#and i mean it was the only thing i payed attention to
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Unprofessional Attraction | THREE
♡ pairing - yunho x afab!reader
♡ word count - 23.6K
♡ warnings for this chapter - fluff, ANGST, and explicit content (mdni), teacher/student relationship, some other members are featured, drinking alcohol, bigdick!yunho, pet names (angel, pretty, sweetheart, etc.), possessive/obsessive/toxic behavior, cunnilingus, hickeys, fingering, praise, unprotected sex, creampie(s), jealousy, blackmail
♡ A/N - I’m soooo sorry this took me forever to write (it’s so many words ahhh 🫠) but hopefully this is worth the wait. The next part will be the finale of this series. This also isn't beta read so I apologize for mistakes ahhh. I love ya’ll, thank you for your patience friends, STREAM GOLDEN HOUR ♡
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
“You could at least try a little harder to pretend you want to be here with me, ____.”
Wooyoung’s antsy fingers pinch at the straw of his drink while he watches you thumb away at your phone. Going back and forth with your friends in the group chat about Jongho’s upcoming recital is the only thing calming your nerves this afternoon. When you had agreed to his ruse, you didn’t realize you were signing up for public humiliation. Those two words might be a bit dramatic, but sitting together in the dead center of the campus food court has you immensely anxious either way. This is entirely way too public…
You don’t mean to offend him with your embarrassment. It’s not like Wooyoung isn’t handsome; in fact, that might make things worse. It helps draw in too much unnecessary attention from other women, and it feels as though there might as well be a spotlight circling your table. Luckily, Yunho has a lecture through the next hour today, so you’re not too concerned on that front. Regardless, your first fake date with him is starting to be nothing short of awkward.
“You can’t even look me in the eyes?” He inquires further.
“I’m sorry,” you find it within yourself to apologize, placing your phone face down on the table and sliding it away. To offset your anxiety, you put new effort into inspecting your food and preparing to finally eat it. Anything to just keep busy. “This is just a little out of my comfort zone.”
“Pretend I’m Mr. Jeong if that makes it easier,” he suggests, but his tone hangs on the edge of condescension. It’s not all that intentional, but he’s poking the bear. “I have access to the grade book all the same, you know.”
With narrowed eyes, you try to let his wisecrack roll off your shoulder, “That’s not a very funny joke.”
Continuing to avoid his eyes, Wooyoung watches you put all your attention into eating the meal he’s bought you so that you both can pretend to be on this lunch date. He was gracious enough to offer to pay for any meals you share moving forward, as long as it would make things easier on you while being a part of his plan. That’s what a real boyfriend would do anyway, right? Though, right now you’re not treating him like a boyfriend— you’re treating him like some kind of dirtbag with an open wallet. He can feel his own appetite slipping away slowly but surely.
“What are you both anyway, fuck buddies?” He asks a little too bluntly.
It might be a bit muffled, as your mouth is stuffed with food, but you still manage to retort, “That’s none of your business, actually.”
His increasing annoyance is evident by the deep exhale he tries (and fails) to suppress. Wooyoung doesn’t want things to be so tense, but you’re not exactly making it easy. He supposes you might gain some sympathy for him if he explains his troubles. You seem like a genuine person despite any contempt you might hold for him right now, so he figures you’ll be understanding. He needs to make conversation in some kind of way, anyway.
“How about I tell you a bit about my situation then?” He finally offers. You hum to let him know you’re listening, so he continues, “She and I were together for the last three years, but then she broke up with me a few months ago. And over something so stupid, really.”
“Go on,” you encourage, swallowing the bulk of food in your throat.
“Well, I need a master's degree to get the specific job I want… After telling her, one of her friends got in her ear about how me staying in school might hold her back after we graduate next year.” Wooyoung tries to sound indifferent to her friend’s heavy influence on her decisions, but the look behind his eyes, as he glances around to see if she’s in the area, says otherwise. It’s full of bitterness and hurt. “She wants to travel for a year before getting a job, and they told her I’d stress her out too much with a long-distance relationship. She took that to heart, for whatever reason.”
Would it be a lie if you said you didn’t support a tiny bit of actual pity towards Wooyoung? Probably. Knowing what you know now, you ponder more about the tight situation between you. He’s an intelligent guy, and you’re sure he knows exactly what Yunho is to you with the way you get touchy about his name even being mentioned. That’s why he’s using someone else’s happiness to retrieve his own once more. While that’s not exactly just, you’re aware that love makes people do crazy things. Moreover, you know you in particular can’t judge anyone after doing what you’ve done to achieve Yunho’s attention.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” is all you can reply, but it’s genuine.
Before you can process what’s happening, Wooyoung suddenly reaches across the table and links his fingers with your free hand in an act of endearment. Your cheeks prickle with heat, not from being charmed, but from more humiliation. This is embarrassing, suddenly having to do public displays of affection with someone you don’t even like in front of whoever is looking hard enough to notice.
“Don’t turn around, she’s here with a friend,” he mumbles, and then an affectionate smile tugs at his lips. It looks fairly genuine… He is much too good at looking charming on the drop of a dime. “Do you think it’d be too corny if we wore some matching outfits a couple times?”
You hesitate for the briefest second before squeezing his hand with false affection and leaning forward on your elbows to seem more interested.
Nobody is close enough to hear you reply, “Are you trying to win her back or get her to block you? Because I honestly can’t tell.”
“It’s just a little joke. Laugh a little, I beg,” Wooyoung pouts.
He leads your connected hand to fondle his cheek, trying to inconspicuously guide you through the motions. If Wooyoung didn’t know any better, he would assume you’ve never been on a date in your life. His hopes were much higher than this, as you’re much too pretty to be this stiff when it comes to showing affection. It almost has him second-guessing whether he’s right about you and Yunho being involved more than just sexually. Much to his surprise, your hand finally relaxes against his face, and he revels in the way you even stroke his skin with your thumb. The timing couldn’t be more ideal, truly. He can sense the attention of his intended audience, and the corners of his mouth curl into a subtle smirk of approval.
“That’s perfect. Keep going.”
“Don’t push it, please.”
For the rest of that week, Wooyoung insisted on repeating these kinds of daily rendezvous. This request also accompanied another for walking each other to class when applicable. He knew he couldn’t always time it right for when she’d be present, but he had his workarounds. He was fairly knowledgeable about a few of her friends’ class schedules, and he made it a point to walk with you on paths that would often intersect with those who he knew would inform her of his behavior instead. Occasionally, he would ask you to show up to school a little more fetching than usual, with prettier clothes and makeup. Wooyoung also made a point of concealing her identity from you, for reasons unbeknownst to you. He failed to tell you any more details about her after your first date, and that included basics as simple as her name. Several possibilities were considered when you finally identified this as a problem. The rational explanation would be that he doesn’t want you approaching her on your own time and taking things into your own hands. A particular irrational explanation starts infiltrating your thoughts with the more days that pass by bearing no evidence of progress:
“I’m starting to believe this ex of yours doesn’t exist.”
Your snide remark about his secrecy started as a joke.
“I have nothing to gain from lying to you.”
His terse reply didn’t necessarily extinguish the conspiracy behind your jest. After consistently being told not to look in certain directions for nearly two weeks, and no updates on her position, it became harder to believe his words. Despite everything, you do as you’re told and pray that his ex breaks through sooner rather than later.
I’m sorry.
It seems as though those two words haven’t stopped coming out of your mouth ever since you stepped foot in Yunho’s home this evening.
It begins with apologizing profusely for asking to come over on such short notice. Your complex’s Wi-Fi went out due to the wintery mix storm slamming the town tonight. Wooyoung’s been trying to lay it on thick the last few days and make your presence more than known to his ex, anywhere and every way that he can. Consequently, with a lot of your free time being taken away by him, you found little time to put towards important assignments due at the end of this week. The lack of Wi-Fi is the absolute last thing you need to happen right now.
Yunho doesn’t care about your abrupt presence at his door or even the way you track slush past his doorstep. He's more concerned about how you drove in the middle of a huge storm so late into the evening with no care for your safety. Over and over, you find new things to apologize for that make no sense to him. Another set of frazzled apologies comes from your mouth for keeping him up late after an hour or two passes. Yunho can’t help but genuinely laugh at this one.
“You do realize what day it is, right?” He inquires. The clueless look on your face makes him sit up, “It’s Saturday, ____. The day you typically come over and spend the night. I actually texted you about it earlier today, I didn’t know if you still wanted to or not since you were so busy last Saturday.”
This epiphany makes you immensely bashful and draws many more apologies out of you for your poor memory and lack of communication. How could I have lost time so badly that I forgot to reply to him about something we do so routinely? Under your stressful circumstances lately, your days are running together, and there’s just too much on your plate to appease everyone. Yunho visibly sees the shame blanket you from head to toe, and he hopes he didn’t come across as if he was upset with your behavior. In fact, he’s more concerned than anything.
Your lover can hear you type much faster after this brief exchange and he scoffs. Surely you don’t believe he’d willingly let you make haste of your work so you can disappear for another week or two… he groans internally when he realizes that’s exactly what you’re doing. He doesn’t understand why you’re so self-conscious and sheepish tonight, but he’s not going to press it. Instead, he rises from his spot on his couch and creeps over to where you’re seated at his table. His hands find the slopes of your shoulders and thumbs rub comforting circles into your muscles.
“You know you’re not going home tonight, right?” He questions after a moment of being nosey and peeking at your screen.
“And why not?”
The abrupt feeling of Yunho’s large palm skating up the skin of your throat before pushing your chin up to meet his gaze above you makes a chill run up your spine. His eyes are warm and concerned, yet stern.
“Because I said so,” he says point-blank.
Whether it be because of the terrible storm still slapping at his windows, or maybe even the fact that he hasn’t seen you outside of a classroom in quite some time, he knows this succinct answer suffices just as well those do. The subsequent pout on your lips to him is seen simply as an invitation to kiss them, and he does just that. You don’t even try to argue any further. It may not be your best work this semester, but it’s not too much longer after that when you finally submit everything due before its midnight deadline.
After briefly disappearing to his room to rummage through his dresser and change into something more comfortable, you eventually join him on the couch. Tonight’s position of choice has your head using his thighs as a pillow, cheek squished against his soft sweatpants as he spends endless minutes massaging the tense muscles of your back and shoulders with his fingers. He smells so good… that lavender and musk mix has you closing your eyes every handful of seconds just to breathe him in. Even if he can’t see your face, it’s obvious that you’re not paying attention to the movie he has on the TV, so he suggests that maybe you both should move to the bedroom so you can be more comfortable. You assure him that you’re more than comfortable right where you’re at, and that’s the truth.
Despite laying so peacefully with him, in what should be a moment of sedating intimacy, your mind is still reeling with things that need to be accomplished in the next few weeks. Every time you mentally check off something on your list, there are several more things added after, such as your three final exams, Yunho’s final paper, returning your textbook rentals, finally figuring out your ceremony dress, picking up your guests’ ceremony tickets–
“Are you going to attend my ceremony?”
Yunho hears you mumble this randomly after a while of sitting in comfortable silence. You’re sure he doesn’t need a ticket as a teacher, but the thought of having to get them brings you back to earth and reminds you of his presence.
“That was the plan,” he confirms, but hesitantly adds, “Unless you don’t want me there. I don’t want to make things awkward.”
The way you’re acting lately has him questioning things like this, now that he thinks about it. You immediately dispel his apprehension with a displeased grunt.
“No, I… really need you there.”
Yunho’s hand falters slightly in its kneading. He’s grateful that you’re unable to see his face with how you’re lying because the apples of his cheeks are taut from the overjoyed smile threatening to break through his lips. It’s one thing to be admired or adored by someone, but it’s another thing to be needed. He doesn’t hear that word often, if at all, but hearing it come from your mouth makes it even more monumental to him. That’s something he could get used to. Yunho hums in understanding, wordlessly confirming that he’ll be present. Following along the topic of graduation, he decides to ask something present on his mind recently.
“Have you thought about what you want to do after graduation?”
“Career-wise or celebration-wise?”
“Whichever… or both.”
You close your eyes to think. Nothing immediately comes to mind in terms of celebrating, but you’re sure your friends will be holding parties to attend. Putting that aside, you turn over and decide to open up a bit about your impending employment.
“I had a great internship last semester that I put my all into,” you divulge, “They wanted to bring me on full-time, so I asked if they could hold the position and wait for me to finish my degree this semester. Lucky me, they agreed.”
“Already set up for success right after you leave that stage… You’re amazing,” Yunho marvels. “I suppose I’m just as lucky too, huh? I get to watch you shine, front row.”
There’s a brief moment where you peer up and match his fond smile that’s already beaming right back down at you. When you reach up to caress his cheek, Yunho leans into your touch as if it’s second nature. The further you both dive into this relationship, it feels as though maybe you’ve finally found an additional frontline cheerleader.
“Mhm, something like that,” you tease. When he turns to kiss your palm in his form of congratulations, you sigh. Your hands have been tainted by someone else’s touch, and here he is blindly showing them genuine affection. Before you can help it, another apology comes out, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately, Yu.”
“Why do you keep apologizing tonight for things you can’t control?” The gentle, unsuspecting laugh he lets out makes the guilt sitting in your chest about Wooyoung just a little bit heavier. “It’s finals season, I know how it goes.”
When your hand returns to your chest, your gaze falls just the same. He’s right, albeit unknowingly. With those words, you can finally accept that you have no control over your current situation at all. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself that you’re guiding this blackmail ship forward, you’re just not. In any case, you still feel like you’re doing what’s best for Yunho's future. Tonight’s tornado of apologies have all been unconscious overcompensation. As much as you feel like you need to, you know you shouldn’t have to apologize for your shortcomings when they result from such unmanageable circumstances. You’re doing your best, even if your best isn’t enough just yet.
Yunho can’t figure out what it is about tonight, but you seem like your head is a bit more in the clouds than usual. You’re here with him physically, but he can tell you’re somewhere else mentally. However, he acknowledges that he could be reading into things too much since it’s been a while since you both have spent time privately.
“Hey, stargazer, everything okay?” he finally asks in a soft voice, gently tugging on your cheek to bring you back to the present.
“Sorry—yeah, everything’s alright,” you reassure him. There’s something behind those soft eyes you’re giving him that makes him question your answer, but he keeps those concerns to himself and simply nods. “Thank you for being so understanding. I’ll make it up to you when this is all over with, I promise.”
You’re no longer talking about school with those words. He’ll probably never truly understand how much weight that sentence holds, but that’s okay. For the rest of your time with him tonight, you pretend that none of your problems exist outside his home. He deserves your unwavering attention tonight, at the very least.
On the first day of the following week, Wooyoung requests your presence in front of some familiar dormitories. It’s been quite some time now since you’ve been on this side of campus, considering you moved into your current apartment around the end of your junior year. The nostalgic feeling you get when meandering your way to your meeting place doesn’t do much to alleviate the anxiety you regularly get every time Wooyoung brings you somewhere so populated.
“What are we doing here again?”
“I heard she’s swinging by here today to drop something off for a mutual friend,” he explains while his eyes still scope the area for her presence, as usual.
You busy yourself with playing on your phone, keeping your head down and yourself hidden for as long as you can manage. This place, while technically not as densely populated as the dining space you frequent, has too many opportunities for lurking gazes. This particular set of dormitories sits on the side of campus that encompasses a good amount of academic halls and the largest campus library. There are plenty of teachers and students walking to classes or accessing the library, and even more lingering outside within the surrounding courtyard despite the frigid weather. Wooyoung had insisted on holding you by your waist for the time being as well, citing something about how “normal couples warm each other up”. You just want this to be over with as quickly as possible before too many people can see you both standing so close together.
“Hey, ____,” Wooyoung hums after a while, catching your attention quickly.
“Hm?”
Before you can even fully look up from your phone, Wooyoung’s head dips down and seeks out your lips. Shock is an understatement; the feeling of your heart seizing in unison with your limbs makes you feel like you might as well be flatlining. This cannot be—
“Relax,” he whispers before deepening this kiss, interrupting your thought as his tongue enters your mouth.
Reluctantly, you do as he says and try your best to relax while kissing him back. Over and over, you remind yourself this is supposed to be putting on a show in front of his ex. You try to allow yourself to fully slip into the role you have been forced to play. Your hands find purchase on his jacket, albeit uneasily. For someone who’s making your life so much more difficult, you can’t deny he’s at least a decent kisser. This moment feels like it lasts entirely too long, but eventually, Wooyoung pulls away and you watch his eyes dart around somewhere behind you.
“She’s gone now,” he sighs, “Pretty sure she saw that though. Nice job.”
“Don’t ever do that without warning me beforehand again,” you scold him in a voice low enough for his ears to hear only. Wooyoung rolls his eyes, though he follows up with an apology. Even though it seems genuine, it does nothing to quell the immediate guilt that washes over you the moment you go to swipe saliva off of your lips with your thumb. The nauseous feeling stirring in your stomach over simply kissing someone else other than Yunho begins to build up and feel unbearable, “Can I go now? I’m supposed to meet with a teacher during their office hours soon.”
Despite the tremor of uneasiness in your voice, Wooyoung believes your lie without question. That uneasiness doesn’t depart your system for the remainder of the day even after removing his presence, and you decide to call it quits early instead of attending your final class. This feeling of guilt, almost as if you cheated while in a relationship, has you more saddened than frustrated tonight. To make things easier to deal with, you repeat the same phrase about you and Yunho in your head over and over.
It’s okay, we’re not together yet.
While you cook yourself dinner–
It’s okay, we’re not together yet.
While working on your final paper–
It’s okay, we’re not together yet.
Yunho’s failure to text you back that evening before going to bed makes that fact easier to swallow. It’s the truth, so it shouldn’t be so hard to digest, right?
Yeosang does not expect much when he asks you out of the blue the next day to come and spend time with him after school. His roommate is gone for the week to visit family and he’s all by his lonesome. For the majority of the month, he’s become used to you declining in favor of completing overdue work. He’s not used to you being so behind on your work, and it doesn’t quite make sense to him when other times you say you’re even busier throughout the day. You look a bit more drained than usual when he Facetimes you that afternoon to suggest it, but he figures he wouldn’t be that upset to hear another no if you need the rest.
The answer was yes, for the first time in a while.
