling down your passenger's window so you can communicate with him. "how does a lap sound?"

"sounds good to me," mark smirks back at you.

you turn your head to face the vastness of the empty lot in front of you. mark counts down out loud from 3. you press down on the gas pedal, revving your engine. 2. your hand reaches for the gear stick. and 1. both of you shoot off into the distance, and unexpectedly, you're neck in neck with him. you push on harder on the pedal, gaining you a little bit of ground, which mark makes up for without hesitation.

the remainder of this little mock race carries on like this. you earn the lead for 2 seconds, then mark takes it back. then you're in the lead again, and... not anymore. as you're close to finishing your lap, you can tell you're just the tiniest bit behind mark. so, in a last ditch effort, you step on your pedal to the fullest, as hard as you can, allowing you to surpass him the most you have so far, and just as you're about to pass the finishing point again, you can see mark catching up to you. and like that, both of you have crossed into the second lap. it's impossible to tell which one of you took the lead at the end with just the naked eye.

mark's car comes to a slow.

you'd be lying to yourself if you said there wasn't even the slightest hint of frustration within you. no one has ever been that close to you before. sure, when you were just starting out. but not now. not when you've earned yourself the title of being known as the best in this city. needless to say, you're pissed. but not at mark.

you throw your head back onto the headrest, sighing a deep sigh.

mark makes his way around to your side of the vehicle. he rests one hand on the roof of your car and the other on his hip. "was that a just practice for you, or...?" a light pant in his voice.

"don't get cocky now." you gesture for him to back up. flinging open your door, you step out, pulling on the muscles of your traps as you stretch your neck.

he takes a single step closer to you. now he's standing a little too close for comfort, close enough that you can smell the woody notes of his cologne. "that take a lot out of you?"

"you got lucky, that's all." his gaze on you is unwavering, only moving away from your eyes to study the other parts of your face.

"i did, didn't i?" you catch his eyes flicker between yours and your lips.

an unsettling feeling sparks in the pit of your stomach. slowly, mark brings his hand up to your face. with his index finger, he traces from the back of your jawline to your chin. at the slight of his touch, you can feel a shiver running down you.

you can feel his warmth emanating off of him. bit by bit, he closes the gaping distance between the two of you. mark places his thumb on the other side of your jaw, gently guiding your face towards his.

but, something in you tells you to stop. stop whatever he's doing, stop yourself from giving into whatever he's doing.

you place a hand on his chest, met with the cold, harsh leather of his jacket. you drop your head, so that you're not facing him directly.

"i think..." at your words, mark releases the gentle hold he had on you and shuffles a step or two away from you. he clears his throat.

"i'm..." mark shuts his eyelids for a moment, "i'm sorry," his hands seem to begin to gesture something before he puts them in his pockets.

"no, no," you feel a slight shake of your head. a sudden train of thoughts rush through your mind. "i think i should go."

mark seems to mutter a small "yeah," as he backs away from your car.

...

"haechan, open your damn door right now," you call out as you're knocking so hard on haechan's bedroom door that it's sure to give out after another minute.

"i'm coming! i'm coming," you hear his voice from the other side. "god, you don't have to come breaking down my apartment every time; phones exist for a reason, y'know?" the handle twists and his door swings open.

your heart is practically pounding out of your chest. you had so much to tell him that you don't even know where to start. haechan stare at you blankly, "so, speak."

"mark! mark fucking lee-"

"sorry- is this someone that i'm supposed to know?"

you're pacing up and down the hallway of haechan's apartment, "yes! you do know him, it's that guy! that drift guy from the leagues."

"you're on first name basis with him?" he questions with a grin on his face that you know too well.

"it's not like that!" you take a pause in pacing, "i don't know, maybe it's like that- i just- ugh!"

haechan exhales and steps out of his doorway. he closes his door behind him, and begins to shuffle you towards the kitchen. "slow down, take a seat," he points at the kitchen stool, "you want a drink?"

"what- no, just listen!"

"i am, i am," haechan proclaims as he goes to grab a glass bottle of beer in the middle of the island as he sits on the stool facing you. "go on, then."

you tell him that you met mark—drift—back at the league race that he was supposed to go to with you the other night. then, about how mark took to you the beachside for whatever reason afterwards. then, today, you were racing him and he was about to kiss you? now that you're regurgitating all this information, you couldn't even wrap your head around it.

"but he was good, haechan, you were right."

"you should say that more often," haechan takes a sip of his beer.

"bro, if he beats me at closing..." your shoulders deflate at the thought. you hadn't even considered this possibility of losing until mark showed up out of nowhere.

haechan forcefully sets his bottle down on the hard counter. "you're tweaking. like, actually," a chuckle comes out with his words. what he's saying doesn't seem to be resonating with you, so he tries to go another approach, "look, listen, i know i was worried before but, i know your skillset, yn. there's no way some guy can just come in and beat you."

you try to convince yourself into believing what haechan is telling you, but rationally, you know that today's race proved to be way too close. "no, but, that kiss as well- that almost kiss. what am i supposed to make of that?"

haechan leans his elbows onto his knees. "isn't it obvious? he's distracting his competition," he goes to wrap his fingers around the base of the bottle, "and look at you; it's working, isn't it?"

you sigh. you hated how logical haechan's reasoning for it was. surely, that was it, it's stupid to think it was anything more, right?

"so, what do i do?"

haechan takes you in for a second. a devious smirk begins to appear on his face. you know that whatever he's about to say, you won't like it.

"you show him..." he points the neck of the beer bottle at you, "...that two can play that game."

you sit in silence staring at haechan for a moment—he looks like he expected to be applauded for such a genius idea. "okay... and how the hell do i do that?"

"revy's party, tomorrow night. we're going."

you step through into a dimly lit kitchen, it's floor sticky with who knows what. it's been less than 24 hours since haechan suggested the two of you attend a party thrown by another one of your racing rivals. less than 24 hours since you've gone back on your word, claiming to yourself that you will never attend a party like this. and the reasoning is right in front of your eyes: a cramped room filled with people you don't know, music so loud that it penetrates inside of your skull making your brain physically vibrate, and not to mention the lack of actual food? there's no way you can survive on cheap liquor and cheese puffs all night. and thinking about tomorrow makes it all the worse.

and that's why when haechan first proposed this idea to you, you were dead set on denying it. "no," you'd said, "absolutely not." his genius idea turned out to be voluntarily putting yourself in uncomfortable social situations? added with the fact that it's the night before closing?

"what other option do you have?" haechan had asked.

and you supposed he was right. you had no other choice. you had tonight, and only tonight, to really play your cards right.

so, that's why you're here, in the kitchen of someone's house—whose, you didn't know. haechan steps through with you right at your side. you're scanning through the heaps of people, some drinking, some making out, some straight up dry humping on each other. truly a stereotypical scene that looks as though it came straight out of a coming of age movie.

and you spot him. just like haechan had said, he's here.

mark stands all the way across the kitchen, preoccupied talking to a girl. you haven't seen her before, and you certainly haven't seen the pair of them together before. cups in both of their hands, they seem to be chatting, enjoying each other's company, and you turn the plan you had come up with together with haechan over in your head.

finding yourself stuck in a rut—luckily one that's shallow enough—you tap haechan on his arm, then gesture toward the beverage table. the both of you approach it but neither giving in to the giant bowl of red punch in the centre of it. the kitchen floor was sticky, the air is sticky, you don't want to think about the implications of what could be in this bowl. you reach out to grab a can of beer, and haechan follows. "i spotted him," you tell haechan, not necessarily speaking carefully because if you did, he wouldn't hear you over the booming of the house music that's being played.

"yeah?" he takes a swig of his room-temperature beer. "you know what to do then?" he lifts a brow at you, and when you respond with an expression that told him 'yes' no matter how hesitantly, he snapped you a quick wink, and did a 180 heading for another cramped room in the house.

for the next several minutes, you're stood by the bar, back facing the rest of the party downing gulps after gulps of canned beer. you don't feel it doing much aside from warming you up a little bit. you're about to reach for a second one, when a figure steps into your peripheral.

you try to discreetly figure out who the person is standing next to you, but the moment you caught a glimpse of his face, you knew.

mark wanted to break the ice by saying something witty, but... was that appropriate after your last encounter?

"you're a... big fan of the beer, i'm guessing?" he remarks as he's observing your hands; one holding an empty can, and the other reaching out for a new can.

"it's not as bad as i thought," you respond curtly.

as you're pulling back the tab on the new can, you think to yourself. if you want to make this plan work, you've got to kill the awkward tension. and so, your mind jumps to the only topic you can think of.

"who's that girl you were talking to?"

mark seems to be surprised; were you asking him? after a brief moment of silence, a recognition slips out of him, "oh," he shrugs, "she was just saying how she always wanted to race and, stuff like that." he seemed to have caught himself rambling, and stopped before he went on any further.

"sounds like she was hitting on you," you shoot a quick look in his direction as you take a small chug from your can.

he gently shakes his head, eyes fixed on the bottle clasped between his hands, "no, she was just being friendly."

"mh," you're watching mark now. "so, not another one of your conquests?"

mark truly looks puzzled, if he's not, then he's doing great acting like he is with that expression on his face. you can practically read his internal monologue at this very second: what are you talking about?

"i'm not... picking up on what you're saying, exactly."

you have to turn this around somehow. but how? in your mind, this is already botched. go home, you ruined it.

"i just..." you set down your can on the table in front of you. one thing that obnoxiously loud house music is good for is filling in the spaces of silence as you think about what to say next to him. "i guess, i'm just thinking about the other day."

at this moment, you piqued mark's interest. he looks at you with a glint in his eyes. "about that," he turns his body to face you, "look, i'm so sorry- i didn't mean to misread the situation and-"

"you didn't."

mark's lips are still left slightly parted, frozen from his last words. confusion strikes him again.

"i'm sorry- you didn't," for whatever reason, you can't look into his eyes, but you continue anyway, "just in that moment, it was so..."

the bass had been booming since the moment you stepped foot into this house but right at that second, it blared even louder—you didn't even know that that was possible. you can physically feel your heart in your chest jumping each time it thundered.

mark wears an agitated expression from this sudden change in atmosphere, and now, you practically had to yell out to even hear another person standing a foot away from you.

he gestured toward the window outside, mouthed something along the lines of, "wanna head out?" and you followed. mark grabs ahold of your hand, leading you through the horde of sweaty, sticky people until he finally pulls you outside. though, you're not completely free from the roaring bass, you can at least rest your ear drums for a bit.

mark exhales, air puffing up his cheeks. "you were saying?" he turns his gaze towards you, and it strikes you as the perfect time now.

your features twist in a manner of disarray—"i think i have a headache from that whole... situation." you press the inner wrist of your right hand up against your temple.

mark takes one step closer towards you, "are you alright?" he tilts his head to get a better look of your expression.

"yeah, i think i just need to get somewhere quiet," you wave the concern in his voice away.

"do you want me to take you home?"

for a second, you would've agreed, but then you thought back, and you don't think your apartment's in any state to be seen right now.

you give a brief shake of your head, wrist still pinned to your temple. "no, not right now," you say, hoping that he wouldn't ask for an elaboration.

"um, i can take you to my place if you don't mind?"

not wanting to give away too much of your act, you agree hesitantly. "is that alright with you?"

"yeah, of course," and he leads you to his car.

he'd insisted on you waiting out where you were so that you didn't have to walk all the way to his car, but he also didn't feel right about making you wait on your own, so he guided you to where he'd parked, each of his steps designed to match your pace.

...

the ride to his place was quiet, but not uncomfortable. it was a quick drive, but even so every now and then he would look over to make sure you're not too out of it.

he unlocked the door to his apartment, and it was beautiful to say the least; much more kempt than yours. it was mainly one big room with the bathroom tucked away somewhere in the corner. floor to ceiling windows lined the walls facing the entrance door and his bed laid in the centre of the room, facing the windows with a view of the cityscape.

you drag your feet inside, trying to hide at least some bit of your awe.

mark's voice snaps you out of it a little, "do you want some water? anything?"

"i don't mean to have you take care of me," you look back at mark, a tiny spark of guilt igniting within you.

"it's just water, yn," he chuckles as he goes to grab a glass off of his drying rack and pours you some water. "if you want you can rest a bit in my bed."

you're not sure what it is, but it's like you're seeing another version of mark; another side to him. his generosity takes you by surprise and as you take the glass from his hands, wanting to extinguish that guilt, drinking from it only makes the flame grow stronger.

you're stood by the counter, him being only a few steps away from you. the kitchen lights are off, the entirely of his apartment dimly lit with ambience lighting being the only sources of light.

you watch mark's face. the parts of it that are in light, and the other parts that are in shadow. his lips are illuminated by the light along with the right side of his face. maybe the alcohol has gotten to you, or maybe it's your raw, unfiltered desire, but you reach out with the back of your fingers and gently caress the sunken plane under his cheekbone. he seems to melt at even a trace of your touch. he takes ahold of your hand with his, and brings it down.

you take half a step closer towards him, eyes lingering on his.

"what are you doing?" he whispers breathily, eyelids fluttering.

you lean in the slightest bit closer, eyes focused on mark's lips and that was all the invitation mark needed to press his lips onto yours.

he's slow, and gentle. he takes your lips into his with a softness you hadn't expected. one hand goes to cup your face and the other wraps around your waist, pulling you closer into him. he savours every second that your lips are on his, and every time they part, he would go in deeper so as to not forget the taste of your lips on his tongue.

he kisses you with a deep, deep hunger. his hands, too. they roam every inch of your back, pulling you into him as close as you possibly can be until your chests are pressed against each other. you go to wrap your arms tightly around his neck, fingers tangled in his hair, and it's still not enough. you need to breathe him in as if he is the very oxygen that your life depended on.

he pulls away with a smack from your lips. panting heavily, he begins to breathe out, "do you-?"

"yes." whatever he would've said, you knew you wouldn't have denied him.

"are you sure you want this?" he asks again, still breathing heavily with his chest rising and falling against yours.

you give a quick nod of your head, "just kiss me again."

and so he does. mark devours your lips with a newfound lustfulness; pressing onto your lips a little bit harder than before, even biting down on your bottom lip, eliciting a curse out of you.

his hands slide all the way down to your thighs, and he grips tightly onto them as he lifts you up to around his hips. you wrap your legs around him, without breaking away from your kiss. you can feel the two of you moving, but your eyes remain shut.

mark once again pulls back from you, eyes looking right through you with a need to devour. he drops you onto his bed but his hands stays on you. one of them runs up... and then down the underside of your thigh. you're leering at him, desperate for him to touch you more, explore you more, and he can tell.

he kneels down, hands still gripping onto your thighs, and he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. he pushes your legs open, making space for himself in between your thighs. "take this off for me, baby," he utters quickly, impatiently, as he taps on your upper thigh, veiled by the thin fabric of your skirt.

you respond not with words, but with the speed of which the skirt is stripped off of you—eager to please, eager to be pleased.

his fingertips settle into a crook on either sides of your upper thigh as he's pulling you closer to him. you can feel his breath sticking to your skin. every second that he's not touching you, you're aching. the tip of his tongue glides over your panties and you shudder at his movements. you're growing more and more impatient with his obvious teasing as the desire within you becomes harder and harder to fulfil. "fuck, mark," you curse him for purposefully not removing the barrier standing in between you and pleasure. you hear him chuckle, and a word from you is enough to get him to oblige, for now. he pushes the fabric of your panties to the side, baring your slit on full display for him.