As luck would have it, the imaginary shackles on you had been released for the day, and having time to yourself for an entire weekday almost felt strange. Your personified migraine had texted you early in the morning informing you he’d be out of town for the day to attend some seminar that you didn’t care enough to remember the details of. Yeosang doesn’t do a good enough job concealing his shock the moment confirmation comes from your mouth, and you feign offense.
“I'm being punked, right?”
You scoff, “I don’t like the way you’re acting like this is bizarre, loser.”
You both know that’s a fairly accurate word considering your disappearances these last couple of weeks. His broad smile at your usual banter makes you feel cherished and missed, and it’s comforting for him to know you still have such a sense of humor even through your fatigue. He’s secretly been concerned for your well-being, but he didn’t want to seem meddlesome. Eventually, you go from two faces on a screen to you perched at his kitchen table. Yeosang insisted he cook you a nice homecooked meal when you mentioned to him in passing how much you miss eating his food. His back might be turned away, but he’s still actively engaging in discussion with you over the controversial love triangle taking place on the dating reality show he has you catching up on with him tonight. Toward the end of an episode, it takes you a few minutes of rambling to realize your best friend has grown silent while he cooks. Behind your back, he’s busy ruminating over thoughts of love triangles when he decides to finally uncork the bottle he’s been keeping closed in an attempt to have a peaceful evening.
“Can I ask you a question?” Yeosang calls out suddenly over the sound of oil popping in his pan.
Your eyes stay glued to the television, but you hum in consent, “What’s up?”
“Is it true that you’re dating Wooyoung?”
Wooyoung.
His name is a burden to you these days; the syllables of it only bring you discomfort. Hearing it mentioned on a day when you almost felt like you could get away from him draws a long beat of silence from you, though Yeosang doesn’t turn around to confront such silence. He allows you the time to answer however you’d like to if you would even provide one. Even though he was somewhat putting you on the spot with such a question, Yeosang is still your best friend at the end of the day. He’s not the kind of person to pressure you or give you a hard time about your private business, despite the times he rags on you in jest.
The truthful answer is right on the tip of your tongue, begging to be shouted, but you don’t have the strength to say such a thing yet. Instead, you inquire, “Who did you hear that from?”
You don’t mean to, but you sound a bit miffed when asking. Until this point, you had hoped your fake relationship with Wooyoung wasn’t too obvious to those who don’t pay close enough attention, but the feeling of failure is now pooling in the depths of your stomach. You should’ve known better.
“When someone begins getting close to the TA who’s in charge of their grades, I guess it’s understandable that there would be some rumors… Some people in our class are saying you’re together now,” Yeosang explains, voice as calm as ever while he continues to push around the meat in the pan. “I overheard those speculations and I didn’t really believe any of it at all. Unlike them, I know you’re already seeing Mr. Jeong.”
Yeosang pauses to allow you a chance to say any words you wish to insert if anything. Being amongst speculations of wooing someone to raise your grades is the least of your worries, and you honestly couldn’t care less if people believed such silly things in the last semester of your college career. At this moment, you are much more concerned about Yunho catching light of such rumors, or really anything regarding you and Wooyoung in the same sentence reaching his ears. It didn’t seem that way when you were both in each other’s presence a few days ago talking about your future, and you’re sure that he would’ve confronted you about such things if he could. Still…
“I’m not dating Wooyoung, nor would I even think of doing that for my grades. You know me, Yeo.”
You’re sure Yeosang can feel your eyes gazing over at him now, boring anxious holes through his back. You know he can hear the uneasiness plaguing you, making your words waver.
“I understand, I do. It’s just…” Yeosang pauses once more to find the right words that don’t sound so accusatory, “Hongjoong told me he saw you both on each other on his way to class the other day. I figured I’d simply ask you about that before I come to any conclusions, that’s all.”
Several beats of silence pass before you feel like you’ve finally drowned deep in this ocean of stress you’ve been trying to keep afloat in.
“Yeosang, I’m in over my head and I can’t handle this anymore.”
Yeosang finally ceases his stirring and peers over at you the moment the last syllable leaves your lips. This is the first time you’ve both met each other’s eyes since he began cooking and his gaze is undeniably the most concerned you’ve seen him give you in years. He can’t help it when he can so clearly hear the hurt in your voice. He knows you’re a bit more reserved these days when talking about your relationship with your teacher, and he understands that it could be out of respect for his privacy. This moment doesn’t seem like a situation where that’s applicable anymore.
Navigating this situation all by yourself is draining.
These last months in college are supposed to be nerve-wracking in an exciting way, finishing finals and prepping yourself to walk across the stage for your diploma. You’re supposed to be anxious about what to wear and how to do your makeup for your ceremony, about how you should smile when the ceremony’s photographer tells you where to look as you grab that fake symbolic roll of paper. Instead, you’ve been running yourself dry trying to appease a man who’s threatening to ruin one of the best things to happen to you thus far in life. You just want to be happy. Yeosang was right in warning you about playing with fire when pursuing Yunho, but it all still hurts so fucking badly.
“I want to help you ____, but you have to be honest with me,” he stresses, “I’m concerned about you. Tell me what’s wrong, please.”
You’re uncomfortably silent for a moment, eyes glued to his while contemplating his words. At last, you decide to broach the subject of all your mental stress. If you trusted anyone to help you navigate this situation, it was going to be him. This was no longer something you could handle on your own.
“I’m being blackmailed by Wooyoung.”
The words don’t even sound real coming out of your mouth when you finally betray the promise of silence you made to Wooyoung.
Yeosang’s brows draw together even closer in concern, “What?”
“Wooyoung found out that Yunho and I are together,” you confess further, words running out as quickly as you can think to say them, “And now he’s forcing me to date him to make his ex jealous. He wouldn’t stay quiet otherwise, and it’s all my fault, Yeosang. It’s all my fault.”
Your best friend pushes his pan away from the eye of the stove and makes haste over to where you’re sitting. He knows you better than you know yourself sometimes, already sensing you crumbling before you can realize that you’re finally breaking down. All of the pent-up stress over the last couple of weeks was finally taking its toll.
“I thought it would be over quickly, but it doesn’t seem like we’re making any progress,” you sputter, putting your head in your hands and pressing your palms to your eyes. The last thing you want to do is cry over a man who does deserve your tears. “He won’t even tell me who she is. I can’t handle this anymore, I just can’t.”
Yeosang’s arms wrap around you to ground you before you can allow yourself to descend further into your breakdown. Very few times has he seen your foundation be shaken so badly by something. You’re one of the strongest people he knows, and it takes a lot to disintegrate the fortitude you hold. He knows he can help you build it back later, he’s your best friend for a reason. For right now, though, he’ll let you get everything out that you’ve been holding in and dealing with by yourself. He knows you probably had your reasons to keep such things inside and away from him.
“He kissed me yesterday and I felt so guilty for the rest of the day, like I betrayed Yunho,” you tell him, and before you realize it tears are finally brimming in your eyes.
“Be kind to yourself, ____,” Yeosang hums while he holds your face in his hands. “You didn’t do that because you wanted to, it’s okay. You don’t have to deal with this alone anymore, okay?”
Hearing those words for the first time since this all began allows a veil of peace to cover you and you nod, finally accepting your need for help. Yeosang promises you that he will do whatever he can to find out who Wooyoung has his sights set so heavy on without interfering enough to throw things out of kilter. His help could be the only chance you had at getting this charade to end faster, even if it meant riskily trying to nudge things along behind Wooyoung’s back. You were no longer satisfied with being patient, and you now realize you don’t have to settle for that anymore.
While you might’ve gained some peace that night, around 2 AM that morning, there is no peace to be found in the home of your lover.
Yunho’s been staring at his ceiling for the last hour, unable to sleep even though he knows he needs to be up in a handful of hours for work. He had tried to push this situation plaguing his thoughts out of his mind all day yesterday, but his brain does its worst on nights when he’s left to his own devices and his thoughts spiral. At least tonight it’s not for self-sabotaging reasons like he’s prone to.
He allows himself to close his eyes and relive the moment when he saw you and his assistant kissing on his way to a multi-department meeting at the library. The moment he recalls the way your hands were clutching Wooyoung’s chest, he grimaces with unadulterated resentment. For the entirety of yesterday, he felt numb. He went through the day simply going through the motions, lacking any of his usual charisma and cordiality amongst most people he crossed paths with throughout the day. He was able to put on a mask for his students at the very least. How is one supposed to act when they see their girlfriend kissing another man? That’s when he has to remind himself:
She’s not my girlfriend.
At least, he doesn’t know if you are or not, since you haven’t said it out of your mouth yet. This is exactly the kind of bothersome bullshit he was so worried about weeks ago when he realized the severity of his feelings for you. He should’ve had the conversation with you earlier to see where your head was at, but he put it off for so long under the excuse of being afraid of scaring you off. He wonders if maybe you think he’s not serious about you enough since he’s never brought it up first. And sure, he knows you both aren’t technically together right now, but you could’ve at least let him know that you’re seeing more people than him, right? It hurts a little more that it’s also his assistant of all people.
He turns onto his side in a huff and buries himself deeper under his blanket. Yunho wishes he hadn’t fallen for you so hard. It’s hard enough to deal with his feelings as things are now, especially with the circumstances, but the introduction of competition might just drive him insane. She’s a grown woman and she’s allowed to do whatever she wants, he reminds himself reluctantly while closing his eyes once more, but again—a heads-up would’ve been nice. He doesn’t even know how to approach this situation moving forward. How is he supposed to look you in the eyes today during class?
The answer is that he doesn’t.
If he can help it, he actively avoids those engaged eyes of yours while he goes on for an hour about pragmatics. He doesn’t even look over at your side of the room. It’s not until the mid-class break that he takes multiple swift glances over at you chatting with Yeosang about something that’s got you enthusiastic. That smile on your face while excitement physically pours out of you makes his eyes soften. He wonders if you’re discussing graduation, as it is coming up in some weeks now. Then, he remembers that he wanted to take you away or do something relaxing to celebrate since you seemed to not have existing plans. Would that sway you back over to his side, if he planned something nice and spoiled the surprise early? Before he can even finish that train of thought, he finds himself finally meeting your eyes while you briefly let yours wander around in the middle of a sentence. The sneaky flirtatious wink you send his way makes him clear his throat bashfully and adjust his tie.
Yunho spends the remainder of class discussing the final paper and offering to read any final drafts that people would like feedback on, as long as they’re submitted by a specific date. He knows he’s probably shooting himself in the foot by putting that kind of work on his plate so close to the deadline, but he genuinely wants people to do well on his final and he knows there are quite a few seniors in this particular class section. The least he can do is make sure those of you end your college careers with a satisfactory grade to finish off your transcripts. He did very well with his midterm evaluations as well, so he wants to do the same for his finals.
When class ends, Yunho finally takes notice of how Wooyoung has been leaving as early as everyone else lately. He could’ve sworn Wooyoung used to stick around to ask him questions, and often times he even departed after Yunho had already departed. He also notices that you are nowhere to be found now even though Yeosang is still present, seemingly already having fled the room for one reason or another. He doesn’t want to think about if he’s been so oblivious to these kinds of things up until this point, but the thought of you and Wooyoung rushing to meet up after his classes sticks with him for the rest of the day.
Yunho can admit he’s a bit toxic sometimes.
It happens in moments of weakness where he lets his selfishness outweigh anything else. He reasons to himself that this isn’t one of those situations as he stands in front of your apartment door late into the evening of that same day. He had called you and asked if he could come see you at your place, which rarely happens. While it caught you by surprise, and you were in the midst of work, you were still as welcoming as ever. He knows you’d never say no. He’d never admit it aloud, but he’s not solely here just to see you—he’s here to be a bit nosy.
It’s freezing outside, so when you finally open the door he’s scrambling to get inside.
“That was fast,” you marvel.
When you wrap your arms around him and pull him into a hug, your shivers and giggles are like white noise in his ears as his eyes sweep the room. He doesn’t notice anything out of place, nothing that would make it seem like anybody other than you had been present here anytime soon anyway. His cold hands slide up the slope of your back to cup the sides of your face, and he offers you a sweet closed-mouth smile before briefly pressing his lips to yours in greeting.
“Yeah, traffic was pretty non-existent,” he hums.
“I made soup since it’s so frosty,” you glance towards the kitchen as your hands go to unzip his jacket for him, “Are you hungry?”
“If you’re cooking, always.”
Tonight, Yunho takes things slow.
From graciously eating your cooking to cuddling on your couch, he builds up the intimacy minute by minute. It’s something he’s been craving from you lately, that feeling of intimacy and domestication. He’s more than willing to indulge you when grow aroused by something as innocent as him mindlessly drawing shapes on your thighs with his fingers, slowly shifting them inside your pajama shorts when you whisper, “I want you to touch me.”
“I’m already touching you, baby.”
You push his hand just a smidge lower, whining, “You know what I mean.”
When things finally move to the bedroom, Yunho fucks you nice and slow, and it feels much more intimate than any of your previous times together. Slow, steady rolls of his hips into yours like he’s intent on showing you every ounce of love he holds for you in his body if he’s unable to say it outright himself. Nothing inherently strikes you as odd about the way his demeanor is different tonight. In fact, this kind of pure intimacy is something you’d been curious to experience from him. It almost makes you feel like you’re officially together. Sure, sex is naturally intimate, but this? This feels different.
His hands go from holding yours beside your head so affectionately to passionately gripping and kneading the plush skin of your sides and thighs like they’re fresh dough. It’s like he’s trying to solidify that this is reality, that you’re truly here in his hands and not someone else's. Grip strong enough to dig deep into the tissue and make you moan, but gentle enough not to leave bruising marks. Truth be told, he’d rather leave marks of where he’s been in less covert places. That’s why his mouth subconsciously finds its way to your neck before you feel the gentle drag of his teeth on your skin. It’s too quick to even be considered a warning.
“Yu, wait–”
You begin to tell him he can’t leave hickeys in such open places, but Yunho quiets you by sucking your skin anyway. The first one is on the tender skin just under your jaw, right where he can feel the pulse of how fast your heart is beating with his tongue. The desperate whine you let out when he finally lets up with a quiet pop! of his lips off your skin encourages him to put another on the column of your throat. You’ll probably throw a fit later when you see how bad these are and complain about the trouble of covering them up, but he really couldn’t care less.
When he finishes off the second hickey, he kisses his way up to your lips so sweetly as if he didn’t do something so obviously possessive. As if he didnt do something so mischievous which’ll draw questions from your friends and get you flustered trying to explain. These marks are warnings as much as they are bites of love. You throw your arms around his neck and arch your back, itching for more than what he’s offering. It doesn’t matter that it still feels euphoric, those long drags of his cock against your walls just to fill you up again—it’s too slow. The breathy laugh he lets out against your lips draws a pout from your own.
“What’s wrong pretty girl, don’t I make you feel good?” Yunho asks in a whisper, deep chocolate eyes holding your gaze while he continues to roll his hips at his leisure. He doesn’t like that he needs a bit of reassurance right now, but he wants to hear it so badly. When you nod with fervor, it’s just not good enough for him, “Tell me, angel. Tell me how good I make you feel.”
“You’re everything I crave, Yu,” you oblige him breathlessly, hands scratching at the sensitive nape of his neck while you arch again. For the first time this evening, Yunho’s hips falter in their steady rhythm. He’s quite caught off guard by your choice of words; it’s as if you know exactly what he needs to hear more than he does himself. “Nobody could ever make me feel like you do.”
“Yeah? This pretty pussy needs me, huh?”
There’s that word that he now loves so much: need.
“More than you know,” you gasp when he pushes his hips into yours as deep as he can manage, obscenities bubbling from within your chest.
Even though you both have had sex many times since this all began, this part still feels fresh. The way he manages to reach new depths inside of you and stretch you out to his heart’s content feels fresh every single time. Yunho’s thrusts begin picking up some speed finally and whines claw at his throat.
“My sweet, needy baby… You’re the only one who gets this, ____,” he admits, voice trembly while he drags his lips against the sensitive skin of your jaw, kissing his previous artwork, “It’s all yours, okay?”
In a perfect world, he’d love to hear you say the same back to him, but he’s snapping his hips too roughly now to allow for words. The way you begin begging for him to give you more of himself makes up for it. Bitten-off moans tumble from your lips as the coil in your stomach grows tighter and tighter, and it makes his cock throb and ache for release. The way you’re chanting his name has his eyes fluttering up in bliss. There’s no doubt in his mind that you want him, mentally and carnally, but the real question is if he’s not enough to satisfy that want. Yunho doesn’t have time to let his mind wander off into that kind of insecure territory. His brain becomes fuzzy as he becomes eager to feel you cum stuffed full of his cock, and then see his own paint your sweaty skin. Those familiar heavy pants he lets out against your lips make you simper.
“Getting close?”
“So close,” he nods, hissing when he feels you clench at his answer, “H-hah, oh fuck.”
“Wanna cum inside?” You offer this so shyly against his lips that he nearly doesn’t hear you talking altogether. When he offers you an absentminded ‘huh’ in response, you giggle and move to speak directly in his ear, “Want you to cum inside.”
Something behind Yunho’s eyes changes when you pull back—those blown-out pupils of his with little hearts swimming in them zero in on yours with a look you can’t quite put your tongue on. You cross your ankles behind his back to emphasize your words, to show him you’re serious.
“Really want me to fill you up, pretty?” he rasps. When you bite your bottom lip and nod, he offers you a lopsided grin, “Use those fingers and catch up, then.”
You don’t need to be told twice, one hand moving from being around his neck down to your clit to rub quick circles that’ll push you over the edge together. He’s never cum in you ever since you both started having sex, but he’s feeling overwhelmingly possessive today and it might just subside if he sees his cum leaking from your cunt onto your sheets. It’s now the only thought screaming at him in that fucked-out head of his. Your mouths connecting in a messy, sensuous kiss is the final push he needs.
Yunho’s fingers wind deep into your sheets with as much strength as he can muster while he buries himself inside you, pelvis to pelvis, pushing you deeper into your mattress. The throb of his cock and the broken moan he lets out while he finally cums trigger your own orgasm. The moment you lock your legs around him to keep him in place, your walls flutter and squeeze his cock to help milk him dry. He makes a note somewhere in the lusty haze of his mind that he just has to get you both to cum at the same time like this again at another point in time because the way you’re practically squeezing every last drop from him while you fall apart is nearly making him whimper repentance for how sinful it feels. When your legs let up on their grip, he gives you a few shallow thrusts before finally pulling out. Focusing on catching your breath is hard when he’s gazing so heavily at the mess he’s made of you.