"god," he breathes out, and you can feel his breath fan out on your pussy. and in a second, his tongue is licking circle after circle over your clit, exploring between your every fold. he's losing himself in eating you out. he can't help but groan against every buck of your hip, and every time, it sends vibrations that seep into your skin. "you taste so fucking good," he mumbles out. in between the insatiable movements of his tongue against your cunt, he would plant soft kisses onto your folds—the contrast of it all driving you absolutely crazy.

a mixture of his drool and you is running down his chin, but that's nowhere near enough to stop him. the thought of having you dripping down him turns him on even more. your hands are grabbing at fistfuls of mark's hair. with a single swirl of his tongue, you suddenly jerk too hard and he moans against the fiery sensation pulling on his scalp. you try to fight against the urge to push him deeper into you, both of your arms and legs shaking at this point.

as you begin to feel a clench in your stomach, mark uses his hand to separate your legs that are threatening to close together, "keep your legs open for me, baby." you try and try, but you can't help the pressure that's building between your thighs. you bite down on your lip, trying not to let mark hear any of the embarrassing moans and cries you would want nothing but to let out. and just as you're so close to your orgasm, mark takes his tongue off of you.

he stands up again, using the back of his hand to wipe his chin.

"what the fuck-?" you bite out. a bit dazed, but you know enough that that wasn't the release you wanted.

mark coos at you with feigned sympathy, "aw, poor baby." he plants one palm onto the mattress as he leans in, hovering over you. "don't you want to taste yourself on my lips?"

you pull yourself out of your haze, latching your lips onto his. his thumb drags along your jawline. mark hums against your kiss, "you turn me on so goddamn much." he climbs over you, his entire body hovering over yours, and your hands grip at his waist before flipping him under you. he looks surprised, a delighted smirk drips on his mouth. "you had that in you the whole time?"

you reply brusquely, "lose the shirt already," not up for any more teasing tonight.

"bossy," he utters, but complies without hesitation.

you place your hands directly on top of the waistline of his jeans, positioning yourself so that you're sat directly on top of the bulge in his pants. a tiny moan escapes you. mark watches you with a satisfaction glistening in his eyes, "can you feel how hard i am for you?"

you would grind down on his bulge until you gave yourself the release that he owed you if it weren't for the roughness of his jeans. frustrated, you moved yourself further down his lap and impatiently worked the zipper on his pants, pulling them down until his hard cock sprung up hot and red. you ignore the watering in your mouth at the sight of his dick, too eager to feel it inside you.

you wrap your fingers around his cock along the base of it, giving it a tiny squeeze before you slide your hand up his shaft. mark watches with a furrow in his brow and grumblings stuck in his throat. he doesn't want to take his eyes off of you for even one second. you give his cock a few more strokes, so, so painfully slow, though. then, using just your middle and ring finger, you run it up on the side of his dick, reaching the tip, and you drag small little circles over on top of it—spreading his precum all over. mark breathes out a repeated string of curse words as you begin to apply more pressure to his head.

holding back a sly smirk, you take your hand away from mark. you get up on your knees, still straddling him, and you extend your hand out in front of mark's face. "spit on it."

he follows your words without even having the chance to think about challenging you. he is so, so eager to please you. you bring your hand with his spit up to your own chest and you do the same. you smear the two of you all over his cock, applying more pressure with each stroke now than before. his hands goes to grip tightly on your hips, fingertips already digging into your flesh.

you position yourself so that you're hovering directly over mark's big, hard cock, twitching under you. reaching under you, you can feel the tip of his erection resting against your cunt. you drag your hips in a back and forth motion, sliding his head up and down your slit. mark throws his head back, groaning and whining, "fuck, baby- please." you have to admit, the sight of him absolutely unravelling under you is the sexiest fucking thing you've ever seen. "please, please, please," he blurts out a few more pleads..

"what do you want me to do, huh?"

"please, just ride me," he mumbles, words just tumbling out of his mouth at this point. and who are you to deny such a polite request?

you sink down on mark's cock, with each inch you can feel your core beginning to shake. the two of you moaned and groaned with a shared pleasure. a gasp whacks itself out of you as you fully sit down on his cock, taking every inch of him.

mark bites down on his lip, pleasure overriding him, "look at that." he throws his head back, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth, "you're taking all of me." his hand palming over your ass in a way that you can tell he wants to just pick you up and bounce you on his cock.

you start moving your hips gently, still letting yourself adjust to his size. with every whimper that you let out, mark goes absolutely crazy—he wanted to hear you, he wanted that so badly.

and deciding that he needed more, his hands goes to lift your hips up from him and he pins you back down underneath him. his erection now rested atop your thigh, dragging over your skin as he goes to whisper in your ear, "you tell me if it's too much, okay?" you nod, eyes lingering on each other.

he looks downwards, aligning himself with your entrance. he doesn't waste any more time and-

"fuck!"

you cry out, with the first thrust of his hips into you. mark stops and watches your expression for a second before he rams his hips into you again.

he picks up the pace, hips smacking into yours at a steady rhythm. the sloppiness of the two of you filled the room with the melodies of your moans.

"shit, baby," disjointed thoughts fell out of his mouth one after another, moans peppered throughout. as he thrusted himself in and out of you, all he could do was whisper next to your ear how good you felt.

as he kept on thrusting into you, it wasn't long before you can feel that pressure building up again. "fuck, i'm so close," you pant out breathily to mark.

"yeah?"

he pounds into you even harder and harder, making you want to scream out his name but you fight against it.

"don't hold back, baby," he grunted, "i want you to get fucking loud for me."

however embarrassing the noises you made were, you didn't care anymore. you just wanted to feel good with mark's cock dragging in and out of you and you wanted him to know how fucking good it felt. you moan out, alternating between 'fuck,' his name, and pure cries of ecstasy. you slither your hand down in between you two, rubbing violent circles on your clit just so you can reach that orgasm you so badly wanted faster.

you can feel your core tightening around mark. you try to tell him but your mind is gone, only leaving behind unintelligible moans.

"you gonna cum for me?" mark teased, his hips still ramming into you at the same pace, "come on, then. cum on my cock, baby."

even at the slight of his request, you begin to fall apart. your muscles tensing up, fingertips digging into his back and your head thrown back as you reach your orgasm. you scream out in pleasure.

"that's it, baby- good girl," mark's hips are still thrusting into yours, though at a slower pace, fucking you through your orgasm. "god," he looks down to see you clenching around him so tightly that it propels him into his own orgasm. "oh, fuck- i'm gonna cum-"

and just as he does, he pulls himself out of you as he shoots his load all over your stomach. still coming down from the high of your own orgasm, you feel an aching void now in between your legs. mark grunts and collapses his head into the crook of your neck, trying to steady his breath as he milks all the cum out of him onto you.

the air is sticky between you two, heavy breathing filling the silence. mark flops onto his bed next to you, one hand covering his forehead.

"are you okay?" he looks over at you.

"yeah," you breathe out, catching your breath.

"good," he mutters as he reaches out to cup your face in his hand. "come here," he pulls the two of you closer on the bed. then, he returns to kissing you ever so gently, his fingers on the back of your neck and his thumb resting in front of your ear. "let's get you cleaned up."

...

you're sitting on mark's bed in a fresh new t-shirt that he gave you, drinking from the glass of water that he also gave you. mark is in the bathroom, cleaning himself off.

now that the heat of the moment's gone, you're not too sure what just happened. what does this all mean? because believe it or not, your original plan with haechan did not include jumping mark's bones.

mark walks out of the bathroom, sweatpants on with a thin white tee. he throws a towel over his shoulder, his hair wet from his shower. you watch as he walks over to his kitchen to grab another glass of water for himself.

he approaches the bed—you—and truly, you did not know if you should address some of your concerns with him. so, what are we? or is this a one time thing? you should've known that this would make you spiral.

he sits down right next to you after setting down his glass on his bedside table. "are you sure you're okay?"

to be met with a consideration like that shocked you a little, when you yourself didn't even think to ask him that. "yeah, why wouldn't i be?" you try to dismiss his worry and concern.

"you just looked a little shaken up- that's all." he watches you for a moment longer before turning his head. you look over at the clock on top of his bedside table: 11:17pm. it's still not too late, you can go home if you wanted, to run away from the consequences of your own actions, but what then? you're still going to see mark tomorrow at the closing race, and leaving now would just make everything the more awkward.

as if he read your mind, mark voices out, "stay the night," he's not looking at you as he says this, "stay with me," but now he is. his hand reaches over and clasps over the back of your hand, giving it a tiny squeeze.

you were about to protest, "don't you know what tomorrow is?" but of course he knew. so instead, you mumble out a fragile, "okay."

he crawls into bed, lifting up his covers, and he pats on the space next to him. taking that as a signal, you set the glass in your hands on your side of the bedside table, and slide in underneath the covers next to him. you pull the sheets up over your shoulders, head laying half on the pillow, half on mark's chest. mark wears a silver necklace with a cross pendant hanging from it. as he's laying down, that pendant droops down the top of his chest sliding along its chain, sitting right in front of your eyes.

you rest your hand over mark's heart, feeling every thump underneath your palm. mark breathes out loud, then he plants a kiss on your head. your fingertips fidget with his pendant.

"can i ask you something?"

mark looks down at you playing with his necklace, "sure."

"why did you start-?" you take the pendant in between your thumb and your pointer finger and you flip it over so the right side is facing you. "...racing?"

you thought you'd knew what was not the answer: money. living in a place like this—no doubt it wasn't cheap.

mark hums. he shifts his body so that he's now laying on the back of his head on top of his hand. "i like it," he drawls.

you tilt your head up to look at him, without a word, saying that's it?

he continues, "my uncle used to do it." he has one arm wrapped around you and you begin to feel a gentle tapping on your shoulder from his fingers. "it's something i can do to remember him by."

before he even lets you contemplate what to say to that that's not "i'm so sorry for your loss," again, he reflects the question back onto you.

"what about you?" he tucks his chin inwards, looking at you lying on his chest. "tell me about your big goals and ambitions," you can tell he's trying to lighten the mood with the way his voice carried an airiness to it.

"mmh, i like it as well," you say, "and it'd be nice to not have to rely on working at that convenience store." you catch yourself in an unexpected moment of unbridled honesty.

you didn't mind it so much—mark. you didn't mind telling him more about yourself; something about being in his arms made you feel like the world was small, and only the two of you are in it.

"for what it's worth, you're my favourite cashier," mark smiled a skittish smile.

"how many cashiers do you know?"

"two."

"i guess i'll take that."

NEW YEAR'S EVE, 10AM

you wake up the next morning with an ache in your neck. you raise your head from mark's chest from the night prior. he's asleep.

as quietly as you can, you slide your body out of mark's bed. as soon as you're up on your feet, the scent of mark's cologne hits you—his shirt.

immediately, you get to scavenging for your clothes that got strewn all over the apartment last night in a frenzy. haechan had given you something the night before, and you hid it in the pocket of your skirt—where is it?

you spot your skirt on the floor. you kneel on the floor, hands patting down every panel of the fabric, fingers dipping into every crevice. and then you feel it. something soft, but not like the softness of the skirt. you pull out a carefully folded square of tissue paper. you grip the tissue tightly in your hands, crumpling the square.

you pull your clothes up from the floor and quickly change back into them, shedding out of mark's t-shirt that you toss onto his bed.

tissue still in your hand, your head snaps toward mark—lying there, still asleep. then, your attention turns to the glass next to him. it was half full last night, now it's filled up again. he must've refilled it in the middle of the night.

you look back in your hand. then, at his glass. you close your fingers tightly, folding the tissue paper into itself, and you can feel two distinct pellet shapes pressing into your palm through the paper.

there's no way you can even contemplate this, right?

you recall your conversation with haechan just the previous night, before all of this happened:

"you want me to-?"

"no. whatever you're gonna say- no. well..."

"this is insane," you remembered exclaiming in the living room of haechan's apartment.

"2's barely enough to knock him out, much less kill him," haechan started to sound unhinged trying to rationalise this idea to you. "he'd just be too out of it, he won't show up to closing tomorrow, and boom. you're winning, guaranteed."

your mouth is agape, mind completely blank. there's no way you're willing to drug someone for a race. you may not be the most humble, yes, but being immoral?

haechan seems to have given up trying to convince you, "look, just take it with you. whether you use it or not, it's up to you."

and now you're staring at your closed palm, shocked that you're even hesitating to up and leave right now, when you're given the chance.

they're just sleeping pills. you can hear your thoughts merge with haechan's rationale.

no, no, no, no, no. you have to leave.

you have to leave right now, before doing something you're going to regret.

you contemplated throwing the pills away still wrapped up in the tissue here, at mark's place. but if he finds them, what is he going to think? so, you shove it back inside of the pocket of your skirt, rush to grab whatever you'd taken here with you last night, and hurried off.

...

luckily enough, mark didn't live too far away from where haechan lived, and as you make your way out of the lobby, you can recognise where you are in the city.

you walk the few blocks it takes to get to haechan's place.

bright and early, you knock on his door for once—you didn't bring his key with you last night.

you wait outside for a minute or two, before deciding to knock again. this time, calling out for his name as well.

then, an alert pings through on your phone. a text. from haechan

'you're scaring my hookup.'

before you can type out a response, haechan appears in front of you as his apartment door swings open.

"so, where's the hookup?" you step in, making sure your voice is loud and clear—you know haechan too well.

"she climbed out the window, she was so scared," haechan yawns. his hair messy and his glasses slanted on his nose bridge. "so, what happened?"

you draw out the crumpled piece of tissue from your pocket and hold it up like you're putting it on display for him.

"i knew you weren't going to do it—i'm talking about your outfit. you clearly didn't go home last night... what happened?"

oh, you thought, shit. maybe you should've changed first before coming here. now you have to come up with a logical cover-up, or tell haechan the truth of what happened—you don't know what's worse.

"i guess... i was the hookup who climbed out the window or something, i don't know," you mutter under your breath, trying to shrug it off nonchalantly but you can see haechan's jaw drop.

"oh, my god, yn," a sense of pride booming through in his tone, "look at you turning over a new leaf. sleeping with the competition?" he gives a slight shake of his body that makes you immediately regret your decision to tell him.

"no, it had nothing to do with that," you shake your head, "i don't know."

haechan looks at you with a certain look, one that has his eyebrows raised and one that tells you 'i don't believe you.' "whatever you say~" he mocks. "you're ready for closing tonight, though, right?"

"yeah, i think i am."

NEW YEAR'S EVE, 11PM

you haven't spoken to mark today, yet. you've never exchanged phone numbers, or any social medias now that you think of it.

you spent the day tirelessly getting yourself ready, both physically and mentally, for the big closing race tonight. tonight's the night. tonight is what you've been looking forward to all year. the culmination with 100k on the line. practically double your annual pay all in one night. you don't want to sound shallow, but you don't want to disregard that this could have a genuine impact on your life.

you're familiarising yourself with the streets tucked away in another quiet part of the city. as you're walking through intersections and making turns at the corners, you hear a sudden blast of feedback.

"hello, testing."

the voice is not too loud but strong enough. you decide that you need to put your mind to rest, and walking, roaming these streets weren't going to do that. you make your way back to where the majority of people are; at the finishing line. crowds of onlookers haven't manifested yet, but soon these streets will be full of people, chanting and cheering either at your loss or your triumph.

although you have a few years of experience under your belt, it was this year that rapidly shot you into notability. last year, you also attended a closing race—your first closing race—but your performance wasn't the most remarkable. you had less to lose then. but since then, you've gained more and more recognition, more credibility. it'd be crushing if you had a repeat of what happened last year.

time seems like a blur. before you know it, there's 10 minutes left until the race. tradition was that it begins right as the clock strucks midnight, cars speeding off into the new year. and now you're standing off to the side, watching 11:50 statically on your lock screen.

a group of people heading for one direction catches your attention. the other racers. they're all already getting into their cars, you suppose you should, too.

there's a certain melancholy within you. there shouldn't be, right? tonight's the big night. but you can't fight this feeling away.

you crouch into your car. your previous performances earning you a spot right in front of the starting line; a huge advantage.

you shake off your wrists, cracking one side of your neck, then the other. your fingers grip onto your steering wheel tightly. to your right, you spot minjeong already looking at you, a sweet smile on her face. you turn your focus back onto yourself.

you know what to expect. the 'announcer'—not official, but whatever—will give you a 10 second warning. then, along with the crowd, they'll all count down to the new year from 3, and from there, it's all you.

you still haven't seen mark around, yet, you have no idea what spot he would be in. as you're attempting to get a deep breath into you, the 10 second warning comes... then...

"and everyone! 3!"

"2!"

"1!"

you had your foot already on the gas before '1' was chanted, so once you heard the signal, you shift your gear and you race off onto the meandering street. cheers erupt behind you, but you're already too far gone to hear the choruses of "happy new years!" clearly.

the velocity at which you're racing at forces and pins you against your seat. the grip on your steering wheel tightens. before you knew it, the adrenaline kicks in. minjeong isn't next to you, and you don't have time to check behind you.

you tell yourself you don't care. you don't care where your opponents are at, as long as you're first.

and so, you put yourself in the forefront of your mind. the beginning's gone pretty smoothly so far.

just as you're about to fly past a speed bump, you hear a long beep from behind you. as your tyres land, jolting you in your seat, you flash a quick glance at your rearview mirror. you can barely make out the person's face, but you recognised the car as mark's. shit. and what was he thinking—honking at you—is this a joke to him?

he's following closely behind you, you don't know exactly how close but the audience does. he tails directly behind you as you zoom past the horizontal road running through the starting intersection. for a second, you can hear the collective shouts and hollering as you speed past the crowd. the announcer makes some comment on—you're assuming—how close mark is to you, but you can't hear.

you're nearing the incline, the part of the course that spirals up, then leads back down again reconnecting into the main streets. you press onto your pedal harder to maintain your speed even as you're driving up at an angle. mark is catching up, the front of his car now aligned with where the edge of your door is. you twist your steering wheel, turning way sharper than necessary, but that's the only way you can think of to gain some more ground on mark.

you're going back down now, and the finish line isn't far. one more turn, and it's a straight line to the end. the revving of mark's engine is still within earshot.

approaching the turn, you push your steering wheel down to the left, your body swinging in the opposite direction. you can see the horde of people at the end of the street, now just a blended blob to you, about 100m away.

you glance back at your rearview, and just at that moment, mark looks to have overdone his turn. he quickly recovers from it, but you've gained at least 2 seconds from that, and even a split second matters.

you had it.

the adrenaline now courses all throughout your body, and it's like you get deja vu from that make-pretend race you had with just mark. you step on your gas as hard as you can, like you did before... and you blitz past the finish line. mark, too, right behind you.

you slowly release the pressure on your pedal and you can hear the fanfare in the not-so-far distance. finally, you feel like you can take a breath.

you pull off into the parking lot reserved for the candidates, the whole time with mark following you. there's no spectators around this area. you come to a halt, your body forced forwards before leaning back into your seat again.

you hop out of your vehicle, a jittery feeling arising within you. you'd just won, but you're not sure if that's the sole reason for your giddiness.

mark pops his door open and practically jumps out at you, launching himself towards you with his arms open. "you did it!" mark exclaims. you jump onto him and he catches you, arms tight around your waist.

"oh, my god," you pant, still in disbelief.

"you did it, yn," mark repeats. his smile beaming so brightly.

you look down at him, eyes glimmering, and you can't hold yourself back from kissing him. you take his lips into yours and you wish in that moment that you can stay like that for eternity.

"mark, i-" you're at a loss for words, truly. he puts you down onto the ground again. you exhale.

"you did it, baby," he leans down to peck your cheek softly.

you don't know how to feel. there's a wild range of emotions within you that you can't comprehend all at once.

"go on, they're all waiting for their winner out there. go and celebrate," there's a sweetness in the melody of his voice.

you grab onto mark's hand.

everything else, you're not too sure about, yet, but right now, you want to share this moment with him.

#📂 - nct #mark lee fanfic #mark lee #nct mark #nct dream #nct 127 #nct fanfic #nct #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #mark lee x reader #nct 127 smut #nct smut #kpop #mark x reader #mark lee smut

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incorrectbatfam · 1 year

Note

Not sure if you’ve heard of the ‘dad reflex’ where dads just save their small children from imminent harm (usually because the child is still learning how gravity works or just completely unaware of the world around them). I know Bruce technically doesn’t get the bat kids young but either way his batdad reflex has to be off the charts. What are his best dad reflexes? (They can be smol kids or cannon ages whatever sparks your creative juices most!)

Thank you💙💙

They're at someone else's gala and 27-year-old grown-ass Dick is swinging from a giant chandelier in an atrium 3 stories high when it gives out and Bruce "Wine drunk and raving about his kids" Wayne, who hears the tiny snap across the room, stops mid-conversation, grabs a steak knife, slashes a curtain, and swings from the balcony in like fuckin' Tarzan to grab him in the span of 5 seconds before 300 pounds of metal and glass come crashing down

Tim gets mosh pit tickets for his favorite band and Bruce goes with him because Bernard got caught up in something last minute, and after hours of waiting outside, they make it all the way to the front where, on the last song, Bruce's dad senses tingle in time to shield Tim from a malfunctioning confetti cannon all while glaring at the crew in a way that guarantees someone's about to lose their job

In a recon mission gone sideways, Bruce and Steph are taking on some goons at the harbor when one of them knocks her into the water, and without hesitation he throws aside the person he's fighting, dives into the freezing waves, and gives her his rebreather, holding his breath for what seems like forever until they resurface, and despite the ache in his lungs the next morning, it's worth it when he watches her turn waffles into a breakfast burrito

Duke's driving the Batmobile while Bruce is in the passenger's seat walking him through all the controls, and they're listening to the scanner and joking about their last mission when, just before an intersection, Bruce suddenly grabs the wheel and swerves, and before Duke can say anything a semi truck plows through the exact spot where they would've been

Cass tries to cook one day while Bruce is sitting at the bar doing some work, and he forgot what she was making, but all he knows is one minute he's answering an email and the next he's sprinting across the kitchen and sweeping her out of the way right before the pressure cooker explodes—and afterwards he doesn't let her clean up because everything is still scalding hot

The middle school holds a fundraiser at the petting zoo, and everything's going great until someone forgets to turn off their flash and the whole enclosure descends into chaos, and all Bruce cares about is scooping Damian up before a bull rams into the fence he was sitting on—then he makes eye contact with Clark, who just did the exact same with Jon

Against orders, Jason pursues a lead that brings him right to the Joker's doorstep. Dazed and disarmed, he doesn't realize what's happening until a long metallic scrape renders him frozen as those moments replay in his mind, and he thinks this is how the universe wants him to go out. Then he hears a swoosh and a click. Jason opens his eyes to Batman pointing a gun at the Joker, his silence sending a clear message: no more chances.

BONUS: Teenage Bruce tried to sneak out the window and Alfred was at the bottom ready to catch him

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bloodyserratus · 5 months

Text

get fucked

pairing: toji x fem!reader x sukuna word count: 4.1k synopsis: toji & sukuna fuck the living daylights out of you... themes/warnings: pwp, smut, MDNI, threesome, piv, degradation, praise, double penetration, oral, fingering...this is pretty explicit. they're both huge... i feel like they're both kind of ooc.

“Miss us?” Toji sneered as he stepped out in front of you, intersecting your path.

“Can’t say I did, Fushiguro,” you smiled sarcastically at him. The dark-haired male towered over you, lips turning down at the corners.

“That’s too bad,” his partner in crime, Sukuna, chuckled as he appeared behind you.

“What do you want?” you sighed.

These two had been bothering you for a couple of weeks now. They were your local, neighborhood delinquents who liked to frequent the restaurant that you worked at. You knew they were in some shady line of work, but had decided to just mind your own business. Aside from some crass flirting and lingering touches at work, they’d never done much to bother you. Today, though, following you on your way home was now escalating to a level that had you concerned.

“Can’t we just pay a visit to our favorite girl?” Toji’s lips curled up at the corners as he raked his eyes over you.

“Favorite girl my ass,” you rolled your eyes and laughed. “Come on,” you glanced at Sukuna, who had crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“What’s with the reaction?” Sukuna cocked his head at you, hiding his surprise.

“At best, I’ll be the next target of your bullying,” you rolled your eyes at the pair of delinquents, “At worst, I’m your plaything of choice for the next month or so. I have interest in neither, so I suggest you consider someone else.”

It should be easy enough. Though their personalities were more or less garbage, they were good looking and well built.

“You’re a smart one,” Sukuna chuckled, advancing on you, “You must be able to guess, though, that part of your appeal is the fight,” he reasoned, sarcastic words curling around your ear. Toji approached from the other direction until you were sandwiched between their chests.

“Tell us, pretty girl,” Toji chuckled, chest vibrating against yours, “Tell us you know that.”

Your breaths were choppy as they both pressed against you, overwhelming you with their size.

“I-,” you panted, chest tightening as they jostled you, hoping to get a rise out of you.

You placed your hands against Toji’s chest and pushed, trying to put some distance between you. It did not work.

“Wha-?!” you blinked in surprise when Toji lifted you up so that your feet were off the ground and pressed back into you, suspending you mid air against Sukuna. They both snickered as you realized your predicament.

“Why me?” you tried to ask, but your voice caught and trailed into a small moan as Toji’s leg slotted itself between your thighs, pressing against your core.

“Hmm,” his eyebrows rose with delight at the sound.

“There it is,” Sukuna snickered as his lips brushed against your neck.

You shuddered as he nibbled his way up the curve of your neck. Your hands shot out and gripped Toji’s biceps when Sukuna nipped sharply at your earlobe. Toji and Sukuna’s eyes met and a dangerous spark passed between them before Sukuna’s hands closed around your waist. To your surprise, they both stepped away and Sukuna placed you back on the ground before they vanished as suddenly as they had appeared.

“What the fuck?” you huffed, straightening yourself out.

…

You groaned and laid your forehead on the desk. You'd been working on holiday scheduling for the next three weeks and after cataloging all of the vacations everyone had submitted for, your brain was fried. You turned to pack up your things and head home and you’d been so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn’t notice people had entered your room until you turned back to face the door.

“Look what we found, Toji,” Sukuna grinned down at you.

“Look what we found indeed,” Toji smiled, cocky.

“What do you want?” you asked, body tensing at the sight of them and the memory of last time.

“More like…who do we want,” Toji smiled. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes promised something dark.

“Again…why me?” you asked, putting up a brave front, but you could already feel yourself responding to their presence. Recollections of the way they had overpowered you so easily had graced your dreams, day and night, a few times already.

“Something about you,” Sukuna considered you for a moment, “I want to see it break.”

Your eyebrows raised and despite your rational mind, you clenched at his words.

“I or we?” you couldn’t help but tease, “You guys really can’t do anything yourselves, huh? Always a package deal.”

Sukuna’s eyes flashed at you and you almost took a step back. His eyes were sharp and a strand of hair hung in front of them. You swallowed nervously…

“Have you been thinking about us, pretty girl?” Toji purred while Sukuna locked the room’s door. “You seem less difficult today.”

“Why would I be?” you asked politely, “Thinking about you, that is.”

“Because of the way you were panting, holding back your moans the last time we saw you,” Toji leaned down to whisper in your ear. His lips brushed against the shell and your mouth fell open with surprise. “Like a bitch in heat,” he laughed, condescending as hell.

“Oh get fucked!” you moved to strike him. Mistake.

“That's right,” Toji chuckled as he caught your wrist in his large hand easily. “You’re more of a hellcat than a bitch, aren’t you?”

You tried to pull away, but in all ways you were at a disadvantage. Toji lifted his arm and yours went with it. He was tall enough that this stretched you out uncomfortably and you were balanced on the tips of your toes. Your other hand moved reflexively for balance and it planted itself squarely on Toji Fushiguro’s firm chest. Your hand fisted in his shirt as he jerked you around, playing with you.

“You like this, don’t you?” Sukuna narrowed his eyes as he watched. Your mouth was agape and your eyes had grown slightly glossy at the way Toji disrespected you. He had to credit you…you’d managed to keep your sounds down, but everything else about your body language was so clear…you were turned on.

“Answer him, pretty,” Toji commanded and you looked up at him with begging eyes. “We all know the answer anyways, just want to hear you say it.”

You glared at him. You would never.

“So stubborn,” Toji’s voice was a low rumble against your fist, “Hope you know that I like that,” he grinned at you, backing you onto the desk.

“I wonder,” Sukuna cocked his head suddenly and placed a sharp nail against your neck. Dragged the pointed tip down to your collarbone and you shivered at the pain. “Still won’t admit it?” he goaded you, pressing and the tip bit deeper into your skin, just shy of breaking it.

“Pretty girl,” Toji gripped your chin and lifted it to meet his piercing eyes. “Answer us and we’ll give you what you need.”

As rough Toji liked to be, he wasn’t one to take without some indication of consent. Your eyes searched his and you must’ve seen or realized this because one of the coils in your stomach loosened with some sort of relief.

“...want,” you sighed, body sagging as you finally gave in.

“Oh you good girl, you,” Sukuna was at your back in a flash, hands running up your sides, grabbing and groping freely.

You moaned softly as Toji’s fingers traced along your inner thigh. You squirmed when they met your center and found it hot and wet.

“Dirty girl,” he snickered and rubbed, drawing a strangled cry from you.

“To-Toji,” you groaned, legs parting for him as Sukuna squeezed your tits harshly.