“Don’t stare...” Yunho doesn’t even realize he’s been fascinated with watching the way his seed spills from your heat until you poorly block it with a self-conscious hand. Only then does he finally look up and find you flustered, the pout on your face growing more prominent by the second, “It’s embarrassing...”
“God, you’re so fine,” he coos. The jolt your body produces when he takes his fingers and pushes what’s been wasted back into your sensitive hole makes him laugh. “Even prettier like this too. Let’s get you cleaned up, pretty baby.”
Yunho hadn’t originally planned on sleeping over—it is a weekday after all, and he has work tomorrow morning. After showering, though, his willpower is tested. He loses nearly all his self-discipline to leave like a responsible man when you use this irresistible voice the moment he steps foot back into the room, humming honeyed words while holding his briefs behind your back to keep him from getting dressed.
“Can’t you just wake up early to swing by your house and get ready?” You eventually pout up at him when he looks as if he might change his mind. With the way your gaze is focused on his attentive eyes, you can’t see the way his cock is already twitching back to life again at your pleading eyes, the same ones you use on your knees between his thighs. He’s so thankful for that. “This is why I said you should leave some outfits over here just in case.”
“I know, I know. I should listen to you more. Can I please have my underwear back now?”
“Are you gonna stay? Please?”
He chuckles before finally conceding, “I can’t say no when you ask me so nicely, can I?”
You nearly fall apart at the way he pulls your face up by your cheeks with firm fingers before planting a kiss of surrender on your lips. Yunho doesn’t even remember why he’s over your house anymore, now only focused on getting his underwear back from your hands before you can see him getting hard all over again. He has enough sense to know that a second round will surely be much longer than the previous one, and you both need to sleep soon if he wants to wake up early enough. Lucky for him, you’re much too tired from a full day to stay up too much longer anyway.
It’s 8 AM when Yunho’s phone starts chiming with an annoying tone he set specifically to force his awakening. That grating sound is also your punishment for persuading him to spend the night. He’s slow to turn it off specifically for that reason, and a lazy smile stretches across his face when he hears you groan. Success.
“You’re so annoying,” you murmur. You instinctively search for your phone on your nightstand to glance at how early your lover has you suffering, then slowly slide yourself out of bed to go blindly search for a bottle of water.
Yunho screws his eyes shut and open a few times to regain his vision before flipping over and patiently awaiting your arrival. He gave himself a fairly decent buffer on the off chance you decide to stay awake and eat breakfast with him. At least, that was the plan until something happened that immediately changed his brain chemistry. Yunho’s eyes swivel towards your phone when it vibrates a couple of times on the nightstand. It really wouldn’t have been a problem had he not seen and recognized the name on the screen. Against his better judgment, he picks it up gently. He sees two older notifications from the prior night and the two new ones now piquing his interest.
[Wooyoung: Don’t forget lunch tomorrow]
[Wooyoung: Usual place]
...
[Wooyoung: Good morning]
[Wooyoung: If you get on campus by 10 let's do breakfast instead, they’ll be there. lmk]
His eyes constrict to slits almost instantaneously.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…
He doesn’t care that it's petty, he swipes each of the message notifications and deletes them with a pool of satisfaction boiling in the deepest pit of his stomach. You were too busy with him last night to notice his other messages anyway. If he could delete those messages permanently, he would. Realistically, there was no way he could keep you from eventually meeting up again with Wooyoung, but maybe distracting you enough to be late could be worth being a bit late to his own obligations. He’s extra needy on purpose this morning, immediately seeking out your attention the moment you groggily slip back into bed after chugging water. Feeling his warm hands grope your butt just makes you groan in that special kind of annoyance that naturally comes with waking earlier than need-be. When his fingers travel to fiddle with the elastic of your panties, an indirect request of sorts, you muster enough energy to nudge him weakly.
“S’too early, Yu,” you pout without even opening your eyes and bury your cheek deeper into your pillow.
“I know, I know. I have to leave soon,” he acknowledges. Still, his hand dances its way into the fabric. He watches you shudder when his middle finger pushes against your clit experimentally. His brow lifts when you open your legs. He licks his lips eagerly before murmuring, “You don’t even have to do anything, I’ll take good care of you. Go ahead and rest, okay?”
The hum you let out, signaling him to do as he pleases, has him gently working your panties down your legs and tossing them on the floor. He spends all the time he can, all the way until the last few minutes before he has to leave, with his face buried between your tired thighs. Always a starved man when it comes to your greedy cunt, the one that he confirmed last night needs him oh so much, he french-kisses his way into a sore tongue and a stiff jaw.
“Mhm, that’s it,” he talks directly to your heat, holding open your lips with his thumbs while watching the way slick, cum, and spit seep out to sully your sheets, “Gimme another one.”
Sleepy whines and garbled whimpers of his name have him rutting his hips against your bed. He would touch himself if he could, but his hands are too busy massaging your tense thighs in rhythm with his aching tongue lapping at your clit. The friction isn’t enough. He supposes his poor underwear will just have to suffer from precum leaking out his deprived cock, drenching the fabric the more he gets aroused. Each orgasm he’s able to pull from you drains your body of its energy more and more until you’re a meek puddle of fatigue splayed out on your mattress.
Yunho doesn’t remember what number orgasm his mouth finally parts from your core, but at some point, he finally reminds himself that he’s a man with responsibilities who still has to go home and change into his work clothes. He also needs to take care of this painful hard-on quickly when he gets somewhere private. Self-admittedly, this all was as rewarding to himself in fulfilling it as it was to you receiving. Seeing you absolutely spent and on the verge of (hopefully) deep sleep puts a shameless smile on his face.
He’s still a gentleman above anything else, taking the extra time to clean your skin and the mess he’s made of your cunt with a wet cloth before lovingly redressing you in your undies. He doesn’t even know if you can hear him after a certain point, but he still tucks you back in and whispers sweet nothings that he’ll overthink about later when he’s in his office after remembering why he was here in the first place. He even apologizes for ruining your sheets, again. The timid, fleeting kiss he leaves on your temple is followed by him carelessly saying, “Love you.”
The moment those two words tumble from his lips his eyes grow wide, and he waits with bated breath to see if you are even the slightest bit awake to hear his blunder. When you show no signs of stirring, Yunho releases all air caged within his chest and decides it’s best to leave quickly before he can make a fool of himself any further. You don’t hear from him for the rest of the day.
-
“I see… so she does exist,” you mutter sarcastically.
At the end of the week, following your shared linguistics lecture, you and your best friend convene at a table deep in the back of the library. Yeosang had spent a good amount of his time in the last few days covertly asking questions about Wooyoung to random acquaintances in hopes of getting bits of useful information about him or his ex. He was finally able to give you her name and class year, but he came up short otherwise.
“I wasn’t able to get any of her socials, I didn’t want to seem like I was pursuing her. However, I do have another idea,” he says, hands motioning for you to hear him out after he sees your spirits drop, “I was told she’s in Hongjoong’s capstone class and–”
“Oh brother,” you groan and sink further into your seat.
If Yeosang’s words days ago were anything to go by, Hongjoong was already convinced you were dating Wooyoung, so asking him for his ex-girlfriend’s number is surely just going to cause prying questions. You’re fully convinced that he probably won’t even consider giving it to you because he might think it’ll lead to drama.
“I know. Just hear me out,” Yeosang leans forward and lowers his voice, “I honestly don’t think it would be hard to get him to tell you. If you can come up with a plausible reason why you would need to reach out, I think he wouldn’t hesitate too much.”
“Which would be?”
“Well, I don’t know anything about her other than that she’s in a sorority. You can figure something out from that, right?”
You couldn’t deny that this was definitely a useful piece of information. Yeosang watches you purse your lips while you toss around some of the logistics in your head before nodding with some renewed optimism.
“Which app do you think I should start on?”
“I’m sure the majority of our sororities have IG pages to promote their activities. That’s probably your best bet,” he recommends, “I can help you search in between finals prep–”
“You’ve done enough, I can definitely handle that part,” you interject with a reassuring smile, “Thank you for even getting this info. I appreciate it, Yeo.”
While things definitely looked more positive from this conversation, there was an odd feeling lingering in your stomach over the next few days. From his time at your home through the weekend, Yunho’s communication and presence were lacking a bit more than usual. While it made things easier for you to see Wooyoung when requested without fear, it didn’t make things any less disappointing. Knowing he’s still there for you even through all of this mess was the only thing keeping you afloat, so it’s troubling when that disappears out of nowhere. Nevertheless, the end of the semester was creeping up faster than even you realized, so it makes sense that his schedule is being affected. Moreover, his job is what you’re doing this all for anyway, right? Even without his presence, you’d silently root for him in the shadows if it meant that December ended with you both together.
In the meantime, you push these feelings to the back of your mind and give yourself a break from being so worrisome. With this charade moving deeper into its timeline, it’s time-sensitive and imperative to ask for his ex’s phone number from Hongjoong in an effort to contact her. Wooyoung might be intent on keeping you from meeting her, but he’s severely underestimated the fire in your belly when it comes to getting what you want. You’ve played along with his shenanigans long enough.
Hongjoong’s brows furrow while he shoves a few of the fries in his mouth from a meal you asked to treat him to this particular Monday afternoon.
“I should’ve known you wanted to see me for ulterior motives,” he takes a swigger of his soda with pursed lips, “Buttering me up with free food for my connections, huh?”
“I didn’t remember until just now, I promise,” you lie, trying to remain composed. You’re not exactly the best at lying to your close friends and this time is no different. “If I knew about anyone else having her number I would’ve asked them. I wouldn’t lie to you, Joong.”
His eyes examine your body language keenly before scoffing, “I’m still caught up on how you didn’t tell me that your mystery man was Wooyoung all this time. That was a lie by omission.”
“I am not dating Wooyoung, I already told you this.”
“Then why do you suddenly want his ex’s number?”
You swallow the nervous lump in your throat and offer him an easygoing smile that you had practiced a plethora of times before even leaving to meet him.
“I’m reaching out on behalf of a mutual friend about possibly being commissioned to make the graduation stoles for their sorority. That’s all.”
Yes, through hours of snooping and finally finding her Instagram, you discovered that she is a die-hard sorority girl for one of the smaller sororities on your campus. You had almost talked yourself into simply contacting her there, but as luck would have it, her messages were turned off for strangers that she doesn’t follow back. There was no doubt in your mind that she would never follow you back if you tried that route.
“You sure you’re not trying to stir the pot?” Hongjoong inquires playfully, eyeing you with an elvish grin. You groan in annoyance. “I’m all for a little mess sometimes, but I don’t like being the gateway.”
“Come on Joong, it’s nothing like that at all. I didn’t think you would be so difficult to ask about this… You’re supposed to be my rock—”
Your heart is threatening to break out of your chest when he holds up his free hand to quiet you with a roll of his eyes. Then, with his other hand, he finally scrolls through his phone to find said information.
“I’ve heard enough, please stop being so dramatic,” he sighs. His thumb stops swiping as soon as he sees what he’s looking for in his class’ group chat, and he hands you the phone reluctantly. “Under no circumstances do you tell her who gave this to you.”
“You know I love you the most, right? Even more than Yeosang!” You smile and he matches it sarcastically.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you liar. I love you too.”
While Yunho’s impromptu visit might have subdued his anxiety briefly, he knew it wouldn’t be a permanent fix. He spent some time away from you under the excuse of helping other people prepare more for the final paper deadline approaching, but that only made things worse. The longing he feels these days is stronger when he realizes you could be spending the valuable time he’s avoiding you by seeing Wooyoung instead. It’s embarrassing really, being so envious of someone younger than him. He shouldn’t be letting some university student get under his skin so easily, but there’s too much he’s given of himself to you to just be calm and collected about things.
These things swirl about in his head while he’s seated alone at the bar’s counter, patiently waiting for his friends to finish playing Rock, Paper, Scissors to decide who pays the tab tonight. It was fairly evident that it had been a rough start to the month for Yunho from his mood, so his best friends were intent on treating him tonight. Today and the next were the university-designated study days for finals. Seonghwa personally coaxed him out of hiding by stopping by his home and offering to drive. He knows Yunho has a hard time saying no when confronted directly. As karma would have it, it was looking to be an expensive night for Seonghwa unfortunately, marked by the heavy groan Yunho can hear come from behind him when the two finish.
When he finally joins Yunho at the counter, he searches through his wallet for his credit card while asking, “Which beer do you want?”
“I need something stronger tonight,” Yunho states before flagging the bartender down himself.
Nowadays, he’s more favorable to something light and bubbly like beer because it’s easy on his body and the buzz is manageable over a longer period of time. He can’t remember the last time he drank pure liquor… It had to have been New Year’s Eve or some other holiday that’s usually burdened by alcohol. Yunho’s not remarkably sensitive to liquor and he’s by no means a lightweight, but tonight he’s truly done a number on himself. Three Long Island Iced Teas and a few extra shots of rum have him loose and on stage in front of many eyes doing what he does best: singing. Singing karaoke duets with Seonghwa always makes him feel like a college student again, bringing him back to the days of their music classes.
When the next hour comes around and several more shots enter his system, the second phase of his inebriation hits: heartache and depression. Distractions are wonderful until they’re not, and his throat hurts from doing too much falsetto. He keeps thinking about how he’s supposed to show you this side of himself eventually, serenading you like a cheesy romcom just to hear your pretty giggles telling him that he actually sounds like an angel, and those thoughts make him sad. On top of that, his social battery is depleted entirely and now all he can think about is going home. Distancing himself for the last several days is finally coming to an end, as you’re the only person he can think of to call since he doesn’t want to ruin his friends’ time by asking Seonghwa to take him back home. While booking an Uber ride would’ve been the smarter idea, Yunho’s too lovesick to pass up on a moment to hear your voice right now.
So, while Seonghwa is busy using the bathroom and San is distracted by an attractive woman who’s gone out of her way to challenge him to a game of pool, his hazy eyes manage to find your contact card in his favorites before calling you. You take a bit longer to answer than usual, but the moment he hears that familiarly sweet ‘hello there, handsome~’ come across his speaker, he physically melts into a heap on the counter. You can overhear the loud music coming through the speaker clear as day and figure he must be at the bar tonight with other teachers since they’re all essentially off tomorrow. Calling you of all people while with his friends is risky, but you understand why he’s being so reckless the moment he opens his mouth.
“I need to see you, please,” Yunho drawls, his free palm pressed to his forehead to ground himself, “Drank too much, wanna go home.”
“Where are you, Yu?”
Yunho’s heart feels like it’s ready to take flight at the way you ask this with no hesitation and how he can hear you already shuffling to grab clothes. Maybe your feelings are as strong as his afterall.
“At that dumb bar near campus. Hwa drove me,” he sighs, and you can practically hear the drunken pout stuck on his lips. “I’ll just send my location… Can you come, baby? Please?”
“Of course, I’ll come take you home. Sit tight, I’m leaving now.”
When you do finally arrive, Yunho lets his friends know that he ordered an Uber to go home, and successfully convinces Seonghwa not to walk with him outside even though his steps feel leadened.
“Go back to karaoke,” he waves him off with an anxious smile, “I’ll let y’know when I get home.”
Parking so close to the entrance might’ve been a bit daring on your part, but you expected Yunho to have some trouble walking too far with too much distance. To offset the risk, you’re donning a black face mask with the hood of your jacket pulled over your head, and you figure that should conceal any particulars about you enough for any lurking eyes. Yunho’s surely more operational than he sounded over the phone, and even though his feet are slow on his way over, he slides in easily enough and even buckles himself in. From there, you focus on leaving the area before either of his friends gets curious enough to look outside.
The drive is comfortably silent. You keep the music low and drive a bit slower than usual to make sure he doesn’t feel too dizzy during the trip. Yes, you care for the man dearly, but the last thing you need is his vomit in your passenger seat. With his head resting idly on the cool glass of your window, he tries to relax his mind and settle the stuttering of his heart. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous to be around you right now.
“Overdid it tonight, huh?” You ask him after a while to make sure he’s still conscious.
“I don’t ever drink this much,” he replies with his eyes still closed, “M’so sorry for bothering you so late.”
“You didn’t bother me at all. Go ahead and relax, we’re almost home.”
His call was perfect timing actually, as you were just wrapping up exam prep for the day. Usually, you don’t take study days seriously, but with this being your last semester you figure giving your all includes taking advantage of the academic liberties that are offered by your university in exchange for not having to go to class. He was on your mind tonight as he always is, and even though the moment is unconventional, you appreciate him finally calling you at all. That’s all you can think about for the remainder of the drive to his home.
This is so embarrassing, he mopes internally. Yunho feels extremely vulnerable with every lug of his feet up his steps to his door. He’s not sure he ever wanted you to see him in such a state either—liquored up and liable to say anything lingering in his chest without inhibition—but it’s too late to worry about those things now.
“Thank you for coming,” Yunho sighs upon entering his abode, shrugging off his coat and kicking his shoes off to a place he probably won’t remember tomorrow.
His throat is dry and itching for something else, anything other than liquor. You know better than anyone that he needs to be drinking water right now and flushing his system as well. Closing his front door, you follow suit with your shoes and jacket.
“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” you assure him with a smile, “I’ll go get you some water.”
However, before you can slip past him, Yunho’s warm hands gently clasp around your cheeks. Your back hits the door as his sticky liquored lips squish against yours in an affectionate kiss. Much to his dismay, after only a few seconds of gratification you manage to pull back enough to talk.
“Water first, kissing later. Okay?” You chide with a giggle.
Yunho makes a whiny noise in the back of his throat in place of a ‘no’ before stealing your lips once more. This time, his arms fall to wrap around your torso. There’s something desperate about the way his arms squeeze the air out of you as if he loosens them even in the slightest bit you might slip right from his grasp. That’s how he’s felt for some time recently like you’re slipping away right into someone else’s arms. Somewhere deep down in his intoxicated subconscious, he’s able to acknowledge the feeling of his heart slamming against his chest from pent-up anxiety of seeing you again, touching you again… and maybe lack of oxygen. Yeah, perhaps that’s what this intense feeling is building in his chest is, a blatant lack of oxygen. Breathing is just not something present in Yunho’s impaired mind.