“Sukuna,” you panted when he squeezed your nipples through the fabric of your shirt. You were overwhelmed.

“She is dripping,” Toji laughed, caressing you through your panties. “I knew you’d be perfect,” he remarked smugly.

“Please,” your hips shifted desperately towards him, needing him to take more.

“Please what?” Sukuna cooed in your ear.

“More!” was all you could manage as Toji pushed your panties aside and stroked his fingertips lazily through your folds. The wet sounds brought heat to your face as you whined for him.

“We can give more,” Toji held your gaze, serious for a moment. “But if it’s too much, how will you tell us?”

“Safe word?” you answered, finding it difficult to focus when he grazed your clit repeatedly.

“And what is your safe word, pretty girl?” Toji asked.

“Sp-split Soul,” you stuttered out when your nipples were tweaked gently. Toji’s eyes widened a splinter at your answer.

“Aren’t you making your favorite a bit too obvious?” Sukuna teased upon hearing the name of Toji’s cursed tool, though he didn’t mean much by it.

“Fascinating,” Toji looked you over from head to toe one more time before he slid two fingers inside of you, drawing a loud cry from your lips. His knuckles stroked against you and you clenched around him, panting.

“She’s crying,” Sukuna chuckled, watching your eyes go glassy as Toji finger fucked you deeply. Sukuna’s large hands cupped your breasts and his fingers tweaked your nipples every so often as he nibbled on your neck.

“Wait, I-!” your eyes shot open as an orgasm barreled through you. Your body tensed in their hands and Toji’s fingers continued to curl up into you until the knot uncoiled you threw your head back with a loud wail. Sukuna’s chest was there to support your sagging body as you watched Toji lick your arousal off of his fingers.

“My turn,” Sukuna announced, shifting to take Toji’s place between your legs. His hands stroked down your inner thighs and his nails dragged deliciously along the soft, delicate skin. He watched with sadistic pleasure as it left long, red lines behind.

Toji took a seat behind you and palmed himself through his pants as he watched Sukuna’s handiwork. He throbbed at the marks and he thought about leaving a few marks of his own. His eyes widened with interest when Sukuna turned his hand around and tapped the backs of his knuckles, littered with rings, against your clit.

All of your muscles tensed at the sensation of cold metal against your hot, swollen clit and you let out a sound that was halfway between a squeal and a moan. Sukuna chuckled cruelly and kept up an erratic pattern until your back was arching up off of the table.

“Ha, hah, hah!” your soft pants were all that could be heard as Sukuna edged you mercilessly. “Sukuna, please!” you finally cried when you felt on the brink of insanity. You were surprised at the feral noise that escaped you when he stepped back and away, leveling you with a cruel smirk.

“Desperate little thing,” he chuckled and the way he peered disdainfully down at you shot a jolt of electric energy through you.

“Toji?” you looked towards the other man in the room hopefully. Your pupils dilated when you realized he was thrusting his hips, cock rubbing through the fabric of his pants against his palm. “Toji…,” you moaned, your voice dreamy and almost slackjaw at the visual.

“You sure know how to get what you want, don’t you?” Sukuna laughed heartily, helping you upright.

“May I?” you approached Toji, dropping to your knees before him.

“Polite when you need to be,” Toji rolled his eyes at you and shared a laugh with Sukuna.

You grinned and busied yourself with unearthing his erection. It was thick and heavy and tipped just slightly forward unassisted. You sighed with delight when you saw it, which served as a real shot to Toji’s ego.

“What a good little slut,” Sukuna chuckled, taking a seat. Unlike Toji, he had no desire to exercise restraint and pulled himself out of his pants, stroking eagerly.

Toji hissed when you closed your mouth around him. So wet and warm. The visual of your lips pursed around his shaft as you sucked gently was almost dizzying to him and he found himself gritting his teeth, trying to stay level. You were so singularly focused on lapping at his cock that you jolted with surprise when Sukuna smacked your cheek suddenly.

“Spit,” he demanded, his palm outstretched before you. You blinked up at him in surprise for so long that he slapped you lightly again. “I said spit.”

When he was satisfied, he brought his hand back to his cock, using your saliva as lubrication. You were embarrassed that the realization only served to turn you on more. Toji cleared his throat, grabbing your attention again. You moved to put your mouth back on him and you were surprised when he stopped you.

“Why don’t you sit?” he gestured to his shining erection with an expectant look. He had to hold back a smile at the way your expression grew hungry and dazed at the same time. You peeled off your panties and climbed onto his lap, straddling him. He offered you no help and instead leaned back and watched with lazy eyes as you positioned him at your opening.

“You’re too big,” your eyes flashed to him with mild annoyance. Your knees spread as you tried to lower yourself onto him with little success. Toji kept up his poker face as you clenched and gripped around his engorged tip. Finally after some desperate bucking of your hips, he popped into you, stretching you almost painfully around his girth. “Fuuck,” you whined, lips pursed as your eyes squeezed shut.

“My god she’s fucking tight,” Toji remarked to Sukuna through gritted teeth.

“Good thing you went first then, huh?” Sukuna taunted.

Toji’s lip twitched in response, but he didn’t say anything because you were doing your best to take more of him.

“Oh my god, Toji,” you mumbled mindlessly as you worked your way down, lips stretched taut around his shaft. At the very least, you were soaked and dripping, but his sheer size was still a challenge. You weren’t sure if Sukuna was just trying to get a rise out of Toji, but the possibility of him being even bigger made you feel faint.

“Are you struggling, kitty?” Toji teased, lips curled up into a smirk. “My cock too fat for our little whore?”

“You're big!” you gasped out, with a nod. “It doesn't, it barely fits,” you whined, but not because you wanted to stop. It was because you wanted Toji to drive up into you, punishing and hard.

Toji watched, proud at the way you struggled to split yourself open around you. You struggled and yet you persisted and he found himself admiring that.

“Shall I take over?” Toji cupped your chin and brushed his thumb across your cheek. You nodded eagerly and he flexed his hips up into you and you moaned even louder than before. The way he pushed into you was simply divine. His rhythm was slow and deep as you grew accustomed to it.

“How is it, pretty girl?” Sukuna surprised you when he came up behind you. His hands closed around your hips and he pressed you further down on Toji’s cock, drawing hisses from both of you. “Does he feel good?”

“Asshole,” Toji spat at Sukuna when he pressed against your cervix and you clamped down around him.

You couldn’t even manage an answer as Toji’s cock was stuffed into you deeper than you thought possible. Sukuna was unrelenting and held you in place as Toji’s hips jerked reflexively up into you.

“Fuck!” Toji cursed, his orgasm incoming.

“Come on,” Sukuna taunted. “You’ve been wanting to fill her up for a while now, just do it.”

“Wha-?” you struggled to comprehend Sukuna’s words, but Toji’s cock jerked strongly inside of you and you squeezed back reflexively.

Toji inhaled a few ragged breaths as he came, unloading deep inside of you with Sukuna pinning you down.

“Look at you,” Sukuna snickered cruelly, hand cupping your chin and tilting your head to face him. “Filled with Fushiguro’s cum,” he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

You were surprised at the gesture.

“Do you let just anybody fuck you raw?” Sukuna taunted, leering at you. You narrowed your eyes at him, god he gave you whiplash.

“Do you just go around fucking anybody raw?” you bit back and Toji chuckled.

“Guess Fushiguro was too soft on you, cause this bitch ain't broken yet,” Sukuna barked out a laugh. “My turn,” his eyes glinted at you before he pulled you off of Toji’s lap.

Sukuna forced you to your knees and smacked the heavy head of his cock against your cheek. You glared up at him defiantly.

“Can’t wait to see those eyes water as you glare at me,” he sneered, hooking his thumb into your mouth and yanking it open. You let out a noise of surprise, but it was quickly muffled by his cock being shoved unceremoniously between your lips.

“God that’s a sinful little mouth,” Sukuna groaned when your lips closed around him, enveloping him in your wet warmth. “Shut this mouthy little slut right up,” he snickered as you sucked.

Toji settled in behind you and snaked his arms around you. One looped around your waist and the other reached between your thighs. Your lips squeezed around Sukuna’s head when Toji’s palm landed a slap squarely against your cunt, like a hammer against your clit. Sukuna’s hand shot out around the back of your neck and pulled you forward until he was lodged against the back of your throat. You moaned loudly as both men ground against you, your wet, drooly holes.

“Fuck that’s tight!” Sukuna hissed when you relaxed your throat and let him slip inside. Toji’s hand moved from your waist to cup your throat, feeling the way it bulged to accommodate Sukuna.

“Hah…I can feel him,” he whispered in your ear as his fingers dipped into your pussy, pushing his cum back inside.

You whimpered and clenched at his observation. Your whimper was muffled by Sukuna’s cock, but your clench was easily felt by Toji’s thick fingers. Toji’s lips curled up into a sadistic grin and the hand around your throat tightened and Sukuna’s knees almost buckled.

“Fucking shit!” he glared at Toji after pulling out, leaving you gasping for breath in his firm grip.

Toji’s chest rumbled with laughter, pleased to be able to get the best of Sukuna for a turn. Despite yourself, it pleased you to hear Toji laugh. Something about the both of them using you to toy with each other made you swell with pride.

“Keep playing, Fushiguro,” Sukuna spat venomously, pulling you up by a fistful of hair. He bent you forward over the table and flipped your skirt up, rubbing his cock along your dripping length. “Watch me fuck your cum out of her,” he snarked before sliding into you in one fluid motion.

“Ohh~!” you cried as you stretched around Sukuna. You weren’t sure if he was actually bigger or you were just sensitive, but the feeling had you clawing at the tabletop like a feral cat.

“How’s that feel, baby?” he grunted as he pounded into you harshly. Your hips clipped against the edge of the table painfully with each thrust and his balls slapped wetly against you.

“G-good,” you cried.

“Better than Fushiguro?” he goaded and Toji’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I-,” you hiccuped, “I don’t know,” you answered honestly, tears welling up in your eyes as an orgasm approached. “Su-kuna,” you cried, back arching.

“Answer me, pretty girl,” Sukuna asked again, pupils dilating with satisfaction as he worked a creamy ring of Toji’s cum and your arousal around the base of his shaft. “Who do you prefer?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know! Both!” you cried as your body tensed and you came, thinking of the different ways in which they both used and ravaged your body.

“Did I say you could come?” Sukuna gripped you by the chin and pulled you up against him. He tipped your head back so that you could meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you realized your error quickly, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” your eyebrows pinched with worry at what fresh hell he would unleash on you for this.

He surprised you by trailing his wet tongue across your cheek before licking into your open mouth. You clenched as he nipped your lips and then sucked your tongue into his mouth. Toji had already claimed your pussy by filling it with his cum and you understood this as Sukuna’s way of claiming your mouth for his own. You squirmed when he pulled back slightly and held your mouth open for him. His teeth ran across his tongue before he spit into your mouth. You shivered as you accepted his saliva eagerly. It was intimate, filthy, and wanton all at the same time.

“Fushiguro,” Sukuna’s eyes flicked to Toji’s as he picked you up, holding your back against his chest with surprising ease. “Get over here.”

Toji’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to understand Sukuna’s meeting.

“She said she wants both,” Sukuna chuckled, “Let’s see if she can take both.”

Your eyes widened at his words. You were already tired and sore, but something about these two gave you something to prove. You knew Sukuna didn’t expect you to be able to, which triggered something defiant and stubborn inside of you and you knew you wouldn’t back down.

“I can,” you insisted as Sukuna set you down on the small couch that was tucked against the wall of the room. He laughed at your show of confidence. You’d have to see.

“You gonna let me fuck that pretty ass, baby?” Toji’s voice was raspy from behind. “You so cock hungry that you need both of those holes filled?”

Perversion curled through you and your eyes flashed when you look at him and nodded. Toji was taken aback for a moment. It was true he’d had his eye on you for some time, but he had sorely underestimated you. He shifted behind you while you straddled Sukuna and his cock was screaming to be inside of you. You had dripped so much that he easily coated himself in your fluids. His eyes were transfixed as he pressed the dark head of his cock against your puckered sphincter. You let out a series of warm pants as Sukuna gripped your hips tightly.

“Wait,” you placed your hand on Toji’s abdomen, “Give me a sec?” you breathed hard as you tried to relax. You’d had difficulty accommodating Toji in your pussy, so anal was going to be an even bigger challenge, but you were determined.

“Take your time, pretty,” Toji pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He held still as you pressed your hips back against him, stretching a little more each time around him. Watching the way you stretched yourself around him, from hesitant to eager, was dizzying to Toji in a way that he had not expected.

Sukuna reached up to stroke your face affectionately as you adjusted. He cooed praise up at you, telling you how good you were being for them, how sexy you looked taking both their cocks. Behind you, Toji egged you on with words of his own. How good your pretty hole looked stretched around him, how much more he had left to give you.

Your breaths were ragged as you pushed back, dragging him deeper and deeper into you.

“Almost there,” he encouraged, “To the hilt, baby, show me,” he watched proudly until you had taken him completely.

“Fuck,” you let out a sigh, eyes flickering between the two men. It surprised you to see satisfied smiles on both of their faces. This was short lived because before long, they both thrusting up into you alternately and all coherent thought left your mind.

The room was filled with grunts, pants, and the wet sounds of sex as they both pistoned their cocks into you. You were so full and so sore, but it was the most delicious pain that you had ever experienced.

“Close,” you murmured when you felt the coil in your belly constricting. “May I?” you asked.

“What a fast learner,” Sukuna clicked his tongue, pressing a kiss against your neck. “You’re doing so well…whenever you wish,” he nodded and Toji couldn’t agree more.

They fucked you and kept fucking you through two more orgasms. You briefly wondered if you might pass out, but their climax came mercifully and with heavy twitches and muttered curses, they emptied themselves into you. Their muscles unwound and relaxed post orgasm and you found yourself sandwiched pleasantly between their large bodies. You knew they were both notorious for sleeping around, but you wondered if they’d be up for a repeat. You needed more experience before you could declare a favorite, after all.

#toji smut #sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #toji fushiguro #ryomen sukuna #toji fushiguro smut #ryomen sukuna smut #serrated writing

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ts-wicked-wonders · 2 months

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Black History Month: Did you know?

The three-light traffic signal was invented by a Black man named Garrett Morgan.

Garrett Morgan had only an elementary school education and was the son of a formerly enslaved man. Nevertheless, Morgan surmounted these difficulties and is responsible for many important inventions. Most notably, Morgan invented the three-light traffic signal in 1923.

While driving one day, Morgan witnessed a serious car crash at an intersection. This sparked his idea to add a third light to the traffic signal which would warn drivers of an impending red light. His patent was granted in 1924, and after early installments of the three-light traffic signal were successful, they spread throughout the country and became the three-light signal many of us encounter daily.

#black history matters #black excellence #black americans #black history #black history month #black tumblr #african america history #african american history

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seospicybin · 7 months

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VIEWFINDER.