You, you, you, you, you!
All he wants to do is think about how he loves you more than you know.
He feels like he’s suffocating, but his brain won’t let his limbs move to breathe, lost in the thoughts and desperation of just needing to be connected to you. Just then, when he feels like he’s about to nearly pass out, you find the strength within yourself to push him from you hastily. The way you gasp for air lets him know that he was inadvertently suffocating you as well. His arms finally release their intense grip and a flurry of apologies tumble from his lips.
“M’so sorry,” he offers one last time, words running together, “I just missed you so much.”
Yunho’s head falls and rests in the crook of your neck while embarrassment floods his cheeks.
“It’s okay, really. I missed you too,” you tell him, lungs settling while you card your fingers through his hair soothingly. He’s so fragile at this moment and seeing this side of him makes your heart melt. You could never be mad at something like a little stolen oxygen. “Let’s get you settled in first though, okay?”
“Please le’me stay like this for a couple minutes…”
He’s a bit dizzy, and your fingers lovingly massaging his scalp are making his heart feel ready to burst out of his chest. It doesn’t matter that he’s older than you, or that technically he’s an authoritative figure in your life. You’re always so soft with him, so attentive to his needs, and tender in your touch. You even came and picked him up while he was a mess, with no hesitation. For some reason, in Yunho’s inebriated mind, he’s so sure that a positive answer to this next question will finally solidify your loyalty and how you truly feel about him.
“Can you stay with me tonight?”
There’s a moment of silence where you’re unusually still, and Yunho can practically hear your answer before you even open your mouth. Mentally, you’re battling with yourself because of premade morning plans with Wooyoung interfering with his request. Normally, you’d never decline to spend some extra time with him, but you’re not sure if blowing off Wooyoung last minute will have some consequences. Yunho’s the most important thing to you, but which choice proves that the most?
“I have some important obligations in the morning, Yu,” you mumble a moment later, unable to outright say no. It’s hard, but you figure the best way to show him his importance to you is to put his career first, ahead of your feelings.
In the crook of your neck you can feel him inhale, and for a second, he’s so still that you could’ve believed that he’d passed out. You’re just about to call his name when you feel him begin to tremble and snivel, and alarm bells begin blaring in your head. Lifting his head with your hands gently, you gaze up at him in panic.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” You comfort him softly, thumbs on either side of his face wiping away fat tears that begin spilling down his rosy cheeks. “I’ll stay, I will. I’m so sorry baby.”
“I can’t do this anymore, ____.”
You’re no longer worried about the warm tears spilling onto your fingers as you are the immediate tightness in your chest at such simple words. Simple, but hurtful. The last time you heard that kind of sentence, it was followed by a breakup. The pang in your chest at the realization that this is what’s probably happening makes you feel sick. Nevertheless, you wouldn’t blame him if your behavior over the last few weeks ended up being the final straw for him, and if leaving him alone drunk was the cherry on top. Your diminished communication and sudden lack of availability with obligations you could not explain… and who knows what he’s heard about your increasing closeness with his TA, if anything. You ponder if maybe that’s why he has been acting differently recently, how perhaps the rumors had finally gotten back to him. It’s hard to meet his eyes while you try to prepare yourself for words you figured you hear eventually but still never built your confidence up enough for.
“Look at me, please,” he requests. It takes a moment, but you find it in yourself to do as asked. The way Yunho’s glazed-over eyes only hold dejection when you meet them lets you know something is seriously wrong. You’ve hurt him, you just know it. You’re not sure what to expect, but it surely isn’t him following up with, “I love you so much, it’s beginning to hurt, ____.”
Yunho didn’t expect this genuine divulgence that he had finally found within himself to reveal to be met with annoyance of all things. The way your brows crease and the corners of your mouth downturn throw him for a loop.
“I know you’re drunk but you really shouldn’t say a serious word like that so easily,” you chastise him in a soft voice.
The gentleness of your tone doesn’t change the fact that you mean that statement wholeheartedly; he’s never used that word with you when sober, so why now? You don’t want to be made a fool of when these drunken words get taken back when he’s in his right mind tomorrow. Being drunk doesn’t excuse playing around with your feelings like that.
“I mean it. I do love you, so much. Not gonna pretend to be so casual about things anymore,” he retorts. While his voice still has that intoxicated twang in it, it’s now alarmingly firm.
That sudden tone and the way his face remains determined to make you understand him make your heart stutter. In the context of romance, ‘love’ is a word you haven’t heard from someone in a long time. To be fair, it’s a word you haven’t offered to anyone you’ve dated in a long time either. How long has it been since you met someone worthy of a word that powerful… You’re at a loss for words. The increasing tightness in your chest with the more you take in the situation won’t let up, and you wonder if he can feel your anxiety through the trembling of your hands still caressing his wet cheeks.
Yunho doesn’t mind that you don’t say it back, he may be intoxicated but he still knows he’s coming on very strong right now. Instead, he adds, “You don’t have to say it back, but I can’t handle not knowing what I am to you anymore. I can’t tell how you really see me.”
The way your face immediately only offers confusion at that final statement is involuntary—his complete obliviousness to how you feel about him, about everything you’ve done till this point, is just baffling. Despite any impending consequences of being involved with your teacher, you’ve given this man so much of your time, your adoration, your body—what is there to question? When you finally take your hands back and place them on your temples, Yunho senses your frustration. He begins to feel bad when he realizes too much liquid courage may have made him go a bit too far.
“Yunho, I thought it was pretty obvious that I want to be with you. I’m just waiting for graduation to say it officially,” you explain. “I– We’ve been dating for 3 months, for Christ’s sake.”
You try to remind yourself that he’s intoxicated and that maybe you should treat this situation with a bit more grace. The next question he throws out completely shatters that mindset.
“Then why did you kiss him?”
The immediate mortification you feel at that string of words hits you like a sledgehammer, and the silence that consumes the room following this question is deafening. Yunho’s eyes hold your shameful stare before you finally become physically uncomfortable, and you avert your gaze sheepishly. Yes, you had considered he might catch you in the act sooner or later, but did it have to be the stupid unwanted kiss of all things? This is not something you had readied yourself enough to be confronted about. It’s something you wish you could’ve taken to the grave if possible.
The lack of an immediate reply to such a simple question has him pressing his palms to his eyes because he feels himself needing to cry again. He’d do anything to turn off those leaky faucets behind his eyes for good right now if he could. Crying over someone he had no business falling for in the first place is exasperating because he knew better. He’s sure he’d be able to compose himself more than this if he wasn’t so drunk as well, but it’s too late for those kinds of thoughts now. Everything is out in the open, all the way down to the intensity of his feelings for you, and there’s no turning back.
“It’s not what you think, Yunho,” you finally offer after taking some seconds to sort out your thoughts. The thing is, there is no other viable option at this point: it’s either tell him the truth or lie and break his heart further. You would never consider doing the latter. “I want to explain, but this isn’t the best time—”
“You can be honest, I promise I can handle it,” Yunho interjects. He runs his hands through his messy hair, trying to mellow himself out and prove that statement, but his insecurities start to get the best of him. Words begin spilling out of his mouth without much thought, “Is it because we can’t go out like normal couples? Am I not giving you enough attention? I know it’s tough right now but—”
“No, no, of course not! None of that matters to me in the slightest.”
“What is it about him, then? If it’s something I can fix or do better, I will. I promise,” he tells you earnestly, but his face already looks defeated. He still can’t even say his name. Seeing him so distraught and broken like this over your actions is like a stiff punch in the gut. The last thing you ever wanted to do was make Yunho feel like he’s not enough.
Instead of answering, you ask him, “Do you trust me?”
As much as he should be inclined to say no with everything he’s seen, or the way you won’t give him straight answers, he just can’t say no.
“Of course I do.”
“Then I’d really love for us to have this conversation in the morning when you’re sober,” you insist, hands seeking out his for comfort and reassurance, “Please, Yunho.”
“And what happens if I wake up alone again?”
There it is. The hint of pessimism screaming at him in the back of his mind slipped through. He remembers the last time you left with no word and how it sent him irrationally spiraling. He just needs that final bit of reassurance.
“I’d never do that to you again, okay? I love you too much to hurt you like that. I promise.”
Yunho's left mute at this reply, damp lashes blinking repeatedly as his brain struggles to compute that you just said three very pivotal words he’s never heard from anyone else he’s ever dated. After not immediately reciprocating his sentiments earlier, he didn’t really ever expect them to come from your mouth anytime soon.
“You…love–”
It happens way too fast, the wave of nausea that consumes him with how overwhelmed he begins to feel. Pulling his fingers away from yours, he clasps a clammy hand over his mouth and stumbles off toward his hallway bathroom in haste. This, of course, is not the ideal response you’d like to get back after fully confessing your feelings to a man. You try not to take it to heart and finally go to grab some water for him while he’s emptying his stomach in the bathroom.
The night comes to a close not too long later with you both burrowed in the blankets of Yunho’s bed, and he falls asleep against your chest faster than your brain will allow you to join. How lucky he is to have alcohol easily lull him to sleep after such a mess, you muse. You suppose this is as good of a time as ever to sort your thoughts and words for your explanation tomorrow. That and the possible consequences following you finally revealing the truth. While Yunho might seem mild-mannered and easygoing on a day-to-day basis, you are now aware of just how sensitive he is as a person inside. He feels with his whole heart, and he keeps certain things locked inside of him. You want him to feel comfortable enough to share those things with you as a partner. You want him to trust you wholly with his entire heart, but you suppose that begins with being entirely honest with him first. He’s more than enough, and you want him to believe that. Before you can let your mind wander too deep into the territory of that subject, your eyes finally feel unbearably heavy, and you fall asleep with your fingers curled around his own a little more securely than usual.
One thing Yunho prides himself in is not being prone to heavy hangovers, and this morning is no different. From his first couple years in college, he had learned that lots of water, sleeping in, and a good meal was the cheat code to his body’s ability to survive a night of binge drinking. This was partially thanks to his first roommate who was a Nutrition Major, because if he couldn’t discourage him from drinking he could at least aid him in recovering from it. Aside from you forcing him to drinking a few water bottles before he could sleep, throwing up the prior night and purging most of it helped a lot as well, of course.
You’re not in bed when he stirs awake, but he can hear miscellaneous noise coming from another part of his home and smell the third element of his cheat code in progress. When he finally ambles out of his room and into his kitchen after chugging the bottle of water left on his nightstand, he finds you cooking something with what little groceries he has stocked in his fridge. The sound of him pulling out a chair at his table tears your attention away from the stove.
“Good morning,” you hum. He seems fully coherent, which makes things much easier on you. “How’s your stomach?”
Yunho rubs his bleary eyes with the back of his hand while yawning, “Much better… What time is it?”
“Around eleven, I think.”
“I thought you had something to do?”
“I canceled,” you tell him, “You’re more important.”
Earlier, while Yunho was still passed out, you found some time to slip away and call Wooyoung to raincheck. You’re not entirely sure if he believed the performance you put on about coming down with something last minute, but it didn’t matter. The least he can do is give you a day off of this charade. You move the food you’ve been working on off of the stove’s eye and turn off the heat before snatching up his mug of coffee and joining him at the table.
You look different this morning, the way your eyes lack any of their usual whimsy or humor, and how you sit yourself to his left with body language more reserved than normal. Your stress is palpable, and that doesn’t help settle the sad feeling beginning to manifest in his stomach when he realizes the conversation that’s about to begin. Nonetheless, he decides to prepare himself for the worst.
“I promised you an explanation,” you sigh, “So let’s talk.”
Messily relaying this story to Yeosang first helped you a lot with finding the confidence to make things more concise if a moment like this were ever to happen. You were able to tell Yunho the full extent of Wooyoung’s actions without getting as emotional as the last time. Even though you were trying to be truthful, you ultimately decided not to tell him about trying to connect with Wooyoung’s ex behind the scenes, as you didn’t want to give him any false hope if things happened to fall through. When you finish spilling anything left lingering in your guts about the entire situation, there’s an unbearable silence that settles over the whole room. Yunho’s eyes are trained on his coffee, finger circling the rim of his mug while he lets his mind run wild. The guilty feeling that washes over you feels heavier and heavier with every passing second of him not replying.
“I’m really sorry,” you finally break the silence with a final apology. “It’s my fault for being so pushy in your office that day. This wouldn’t have happened if I had just taken no for an answer.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, ____,” Yunho tails your sentence quickly. The tension in your chest finally dissolves when he speaks, and hearing his caring voice is really all you can ask for right now. He reaches a gentle hand over the table to cover yours for some well-needed comfort, before offering you a soft, sober smile, “I don’t want you beating yourself up for decisions we made together. I’m a grown man who makes my own choices, don’t forget that.”
When Yunho dares to ask how far Wooyoung has made you go for him physically, you assure him the worst has only been that kiss.
“I’m not going to pretend like this doesn’t fucking suck,” he groans, brows furrowing at the thought of being so stuck between a rock and a hard place, “I would remove him from class if I could. Seeing his face is going to piss me off even more than before.”
“I understand. The semester ends in a couple of weeks though… I know it might be a lot to ask for from you to deal with, but it won’t be too much longer,” you offer resignedly, though it’s not much of a consolation. Optimism is the only thing you have worth giving him at this point. You’re only optimistic yourself while banking on his ex wanting to meet with you. When he goes from frustratedly rubbing his eyes to running a hand through his hair, you feel the need to add, “I’d understand if you don’t want to deal with that though.”
Yunho turns to you, his expression one of sheer incredulity.
“You really believe I would willingly let someone like him end our relationship?” The teasing lilt in his voice is refreshing to hear, even if it is a serious question underneath. He reaches his hand over and holds your chin while assuring you, “You can’t get rid of me that easily, okay?”
“That sounds more like a threat than a promise,” you chuckle.
“Maybe he should take it that way, then.”
For the remainder of the week, Yunho tries to bear through the new knowledge that Wooyoung is somewhere on campus turning you into a puppet for his own gain. It hits harder on the days when he texts you in an effort to check in on things but is met with radio silence. He was made aware that Wooyoung preferred you off of your phone when with him, but goddamn was it annoying. For your sake, he tries to keep these kinds of grievances to himself. He knows he needs to be supportive if he can help it. During this time frame, you also secretly began your effort to contact Wooyoung’s ex-girlfriend. Getting left on read with your first message was to be expected. It took her a full day before she entertained you by replying back, even if it was a little snippy. Regardless, her replying at all was a step in the right direction. She opened the door and you planned to slip your way in as best you could. Between Yeosang asking for updates, his ex contacting you sporadically throughout the days, and Yunho checking in occasionally to make sure his assistant isn’t causing you problems that he’s more than happy to fix, you decide it’s best to keep your phone face down and away from Wooyoung when you’re together this week. Even if you want to keep up with your friends to pass the time, it’s just too risky.
“You haven’t told him anything, correct?”
Wooyoung asks this out of the blue when you both convene for breakfast on Friday. You find it funny how neither of them can say each other’s name, but you suppose Wooyoung is a bit more cautious these days to keep you from getting an attitude. You’re much too tired to even entertain such a question, but you don’t want to cause any suspicion by choosing not to answer.
You yawn after muttering, “No, why?”
“He looks at me differently these days,” he muses, pushing his fork into the plush of his lips, “It’s giving me bad vibes.”
“He has a lot on his plate with finals that you can’t help him with. I’m sure the stress is overwhelming. Cut him some slack.”
Picturing Yunho trying to give Wooyoung the evil eye when they cross paths everyday has you turning your head away, suppressing a smile to keep from laughing at the end of your sentence.
“You know better than I do,” he acknowledges with a nod and leaves the conversation at that.
Yunho begins losing a bit more of his resolve that same day when he catches Wooyoung rushing to meet you out the door after class, calling out your name right in front of his face. He doesn’t particularly care for the carefree tone of his voice, and he feels like doing something so openly is too cocky for his liking. His fingernails rake at the material of his slacks irritably from behind his podium as he opens his mouth.
“Wooyoung,” Yunho calls out before he can consult his better judgment.
When his assistant spins to face him, Yunho finds himself at a loss for words. He didn’t really think this part through. His eyes flicker to you, who’s waiting patiently by the door for your puppetmaster to join you, then back to Wooyoung. That’s when he makes the executive decision to steal him away from you for the next hour or so. He deserves that satisfaction at least.
“I wanted to discuss some things about my schedule regarding final papers next week, and then submitting final grades,” Yunho exhales while clasping his hands together.
He throws in a free and easy smile to twist the knife because his assistant loses all joy in his face at his words. The brief glance you exchange with your teacher as Wooyoung reluctantly ambles back to his station holds a world of emotions, conveying everything words cannot. The gratification he receives from simply seeing you nod and smile while departing alone for the day gives him everything he needs to complete his day with renewed composure.
Mondays generally suck for Yunho, but this final one of the semester is absolutely atrocious.
Today, he’s had the worst technical difficulties in both of his morning lectures with no valuable help from the University’s IT department. One of his biggest pet peeves is not being taken seriously when he’s working, especially as a younger teacher, and it seems that they put his issues on the back burner all morning since he’s not one of the elderly professors. Regardless, he made things work even through the giggles of some students. It’s his final class before exam week begins, the least he can do is end his spiel of encouragement towards the final paper deadline on a good note.
If things had ended there, then he would’ve had a decent rest of his day. Spilling hot coffee all over his white button-up that he rarely ever even wears puts a permanent grimace on his face for the remainder of the morning. He tries his best to dab it out with water when he gets a free moment during his lunch break, but he’s one hundred percent sure he made the liquid spread much worse. Coupled with him not even being able to put his tie back on properly in an attempt to fashion it in a way that hides the stain, he’s exactly three seconds away from deciding to go home for the rest of the day.
He decides to work through lunch in his office instead so he can end the day early once he’s finished. At least this way nobody could see how much of a mess he is today. But, after a while of Yunho holing up in his office and hiding from the rest of the world as long as he can manage, his phone vibrates with an unexpected call from San. He presses the answer option reluctantly and puts it on speaker.
Before he can even say hello, San’s voice is already excitedly asking, “You on lunch?”