PART I

Seungmin x reader x Lee Know. (s,a)

Chapters: Part II

Synopsis: An accidental reunion sets the sparks fly between you and Seungmin, but the relationship takes a turn at the end of the summer and you seek help from your frenemy, Minho. (13,7k words)

Author's note: I didn't mean to make it long but then I saw the word count and decided to put it into two parts. For the birthday boy, Seungmin x

📼 Viewfinder playlist.

Summer is here.

The sun is shining so brightly on the clear blue sky and the air carries the smell of flowers along with its pollen, good thing that you're not allergic.

Another good thing is tomorrow is the beginning of summer break and you can put a hold on the stress of being a university student.

The bad thing is you don't have any plans on how you're going to spend it.

However, for tonight, you have a plan and you have to go home so you can get ready for it.

Your apartment is only a few blocks away from the university complex, you always ride your bicycle to and fro. You put your bag and books on the basket of your bicycle before unlocking the chain lock.

"Congratulations on getting the highest score on the quiz!" Someone says.

Even from how dark the shadow is and the insinuating tone in his voice, you can tell who it is.

You put both the lock and the chain inside the basket before turning around to see him, "Minho, should I be relieved or scared that I can't hear the slightest bit of sarcasm in the way you congratulate me?"

Minho is an enemy because the two of you are competing to be at the top of the class and everyone knows that. His smirk implies that it's the latter.

"I'm trying to be nice and you should too. Buy me drinks tonight?"

You also consider Minho as a friend since he's the only one who knows the pressure of being a devoted student and a great drinking partner.

"I can't. I have to meet Rina's new boyfriend," you tell him.

Minho knows you well enough that he understands right away. Another common thing you have with him is he also rides his bike to campus.

"Who is she dating this time?" He asks while backing the bike out of the rack.

You do the same and walk the bike out of the station, it's not safe to start riding it with people walking around.

"An artist and that's why she wants me to meet them at an art exhibition," you reply.

It's so nice riding through the warm, pleasant breeze and knowing that you don't have to study for weeks. You're paddling your bike slowly and savoring every second passed in freedom with Minho riding his bike next to you.

"Do you have any plans for the summer?" He suddenly asks.

You keep your head looking straight ahead, "Nope but I know I'll be seeing you in the library."

You glance at him and laugh, "It's the only way you can keep up with me," you add with a shrug.

Minho scoffs and slows down as both of you reach the intersection, "Be careful. Next thing you know I'll be steps ahead of you," he coyly taunts you.

You can't tell if he holds his handlebars so hard or if the veins on his arms are always evident like that when your eyes unknowingly land there.

You sneer and say, "That doesn't sound like a threat at all."

The lights turn green and this is when you go separate ways with him. He's turning right while you're going straight.

Before he makes a turn, he turns at you and says, "Just remember. You still owe me drinks!"

As much as you want to beat each other academically and have the same level of competitiveness, you both keep it fair and clean.

And that's why you consider Minho as the frenemy.

The outfit you're wearing is appropriate and appropriate is enough.

There are no limitations in art so seeing the other people dressed for the art exhibition doesn't surprise you at all. What surprises you is how old Rina's new boyfriend looks but you guess it's because of all the facial hair he has.

"I'm Joe," he introduces himself.

"Nice to meet you, Joe," you say with a nice smile.

"Have you looked around?"

"Not yet. I think Rina can show me around," You reply while sending signals at her with your eyes.

"Ah, sure, show her around, babe," he says to Rina, letting her go from his side.

Once you both out of his earshot, you grab Rina's elbow and ask, "How old is he?"

"Oh my God, I'm old enough to date whoever I want," she answers while grabbing two glasses of champagne from a tray.

"No, but seriously, how old is he?"

She hands you a glass and sips her drink, "He's only 31. Relax!"

You have mixed feelings about her dating a guy 10 years older than her but she's right, she's old enough to make a decision on her own.

After one sip of wine, you trick your brain that it's going to help you relax and it works like usual.

"This is his artwork," Rina says with a proud smile.

It's a puddle of mud on a canvas. You're raking your brain for a good minute and still have zero ideas of what it is about.

His boyfriend calls for her from across the room and Rina answers like the good girlfriend she is, "Wait, I have to—"

"It's okay, you can go," you tell her and you are more than relieved to be left alone.

You look at it again and try to make the meaning of this messy piece of artwork when someone takes a stand next to you.

"Do you like it?" The stranger asks.

"Not... really," you doubtfully answer.

Maybe it's because you're a left-brained person, you're more adaptable to logical and orderly things that you can't see what it's all about.

"I understand paintings," you share, quietly tapping the floor as you speak, "but artworks like this..."

You dryly laugh at your incompetence and you know for sure Minho will have a good laugh at it if he knows but not this man, he's only staring back at you, waiting for you to finish talking.

"For example, I understand Dali's Persistence of Memory but The Lobster Phone? That, I'll never get it," you share another embarrassing thing about yourself, unprovoked.

It's better to stop talking and further embarrassing yourself. You look back at Joe's artwork and stare at it hoping to find nothing but to pass the time.

When you thought he would turn away and leave this awkward moment, he asks, "How about photographs?"

"Photographs?"

He nods, "I can show you some."

There's no harm in seeing some photographs, you may not get it but it's better than seeing a puddle of mud. Plus, this stranger seems nice and not judgemental.

"I'd love to see some photographs," you say.

He leads you to the other part of the gallery, walking through two big black curtains to enter a whole different exhibition.

The room is dark. The only source of light is coming from the lamps casting lights on each framed black and white photograph hung on the black-painted wall.

It's somehow atmospheric and intimate, it's quiet except for the low chatter of people discussing these photographs.

You saunter to the first photograph you see while he's there walking next to you, watching you taking a look at it with awe in your eyes.

It's just so pleasant to look at and maybe that's just what art is, it doesn't have to be boxed into one thing. You just meant to feel it, profoundly.

"It's amazing," you say with a dreamy sigh.

He senses that you're being earnest about what you said and smiles. He lets you take a look at it long enough that you start to immerse yourself in it.

"Perhaps, do you know what happened to Sisyphus?"

That gets you completely puzzled because why would he ask about a figure in Greek mythology out of the blue?

"Well, it's safe to say he's still rolling the boulder up the hill," You answer with a soft laugh.

He stays quiet for a while and sweetly smiles at you, a smile that makes him somewhat familiar like you've seen it before.

"I'll leave you to figure it out," he says, walking backward until his figure is engulfed by the darkness of the room.

You start to spiral, going over everything you said to him and trying to guess what triggers him to suddenly lose interest, you come down that it has anything to do with the answer you gave him.

You're greatly familiar with Greek mythology to know that he's condemned to infinitely roll a boulder up the hill for cheating the death twice. Must admit that Sisyphus is a slick guy but what has it got to do with all this? Is this his way of flirting? Is he even flirting at all? Who is this stranger?

To keep your mind distracted, you continue your tour around the exhibition and admire each photograph for capturing not only moments but so many emotions.

When you turn to the last wall, you only realize now that you don't know the name of the artist. You bend down to read the card under the photograph.

Kim Seungmin, it says on it and you swear you heard this name before.

You successfully recollect some of your earliest memories from when you were a kindergartner. You had a classmate named Kim Seungmin, he wears glasses and fluffy hair.

You laugh at it because it couldn't be that Kim Seungmin, right?

There's only one way to find out. You talk to someone who might have known him since she's deep in conversation with someone about the photographs.

"Excuse me, but is Kim Seungmin, the artist, perhaps here? Attending the exhibition?" You politely ask.

She seems to be displeased that you interrupt, she looks at you with eyes widening and says, "I'm pretty sure I saw you walked in with him earlier."

"Oh, you mean the guy—" You stop talking altogether as it hits you.

Sisyphus! The Sisyphus he meant is the name of the rabbit you pet together in kindergarten. This only verified that he is the Kim Seungmin you know.

You look around the room for him but can't find him, you exit the exhibition to bump into Rina.

"I've been looking for you!" She says.

"Have you seen a guy with fluffy hair and he's wearing a leather jacket, cute but also cool at the same time?" You ask while craning your neck to spot him in the crowded room.

"That sounds like my boyfriend but he's not wearing a leather jacket so..." Rina answers.

You hold yourself back from groaning. It's typical Rina in love, so smitten, so all over him, and next thing she knows, she finds solace in a bucket of Ben and Jerry's cookie dough ice cream.

"Let's grab some more wine and have another—"

Rina's voice becomes faint as you keep walking around the room hoping to see him again so you can tell him about Sisyphus the rabbit, that he died one year after Seungmin moved away. Unfortunately, there's still no sign of him.

"Rina,"

"Yes?"

"Is it okay if I leave early?" You ask, "You know how I feel about being in an event like this."

She knows that she's the extrovert and you're the introvert, your friendship is based on opposite attraction. She nods in understanding and says, "Be careful on your way home!"

You give her a hug and mutter, "Thank you!"

You make your way out of the gallery after saying goodbye to Rina's new boyfriend and see a group of people smoking outside and none of them is Seungmin.

The sound of someone revving the engine of a motorcycle startles you as you put on your cardigan. Your head snaps to the source of the sound and see that it's Seungmin.

You walk to the side of the road and open your mouth to call him, immediately refrain as he hands a helmet to a girl and most likely to get a ride from him.

So much for a sweet reunion! You can only watch as he drives away on his motorcycle.

The night takes a turn and you don't want to go home wallowing in this unexplainable feeling alone in your room. You pull out your phone to call someone.

The dialing tone is ringing as you walk to the side of the road and hailing a cab for you.

"I haven't slept yet but my worst nightmare is already calling," Minho says.

You can't see him but you bet he's smirking as he speaks, "I know it's past your bedtime but remember the drinks I owe?"

He catches up on your intention right away and with an exaggerated heavy sigh, he says, "Well, if you insist."

A taxi stops right in front of you and you open the door to the backseat, laughing as you say, "See you there!"

This is how your summer break starts: with a hangover.

The moment you open your eyes, you realize that that is not the only worst thing you do. You wake up and recognize that you're not sleeping on your bed.

A nerd recognized another nerd's bedroom from a shelf of books and another stack of them is on the bedside table.

"Ugh," you groan while rubbing your temple.

You can see the owner of the bed you're in standing, leaning against his desk sipping his coffee.

"What did you do to me?" You ask as you sit up on the bed.

He takes a small sip of his coffee and delightfully gasps, "Nothing but taking care of a drunk fellow."

You scoff and brush your hair to the back, can't think of what happened last night, "I mean, how did you get me drunk?"

He crosses his arms together in front of him and calmly responds, "You were the one who wanted to get drunk last night, not me."

The more you try to remember it, the more your head spins and turns your stomach queasy, "Can I have anything you're having right now?"

"We use the magic words here," he says with a sneering smile.

You sigh and put on a forced smile, "Please?"

Minho smiles in satisfaction and heads to the kitchen. You've been here before so you can navigate your way from bed to the bathroom to wash up. One of his cats aggressively meows when you accidentally cover her with the duvet.

"Sorry, cat!" You mutter, not quite remember their names since there are three of them.

Another cat walks past you as you open the bathroom door and you wash your face, not realizing there's a writing on your forehead until you see the reflection in the mirror.

Minho must had some fun writing "loser" on your forehead with a black marker, you rub it over with soap and water to clean it.

"You don't want to know what I would do to you if it was a permanent marker," you scold as you walk to the kitchen.

Minho is chuckling as he turns and places a plate of breakfast on the small dining table, "I may be mischievous but I'm not diabolical," he says.

It surprises you that he also cooked you scrambled eggs with toast when you only asked for a cup of coffee he was having, "This is not what I expected," you innocently comment as you pull a chair and sit on it.

"You asked whatever it is I'm having, right?" He refills his cup with more coffee.

You start with a sip of coffee and you can feel that the caffeine slowly works its magic, "I thought your usual breakfast would be Russian literature and the economic section of today's newspaper because you know...you're boring," you say with a scornful gaze.

Minho approaches you and puts one hand against the table, displaying his veined arms at you again.

"I'm offended that you said Russian literature is boring," he says, taking your eyes back to his face again.

You forget about what he said once you have a spoonful of the breakfast he made you, it's just egg but it's so good.

Another one of his cats jumps onto the table and nuzzles its head at Minho, asking to be petted and purring when he finally gives what it wants. He checks the time on his watch and says, "I'm afraid you have to finish your breakfast quickly!"

You bite your toast and glance at the clock on the wall, "It's summer. The library won't be open until 10."

He picks up his jacket from the coat hanger, "It's the first day of my summer internship and I can't be late."

Your mouth is full of food to properly speak but you don't want to skip the chance to tease him, "What? You have a Zumba class?"

He dryly laughs and puts his coffee cup into the sink, "I'll be working as Kim Edison for the summer."

"It can't be Kim Edison the columnist who recently won the journalism prize, right?" You ask with an uneasy smile.

Minho doesn't answer but gives you a suck-it smile that is a combination of smirk and evil smug and you hate it so much.

"I give you five minutes!" He shorty says.

With the little time he gives you, you shove as much food as you can and take a long gulp of steaming hot coffee, almost getting your tongue burnt in the process.

You regret having breakfast as Minho rides his bicycle fast as you sit on the back. You get queasy again from the bumpy ride as your hands hold onto the cardigan that you're using to cover your head.

Most of the students are away for the summer break but you don't want to risk being seen riding a bike with him while wearing last night's clothes.

"Stop fidgeting!" He scolds in front of you.

"I almost fell off to the back!" You scold back.

He makes a harsh turn and sends you tilting to the side, you reflexively holding on to his waist from letting that happen.

"You look faint," he cheekily says as he stops the bike right in front of your apartment building.

You can't feel your legs once you get off the bike, "ugh... thank you," you mutter, too nauseated to respond to his teasing.

He checks his watch again and grips the handlebars, "I have to go. Bye!"

Minho doesn't wait for your reply but paddles his bicycle as fast as he can. Guess, he's serious about the internship thing, and that makes you one step behind him.

New plan for the day besides curing your hangover: Find a summer internship.

"It's too late to find one," Rina says, breaking your spirit as you ask her if she knows anyone who needs an intern or something. She's very well connected in the social scene well, that's what an extrovert does best.

"Why are you still dressed in last night— oh, are you...?" She squints her eyes at you.

You would love to deny it but then you would have to tell her where you slept last night, keeping quiet is the best option.

"Why are you packing?" You shift the topic, seeing her packing her clothes into a suitcase.

"I'm going on a trip with Joe," she says with that stupid grin people in love have.

"You've been dating him for only a week, Rina!" You try to put some sense into her.

"So what? Things are going great and it's not like we have a plan for the summer anyway," she says.

"Then what about our movie marathon, having ice cream by the pier, and feeding ducks at the pond?" You list the things you like to do together besides hanging out in your shared apartment for the summer.

"Feeding the ducks is your thing," she says while rolling a folded towel.

She's right and when you think about it again, you can do those things not only in the summer. You should get on your laptop and find a summer internship because who knows?

"At least, tell me where you're going?" You ask as a good friend.

"We're going on a road trip and you know how it is with an artist, we're going to figure stuff out as we go," she gives you a concerning answer.