“Something like that,” he chuckles weakly, and San can hear the clicks of his mouse in the background. When he hears San ‘tsk!’ in disapproval of him working, he sighs, “You know me, work’s never done. Shouldn’t you be teaching a class right now?”
“Bathroom breaks are important for everybody.”
“And you decided to call me during yours why?”
“Listen, I know you told me not to make any unannounced visits to your classroom but,” San pauses to laugh at the foolishness of what he’s about to say. “But, it seems that your student has done this to me today instead. I suppose that means today is fair game, right?”
Yunho’s hands pause their movements as he filters through his mind what exactly his friend might be referring to. When he finally recalls that line from their conversation on the day his friends briefly met you, his face pales. San adds that you seem to be dressed oh-so-pretty today and Yunho’s brows crease, not only in irritation at him talking so liberally about you but in confusion. Yunho’s prolonged silence at what should be insignificant information is duly noted in San’s mind.
Truth be told, San did not call Yunho just for shits and giggles. A few days ago, during a shared lunch break, Seonghwa had come to him secretly about Yunho’s recent behaviors:
“You can’t be serious Seonghwa,” San laughs wholeheartedly at his friend’s implications. “Yunho is a bit desperate these days, but he’s not that desperate.”
“You can’t say I’m being delusional.”
“That’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m just saying that it probably isn’t what it seems like.”
Seonghwa rolls his eyes so far back that it almost hurts, “Enlighten me on why he’s being so secretive when I ask then.”
“You asked him about her directly?”
“Not exactly… but I asked him about dating someone,” Seonghwa leans back in his chair and sighs, “He told me nothing. Barely even got a peep about where he met the woman. A Tinder match has got him so quiet? It just doesn’t make sense.”
“And you think it’s his student because of what exactly?”
“I didn’t say anything at the time but I saw a glimpse of his phone a month or so ago,” Seonghwa snaps his fingers while he tries to remember the details, “That night we went to that fancy lounge uptown, remember?”
“And?”
“When he was using the bathroom, he left his phone face up on the couch. I didn’t mean to pay too much attention to it, but it lit up with a text and I recognized the name.”
San pushes the food around in his Tupperware with pursed lips while he tries to rationalize this revelation. Seonghwa does have a point… Why in the world would you have been texting him at 10 PM? San’s a pretty laid-back teacher himself, but none of his students have his personal number. All teachers do things differently though, he knows this. Still…
San lowers his voice to ask, “What did the message say?”
“I didn’t see that part,” his friend continues, the disappointment in his voice making San snicker, “He came back too quickly. I mentioned it in passing though, and he said they text occasionally about her schoolwork.”
Seonghwa uses his fingers to put air quotations around that last word; as if he’d ever believe a student is texting their teacher close to midnight about “schoolwork”. He’s slightly offended that Yunho thinks he’s that much of a fool.
“That’s not that implausible—”
“I’m calling bullshit. She’s at the very least got a crush on him and he’s playing into it,” Seonghwa states plainly.
San resumes eating his lukewarm leftovers, humming, “I really don’t think he would risk getting fired over hooking up with his student. We barely even see him flirt with people outside of work… Anything beyond that just isn’t him. You know this.”
The conversation didn’t last much longer than that, and San had effectively convinced Seonghwa to simply mind his business at the time. He ponders for a second if he should have a serious talk with Yunho about the repercussions that could come to him if Seonghwa’s speculations were true, as he obviously doesn’t want to see one of his best friends lose their job. San may joke around a lot about these kinds of things, and he’s overly flirtatious with a numerous amount of people that may or may not include younger women, but he knows he’d never cross the line and put his job in jeopardy like that.
It’s always been complicated. Yunho is an exceptionally loyal person and a hopeless romantic, but very few people get to see that side of him. San has seen plenty of women attempt to pursue him with both good and bad intentions, and Yunho has difficulty deciphering sometimes. That being said, when his friend is head over heels for someone, there is nothing he won’t do. There have been plenty of times when Yunho has done some stupid things because of stupid impulses when it comes to women he falls hard for. Don’t get him started about when he had to talk him out of getting a tattoo just because a girl he fell for told him she preferred “bad boys” when turning him down. He feels with all of his heart, and that’s honestly something San admires about his friend.
He supposes while he has him on the phone, he should push the boundaries to see how he replies.
“She’s been outside of my class for nearly half an hour,” San continues in a nonchalant voice, stoking the fire, “I was wondering if I should invite her to join in on the lecture, maybe chat—”
Unfortunately for San, Yunho’s already having a bad enough day, and he doesn’t need his friend joking about trying to pick up his woman.
“Do not bother her,” Yunho interrupts him in a voice with a steely edge that makes the instruction come out slightly more bitter than he intends it to. He immediately regrets letting that kind of emotion slip through and becomes bashful, quickly sputtering a playful jab at his friend instead, “Getting a girl’s attention without buying her a drink first? That would be an amazing feat from you anyway.”
“Getting a girl’s attention at all recently would be an amazing feat for you too,” San quips back with a laugh, but he makes a mental note of this peculiar reaction. It surely doesn’t help extinguish Seonghwa’s conspiracies planted in his head. “Anyway, my class ends in half an hour, so I’m sure she’s just waiting for a friend to come out.”
At that suggestion, a thought crosses Yunho’s mind that makes his stomach churn.
“San, tell me something. Do you have a student named Wooyoung Jung in your class?”
“I do indeed, how did you know?”
I’ve got to be losing my mind…
That’s the only explanation Yunho can come up with as to why he’s speed-walking from his building in the middle of campus to the one that hosts San’s class a handful of minutes away. It’s brisk out, evident by the sharp chill of early December running down his back with every quick stride, but it’s a perfect excuse for why his cheeks are so red. He’s not flustered, he’s just cold… of course.
The moment he spots you rocking back and forth on your feet in front of San’s lecture hall, patiently thumbing away at your phone, his chest aches. You’re dolled up today just like San alluded to, wearing a pretty dress that he’s never even seen you in before. Coupled with some makeup and your hair done charmingly, he gets flashbacks to when you both went on your very first dinner together. This doesn’t fare well with Yunho’s mood.
The tap he does on your shoulder startles you enough to elicit a squeal, and that shock doesn’t change even when you realize it’s Yunho beckoning for your attention.
“I– What are you doing here?”
When Yunho’s brows furrow in offense at your question, you wince. You don’t mean to sound like the last thing you want to do is see him right now, but this is not the best time for him to be showing himself. The last thing you need is for him and Wooyoung to cross paths outside of the classroom with you directly in the middle. Nevertheless, you don’t even get an answer to that query. The moment your arm is snatched and your feet drag while your captor hauls you away from your waiting spot, you internally scold yourself about how you’re probably the easiest kidnapping victim ever. To be fair, he’s a lot stronger than he looks.
“Wait, I have a date with Wooyoung–”
“I do not care,” he snaps back.
He doesn’t bother responding to any more of your attempts of chiding him, eyes too busy following the signs that guide him to where the nearest restroom is. When he stumbles upon an unoccupied handicapped restroom, he sighs in relief and pulls you in before closing and locking the door.
“What is wrong with you?” You sputter in a dumbfounded, hushed voice.
Yunho’s face is splotchy, and he’s visibly agitated while his eyes dodge between your outfit and your face, “Why do you look like that?”
What a silly question, truly.
In his mind, the problem lies within who you’re looking so beautiful for, and not the fact that you look beautiful at all. Yunho rarely gets to see you as it is, but this prick’s got you dressing up for him? Surely this isn’t necessary, because you’re beautiful enough to make anyone jealous as you already are. In his eyes, anyway.
“I just told you I have a date and I needed to look nicer,” you argue. Before he can muster up another pointless question, you fold your arms across your chest, “Right now is really not the time to be jealous.”
“I’m not jealous, I’m annoyed.”
“Then why are we here, Yunho?” His eyes finally shy away from yours when you motion to your surroundings. He hates it when you use his first name like this because he knows that often accompanies the tone of displeasure. The last thing he wants to do is upset you. You sigh, “Can’t you hold out just a little longer?”
“Dressing up so pretty for him doesn’t help me feel any better.”
“Making a scene about it doesn’t necessarily help anything either, does it?”
You’d snicker at the shameful silence that follows that statement if the situation wasn’t so genuinely distressing to him. He’s genuinely upset, you get it. You’d never admit it out loud, but a piece of you likes seeing him like this: wound-up, needy, and protective. The roles were reversed not too long ago about Wooyoung particularly, so seeing him show that same yearning and agitation when the tables are turned, even if it’s in terrible circumstances, makes you feel validated. Still, you do what you can to ease his mind for now.
“You’re too handsome to be this envious, love,” you murmur sweet nothings. He remains silent, letting those words swirl around in his head while you reach out to fiddle with the kink in his tie until it’s fixed. His lip juts out when you chuckle at the stain sullying his shirt underneath. Your eyes gaze up at his fondly before you add, “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m yours and yours only before you start believing it?”
Yunho soaks in every syllable of that soothing voice of yours while his eyes settle on your glossy lips when they talk. Anything not to look at those eyes that could surely make him get on his knees and apologize profusely for causing a scene. He’s so predictable sometimes, you muse. You’re sure a kiss or two to help settle his jealousy before you have to leave won’t hurt anyway.
Just as you predicted, he can’t help himself, and the feeling of his impatient hands grabbing at your waist and his lips slotting over yours ignites this fire inside the pit of your stomach. Your butt hits against the counter of the bathroom sink and your hands try to find purchase on his blazer.
“Reminders never hurt, right?” he breaks briefly to mumble before slipping his tongue into your mouth. You indulge him, falling victim to that sinful mouth of his as you always do.
And, sure, maybe kissing you should be enough to quell such intense feelings inside of him, but it’s just not. The thought that Wooyoung also has the ability to kiss you whenever he wants to enhance whatever convoluted plan he has going on makes it almost insignificant. Instead, his hands haphazardly drift under the hem of your dress, because he’s the only one allowed to touch you like this. He hopes so, anyway.
His warm fingers drag up the soft skin of your inner thighs with no hesitation, and your hands grapple onto his blazer tightly when he reaches the apex to stop briefly at your clothed cunt. Yunho swallows the surprised yelp you let out into his mouth when he begins to rub up and down, pressing on your clit through the cotton and feeling how damp you already are just from kissing him. God, it never gets old, the way he turns you on so easily. You shudder when he tugs your panties to the side and drags his lips in wet kisses from your lips to your ear.
“I’m gonna be late, Yu…” you complain, voice airy and whiny when his thumb rubs at your clit.
“I’m really sorry,” he murmurs while kissing the shell of your ear, “I’m just really pissed off today. You understand, right, angel?”
He punctuates that statement by finally slipping two fingers into your sopping cunt.
Yunho’s a mess.
He stares at himself in the mirror behind you while his fingers busy themselves with pushing in and out of your cunt. How did he get to such a point, experiencing so many intense emotions over someone he never should’ve fallen in love with in good conscience? How did he end up in this bathroom with his fingers evoking such sloppy noises from between your legs? He stares at how flushed he is in the cheeks with your glittery lipgloss smeared all over his lips and beyond. This is beyond silly…
Yunho swears he’s not actually such a jealous person, he swears, but the current circumstances are doing a number on his mental health. He deliberately curls his fingers up against that plushy spot he loves to find within you and watches tremors travel through your back. Aside from some tiny gasps and whimpers that are barely audible unless you’re close enough to hear them, you’ve learned your lesson on being quiet in these situations, and you keep your lips pressed together tightly. The way your knees are buckling and your hands are clutching onto him for dear life—yes, this is just what he needs. He’s never felt such an intense need to see someone cum in his life.
“Do you want more?” Yunho suddenly breathes against your ear, pressing a loving kiss on your warm skin before pulling back to look you in the eyes, “I’ll do whatever you want me to, even if you just want me to stop.”
As God is his witness, he means every word. He’ll get down on his knees and suck an orgasm from you if you want him to. He’ll hold you against the wall and fuck any word other than his name out of your head if you want him to. To be honest, deep down he just wants to see if you’d blow off your date with this nuisance—even for just a few minutes—to let him satisfy you. Those shiny eyes of yours innocently blinking at his inquiry could make him melt on the spot. You don’t know how much time has passed since you got dragged in here, or how much time there is left of Wooyoung’s class, but your hands move faster than your brain when considering these things as a problem.
His fingers slip out of your core and into his mouth the moment your hands drop to fumble with his belt hurriedly. There are no words spoken, and the only sounds filling the quiet air of the bathroom are Yunho’s belt buckle coming undone and clattering against the floor tiles once his pants are shoved down. He pushes down his underwear and quickly fists his cock while you turn to bend over the sink. It doesn’t take much to get him hard because seeing you so wet and ready for him to stretch you out with no care for anything else turns him on to the highest degree.
After tugging your panties down what he deems is enough, he doesn’t even bother teasing and prods at your hole so eagerly that it’s almost embarrassing. The soft gasp you both share when Yunho’s tip fully slips into your cunt by accident makes your stomach manifest butterflies.
Your hands grip the edges of the counter while he continues pushing forward, mouth agape and brows drawn together while watching the way the tight skin stretches around him and sucks him in greedily. When you finally feel his thighs meet yours, you release a deep breath you didn’t even know you were holding heavy in your lungs.
“You’re so wet, slipped in so easily,” he huffs, giving you an experimental thrust to see all your arousal coat his cock again before he bunches your dress around your waist in his hands. “Gonna be good for me and stay quiet, right?”
“I should ask you the same,” you whisper, giving him a coy gaze through the mirror.
The smirk tugging at his lips in place of laughing is followed by a knowing nod, and you close your eyes when he finally begins moving his hips. Yunho has no intention of purposefully rushing things to get you back to your obligations any quicker than him bringing you here. Even so, he isn’t going slow or taking his time like he treated you the last time you had sex. No, this is an exceptionally needy fuck today, with hasty, desperate thrusts that make his eyes flutter closed and chest feel heavy with noises of arousal just begging to creep out. He just can’t help himself; Yunho swears your cunt was perfectly crafted just for him.
When he feels your knees buckle after one particular angled thrust, he groans lowly, “Right there, angel?”
With a nod of your head, Yunho's hands move from your dress to your hips, fingertips digging deep into the plush skin while he reciprocates that previous thrust over and over and over until you’re gripping the sink spout to maintain some of your sanity.
“I need more Yu, please,” you beg him in a whisper, cock-drunk eyes meeting his own in the mirror, “More, more—please—harder.”
You want nothing more than for him to just grab a fist full of your hair and make a mess of your sopping cunt—to ruin your makeup and send you back out to Wooyoung looking like a mess. You crave that pure and raw act of Yunho showing him who you truly belong to. Knowing your lover, he wouldn’t decline the opportunity to assert his dominance in this situation, but you have enough self-control to keep those desires to yourself. He’s giving you enough to handle anyway, firmly pressing your stomach to this counter with strong hands and settling on a brutal pace to satisfy your request. The sounds of skin slapping skin echo amongst desperate pants and gasps from you both every time he bottoms out just as fast as he pulls back.
The steamy air of the bathroom is interrupted when your phone begins ringing on the counter. You know it’s probably Wooyoung finally out of class and wondering where you are. You can’t blame him, as you had explicitly told him you’d be waiting for him outside the classroom.
Even so, you can’t seem to care enough to remove your focus from Yunho, your unwavering eyes still locked on his own through the mirror as he continues snapping his hips into you quickly. Yunho would be lying if he said this attention didn’t go straight to his head. He knows you shouldn’t ever have to prove it, but the reassurance he feels from seeing your devotion to him in real time makes his chest tight with adoration. The way nobody else matters to you right now, and how he’s the center of your attention, chips away at every inch of jealousy he was feeling earlier.
Yunho’s hands abruptly pull you off the sink by your arms and up against him. This new position with your back arched and you on your toes has you seeing constellations, and you know you probably aren’t going to last much longer with the way he’s also heaving just behind your ear. When one hand of his moves down to rub sticky circles on your clit, you presume he’s close as well. Yunho feels like he’s going crazy, mind spinning with thoughts of if you keep squeezing him like this, he might just accidentally cum—
“Inside,” you whimper, “Please.”
He finds himself groaning against your skin, teasing you by breathing, “Going on a date with another man’s cum in you’s kinda rude, no?”
“Don’t care, please, please.”
As usual, how can he say no when you beg so cutely? He did say he’d do whatever you want, after all. Your eyes flutter closed and you focus on the final sounds of Yunho’s soft grunts and your shaky exhales mingling in the air while he ruts up into you quickly. It always seems like he knows your body better than you know yourself these days because his hand covers your mouth before he gives the last few sharp thrusts that precede him finally spilling into you, and he successfully stifles the desperate moan you would’ve let fly out once you fall apart in his arms.
“Quiet– Oh fuck, that’s it,” Yunho hisses, letting out a soft moan at the way you struggle to stand while your legs tremble and your cunt milks him for all he’s worth. He’s dangerously too addicted to this feeling already; you should’ve never introduced something so heavenly to him. He can’t stop his hips from beginning to buck again in messy strokes, intent on fucking you through your orgasm even if he’s sensitive himself. Watching the way you bite down on your lip to keep quiet as told, he whispers well-deserved praises in between kissing your skin, “Taking it so well, sweet girl. You really were made for me. Shhh, I’ve got you.”
Yunho only stops himself when your body becomes pliant in his arms, fully surrendering to fatigue and overstimulation. He waits patiently until you can put your weight back onto your feet before finally releasing his grip. When he finally pulls himself out, he’s not quick enough to step away, and his seed spills from you onto his pants still pooled around his ankles. The handful of curses spilling from his mouth at his fuck-up has you shushing him in between breathless laughs.
“I’m an idiot,” he groans.
“Yes, and that’s exactly what you get for dragging me in here.”
Yunho spends a handful of minutes using wet napkins to make his pants look a little more presentable while you do the same with the mess you’ve both made soiling the insides of your thighs. He doesn’t even try to hide the satisfied smirk tugging at his lips while inconspicuously watching you try your best to get his cum to stop seeping out of your core. There’s just not enough to properly clean up, and he finds this just as gratifying as getting you here in the first place. To be fair, you were the one who told him that you didn’t care. On that note, he goes to grab your discarded phone and ushers it your way eagerly.
“You should call your date and let him know you’ll be wherever very soon,” he insists, “I’m sure he’s waiting patiently.”