You bite your tongue to hold yourself back from saying harsh things with good intentions and choose to step back, "Well..." You think of something cheerful to say instead, "Take a lot of pictures and have fun!"

Rina smiles at you as she shoves her makeup into a pouch, "Thank you, babe!"

You're about to leave her bedroom when she remembers something, "I think I know a friend who needs a cat sitter," she says.

Your spirit descends again and before you can make it to your bedroom, the doorbell rings. You drag yourself to open it and are still surprised by his bushy facial hair.

"Oh, hi Joe!" You put on a smile.

"I came to pick up Rina," he says with a fatherly smile or maybe it's because you can't shake the thought that he's ten years older than both you and Rina.

"She's still packing in her bedroom," you open the door wider to let him in, "Come in, please!"

He steps inside and looks around the room, probably scanning for any artsy pieces in an apartment occupied by two college students.

"Coffee? Water?" You offer.

"I'd like a cup of coffee before hitting the road," Joe replies.

There's coffee left in the pot and you pour a cup for him, bringing it for him as he sits on the dining table. Something pops in your head as you hand him the coffee.

"Thank you," he says.

"Hey, Joe..." your palms are already sweaty even though you haven't asked anything.

He looks up after sipping his coffee, "Yes?"

"Do you perhaps know any of your artists' friends who needs... uhm, like an assistant or an intern for the summer?" You sound so awkward but he already gave you a weird look once he saw you're still wearing the dress from last night.

"Oh, I'm not sure but," he pauses to look at the contacts on his phone and scrolls down fast, "I'll ask around."

You hold your hands up at him, "Oh, no, no, no, it's okay if you don't know any I'm just..." you catch someone's name flashes on his contact list.

"You have Seungmin's phone number," you naively blurt out.

"The photographer? Yes, of course, we held the exhibition together," he says.

You hesitate to ask for his numbers and awkwardly smile at him.

"Do you know him?" He asks.

"He was a friend of mine. We went to the same kindergarten but he moved away, well, he and his family moved out of town, and last night, we met again after years and—" You stop yourself from rambling on and on.

"That's so sweet. Here, let me give you his numbers so you can reconnect," he says, giving you his phone so you can send it to your phone.

"Thank you," you mutter while handing him his phone back.

After almost an hour and an impromptu make-out session by the doorway of her bedroom, Rina and his boyfriend finally leave the apartment.

She's dragging her big suitcase with her downstairs and you watch from upstairs as she waves at you before getting into the car.

"I'm leaving. Don't miss me. Don't forget to get out of the house," Rina knows how to embarrass you and make you feel sentimental all at once.

"Okay, Mom," you playfully respond and return her hand kisses.

The cold shower helps with the hangover but it doesn't help with the internship search.

Is everyone going out of town in the summer and leaving their pets because there are a lot of people looking for someone to take care of their pets?

For this once, you have to admit that Minho is one step ahead of you. He's deep in your head and you blame it for getting drunk last night.

You know what? You'll do what Rina told you to do and get out of the house to feed the ducks. You get up but sit back down on the chair as you glance at your phone.

You've been contemplating whether to call Seungmin or not. If you call, what are you going to say to him? Tell him that you asked for his numbers without his consent.

There you go again, overthinking things when you can tell him what happened to Sisyphus. You hit the call button right away, not leaving a second for your anxiety to slip in again.

Your heart is pounding while you're listening to the dialing tone... then it clicks and you hear the rustle of someone picking up the call.

"Seungmin?" You call his name right away just to confirm it's him and not the man with the same name as him.

"Sorry, who is this?" It's a voice that you don't expect to hear: of a girl.

"Oh, I must've called the wrong—"

"No, you're right. It's Seungmin's phone but he's currently busy," she explains.

You should be happy that you are calling the right number but your spirit deflates instead, "Oh, that's okay, I'll just— have a great day!"

You abruptly end the call and decide to settle on texting him about Sisyphus, he can use that information as he pleases. Well, you'd be disappointed if he didn't call you back but you try not to put too much hope on it.

Maybe you should have chosen to get out of the house and feed the ducks.

Something is weighing your chest as you get awakened by the sound of your phone ringing. You stare down and see a book resting on your chest, you must've fallen asleep while reading.

The room is dark, you're too lazy to turn on the lights so you grope around your bedside table for your phone to pick it up.

"Yes, hello?" You croak.

"It's me," Seungmin says.

Your eyes instantly snap open and you lift yourself to sit up on the bed, your fingers brushing your hair as if Seungmin were there and could see you.

"You called me earlier," he says.

"I hope you're not mad that I got your numbers from Joe, he's a boyfriend of my friend, he—" You shut your eyes to keep your mind on track.

"I'm sorry I called you," you apologize even though you're not sure why.

"No, I'm glad you called and I'm glad you asked for my numbers," his voice sounds light and airy through the phone, pleasant to the ear.

You think of something to say without getting awkward, "You were busy when I called so... not sure if you're happy with that."

"Yeah, I was in the middle of doing a photo shoot," he explains with a low sigh.

"I'm sorry," you sincerely say. You were too focused on the girl who answered the call than the real reason why Seungmin couldn't pick up the phone himself.

"Stop apologizing," he says with a low laugh.

"Okay," you say with a smile.

"Can I pick you up for dinner?"

The offer comes so suddenly that you don't know how to respond to it. Frankly, you would say yes right away but you don't want to sound eager.

"I'd love that," you say.

"Send me your address and I'll pick you up."

Unlike you, Seungmin is not afraid to show how eager he is. "Now? Like right now?" You ask for confirmation.

"Yeah. Why?"

You check the time and it's 20 past midnight, you break into laughter because it means one of you is disoriented, "Seungmin, it's late."

There's a pause and then he lowly gasps, "Ah... I've been working all day and didn't notice the time."

"I mean I would love but you've had a tiring day already so..." you hate to reject him but you only need to be the one with initiative.

"How about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow sounds great," he shortly replies.

"Do you still want me to send you my address?"

"Yes, that would be helpful."

He sounds sweet that your head is already filled with daydreams, "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"See you tomorrow," he repeated.

"Okay."

A part of you don't want this to end but you have to leave room for him to fill himself.

"Goodnight, Seungmin."

"Goodnight."

Technically, the day has turned into tomorrow and you can't go back to sleep knowing that in mere hours, you'll meet him again on a summer day.

It's dinner so you have planned out what time you should shower, and do your make-up and hair, you already picked a dress to wear so that's one less thing to worry about.

Except that Seungmin came earlier than you thought and you were in the middle of doing your hair when he called, telling you that he's outside your apartment building. You dash to the window and look for him.

There he is, standing and holding his helmet in one with the afternoon sun shining down on him, making him look like a dream.

You awkwardly wave at him from the window and Seungmin smiles as he looks up at you.

"Come upstairs!" You tell him on the phone.

"Okay."

Did he grow a few inches since you met or... he just that tall and you only realize it now as you find him standing there behind the door.

"You're ready to go?" He brushes his hair that's already messy yet somehow it's only making him more attractive.

You snap yourself out of it and look away, "I just need to change."

"Okay," he says, sounding calm as usual.

You let him wait inside as you excuse yourself to change in your bedroom. You're already in the dress you planned on wearing but it's most likely that he's taking you on his motorcycle, you change into jeans and a peasant blouse for the sake of comfort.

"Okay, I'm ready now," you announce with a smile.

It will be the first you're riding a motorcycle, it doesn't have that much difference with riding a bicycle, right? Except that the other is with engine and not eco-friendly.

Seungmin hands you a helmet, the same one he lent to the girl that night at the exhibition but you are a grown-up and not going to act petty by refusing to use it.

"Let me help you," Seungmin helps you clip the straps together under your chin.

He fixes the hair covering your face and tucks it inside the helmet, "Safety is sexy!" He says with a flirty smile that flashes at you.

Seungmin gets on the motorcycle and turns on the engine, sending it roaring alive. He offers his hand as support as you climb on the motorcycle behind him.

It's like riding a bicycle, you remind yourself but all that is running through your head is of Minho giving you a ride home that morning.

You almost fall off to the back as Seungmin launches the motorcycle forward, only slowing down when there's an intersection ahead.

"You might want to hold on to me," his voice is muffled by the helmet he's wearing.

"Yeah," You can't hear what he says with the helmet wrapped around your head so tight and the sounds of traffic.

Seungmin takes your hand and puts it around his waist, "Hold on to me," he says louder.

"Okay," you nod to let him know that you can hear him this time.

With how fast he rides and your hand is fisting the front of his leather jacket, the gap between your bodies is close to nonexistent. Sitting behind him, letting you adore his square shoulders and you wish you could just rest your head on his back.

Instead of that, your helmet hits his as he brakes hard at the traffic lights, sending your body crashing into his back. You hurriedly scoot farther to the back.

Seungmin holds your hand before you can let go of your hold on his leather jacket, he holds on to it as he waits for the light to turn green.

He slows down as he rides through the suburban area, taking you somewhere you've never been even though you have lived in the city for years.

It feels nice to ride on a summer afternoon with the air softly caressing your cheeks and the sun feeling warm on your skin.

"I am gutted to know that Sisyphus died," Seungmin says in between bites of dinner.

"The homeroom teacher brought a rabbit that looked like him but I knew that it wasn't Sisyphus," you share and shove a spoonful of mashed potato into your mouth.

"Because he had that black dot on his nose, right?"

You cover your mouth to not let him see you talking while eating, "oh, my God! You remember!"

"Of course," he coyly says, "He was our child. How could I forget our child?"

Our child? Seungmin remembers that too. You and he used to play parents for Sisyphus. But you're going to blame the summer heat for making your cheeks heat.

"So uhm... how did you become a successful photographer?" You shift the topic or else your cheeks are going to explode.

"I sort of... going into it by accident. I was studying abroad for law then I joined the photography club and everything happened," he concisely explains with the always calm yet cool facial expression.

"Everything happened," you repeated with a low laugh.

He takes a sip of water and reclines on his chair, "Just like we happened to meet again."

There is the smile again. It's sly yet nice, flirty yet sweet. He makes you all kinds of things with just one smile.

"I'd love to take your pictures," he says out of the blue.

You shake your head and shyly laugh, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"I think it's the best idea," he makes it sound like it's not a request but an order.

The early dinner you had allowed you two to spend the rest of the night walking in the park, enjoying the sunset from the top of the hill and catching up on each other's life.

Seungmin didn't finish his law school, he went on trips around the world to take pictures and do exhibitions. It's compelling listening to him talking about photography, well, he is at his most attractive talking about the thing he's passionate about.

When it comes to your turn to talk about your life, you realize you have your nose tucked in books instead of exploring the world like him.

"Compares to your my life sounds so boring," you say with a sneer.

"You can't compare your life to mine," he says.

He stops on his track and leans against the railing on the edge of a parking building, looking at you, "You get to finish your school and that's a win for you."

"I'm not there yet," you say, standing next to him and looking at the sun sinking lower on the horizon, leaving the day in a beautiful burst of golden rays.

The sunset passed in a comfortable silence, it's like watching the sun slowly tucked in for the night. You turn to the side and see Seungmin basking in the warm glow of the last slivers of sun.

"Ready to go home?" He asks.

Honestly, you don't want to go home yet but what can you say? Seungmin is working during the summer unlike you. The night air is cool and it's helping you relax on the bike ride home. You're holding on to the side of the jacket instead of his waist to stay appropriate.

Seungmin realizes it as he stops the bike at a traffic light, he pulls your hand and puts it inside the pocket of his leather jacket. You can feel his gloved hand but he looks over his shoulder, "Don't let go!"

You nod instead of verbally answering him against the noisy city sounds. Not sure if you're slowly forgetting your way around the city but Seungmin is heading nowhere near your apartment building.

It's when he takes his bike into a different apartment building that he's certainly not taking you home. After taking off his helmet he helps you take off yours in the dimly lit room of an empty parking basement.

"I thought we were going home," you fix your hair quickly with your fingers.

He puts the helmet on the handle of his bike, "But I didn't say which home," he says.

It's only right for you to get nervous, not only that you in Seungmin's studio slash apartment but he wants to take pictures of you too.

"This is a bad idea. I–I'm awkward," you stammer, clasping your hands together in front of you.

He takes your hand and leads you to the sofa, telling you to sit while he walks to a big collection of cameras from analog to digital and dozens of lenses in various sizes.

"Just relax," he says as he finally settles on his choice of camera.

"Act normal, you know, get comfortable," he picks a lens and carefully attaches it to the camera.

That's the problem. You're not normal in the first place and you're not confident unless someone is talking about your favorite books but weirding him out with your book talk is not the way to charm him.

He takes a practice shot and you suddenly shrivel up, turning rigid on the sofa.

"Relax those shoulders," he says while taking steps closer to you and keeping his finger busy clicking the camera.

You're trying to relax but knowing that the camera is taking pictures of you at every angle. It's so obvious that Seungmin puts down his camera and walks up to you.

"Shoulders down," he says with his hand on your shoulder and gently massages it.

"Sit as you like, make yourself comfortable."

You look up at him and nod as he speaks, helping you to loosen up by rubbing down your eyes. But it's the way he looks at you that convinces you that he means no harm.

"You can put your legs up if you want," he encourages.

You shake your head and shyly laugh, "I can't do that but can I borrow one of your magazines?" You point at the stacks of magazines and newspapers on top of the cabinet.

Seungmin must have taken a hundred of pictures already but that won't stop him. He puts his camera so close instead of using his expensive lens to work, making you giggle at how he leans so close.

His hand reaches your face to tuck a hair behind your ear and calmly, he says, "You have beautiful eyes."

"Oh, no, it's getting ridiculous now," you bashfully say as he goes to the back of the sofa to take a picture.

You're following him, tilting your head to the back while covering half of your face with the magazine you're hardly reading.

Seungmin puts away his camera and then leans down as he pushes the magazine away from your face. Then the next you know is his hand caressing your face and slowly he leans in.

It's as simple as putting his lips on your lips but inexplicably it feels like something you've done a million times already. It's easy, pure but the urge in the way he brushes his lips over and over again also makes it feel like such a long time coming.

You close your eyes as his hand slides down from your jaw to your exposed neck and it stays there until he slowly pulls away from the kiss.

Seungmin smiles as you foolishly stay there and stare at him with your mouth parted open, still reeling from the kiss. He continues taking pictures as if nothing happened.

You compose yourself as fast as you can and look down at your lap once Seungmin is done taking pictures, carefully putting his camera back in its place.

The city view at night reminds you that it's getting late and you might have overstayed, "I'd better—"

Again, Seungmin is ready with his hand outstretched at you to help you get up from the sofa. Once you're on your feet, he puts his arm around you and pulls you close so that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek.

"You'd better what?" His eyes are piercing right into yours.

He makes you nervous but in a good way, "I'd better—"

Seungmin kisses you again and he doesn't hold back this time. His tongue skillfully pries your mouth open and slithers in the second you let him in, invading your mouth to taste more of you.

The kiss is fiery and sets your body ablaze, explosive.

Even though your lungs burning for oxygen, you let out a whimper when he breaks the kiss. You didn't think that he would hear it.

He puts his other arm around you and asks again, "Is there anything you'd better do than this?"

It's amusing to him asking you a question that he damn knows the answer to.

With your lack of knowledge and the sex expertise on a road trip with her older boyfriend, you're left with no choice but to figure things out as you go.

You do the same every time Seungmin takes off a piece of his clothing until they're all littering his bedroom floor. The only thing that's left on you is the white underwear you're wearing, it's not a flattering one but for an unplanned sexy time, you hope it will do.

You hugging yourself while Seungmin keeps kissing you with his hands roaming your body, guess he's trying to make you calm but you're just so aware of yourself and your appearance.

Seungmin sees that so he holds your face in his hands and presses a soft peck on your lips, "Don't hide from me."

He glides his hands down to your shoulders and his eyes are following them as they take your hands away from covering your bare chest.

His one hand is straying from the course and goes down your chest, splaying his hand on your sternum then softly sighs.

"Your heart is beating so fast," he speaks so low yet it's echoing in the dark of his room.

"Are you scared or excited?" He asks as he shifts his eyes back at you.

You swallow air and answer, "Both."

Seungmin smiles in response. Keeping the hand on your beating heart, he presses another kiss on your lips, long and lingering.

He then continues the kisses down your neck, collarbone, chest, and the valley of your breasts and keeps going until he kneels on the floor.

Seungmin looks up as he places a kiss on your abdomen, his lips take a right turn, and kisses your waist and down to your hips. His other hand is hooked on the elastic band of your underwear and he's pulling it down as he places kisses down your inner thighs.

"You're so beautiful," he says while still kneeling on the floor, looking at you with wonder in his eyes like he's seeing of divine.

That inexplicably makes you feel like a goddess and he's on his knees worshipping you. Your hesitant hand makes it to his cheek and he keeps it there, pressing on it then kisses your wrist.

You offer your hand for him this time and help him get up from the floor after getting a boost of confidence from the way he's looking at you.

Taking a step closer, you embrace yourself and this moment, letting him in and take you places.

The kisses he planted all over your body are searing and you feel hot all over especially when he kisses you close to where you wanted him to be.

Both of you wanted it so much and your bodies can't hide it anymore. Without looking, you know you're drenched and his erection is hard to miss.

He pulls a condom out of his bedside drawer and you take it from him, wanting to do him this favor just so you can say it back to him once you roll the rubber down his length.

"And that's why safety is sexy," you say with a sly smile.

Even with your lack of experience in the sexual field, you can tell that it's not always about the performance. Not that Seungmin has problems with that, he's doing it very well, he's fucking you so hard that your body shakes with every thrust but it's the way he softly gazes into your eyes.

You don't even try to make your brain work, you just gaze back into his eyes and all of a sudden, he hastily kisses your open mouth.

"What are you thinking?" He asks with a tender caress on your cheek.

"Nothing," You shake your head and then blatantly say, "It just feels so good."

You don't even try to impress him, your brain is shutting down so everything you say is unfiltered, and that only amuses him more.

Seungmin takes both of your hands and interlaced them together, pinning them on each side of your pillow. With or without him picking up the pace, you're already on the brink of your climax.

"I think I'm—" You barely finish your sentence when you get hit by waves of pleasure.

You're whining against his lips as he keeps holding your hands tightly in his and puts them around his neck so you can hold him as you relish your orgasm.

A few kisses later, you have Seungmin spooning you from behind and his hand is freely exploring your body while he keeps your mouth busy with more kisses.

"Can I have you again?" He softly asks and you nod without thinking.

The sight of his member makes you feel intimidated at first but you surprised yourself at how well you took him earlier. The intimidating feeling is now being replaced by the craving to have him inside you again.

Seungmin holds your thigh still as he pushes his cock from behind and you whine as you feel him entering you little by little.

"Oh, you're so hard," you mindlessly blurt out again.

Seungmin tolerates you so much but instead of getting offended, he brings his mouth close to your ear.

"That's how much I want you," he shamelessly admits at the same time he launches his cock deep inside you.

"Oh!" You moan and muffle yourself with the back of your hand.

He takes your hand away from your mouth, "Keep making those noises for me, baby."

It's like a dream or maybe it is and the worst part of dreaming is that it stops the moment you wake up.

If it wasn't for the morning sun that forces you to wake up, you'd still be living in your dream. Alas, you prepare yourself to be disappointed but when you open your eyes, you realize that it's not a dream.

You're naked under the cover and you're sleeping on his bed,

It happened so that means Seungmin is... you roll to the other side to find the space next to you is empty except for the crumpled sheet.

"I'm here," Seungmin must have seen you looking so disoriented on the bed.

You smile out of embarrassment and lift yourself while clutching the duvet close to your chest. You watch as he makes his way to the bed carrying two mugs of what you assume is coffee from the heavenly smile of it.

He sits on the edge of the bed and sweetly greets, "Morning!"

You're about to say it back to him when he presses a quick peck on your lips. It takes you a while to reel yourself back from the kiss and finally reply, "Morning!"

He finally hands you one of the coffee mugs and you take it with both hands, inhaling the heavenly smell of it before taking a small, careful sip.

Seungmin brushes your hair away and puts it behind your ear, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder before taking a sip of his coffee.

"What do you usually do in the morning?" He asks.

"Not much. Just breakfast, coffee, check emails, reading the news," you regret telling him your boring mundane things and stop yourself from embarrassing you more.

"How about you?"

"I wake up, toast and coffee. I go back to sleep when I don't have work to do," he calmly answers with his hair looking fluffy and inviting you to touch.

"Are you working on something?" You curiously ask since he seems so laid back or maybe it's just you who likes to keep yourself busy at all times.

"Not really but I'll be working on a few things this summer," he replies and puts away his coffee mug, "It's summer break, isn't it?"

"Yes," you shortly reply.

Seungmin places his hand on your back shoulder and draws lazy circles on the skin with his finger, "Do you have any plans for summer break?"

You stall by taking another sip of your coffee before embarrassing yourself again, "No."

His fingers trail down your spine as he softly sighs, "Then you're going to spend the summer with me."

You are usually opposed to a spontaneous idea like this. You need plans, you need orders yet you turn your head to the side to look at him, then say, "Okay."

"Okay," he repeats and leans in to kiss you.

And just like that, a plan is made.

Time is relative.

When you spend the day on your own, it feels like forever but when you spend the summer with Seungmin, a month passes by so quickly.

In conclusion, Albert Einstein was always right.

With Seungmin, you're living the dream life. You're wearing his clothes, living in his place, sleeping on his bed, riding on his bike to explore new places together, you're spending your time with him in your wake and you still miss him in your sleep. Gosh! You're getting loopy in the head.

Seungmin has work to do today, he offered to take you with him but you have to check your place, you're responsible for taking care of it while the other occupant is away on a road trip.

He drops you off outside your apartment building, taking off his helmet just so he can properly kiss you before letting you go.

"I'll pick you up later," he says.

"Okay. Be careful!" you place a long kiss on his lips for the last time, watching him ride further away from you.

The good news is the place is still intact and tidy just like the last time you see it. You clean up the place knowing that it's collecting dust, packing some clean underwear and clothes for you to take to Seungmin's place.

Not sure what time Seungmin will be done with work but seeing a stack of books abandoned for weeks, you decide to return them to the library before getting fined for it.

It feels strange not coming to the library for weeks and the smell of books hits you with a wave of nostalgia. You take your books out of your bag to the librarian lady who's just as surprised to see you when she usually gets sick of seeing you.

"Haven't seen you in a long time," she says while fixing her glasses.

You politely laugh and keep it low remembering that it's a library, "I suddenly have a different plan for the summer."

You're waiting by the desk as she thoroughly checks if there's any damage to the books when someone injects himself into the conversation.

"And the so-called plan is slacking off the whole summer?" Minho says, carrying a stack of books in one hand that makes the veins on his arms pop on his skin.

You turn around and sneer at him, "I'm trying this new thing called 'Get-A-Life' and I think you should try it too."

Minho puts the books down on top of the desk with a low thud, "I'm actually on this thing called 'Get-A-Summer-Job' and I think it works wonders on me."

You look away from him and secretly make a mocking face. The librarian lady pushes a form for you to sign and your phone beeps with a new message.

She glares at you for forgetting to put your phone in silent mode, "I'm sorry."

You hurriedly open to check a new message from Seungmin that he'll be done in two hours and you write a quick reply telling him you'll be waiting for him.

"You know I started to get concerned that you may have decided to give up," Minho says as he keeps the door open for both of you.

The stinging rays of the sun greet you as you step outside, reminding you to stay indoors or look for a shade to shelter in.

"I may be slacking off but once the summer ended, you know that I have never left my place," you tell him with eyes squinted from the bright sun.

Minho slings his backpack on one shoulder, "and that is behind me."

You sigh and shield your eyes with your hand, "It's summer break and you meant to be slacking off on summer break."

And you have two hours to spend on your own before Seungmin can pick you up, unless...

"You're supposed to have fun, you know and I can show you how," You suggest an idea with a grin.

He unlocks his bicycle from the rack and backs it out, he's probably analyzing your intention with his piercing stare, "What do you have in mind?"

You blank out for a moment from being under the sun for too long, "You and me, cold beers?"

"You mean, 'you and I'," he fixes your grammar.

You hold yourself from snapping at him and exhale air, "You know what, I'll just—"

"Okay. But you're paying," he immediately changes his mind.

There's a dive bar nearby where students usually go whenever they need to hit the snooze button on stressful university life and it's way cheaper than the other bars in the area.

You're having a sandwich aside from the cold beers while Minho settles on a tray of chips for the snacks.

"You can just tell me you need someone to accompany you having lunch," he says.

As expected, he's too smart to miss a thing. Not that you're afraid to have lunch by yourself, he happened to be there so why not?

"You can have a sandwich for lunch too," you tell him.

He shakes his head and pulls out a book from his backpack, "I had lunch."

You shrug and take another bite, "Then order as many cold beers as you want."

Minho starts reading his book, sticking his sharp nose in between pages and taking a sip of his beer once in a while.

"Where have you been though?"

You look up from your meal and wipe your mouth with a napkin, "Pardon?"

"I thought I'd be seeing your missing poster on the morning news," he says as he flips a page.

You know he's joking but his calm expression tells you otherwise, "Oh, my God! You're officially diabolical," you shriek.

He puts his book down and looks at you, "Have you ever thought I'd be most likely the one being asked about your whereabouts?"

"I've been going around the city with someone and I know that you don't care but he's an old friend of mine," You recline on your seat and cross your arms together in front of you.

"You can stop worrying about what you're going to tell the police if I went missing," you tell him with a smirk.

Minho takes the information for a moment as if it were a piece of information that needs to be thoroughly processed before going back to his default setting of being a nonchalant being.

He rests his back on his seat and picks up his book to continue reading.

After receiving a text that Seungmin is on the way to pick you up, you paid for the food and beers. The day is warm with the sun almost disappears for the day.

"Do you need to 'Get-A-Ride' too?" He pokes fun at you as he walks his bicycle.

"You must have waited hours to say that back to me," you say with a sigh.

"I can give you a ride home. Just like that morning," he smirks as he gets on his bicycle.

"No, thanks, Minho. I'm getting myself a ride home," you tell him.

He stays on his bicycle with his hands on the handlebars and looks at you, "Do you want me to wait with you?"

Minho actually knows how to be a gentleman, he just chooses to act snobby and cold around you.

"No, it's okay. He'll be here in a minute," you assure him.

He contemplates for a while before putting his foot on the paddle, "Okay, then. Thank you for the beers!"

You smile and wave your hand at him as he rides his bike in the direction of his apartment building.

A few minutes after Minho leaves, Seungmin appears with the sound of the roaring engine of his motorcycle. You're smiling as you're seeing him getting closer and closer.

He takes his helmet off and stays on his bike, watching you walk up to him.

"Hey," you say with a smile.

"I'm sorry, I have a girlfriend," he jokingly says.

You stop on your track, but seeing the sly smile on his face, you know he's playing with you, "Well then, can I get a ride?"

He gestures for you to come closer so he can whisper into your ear, "Oh, you'll get a ride for sure."

As the bike stop at a traffic light, Seungmin would either hold your hand or bring it close to his mouth to kiss it. Tonight, he chooses to rest his hand on your thigh with his gloved finger rubbing the skin.

When the lights about to turn green, he puts both of your hands around his waist. You hold him tight with your head resting on his back as he speeds up, sending the bike gliding through the city streets.

The ride gives you a new kind of high.

Seungmin knows how to get the engine hot and ready, using his hands or his mouth to get you even wetter than you already are. His touch is searing and firm, calculated to make you roar in pleasure. His mouth is hotter than the sun on a summer day, setting you ablaze every time his lips touch your skin.

He knows when to slow down and to speed up, he knows how to brake before sending you to your high early. When he knows that you're close though, he accelerates, he's going all in and freely riding on your body.

Faster and faster, knowing no limits, not stopping until both of you crash and break into smithereens, floating in immense pleasure.

The rush, the adrenaline, the ragged breath of life and death. There's nothing like it.

The ride is worth the high.

When Seungmin isn't working you spend the days exploring new places together.

He's been lending you one of his cameras so you can take your own pictures on the trips you take together on his bike. He taught you how to develop films in his little red room, he's patient enough to teach you every step of the process and not let you touch dangerous chemicals without him watching.

Seungmin also takes your pictures at every chance he gets, doesn't matter if you've just woken up or in the shower, sleeping, or eating a toast on the bed. Pretty sure he's running out of films just taking that kind of picture of you.

It's only fair that you take pictures of him too.

The first thing Seungmin does in the morning is make coffee and he takes his coffee seriously. He grinds the coffee beans himself, he boils the water until it hits the perfect temperature of 205 Fahrenheit before pouring it and he lets the coffee drips into a glass pot.

For you, Seungmin looks the sexiest when he's putting on a serious face. His jaws tensed, making his facial bones more defined and his mouth is slightly pouting without him realizing it. You have taken, at least, a dozen pictures of him looking like that in your camera.

As he waits for the coffee to be ready, he will come to the bed for some cuddles with you or discuss which part of the city you're going to explore today.

Today his routine slightly changes after handing you your coffee, "I'll be away the whole day for work."

"Another photo shoot?" You wildly guess.

He blows over his coffee before taking a sip, "Got invited to a photography club," he vaguely says.

Seungmin invited you when he wanted you to come with him but he didn't today so you guess he wanted to go by himself. It's time for you to get some clean underwear anyway.

"Okay," you answer with a smile.

"How are you going to spend the day?" He asks with a soft caress on your cheek.

"Well, there's not much to do without you," you say with a pout, "I think I'll just go home and get a few things."

Seungmin smiles and presses a kiss on your lips, "Don't bother packing any underwear. You're hardly wearing one around me."

You break into laughter, "Well, thanks to you."

"Are you going to wait for me?" He softly asks, twirling a strand of your hair around his slender finger.

"Always," you answer without a beat.

"I'll pick you up later?"

"Yes, please."