“Rushing me out after throwing such a fit is crazy,” you mutter while pulling your panties back up. You’re sure he’s just obsessed with the thought of his cum making a cameo on your date.
“A man can’t change his mind?”
As you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, quickly dabbing at your neck with napkins to clean any smeared lip gloss, Yunho leans against the bathroom wall and tries to decide how long he should wait in the bathroom before leaving after you. Between watching the way you apply a fresh coat to your lips and entering post-nut clarity, he’s a bit too scatterbrained to think about this critically, but he’s brought back to the moment when you finally spin around with a sigh.
“Do I look okay?”
There’s a bit of anxiety hidden in that question, evoked by the fear of looking disheveled or being perfumed with the smell of sex, but those thoughts are quickly extinguished when he gives you those eyes that look as though he’s falling in love with you all over again. Maybe it’s that special afterglow that sex grants, but to him, in this moment you look even better than when you enter this bathroom with him. You’re exceptionally beautiful at all times, and he doesn’t even have to answer that question for you to know his thoughts. After planting a quick peck of farewell on his cheek, Yunho stays hidden away against the wall out of view of the door so you can finally leave and call Wooyoung. He’ll hold off on teasing you about the little limp in your walk until you see each other again in private.
The following day, you find yourself seated alone at the familiar table tucked away in the back of the library, the very spot where you and Yeosang often retreated for private discussions. Wooyoung’s ex was supposed to be seated in front of you 10 minutes ago. I’m giving her 5 more minutes before I leave. She was the one who finally asked you to meet with her after a bit of cordial back and forth, so being late to her own plans didn’t necessarily make you as sympathetic to her situation as before. You suppose you should give her a little more grace, considering this is your only opportunity to try and put an end to the madness of Wooyoung’s chasing. Still, you’re a busy woman who needs to prepare for your first exam tomorrow.
“____?”
A soft voice emerges from behind you that has you craning your head to seek out its owner.
“Hello,” you greet her, and your eyes follow her as she ambles around the table to set down her bag to settle in across from you. “Didn’t know if you were still going to show up.”
“I apologize for being late,” she sighs, embarrassment blossoming on her cheeks. With her first question, she wastes no time delving into the purpose of your meeting, “So, how long have you and Woo been dating?”
Due to her Instagram page being locked down, you hadn’t seen very many pictures of her before this meeting. You were only able to get glimpses of her in a scarce amount of posts on her sorority’s page that included all sisters. In person, she’s exceptionally beautiful, and you expected nothing less of someone being so heavily pursued. Your blatant staring and lack of reply to her question have her glancing at you quizzically.
It’s a bit surreal at first, but it finally sinks in that sitting in front of you is the very person of Wooyoung’s desires. An involuntary giggle escapes you at how silly this situation is, as you were never really prepared to be confronted by the very girl Wooyoung kept you from knowing this whole time. She was merely a faceless hindrance to your life, to the point of even doubting her existence at one point. Your reaction doesn’t fare well with her, and she’s noticeably bothered at being laughed at.
“I’m sorry, that was rude of me,” you offer a genuine apology before leaning onto the table on your elbows and admitting truthfully, “Not too long at all, just about a month.”
Still, way too long, you’d like to add. Even though she visibly relaxes at this revelation, you can see a conflicting look flicker behind her eyes.
“I still don’t really understand why you contacted me,” she sighs, but the look in her eyes just doesn’t correspond.
You’re sure she knows exactly why you reached out and exactly what you want to say; surely she already knows she is all Wooyoung wants. During this conversation, you had planned to tell a series of half-truths. She didn’t need to know how you got wrapped up in this mess, but you figured it’d be helpful to admit that Wooyoung only thinks of her when he’s with you. Maybe you’d give her some empathetic spiel about how you “think” he hasn’t moved on from his feelings for her, and make it a bit emotional on your end. Despite those words dancing on the tip of your tongue, ready to give your best performance, you realize that she looks as if she wants to do your job for you. So, you play into it and let her take the wheel.
“You look like you want to ask me something,” you observe, “I’m all ears.”
Sitting up a bit more erect in her chair, she meets your eyes head-on.
“I’d like to ask you if…” But, her voice falters before she can get to the tail of her request.
You wonder if it’s a pride thing that’s keeping her from being honest with herself. She wants him back, you’re sure of it, but she’s the one who broke things off initially. Maybe she’s embarrassed, you muse. You suppose you could gently guide the conversation, posing the question she hesitates to voice herself.
“Do you want me to break up with him?” You ask forthrightly.
“I do,” she finally confesses, “I was hesitant about rekindling our relationship, but you reaching out to me made me feel more confident that I should ask. I’m so sorry.”
Feigning indecision is easy, and pretending to fight your feelings about the situation is the cherry on top. It wouldn’t be believable if you gave up too easily, so the uncomfortable silence is more than necessary. The false front is believable enough because she cuts into the tense silence before you can even respond.
“I made a mistake and I would just like a second chance with him. I know I’m asking for a lot from you, and I want him to be happy, but I can’t pretend that I don’t still love him anymore,” she rambles on, trying her best to be authentic, “We were together for quite some time and—”
“I’m aware,” you finally interject. When she downcasts her eyes, you perch your head in your palm and sigh, “Wooyoung is still in love with you as well. I don’t want to be with someone who’s still caught up on someone else anymore. You understand?”
The way her eyes light up at this revelation makes yours soften. Even though Wooyoung’s actions may be maddening to you, you can tell he genuinely brings her joy. They both truly love each other.
“I don’t know how to go about this,” she admits after a moment of thought.
"Just tell him you want him back. He'll probably end things with me right away," you say bluntly. You feel it's best to give her a gentle nudge to act sooner rather than later, though. So, you add, "I think he’s been planning a trip for us after finals, but I'm sure he'd rather go with you. Please, do it soon."
Underscoring the word please to her might come across as begging, but at this point, you are beyond caring. Going your separate ways after closing this conversation feels like a hefty weight lifted off of your shoulders. In the end, you’ve done what needed to be done in terms of setting the stage; now it was time for her return to the spotlight as the lead.
The next morning, you awaken to a text from Wooyoung finally breaking your arrangement off. He doesn’t go into any specifics of what happened, but at any rate, you don’t need or care to know. As far as you’re concerned, he’s fully evaporated from your life the moment you delete his text thread. You find that your coffee and breakfast taste better than normal with one less weight of stress hanging over your head. Exchanging many [Good luck!] texts with Yunho has him subsequently requesting to meet with you after today’s exam. That is how you ended up dawdling around your favorite aisle in the campus bookstore just before lunch. You had decided to turn in your textbook rentals early and put all of your faith in your notes for these next few days. The only other thing really lingering over your head was to finally turn in your final paper for Yunho’s class before midnight.
You start to get a bit impatient when Yunho fails to show up after your proposed meeting time, and you wonder if maybe he’s in the wrong spot. With calculated steps, you begin to roam the nearby shelves, reluctant to call out his name too many times in such a quiet place. There are only but so many aisles he could be in within this store anyway. After a couple of minutes peeking into different empty aisles, you finally decide he’s simply just late. You venture back to your original aisle and decide to browse in the meantime; this is the last time you’d ever be stepping foot in this place, so it couldn’t hurt to chew over a last-minute purchase. No matter how frequently this aisle has seen your presence in the last few years, you never fail to find something new that piques your interest. Unfortunately, today’s mark is a small book with the prettiest spine, and it sits just out of your reach on the top shelf. Being unobtainable only makes your curiosity even more inevitable.
Stretching every muscle in your body as far as it’ll give to try and at least graze the spine fails; there’s just no use, and it seems appealing to simply give up. The moment you finally fall back on the heels of your feet, you can feel the sturdiness of a chest slyly pressing against your back while reaching for that very same book just out of your reach.
“You should really be more aware of your surroundings,” Yunho’s smooth voice hums next to your ear after feeling you freeze up underneath his presence. He plucks the book from the shelf with ease and sighs. You can feel his breath fan out on your neck and even smell the mint on his breath when he adds a playful jab, “Short stuff.”
“And you should really be more punctual,” you quip back, trying your best to ignore his proximity.
He’s dressed casually today, charmingly sporting a comfortable pair of jeans and an oversized sweater since classes are officially over. If you didn’t already know who he was, a simple glance would have you thinking he was a student himself.
“Oh c’mon pretty, at least I’m here like I said I’d be, right?” He reasons excitedly while offering you a toothy grin that’s way too cute for your liking. The gentle tap of the book on the crown of your head has you scrunching up your nose, and he sets it aside. “You sure this section is private enough?”
“One hundred percent. I used to sit here in my free time when I wanted to read books without buying them,” you admit, adding, “No cameras over here either.”
Yunho eyes you curiously. You're practically glowing today, evident to him by the smile you can’t seem to keep off of your face even when you feign annoyance at his tardiness. He presses a hand to the shelf ledge behind you while the other finds solace in his pocket with his belongings.
“What’s got you so happy today?”
He’s torn between whether you’ll say something about already being rid of one exam, or maybe your spontaneous rendezvous with him here has you that giddy. Your eyes gaze back into his expectant ones and you find yourself finally able to relax for the first time in many weeks.
“It’s all over, Yunho.”
Normally, a sentence like that would seem ominous, but the wide stretch of your lips has his poor heart shooting into his throat. It’s the way your eyes are lit while saying his name that really gets him. His pocketed hand finds its way to your cheek and his thumb skims the apple of your cheek. This kind of smile is something he hopes he can evoke from you on his own in the near future.
“I really missed seeing you this happy,” he confesses, “You look like you can breathe again, ____.”
Something about the way those soft chocolate eyes of his are openly admiring every inch of your face, committing this kind of happiness from you to memory, has you shrinking back in shyness and averting your gaze.
Eager to move the spotlight off yourself, you inquire, “So… why’d you wanna meet up here?”
Oh, that’s right…
Yunho’s decision to drive to campus today mainly stemmed from the fact that you would already be here. He didn’t want you to have to go out of your way just for him to see you, especially after an exam. A clandestine meeting in the bookstore, which you assured him beforehand would be devoid of many students, seemed like a feasible option. He moves to wrap his arms around you, pressing you against his chest in a firm embrace. You don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his waist.
“It’s going to be a very busy week for me with grading final papers all by myself,” Yunho begins tentatively.
His eyes close and he focuses on slowing down his heart that’s beating a bit too prominently in his chest when your ear is pressed against it. There are a lot of emotions coursing through him today, many he can’t quite decipher, although he supposes maybe that’s just everything he’s been feeling throughout the entire semester coming to a head: love, jealousy, desperation, angst, and more. Even amongst the newfound happiness blossoming within his chest at such a detrimental obstacle being overcome, anxiety is still the most overwhelming feeling consuming him. It’s a bit nerve-wracking inching closer and closer to the final moments where he can confidently say you’re his with no repercussions. He’s been reflecting on how things will change between you both when finally crossing over this hump, and how things will flourish sans the threats to your futures. He doesn’t want to get too ahead of himself, though.
“Continue,” you encourage him, “I’m listening.”
“I just wanted to see you in person before I have to disappear, and tell you that I know you’re going to do amazing on your exams,” Yunho’s gentle voice imparts. He lowers it further to add, “I’m very proud of you and…”
When he trails off, you turn to plant your chin on his chest and peer up at him with coy eyes, “And?”
“And… I love you,” he whispers, eyes flickering up for the briefest second to confirm you’re still in solitude.
Your gentle laughter at his neverending caution is like music to his ears. He’s still learning how to comfortably say those words without being fearful of not hearing them back. The feeling of his arms letting you go in favor of his hands holding either side of your face steals the opportunity to return his words of adoration. Instead, you put those unspoken words into the kiss he doesn’t hesitate to initiate. When you reach up and pull him by the back of his neck, deepening the kiss and encouraging him to let go, he feels his nerves finally melt away for this moment and this moment only. Yunho pulls away before he can get too lost in the feeling of not caring where you both are, and the way you’re led to chase his lips has heat prickling your cheeks.
“You know, the store’s nearly empty… Might even just be me and you,” you hum. Yunho’s eyes don’t leave yours, even as he feels your hand mischievously skirt down his chest to tap at the belt buckle under his sweater. When your fingers dare to dance further down to the crotch of his jeans, he finally takes hold of your wrist. “Oh come on, are you still nervous?”
He shakes his head confidently, “Just think it’d be more fun to reward you once your exams are over. Making you wait a lil might be fun, no?”
“You sure you can go a couple weeks without it?” You taunt him with a cock of your head. “All that stress while grading finals adds up, no?”
“Is this coming from the same woman who spent two weeks away from me in the arms of another man before I knew about it?” He immediately counters, eyebrows dancing with mischief. “I’ll be just fine. You, on the other hand, are a needy little thing it seems.”
“Don’t make me consider going back,” you warn him.
Yunho eyes find the ceiling as he inhales a deep, frustrated breath. Provoking him like this is unfair and dirty. If he were a man with no self-control, he’d have half a mind to have you in this aisle on your knees, putting that mouth to better use than spouting such nonsense. For now, he simply purses his lips and nods curtly.
“That’s okay, be that way,” he concedes in a voice low enough for your ears only, “Because the next time I get my hands on you…”
He trails off while palming your ass through your leggings and squeezing to his heart’s content. The yelp you let out at his fingers sinking in a little deeper than usual makes a pleased smile tug at his lips. He’d say a lot more, let those lewd thoughts entering his mind go freely for once, but the sounds of feet shuffling not too far away shut him up just as fast as he could think to say them. You both separate abruptly and face opposite shelves. How disappointing…
Yunho clears his throat before finally sighing, “On that note, I look forward to receiving your paper tonight.”
“I look forward to you reading it, Mr. Jeong,” you hum, and he can hear the smile lingering on your words. It’s been quite some time since he heard such formalities come from your mouth. “I hope it ends up being worth the wait. You did help me craft it, after all.”
Behind you, his warm chuckle is followed by him laying a comforting hand on your head.
“See you at graduation, ____,” he whispers.
When he departs, being left alone doesn’t feel so lonely for once.
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Could you write something where someone compliments Hotch for "babysitting" and "helping out" when hes out with his kids and he gets all 😑😑 do you mean parenting my children?
standard parenting
omg LOL cw; dad!aaron, reader is referred to as mom, a ton of domestic fluff, very light suggestiveness (hehe reader and aaron are soo in love <3) wc; 1.2k
"Jack." Aaron moved forward, spotting his son as he climbed up a curved ladder, at the ready if he were to suddenly slip. "Careful."
"I am." He took the last, big step, his hands gripping the supporting bars and landing on the platform safely. "I've done this two times already Dad."
"Help your sister down the slide, okay? I'll meet the two of you at the bottom."
"Okay." He confirmed, beelining down a rattly bridge in the direction of Ellie.
It was approximately 3 pm on a Tuesday, the park filled with the afternoon rush of children freshly out of school. A doctor's appointment had brought Aaron out of the BAU early, and after picking up Jack from school, Ellie from preschool, he figured there was no better way to burn off energy than the playground.
Hopefully it allowed for a quiet, relaxing night at home, with both kids in bed at a decent time.
Aaron stood at the bottom of the slide, peering upwards and squinting - he had regretfully left his sunglasses in the car. Ellie stood at the top, looking a bit lost once her turn was next, the slide intimidatingly large for a newly four-year-old.
"Jack's coming, honey."
It took some convincing; Aaron reassuring her he was right there, there to catch her if she overshot into the mulch. Jack would be right behind her. Further hesitation on her end: Do you want Jack to go first? No. Are you sure you want to go down? Yes.
Finally down came Ellie, giggling profusely and not paying a mind to the static the slide caused (Aaron mentally winced at the sound). Jack followed soon after.
"See, there you go." Aaron praised, hands moving to his hips.
"Again, please please please." Ellie whined gently, looking up at Aaron with her identically adjacent brown eyes. It was something she was beginning to master, the puppy dog look that could cause him to cave within seconds.
He was in for it.
"Sure pumpkin." Aaron grinned down at his little piggy-tail headed daughter. "Just a few more times though, Mom's waiting at home."
"C'mon Ellie. I'll race you." Jack suggested, kicking up dirt as he bolted off without waiting for a distinct answer. She ran after him, as fast as her small legs could carry her.
Aaron called out after him, "The stairs, Jack."
"I know!"
"Cute kids."
A mother - Aaron inferred - commented, falling alongside him. Aaron's eyes continued to track the two of them, ensuring they remained together and stayed far away from any arched ladders. They dashed up the stairs, into the depths of the play structure.
Aaron offered her a friendly smile in return, "Thank you."
"It's nice to see someone so attentive for a change." She huffed, notably an impressed breath. "Most babysitters just sit on the bench on their cell phone."
Aaron's expression dropped; a mix of confusion and dumbfound, his smile gradually fading. The only thing going through his mind: I'm sorry, what?
"Well, I'm not like most babysitters." He frowned, pressing his lips together and eyebrows drawing into a line.
"Good for you." She commended, not taking the hint. A child called out to her, causing her to move forward. "See ya."
She left, but scowl on his face stayed.
It hadn't put him in a bad mood, but rather, a dulled mood. The inference could've been an honest mistake, it most likely was, but it settled funny within him.
Only at Ellie's, 'Daddy look!' did his face brighten up. For them.
-
"Hi Momma!" Ellie bounded into the kitchen, nearly crashing into you and smiling from ear to ear. "We're home!"
Jack added to her status report, voices intertwining. "Dad took us to the park!"
"It looks like you two had fun." You grinned, using the pad of your thumb to swipe away an unblended bout of sunscreen on the side of Jack's nose. You also took note of his grass stained sweats, and the dirt scuff on Ellie's knees.
"We did! Jackers helped me down the slide and Daddy pushed me on the swings-"
"No one pushed me on the swings." Aaron commented, his hand finding the small of your back momentarily as he brushed past.
"That's 'cause you're big." Ellie made a face at her father.
"Can we go again on Saturday?" Jack asked, "I wanna bring my soccer ball."
"We'll have to see what we're up to, bud," Aaron answered, also fetching him a cup of cold water. The car ride consisted of Jack stating how thirsty he was, and how he refused to drink the lukewarm water his bottle held. "But I don't see why not."
Meanwhile, Ellie plopped herself onto the floor, pulling off her shoes and dumping the remnants of lingering mulch onto the floor.