The photography club is doing an outdoor session and it's in the neighboring city, Seungmin leaves after taking a shower and kisses you while you're still snuggling in bed.

You leave Seungmin's apartment in the afternoon, waiting until the day is a little cooler before getting out. You take a taxi to avoid the heat and come home to find that someone is in the apartment.

Taking a cautious step, you peer inside Rina's bedroom which you always left the door closed at all times is wide open. You spot the bathroom door is open as well and decide to check it by tiptoeing until you're right next to the doorway.

Slowly, you peer inside and find Rina in the tub. You barge your way inside and shout, "Rina!"

She's just as surprised as you that she's sloshing water out of the tub, "Fuck! You scared me!"

You hurriedly put a towel for the puddles of water on the bathroom floor, "why are you here?"

"I live here," she innocently replies.

"Yeah, I know but there's still a week left on the summer break," your eyes shift to the box of macaroons on the side of the tub and you can tell right away that the answer is not going to be good.

"Joe and I broke up," she says and shoves a whole macaroon into her mouth.

You kind of saw it coming but you don't want to be in her face saying I-told-you-so. You choose to be a good friend and sit on the closed toilet, "Oh, no, what happened?"

She shakes her head and stuffs her mouth with more macaroon, "That jerk dropped me off in the middle of nowhere!"

"Oh, my God! He's the worst!" You say while disgustingly looking at the crumbs of the macaroon floating on the surface of the water.

Rina has always been the brightest and the most confident out of you two. It's saddening how miserable she looks right now when she can get any man who's twice better than Joe.

"Why don't we get drinks tonight?"

Rina gives you a puzzled look, "You once said it's a bad idea to turn to alcohol in times like this."

You meekly nod because you did say that to her but that was coming from the you who hasn't met Seungmin, "It's true but... why not, you know? As long as I'm there watching over your alcohol intake, I think we'll be okay."

Rina can't get out of the tub faster than this, she doesn't even bother putting on a towel and walking to her bedroom naked.

"What happened to you?" She asks after taking three shots of Jägerbomb as a starter.

"Nothing happened. Just met a guy, not much," you nonchalantly answer and take just a tiny sip of your first shot.

"Met a guy? That means a lot coming from you," she says, chasing after her tequila shots with a glass of coke and rum.

You would be offended if she wasn't a friend but she's always been an outspoken person, "I'll introduce you to him someday."

That reminds you to send a text to Seungmin telling him you'll be sleeping in the house tonight and most likely take care of Rina's hangover the next morning.

"For your information, this guy drives a motorcycle," Minho appears out of nowhere carrying his drink in his hand, and plops down next to you.

"Oh, Minho! I miss seeing your pretty face," Rina half-heartedly says.

"And I miss seeing you drunk," he says back.

You elbow his side and stop him from spoiling more about Seungmin, not the right time to tell Rina about him when she's heartbroken and halfway drunk.

"What's going on, Rina?" Minho coyly asks, ignoring your warning glare.

She lets out a heavy sigh and stacks her hands on the table before resting his chin on it, "Never fucking date artists," she gives him an irrelevant answer.

"They're cocky, they think they're mighty and right and know the world better," she rambles on and on.

Rina gulps her drink and not even wince at the bitter aftertaste, "Fuck them and their free-spirited shit."

Minho holds his drink with one hand even with the drops of the condensation rolling down his hand, "Once the free spirit has taken hold of a man, there's no way of getting it out of him."

Rina looks at him with unfocused eyes then raises her glass at him, "Damn right!"

It doesn't mean that all artists in general. Even though Seungmin is an artist, it doesn't mean that he'll act the same as Joe. He's kind and caring, he's intuitive. He may be spontaneous to the point of almost impulsive, but he's great. You don't know why you should feel called out with what Rina has said.

Minho kindly offers his help to walk Rina up the stairs until you get her to her bed. You take off her shoes and cover her with the duvet.

"Want a glass of water?" It's the least you can do for him after helping you carry drunk Rina.

"Yeah, please," he still catches his breath when he answers to you.

"How do you know the guy I'm seeing drives a motorcycle?" The question just sort of pops into your head.

Minho drains the glass of water before answering, "I saw you and him at the intersection the other day."

Seungmin has been giving you rides to and fro, it'll be impossible if Minho hasn't seen you on the street once. You walk him to the threshold and watch as he walks out the door.

"Thank you for the help," you mutter.

"No problem," he coyly says.

A moment passes just you and him looking at each other as he stands there with a line drawn in between.

"Goodnight, Minho," you say for the last time.

"Goodnight," he says back with his voice low.

Rina's words are lingering in your head after not getting a reply from Seungmin the whole night.

Maybe he forgot or his phone died. There are so many possibilities but he is your Seungmin, you knew him from kindergarten, he may have gotten rid of the glasses and the braces, but it's Seungmin.

One thing for certain is to avoid talking about Seungmin, especially his profession when Rina is still in this state, a mix of hangover and still completely heartbroken.

"I bought you soup," you murmur as you brush her hair while she's still sleeping on her bed.

Rina is slightly stirring in her sleep and snuggling to her pillow.

"Heat it before you eat it okay? It'll help with the hangover," you tell her again.

She hums in reply and clutches at her duvet even though the day is warm since it's almost noon. You quietly leave the apartment to go to Seungmin's place.

You smile the second you see him standing next to his camera collection while cleaning one of them with a small cloth.

"I miss you," you murmur as you hug him from the back.

Seungmin carefully puts down the camera, then pulls your hand, turning around on his feet to see you. He looks at you up and down, then flicks his eyes back at you.

Oh, you forgot how meticulous he can be. He probably notices that it's the same dress you were about to wear on the first date.

He cups your jaw in his hand and compliments, "You're beautiful!"

Oh, that's not what you expected him to say but it's good. Maybe it's because you've been wearing jeans a lot with him that he finds you looking different in a dress.

"Now, give me a twirl!" He orders as he takes one of the cameras.

"You want me to–" you ask for confirmation before you're embarrassing yourself as usual.

"Yes. Spin for me!" He has his camera ready and aimed at you.

You take a step backward and spin on your feet for him, sending the hem of your dress floating around you. You keep spinning as he endlessly takes pictures without stopping.

"I'm getting dizzy," you tell him while half laughing.

Seungmin is also laughing and he finally stops taking pictures, he walks up to you to wrap his arms around you. He stares into your eyes for a moment, then softly kisses you on the lips.

"I miss you too," he says against your lips.

You don't want to sound demanding but seeing Rina going through her heartbreak reminds you to be cautious about who you're giving your heart to.

"You didn't reply to my text," you tell him with your hands on his chest.

"I'm sorry," he simply apologizes.

That should be enough. He knows he's at fault and he apologizes for it, that should be enough to put your mind at ease. Or so you thought.

"I have something for you," he takes you to the bedroom and sits you down at the end of the bed.

Seungmin is rummaging inside his backpack to pull out something, it's something familiar, a pack of jelly candies. You can confirm as he opens it right in front of you and he takes one of the ring-shaped jelly.

"Do you remember this?"

You stare at it and remember this is how you and him became parents to Sisyphus, you got married at the playground with him putting on the same jelly ring on your thumb because your fingers were too small for it back then.

You nod as the memory is playing in the back of your head, "Of course."

Seungmin smiles and puts the jelly ring on your ring finger, kisses it after. You and him look at each other and somehow it feels like you're getting transported back in time to when you were both still five years old.

"I'm happy that we meet again," he intertwines his hand with yours on your lap.

"Me too," you say with a gentle squeeze on his hand.

Meeting him again feels like fate and for once, you're not going to search for any logical reasons behind it. You want to let go, you want to set yourself free.

You close your eyes and lean in until your lips meet the softness of his lips, melting them together into a kiss that breaks your heart open.

Seungmin lays you down on the bed and then he lays down next to you, his hand trailing the side of your body while his lips endlessly brushing over yours.

"It's crazy how I can't stop kissing you," he mutters with his lips glistening wet and red.

Hearing that only makes you want to kiss him more. You overlap half of his body with yours, your leg is hooked around his leg as his hand now resting on the arch of your back.

He draws his hand back to the nape of your neck to find the zipper of your dress, then he pulls it down slowly. The zipping sound echoes in the room that is now flooded with the afternoon sun.

After parting it open, he wastes no time to slip his hand and touches your skin. He reluctantly lets go of the kiss and props his elbow against the mattress as you stay lying on your stomach next to him.

With only his fingertips, he lightly touches your skin before replacing them with his lips, making a trail of kisses down your spine.

You lowly moan for every wet kiss he plants on your skin and moan as he crashes his lips on you again, kisses you so hungrily. When you think his hand will stop where the zipper ends, it keeps going until it stops on the back of your thigh, right where the hem of your dress is.

"Gosh! You're so soft..." he speaks so low it's almost like a whisper.

Seungmin puts his hand under and gently squeezes on the flesh on the back of your thigh, his finger is teasing the lacey fabric of your underwear.

Your hand makes its way to the collar of his shirt, popping the buttons open by yanking at it while trying to keep up with his kisses.

He's palming your ass cheek in his hands long enough until he can't help himself, he parts your legs open to make a space so he can touch you there.

You're moaning into his mouth as he slides his finger inside you, he pulls it out only to add another finger into you. You feel full with two digits inside you but that's because he knows what to do with them.

"Oh, Seungmin..." you sigh with your eyes fluttering shut.

You have to actively tell your brain to drag your hand down his bare chest and touch him there, doing the same favor for him.

His semi-hard cock sprung out of its confine the second you pull his underwear down, wrapping your hand around it and slowly stroking it, up and down as slow as the way he kisses you right now.

With the bright daylight, you can see that his cock is red and veiny, pulsing with so much desire in your hand. Using your thumb, you rub the tip in slow, circular motions.

"I can feel you clenching around my fingers," his lips brush yours as he speaks.

You giggle in response and that only exhilarates him more that he tugs at your lower lip and gently bites at it, "I'm so impatient to be inside you."

You hastily kiss him with tongue and all, "Want you inside me too," you whine.

Sex used to be something that makes you anxious and falls apart from the inside. However, with Seungmin, it's so easy and natural, that you're not afraid to ask for what you want, where you want to be touched, and how you want to be touched.

Most times you believe it's not the sex itself that makes the whole experience good but it's the way he treats you during and even after the sex.

Seungmin turns to your neck, littering the sensitive skin with hot and wet kisses. Each kiss is longer than the previous until he pulls away with a low gasp.

"I have to tell you that we run out of sexy," he suddenly shares.

You look at him in confusion, "Huh?"

He softly kisses your jaw and then your lips, "We're running out of condoms."

With how often you have sex, it's no surprise that the two of you blow a big budget on condoms. But you're always taking your birth control even when you're not that sexually active and you trust Seungmin to do it without the second layer of protection.

"We can do it without," you tell him.

Seungmin looks like he has just received a piece of news that's hard for him to comprehend. He only looks at you with eyes wide and filled with unexplainable glints.

"Are you on birth control?" He asks for confirmation.

"Yes."

"Is it okay with you?"

"I trust you," you earnestly tell him.

Seungmin softly smiles hearing your words before leaning in, kissing you ever so softly like he's kissing the wind.

Taking his position by hovering above you and you're still lying on your stomach under him, he lifts the hem of your dress, then pulls your underwear down.

He throws away his shirt and takes his time to tease your entrance with his cock, either he does it to prepare you or himself.

You look over his shoulder to see that Seungmin is putting on a serious face, "We can take it slow."

He leans down to capture your lips in a kiss, "I like slow."

The speed is not the issue here, a raw groan rips out of him as he pushes his hard cock inside you. Without the layer of protection, his cock becomes sensitive and he can fully feel you, how your walls wrapped so tightly around him.

He curves his hands under yours and buries his head in your neck, taking a moment to adjust himself inside you. You guide his hand to fondle your clothed breasts together with him.

"You feel good inside me," you mewl as he plants his mouth on your shoulder.

His cock feels incredibly good and hard, you can feel it throbbing as you said those words to him. It's like having sex for the first time again.

"Oh, you have no idea," he sighs with a haste kiss on your lips.

Seungmin is thrusting into you just as he promised, slow and steady. You crumple the sheet under you as you're cumming already around him, not sure if he knows as he keeps the motion of his hips going.

He pauses to change positions, turning you over to lay on your back this time, and this way, you can see how magnificent he looks under the sun.

The broad shoulders, the tousled hair, the clenched jaws, and the muscles on his body, oh, Seungmin is just perfect.

"You're perfect..." you say with a dreamy sigh.

He can see the admiration in your eyes as you stare at him with your hands turned up on the bed, he softly smiles and leans in to kiss you.

"No, you're perfect," he says back with his face only inches away from yours.

Seungmin knows how to take control as he adds speed to his thrusting, sending you close to your second orgasm. He loses control a little after you cum, holding your hands by the wrists and pinning them on each side of your head.

"Mmh, yes, yes..." you moan, getting closer and closer to your climax.

From the way he's throbbing inside you, you reckon he's close to his high as well. He's not stopping even after you're cumming for the second time, he keeps chasing and chasing...

"Oh, fuc—" his curse falls short as he collapses on top of you.

"You're cumming inside me, mmh?" Your hand is tangled deep in his soft locks.

That reminds him of what he should have done, pulling out of you as he planned but you stop him, holding him close as he's coming down from his high.

"Stay inside me," you say as you hold the side of his face and let him crumble into your arms.

The two of you spending the rest of the afternoon nestling on the bed, cuddling and talking, passing time like this with him feels even more intimate than sex.

Seungmin takes your hand and makes a trail of kisses down your inner arm, stopping when his lips meet your knuckles. He takes your finger adorned with the jelly ring and puts it into his mouth, taking the jelly ring with him and chewing on it.

"You eat our wedding ring!" You blurt out.

He pecks your lips, "I'm hungry. Let's order something!"

There's only one week left to summer break and you want to enjoy every second you get to spend with Seungmin, even though you have to lie to Rina about the guy you're staying in with, you're not going to let anything get in the way of your happiness.

After dinner, you both take a shower together. Seungmin offers to wash your hair for you, his fingers applying gentle pressure on your scalp and meticulously washing the suds off your hair before moving on to wash your body for you.

He stands behind you, one hand holding one side of your waist while the other is slowly lathering your skin with a bar of soap.

Even though you're taking a cold shower, it doesn't stop the temperature from rising inside the shower. His lips taste cold and warm when he kisses you, his hands are slippery yet firm, and the heat his body is emitting seeps into you as he holds you close against him.

The second both of your naked bodies hit the bed, it's instant coziness. You feel snug and content lying so close to him under the cover.

"I don't want summer to end," you sadly tell him.

"Me too," he seconds your remark.

Keeping your head still with his hand holding your chin, he slowly kisses you with his eyes closed, "Goodnight," he softly murmurs.

You give him a long peck on the lips in return and say it back to him, "Goodnight."

It's almost 1 a.m. The summer night is peeking through the windows with the stars winking at you and the warm breeze slipping through the cracks of the windows caresses your cheeks. You can't sleep. You are happy.

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