"Hey hey hey let's not do that." You said, your nose scrunching lightly too; the normal kid-stink that followed after an afternoon spent in the sun. "And baths, both of you. Go on, I'll be there in a second."
Ellie's voice carried as she ventured up, something along the lines of bringing her mermaid Barbie in the tub with her. You ruffled Jack's hair gently as he passed, pressing a kiss to his sweaty head.
"You know what someone said to me today?" Aaron asked, turning towards the sink to wash his hands.
"Aren't you forgetting something first?"
He stopped, a knowing smile forming on his face. "How dare I."
Aaron moved forward, hands finding your waist to pull you near, placing his lips onto yours for a few seconds. Albeit how short it was, you savored it; coming home after a long, long day.
Satisfied, "Enlighten me."
He paused to actually wash his hands, flicking the water droplets off once he finished. You tossed him the hand towel that happened to be nearby.
"Someone mistook me for a babysitter."
"What?" You snorted out a laugh.
"Left me speechless." He exasperatedly rolled his eyes, wiping his hands and throwing the towel back onto the counter. "Can you believe that?"
"Well, you know how some people can be." You shrugged. Your statement wasn't much help, but what could you do.
"Oblivious?"
"What prompted it?"
"Standard parenting. I was simply keeping a close eye. The slide made Ellie nervous, Jack was being a bit adventurous today, and the playground itself was a nightmare. Everyone had the same idea I did, it was packed."
You hummed in response, dumping the neglected water from Jack and Ellie's water bottles out. Aaron continued to ramble on.
"And she saw the two of them. Jack - he resembles Haley a bit more, sure. But Ellie?"
"Your twin."
"Exactly." Aaron scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Babysitter. How in the world does that title come to mind before Dad?"
He shook his head as his eyes found the ceiling; utter disbelief.
"You know," you raised an eyebrow, regaining his focus, "you're hot when you're fired up."
"Am I?" Aaron smirked, pulling you in again just as he did before, arm winding behind your back.
"Mom!"
A whine drifted from upstairs, Aaron pulled away from your lips with a comically heavy, defeated sigh.
You shoved him at the chest playfully, grabbing a laugh from him, heading upstairs.
"She, huh." You teased, "Are you sure it wasn't some strategically formed ploy in hopes you were unmarried? Wouldn't be the first time."
He trudged up the stairs behind you, a chuckle shaking through his chest. "I doubt it. She seemed genuine."
"And you would know." You quipped, ends of your mouth turned upwards.
"With my profiling expertise?" He bantered back, playfully patting your behind as you reached the second level. "I'd hope so."
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x you#criminal minds drabble#aaron hotchner drabble#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fanfiction#hotch imagine#criminal minds x fem!reader
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twelve — i think you do
mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader
⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to.
when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.
previous — masterlist — next
word count. 2k
content. profanity, naoya’s annoying, reader and sukuna suck at feelings
You probably should’ve known the way this day was going to unfold with how it started. How did it start, you ask? Oh, with the most appropriate of things: A broken elevator.
It didn’t help that you also had absolutely no time for this shit. You had woken up late after spending most of the night tossing and turning and thinking, against your will, about the kiss you shared with your best friend just yesterday. The stupid kiss that came out of nowhere, the one you did not expect at all, the one you… actually liked.
But never mind that. You can think about that later. All you know is that the shitty domino effect of events has led you here, running into your class’ lecture hall—the class that you’re not quite sure you’re going to pass—only to sit at the very back, where there’s absolutely no way you’re not going to doze off.
“Oh, look at the odds.”
You turn to look at the guy sitting to your right. Fucking Naoya.
He’s looking at you with a wide smirk on his face and it’s taking everything in you to not just punch it off.
You’ve always hated the guy. Ever since you and Satoru started dating and he introduced you to his housemates. You liked the other boys. Suguru, Yuji, and Yuta. They were all sweet and they were all kind to you, the initially nervous girlfriend, so much so that you all ended up becoming friends. You liked Satoru’s housemates. All of them except Naoya.
You don’t know what it is about him that you hate so much. Is it the snarky remarks? Is it the annoying way he keeps showing up in your classes? Is it the fact that he always had something to say about you and Satoru’s relationship? Is it the—
“I heard about you and Sukuna.”
You glare at him. Fuck Naoya.
“Unlike you, I’m actually here to learn,” you tell him quietly, unlike him and his disregard for the people around you. “So if you would just shut up, that would be great.”
You’re able to catch a few of the professor's words, quickly jotting them down on your tablet, before Naoya is leaning over onto your desk and reaching for a strand of your hair. You grab his hand before he touches it.
He just grins at you, all smug and absolutely shitty. “You’d be prettier if you smiled.”
“I will break your wrist.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
You throw his hand away and shove him off of your desk. “Leave me alone, asshole.”
“You sure do have a thing for bad ideas,” he muses aloud, a few of the people in front of him glancing backwards because he is just talking so loud. “You’d think after Satoru, you’d learn your lesson. Guess athletes really aren’t that smart.”
You swallow the lump in your throat. You know he’s just being himself, his obnoxious, mean self, but some part of you can’t help but believe his words. They’re stupid, you know that, but they manage to get to you.
They always do.
You look at him and purse your lips. “I just wanna get through this class,” you say. “I’ll listen to your bullshit after. Just let me actually pay attention so I don’t flunk out of here.”
His grin grows wider. “Okay,” he says, leaning back in his seat. “Who am I to stand in the way of your education?”
The lecture doesn’t last long enough. You usually find these classes to be too much, too tedious, too endless. But today it ends fast and it ends soon. You’ve barely just started to scribble down as much as you can before the professor ends the class, leaving you to pack your things as quickly as possible before Naoya can hold you to your promises.
You’re too slow and his arm wraps around your shoulder as he leads you out of the classroom, like the two of you are just old friends having an absolute blast.
“I have another class to get to,” you tell him, trying to shove his arm off of you. Much to your dismay, Naoya’s stronger than you are, and once he has his grip on you, he has no intentions of letting go.
“I’ll walk you to class,” he chirps. “I wanna hear more about your life. Mai mentioned you were injured at your last game.”
You sigh. There’s no way you can shake him off now. “A sprain,” you tell him. “I’m heading back to training tomorrow, so it’s all good now.”
“A sprain,” he muses before turning to look at you, all giddy and terrible. “You know, that’s how I found out about Sukuna. Mai mentioned that he was there when you went down, had a staredown with Satoru and all.”
“I bet you tormented that information out of her.”
“What does it matter?” Naoya hums. “Sukuna though. Interesting choice.”
You turn the corner and make a beeline for your classroom, forcing Naoya to drag himself along with you as he laughs.
“If I were your boyfriend, I’d be really offended by the fact that you don’t want to talk about me.”
You scoff, finally freeing yourself from his grasp as you lean on the door to your classroom. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re not my boyfriend then.”
Your (fake) boyfriend in question is sitting in a classroom on the other side of campus. Contrary to popular belief, Sukuna isn’t all always out and about, drinking and fucking random girls. For a good chunk of his life, he actually finds it in himself to go to class and not totally suck at them.
Back in high school, he didn’t care so much about doing well in life. He was perfectly fine just coasting by. He’d wonder why that all stopped—replaced by an overwhelming urge to do something with himself, actually be a useful member of society—but he already knows. Somewhere between that one afternoon when he went up to the rooftop of his high school building and now, he’d found his life intrinsically intertwined with yours.
And he hasn’t found a way out since.
“Where are we studying?” he asks Choso, getting up as the professor bids farewell to the class and reminds them of the paper they have to turn in before finals.
The other boy shrugs. “We can go to Mahito’s.”
“That place is gross.” Sukuna wrinkles his nose. “You wanna check out the library? We can just do it there.”
Choso slings his bag over his shoulder. “Yeah, sure.”
They make their way out of the classroom and into the frenzied hall. Around them, students run over to classes, cry to their friends over a low grade, ask each other where they’re going out to drink later that night. It’s a familiar chaos, this chaos. One that Sukuna didn’t think he’d ever come to terms with before.
“I wanna go home,” he grumbled as you dragged him through the quad.
It was the first week of classes and Sukuna really did want to go home. His packed schedule and unlucky pick of horrifying professors was getting to him, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he decided to call it quits.
He’d tried college. Maybe it just wasn’t for him.
But you just tutted and pulled him along. “I have something to show you.”
Sukuna frowned. “I’ve seen everything there is to see. What is—”
“Look!”
The two of you stopped in front of the pond behind the science building. There was a crowd gathered around the water and, in the darkness of the growing night around you, a steady stream of lanterns began to float onto the surface of the pond.
In a matter of seconds, the whole thing was alight with lanterns.
You grabbed his hand and grinned at him. “Magical, right?”
He found himself staring at you as you happily pointed out a few lanterns shaped like lotuses. You were like a kid discovering life for the first time.
He realized he wouldn’t get sick of the sight any time soon.
“Yeah. Pretty fucking magical.”
“You’re quiet.”
Sukuna snaps out of his daze. “What?”
He doesn’t know how, but he and Choso have already found their way to the library. They’re sitting at a table near that one fan that always conks out. There’s a couple basically making out on the table beside them, a boy with his head face down on the one in front, an empty spot behind them.
Choso furrows his brows. “You good, man?”
I don’t know. Am I?
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Sukuna says. He flips through the textbook in front of him and finds that he has no idea what he was supposed to be reading in the first place. “Actually, I think I’m pretty fucked.”
Choso looks at him now with amusement. It isn’t every day that he gets to watch Sukuna be more than a little out of it. Who is he to turn down a free show?
“What’s up?” he asks. “You jerk off a little too much?”
Sukuna scowls. “Fuck you. I’m studying without you.”
Choso laughs, prodding at the guy from across the table. “I’m just kidding,” he says. “What’s the matter though?”
Now, Sukuna’s been trying very hard to not think about your kiss. At first, he managed to brush it off as a little mishap. Maybe something you’ll both awkwardly address the next time you meet before things go back to normal. It’s not something he has to worry himself about.
But here he is.
Worrying.
“You promise not to tell anyone?” he says, and he immediately feels stupid. What is he? A middle schooler with a crush? As if.
But Choso indulges him anyway. “‘Course,” he says. He’s used to people coming up to him with stupid ideas. Granted, “people” usually just means his younger brother who has a buttload of stupid ideas, but he’s gotten pretty good at keeping them to himself. “So, what is it?”
“It’s a girl.”
“It always is.”
Sukuna groans. Why is this so fucking hard?
“I dunno. I just—I kinda kissed her.”
At that, Choso can’t help but snort. He can’t help it. He’s heard all about Sukuna’s conquests, he knows more than he wants to know about the nasty details of these encounters. So it tickles him pink to hear Sukuna worrying about a kiss.
“What’s so funny?” Sukuna demands. He shakes his head and looks away, all flustered and embarrassed. “Y’know what? Never mind. Let’s just study graphs or whatever.”
“It’s not funny,” Choso says, laughing, “it’s just I never expected you to be all worked up because of a kiss. That’s all.”
Your best friend sighs. “It wasn’t just a kiss,” he says. “It was who the kiss was with. We just… have a lot of history.”
“Ah, so it was a kiss with feelings. Now I get it.”
“It wasn’t feelings.” Sukuna makes a face, but he soon reverts back to his uncertainty. “Was it?”
Choso shrugs. “Well, I don’t know the girl and I don’t know your history,” he says simply. “But chances are, the reason why you feel so weird about it is because there are some feelings involved.”
Sukuna leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. He considers the thought for a moment. He considers why he did it in the first place. He considers the way you looked, all confused in front of him. He considers the urge, the pull he felt that just dragged him forward. He considers how he kissed you, and considers how you kissed back.
He considers how soft your lips felt against his. He considers how you touched his shoulders, gripping onto him in that scared and nervous way of yours. He considers how he held you. He considers how sweet you tasted, your lip gloss sticking to his lips even after he pulled away.
“You think I have feelings?”
“Yeah,” Choso says, chuckling as he turns back to his book. “I think you do.”
notes. this chap is pretty tame, just a lil look into the aftermath of the kiss 😌 i think this is gonna be chillest chap for a while though 🫣 there are also a few hints of what’s to come if you squint real hard
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I knew Elriel was endgame when Elain said Azriel's scarred skin was beautiful
As I knew Feysand was endgame when Feyre described Rhys as the most beautiful man she has ever seen.
But they don't pay attention to it and several other things because women's words and acts means NOTHING to them.
They prefer picking other woman because she is "QUIRKY", "STRONG" and "NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS" and the other one is "BORING", "SHELTERED" and "BELONGS TO ANOTHER MAN".
They prefer shipping two characters who didn't show romantic interest on each other because they TWISTED the man's personality to fit "enemies to lovers" saturated as fuck trope when it was already used in the last book.
They prefer to think SHE DOESN'T DESERVES HIM because SHE WILL MAKE HIM SUFFER for not being "BIOLOGICALLY AVAIBLE" and other woman WILL MAKE HIM HAPPY because SHE IS NOT TIED AGAINST HER WILL TO OTHER MAN.
They prefer downgrading the other one and pushing her out of HER FAMILY, HER HOME,
saying HER BODY IS NOT SUITABLE FOR HIS BABIES.
saying SHE IS TOO WEAK AND BORING because SHE DOESN'T FIGHT LIKE FEMALE WARRIORS.
saying BLACK COLOR DOESN'T SUITS HER because a man said that.
saying SHE NEEDS SUNLIGHT AND A PLACE WHERE IT HAS AN ETERNAL SPRING GARDEN only because HER HOBBY IS HER ENTIRE PERSONALITY, INCLUDING HER FUTURE.
saying SHE IS ONLY AN OBJECT OF LUST because the man showed that he felt desire for her but HE IS DIFFERENT WITH THIS OTHER WOMAN.
saying SHE WILL BECOME A VILLAINESS when she sees the other girl using a necklace that was meant to be her gift.
saying SHE WILL BETRAY THE INNER CIRCLE.
even fucking supporting a BIOLOGICAL ARRANGED MARRIAGE with a man who makes her SHRINK...
Because it will not work if she stills there.
That's all.
Misogyny at its FINEST.
Bullying at its FINEST.
Hate at its FINEST.
I needed to get this out. I'm DISGUSTED! Of all series i've watched and read in my life, I never saw something like this!
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Hey. Hey you.
Watch this scene again — really watch it this time.
Did you catch it? It’s subtle but also not at all. This is a scene about manipulation, but the real culprit is not who you think it is.
Lila’s objective is to isolate Marinette, as she herself points out as soon as the call cuts off:
“Soon, you’ll have no one left, Marinette. Soon, you’ll have nothing.
Of course, that means hurting Kagami, which she has no problem with; but it’s not her goal. In fact, she’d much rather love-bomb her and keep her around to further her plans, like she later tries to do in Protection and Emotion:
“Someone as amazing as you deserves a more considerate friend, and… I’d be honoured to be that friend!”
But Kagami does not respond well to that offer: she hangs up on Lila and retreats into herself. Her decision to cut off ties is her own.
OR IS IT?
“If I couldn’t be a friend to Marinette, I can’t be a friend to you either. Someone as imperfect as me doesn’t deserve anyone. Forget about me, Lila — the only thing I’m worthy of is solitude.”
Pay attention to the language she uses here. Those are the same words we constantly find in her mother’s mouth! The same unbearable pressure and self-loathing Kagami has been shown to struggle with ever since her debut!
“What’s the point? You won. There’s no such thing as a second chance in my family. Goodbye.”
Notice how the animators zoomed in on her amok right before this line. Notice how she immediately retreats into that blasted car, the literal embodiment of her mother’s control, and discards not only the offer of a decisive match but a chance to connect with like-minded kids at the fencing club. Kagami has been rejected so many times due to her perceived “imperfections” that she isolates herself before she can be hurt again.
So instead of following her own advice and “changing targets” — moving on from Marinette to Lila — she deletes both of their contacts. Until only one person is left:
Tomoe lingers on her screen and on ours, because she has made it so. Her own teachings have ensured her daughter has no one to turn to but her.
This is a scene about manipulation. But it’s not about Lila.
PS: There is something to be said about:
“Someone as imperfect as me doesn’t deserve anyone.”
and how this wording would typically be used to refer to romantic partners — especially given Kagami’s practically canon crush on Mari. Despite gaining many new friends by the end of Perfection, our girl gets akumatised again in Protection, and continues to follow her mother’s orders until Pretension — driving the point home that friendship, while a huge step for her, is not what she truly craves.
It is only when someone shows romantic interest in her that she very literally cuts her mother’s strings and is granted genuine control over her life:
She is!!! Everything!!! THEY ARE!!!!! EVERYTHING!!!!!
#If Tatsu only has one hater then that hater is me.#miraculous ladybug#kagami tsurugi#felix graham de vanily#feligami#tomoe tsurugi#marinette dupain cheng#lila rossi#random ramblings
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Hi there! I'm working on a modern supernatural story, and I've got a side character (the main character's best friend) who deals with chronic fatigue syndrome. He's a sweet, goofy, confident guy, and he has friends who are happy to change plans to accommodate him when he has flare-ups. They'll also help him out with chores or errands when he needs, with his consent. Naturally he gets bummed about his condition from time to time, but he's accepted that it's how he lives and with the help of therapy he's found ways to manage it. He also has plenty of hobbies and interests and grievances outside of his condition.
My question is this: I have a side-plot where the characters learn that a vampire has been feeding off him for weeks without his knowing, most likely using some kind of hypnotism. I'm wondering if the effects of consistent blood loss - fatigue, headaches, dizziness, etc - could reasonably be chalked up to a particularly bad CFS flare-up. Or would that be something where it's more likely he would notice the difference in severity of his symptoms and realize something else was wrong? Assuming the vampire can heal up any bite marks he leaves.
For the sake of clarity, he's had CFS most of his life and I'm taking care to avoid implying that it has anything to do with the vampire attacks. I'm just wondering if his symptoms would help hide the feedings or not.
Thank you!
The short answer: absolutely yes, this seems like it could be chalked up to a bad flare-up.
The long answer: I'm going to use the CDC's description of CFS/ME to lay out pretty exactly why it would work for both you and anyone wondering why exactly it would work.
A list of symptoms from the CDC has 3 core and 2 that you only need 1 out of 2 symptoms to have CFS.
Core: Lowered ability to do usual activities due to fatigue [that is not relieved by sleep/rest] that wouldn't have been an issue before illness
Core: Post-exertional malaise (PEM), which is a worsening of symptoms after physical or mental activity that wouldn't have been an issue before illness. Often described as a 'crash' and can include feeling dizzy, having difficulty thinking, headaches, or feeling ill. It can take days, months, or longer to recover from a crash and it's hard to predict how long a crash will last or what will cause it.
Core: Sleeping problesms; even a full night's sleep doesn't help symptoms much and might not help at all. Might have trouble falling or staying asleep.
Other: Problems with thinking and memory, like 'brain fog' or slowed thinking or trouble remembering things or paying attention.
Other: Orthostatic intolerance, meaning that symptoms can get worse while standing up. This can make people feel lightheaded, dizzy, weak or even faint.
I've bolded the symptoms on the list that match your stated symptoms of vampiric blood loss: "fatigue, headaches, dizziness, etc." and as you can see they match up pretty exactly!
Your character could perhaps do something that required a decent amount of mental or physical extertion, and perhaps it did or didn't cause a crash but at around the same time the vampire could have started to feed off of him. This might seem to prolong the 'crash' and your character might not think twice about it, just realize that they're feeling pretty miserable in a way not unknown to them.
I hope this helped!
PS, I really enjoy modern supernatural stories, and if you ever feel like sharing it I'd love to read this.
— Mod Sparrow
#chronic illness representation#chronic fatigue representation#mod sparrow#fantasy setting#anonymous
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A Honey Trap For The Butterfly
Nanami Kento was everything you needed in a therapist, only as long as you ignored the sinking feeling in your gut.
Even tho there's nothing describing the act of s*x here, it's still a yandere fic - so minors and those not comfy with yandere stuff DNI and have a nice day! 🫶🏽
Word Count: (will update when life stops life-ing lmao)
⚠️Content Warnings⚠️: UNBETA'D, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Yandere!Therapist Nanami Kento, Gender!Neutral Reader (and no bits mentioned), Modern!AU, Hurt/Comfort, Soft Yandere, behaviour that SHOULD NOT be tolerated irl, Nanami says some very comforting shit to manipulate you, no curses.
⚠️Further Content Warnings⚠️️: Unhealthy power dynamics, HEAVY and subtle emotional manipulation, implied stalking, mention of sexual activities, professional boundaries are OUT the window.
When your gut tells you something is wrong, one tends not to believe it at first, and this causes you to dismiss any further warnings.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Sorry, I-I'm just..."
"There's no need to push. Only if you're ready."
"No, I-I'd like to."
Therapy was a tricky thing. There was the problem of getting the right medication for you. There was also the problem of finding the right therapist for you. Which is why some people - like you - search for a very a long time until you finally found one that clicked. Nanami Kento, who was practically everything you needed in a therapist.
"The nightmares are about your family, yes? They say nightmares are ways for the mind to release overwhelming emotions. Can you tell me more about them?"
"Y-yes, I...these nightmares are always the same. My family talking about me behind my back, it's...I feel alienated."
"Hm...it's no wonder these nightmares always coincide with upcoming family gatherings." He scribbles something down, and turns his full attention towards you. "If you're okay with sharing, what makes you think they're alienating you?"
"I...now that you mention it Doctor, it does seem to coincide, but...I-I don't believe I've mentioned...how did you-"
"Ah, it's just an observation." He waves his hand dismissively. "And I told you, you can call me Kento."
-------
"I-I'm so sorry!" You apologize profusely, embarrassed and just a little defeated when you turn up short at the cashier of your favorite coffee shop. There's a brisk walk, and someone familiar drops some change at the cashier for you. Though being payed for was a surprise, the person paying was not. It was Nanami, who you seemed to run into a lot. So much, that bumping into your therapist outside of your sessions was almost the norm. Something about living nearby.
"Oh, Doctor, I-I'm really sorry about this!"
"Oh don't fret, it was only a few bucks." He offers his hand. "Come, sit with me."
You're taken aback. It's not like you didn't WANT to. Nanami was a very attractive man; well built, broad shoulders, and such a handsome face. But, still, he was your therapist. There is a very faint alarm, all the way at the back of your mind, that makes you feel just a little bit uneasy at the proposal.
"A-are you sure this...I mean, i-is this okay?"
"Of course." When he intertwines his fingers with yours, his face and eyes and words are completely welcoming. Laced with nothing but care in order to hide the ugly side just waiting to devour you.
"It's just coffee."
-------
"I think last session was a very eventful one. You did a lot well this week. I'm quite proud of you." He says and hands you the paper for your medications. His warm and strong hands linger on top of yours. "See you for lunch after?"
-------
"I just can't believe they'd do that to me..." You try and keep yourself from crying any more. "They're my family. I shouldn't have to cut them off like this!"
"Hey, hey...I know it doesn't seem like it, but you made the right choice." Nanami gently cups your face with his hand. "I'm proud of you."
"It's okay. You'll be okay." His eyes go over to your lips, as he tilts your head to better align with his. The room suddenly feels awfully quiet, too constricting, when his lips meet yours.
-------
"I think I've come a long way." You sigh and laugh softly. "I'd like to celebrate but...I-I'm not sure how. I'd like to minimize my spending..."
"Well, I'd have to agree, you ARE making fantastic progress." He takes your hand in his. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to celebrate it with you. I have a few ideas we could try."
"Oh, of course!"
"Date night." He brings your knuckles to his lips. "Your apartment."
Nanami stayed over that night. Worshipped your body as if he was made for it. He was a wonderful lover but, the entire experience left you feeling wrong, somehow.
-------
"I don't know what to feel...I just...they're all dead. My family, they're all..." It was all too much, and Nanami wraps his arms around you. "I know what they did but, still, I..."
"Oh, love...it's okay. Let me handle everything; planning, funeral expenses. Everything."
"Kento, that...that's too much-"
"Nothing in the world is too much for you, my dear." He holds your face when you start to cry again. "I would do anything for you."
When he looks at you, his eyes show a devotion and adoration so strong it borders insanity. You'd never expect this 'gentle giant' to be the one that caused your family's deaths. It was nothing you've ever seen from him, and it unsettles you.
"Anything. You know that, right?" He seals it with kiss on the lips, just a bit too harsh, just a bit too possessive. "Stay here, with me - where you belong. Don't worry anymore."
"You're home now."
When your gut tells you something is wrong, one tends not to believe it at first, and this causes you to dismiss any further warnings. It is just one of the many ways that humans self-sabotage. Though, for many manipulators, the intention is to make their victim do so by putting up a welcoming and disarming front - a perfect honey trap.
.
.
Writing this was a TRIP man, ughk. It's so tame and light as a yandere fic but something about writing subtle manipulation just makes my skin crawl the most. 😭 Anyways, hope you enjoy! ✨🫰🏽
#jjk x reader#jjk x gender neutral reader#yandere nanami kento#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere nanami#yandere jjk#yandere nanami x reader#soft yandere#nanami kento x gender neutral reader#nanami x reader#nanami kento x reader
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Every Day, You'll Hear Me Say
(Kyle Garrick × Reader)
[Fluff | No Warnings Apply]
On the day of their marriage, when the newlyweds were asked about how they met, their stories would be touching. Some loves bloomed at the first sight, some had existed long before they even realized it.
Yours, however, began with a comedic story.
It was early in the morning on Thursday, just one day after you moved to the new place. You were exhausted from all the cleaning and moving boxes, and you'd sleep the whole day if not for your growling belly. You couldn't possibly go too far, so you settle with the sandwich bar near your apartment.
You didn't pay that much attention to your surroundings, moreover to the other customer beside you. So when you heard your name being called, you grabbed the order without looking. It's not until you took a bite that you noticed the mistake.
"I didn't order this." You told the staff, and she furrowed her brows.
"You're Reese, right?"
You nodded.
She looked just as confused as you, before the other staff came and flusteredly explained the situation.
"I'm sorry, we got your order mixed up with the man here. His name is also Reese."
You turned your head to the side, and saw the man she referred to. There was a trace of surprise in his face, but it's been replaced with amusement, for an obvious reason.
You felt your face heated up, as you covered your mouth.
"Oh my God." You stuttered, "I'm so sorry, I didn't know—"
"It's alright, you look starving." He chuckled, before he reassured the staff when they apologized.
"Let me buy you a new one."
"No, it's really ok." He smiled, "My treat."
You tried to pay him back, but you ended up with two sandwiches. And one drink.
At the table, you apologized to him once again, but he shrugged it off.
"Don't worry about it, it's just a small thing." He told you, "You should worry about yourself, you look like you could faint at any time."
You rubbed your neck as you looked away, "I haven't slept since I moved here, so…"
"No wonder you look unfamiliar." He said, "So, your name's Reese?"
"No, that's my Starbucks name." You sheepishly smiled, "I assume yours is Reese?"
"No." He softly laughed, "It's also my Starbucks name."
"Really?" You said in surprise, "It's not Reese?"
He shook his head. "Why? Does the name suit me?"
"Kind of." You replied, "You look rather sweet."
You slapped your hand on your mouth as you realized what you just said.
"No, I mean—it’s not like that—I didn't mean it that way or whatever—" You groaned, "This is embarrassing."
"That's alright, I used that name for that reason.” He said, “My friend once did an experiment by asking strangers if I looked like Reese or my real name, and most of them answered Reese." He grinned as he quipped, "One of them even told me that he wanted to “eat me up” because I reminded him of Reese's."
"What," Your eyes widened at his story, before you burst into laughter, "Wait, did someone really say that?"
"Why would I lie?" He smirked as he took a sip of his drink, "What about you? Why did you use that name?"
You scratched your cheek, "It's for a boring reason, really."
"Tell me anyway."
Just like that, your story began with a simple talk.
You'd laugh whenever it’s being retold—either by you or by him. Because your version was different from his, and both of them were amusing. For you, it was an embarrassing day. But for him, it was the best day of his life. You’d kick him under the table for saying such cheesy things, yet a wide grin would betray you as you scold him.
Of course, it’s not the only story worth telling, since it’s just the beginning.
The next story is much less interesting, but memorable still.
On a particular morning, you bumped into him in the hallway. He's in his sportswear, with sweats still forming on his forehead. He had a thin hoodie on him, and kept his hands inside the pocket. You wouldn't look at him twice if the bump in his pouch wasn't bean shaped.
It didn't take long before his pocket whined, which, that itself was impossible. Unless something else was inside that pouch.
"I, uh—I have to go." He quickly fumbled, "See ya around."
"Wait—"
Before you could stop him, he already disappeared behind his door. Leaving you in the hallway, dumbfounded.
Though it didn't take long for you to figure out what it was. Since the smuggled item was quite vocal.
A few days later, as you took a shower, you heard a high-pitched howl from next-door. Along with the lecture from your neighbor.
"I wouldn't do this if you didn't roll in the dirt, Lou."
A loud protest soon followed, as well as a splash.
"Alright." You could hear him sigh, "I'll give you a treat after this, yeah? How's that sound?"
From that moment, the fuss slowly died down, as gentle coos replaced the argument.
"Good girl."
You quietly chuckled, as you washed off the remaining bubbles. While you reached out to grab the towel, the thought of treats came up to your mind.
Maybe the pup would love blueberries.
The next day, when you made your way to your door, you slipped a bag onto his door handle, with a sticky note attached to it.
You could remember exactly what was written in it, but you received the reply not long after. "Thank you for the gift." He told you, as you both retrieved letters from the mailbox, "She likes it very much."
You raised a brow at him, before you caught the context.
"Oh." You muttered out before you smiled, "I'm glad to hear it."
You both stared at each other, and would continue to do so if he didn't chance it.
"Do you want to meet her?"
The question rolled out with a slight tremble, as if he's both eager and hesitant about it. You studied him for a moment, before deciding on the answer.
"Yes," You said, "If you don't mind."
Which seemed to hit the mark, since his doubts were quick to disappear.
You couldn't get why he was unsure at the beginning, but you later found out that pets weren't allowed in the buildings.
The little pup is a mixed breed, with dark eyes and 4-colored furs. She wagged her tail when she saw you, and he had to scooped her up to quiet her down.
As you both settled back, he told you the story of how he found her, while you played with the pup.
“When I saw her on the side of the road, I knew something was off. She was too young to be left alone, and even if she was left unattended, she wouldn’t have strayed too far from the rest.” He said as he scratched her ear, “My only guess is that she’s left there by her previous owner, for whatever reason.”
“That’s so cruel.” You frowned, “Why couldn’t they put her into adoption or something?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged, “But I suspected she came from an illegal farm, which means she had no birth certificate.” He explained, “Most adoption centers won't accept dogs from unknown sources, and sending them to the shelter would be a lot of work, since you’d have to write the admissions.”
“So they just threw her away?”
“Maybe. But I wouldn’t think about it too much. It already happened, and there’s nothing I could do to change it.” He chuckled when she started nibbling his thumb, “Besides, it’s more important for me to give her home. That’s the least I can do for her.”
You looked at him as you quietly observed how he stroked her cheek. If he’s the one who cared for her, then there's no doubt she’s found her home.
There’s a saying that a simple gesture could mirror someone’s heart, and it’s not hard to see when it comes to him. At that time, you couldn’t explain why you had the urge to help him, all you knew was you wanted to. At least for Lou.
Negotiating wasn’t your forte, but after many bribes and sweet talks, you managed to convince the landlord to allow him to keep the pup. You arrived at his door right after you got the written permission, in which you showed him with a proud grin.
“You don’t have to play hide and seek anymore.” You told him, “You have the permit.”
He read the letter carefully, before he turned to you, wide-eyed.
“How did you get this?”
“Pure luck, I guess.” You scratched your cheek.
“Come on, you expect me to believe it?” He chuckled, “How am I gonna repay you for this.”
“You don’t have to.” You added when he’s about to protest, “Think of it as my way to return the favor.”
“Still, it’s too much.” He muttered, “Let me buy you dinner.”
The automatic response that you thought was to refuse him, but something stopped you from doing it. You stared at him in silence, with your mind running miles an hour.
“Please?”
It’s still curious how a single word could slap some sense into you. Because at that very moment, you understood your own feelings.
Oh, You thought. That’s why.
Without further knock-back, you accepted his offer.
The details of what happened during that night are fuzzy in your memory, since your head was swarmed with the thought of him. But you remember walking into your room, with a slip of paper and a loud heartbeat on your hand.
It wasn't hard to see how you'd struggle with a simple message that night. But it all paid off the moment his reply popped out.
Since that day, texting him would be a part of your routine. Whether it's a long conversation, or simply a good morning. Sometimes he asked you to keep him company on the evening walk, sometimes he asked you whether you're up for dinner. On weekends, you'd join him in the park—where Lou could run freely. He'd bring the sandwiches from the bistro, and you'd giggle when you read the name 'Reese' on the wrap.
Months would pass, and all the moments you shared would come to a pause.
It was 9:34 PM when you heard a knock on your door. You smiled as you thought of the suspect, and while you got it right, the mood that's reflected on his face was far from what you expected.
"What's wrong?" You asked.
It took a moment for him before he uttered a few words.
"I need your help."
It was a simple request, take care of Lou, but the way he said it was dreadful. As if he'd be gone for long.
"I can't take her to the dog care because I have to leave now. You can drop her off tomorrow, but please, keep her for tonight." He told you, "Here's my spare key, you can find whatever you need for Lou. I've put the money on the table, you can use it for her daycare."
"Where are you going?" You frowned, "When will you be back?"
"Airport." He looked away, "Got a call from my boss, saying it's urgent. I don't know when I'll be back, it can take a month or so." He shook his head, "If I don't come back… No, forget it. I'll leave it to you."
That night, you could only watch him as the elevator door slowly closed. Despite the haste in his steps, his face didn't mirror the same eagerness.
When you entered his place, you found Lou on the tousled cover. She curled up by the empty space, where the owner was supposed to be. For a moment, you thought of moving her to your room. But you decided against it.
You spent the night on the couch, reading the message he left on the table. He had given you an address to the pet care, along with the money he mentioned. It's still puzzling how he could entrust everything to you—so easily, that you could take it for granted.
You turned your head to the bedroom, where the pup slept soundly on his bed. She had no clue that he had left, and you doubted that she's prepared for it. And if you took her to the care, would she understand it? Would she know that it's only for temporary?
With your fist tightened, you chose to let her stay.
It's not for a noble reason, rather, you couldn't bring yourself to leave her in an unfamiliar place. You scolded yourself for being sentimental, but you’ve been with her long enough that you’ve grown fond of her. One month shouldn’t be long, you could handle it just fine.
And it’s true. One month wouldn’t be a problem for you. Alas, he didn’t come back on the supposed day. The marked number on your calendar had been crossed, and still, no news from him. The messages you wrote were sent, but never received. You’d stare at his profile, as you read the word ‘OFF’ on the status.
Each day, you worry would grow as you glanced at the date. What if something had happened to him? And if he doesn't come back, what would become of Lou?
As you turned your calendar page, you felt the apprehension when you saw the month. Twelve more days, and it’d be exactly three months after he left.
The pup sensed it too, as she whined whenever she passed his door. You tried to overlook her cry, until you couldn’t. You retrieved the spare key from your safe, and headed over to his place.
The room was still the same as you left before, though it felt a little bit colder. You brought the pup down and closed the door behind.
Lou dashed to his room with a wagged tail, as she followed the lingering scent of him. You followed her behind, and stopped on your track the moment you saw her pawing at his wardrobe.
“You shouldn’t open that, Lou.” You stated as you lifted her up, “It’s impolite.”
She writhed around in your hold, before letting out a low whine.
“I know.” You murmured, “I miss him too.”
You plumped down on the sofa, before you rested your head on the arm pillow. The scent of him still lingered on the fabric, and you curled up against it. Lou snuggled closer to you, as she slipped under your arm. You smiled when she began to yawn, you glanced at the clock and caught the arms in the shape of a tilted V.
It’s almost midnight, and you should’ve gone back to your room. But something tempted you to stay, lulling you to rest. To close your eyes, even for a moment. Like clockwork, you slipped into nothingness when you gave in.
At this point, with all the past tense that you’ve used, it shouldn’t be a surprise when the story will come to an end. As cliché as it might sound, he really did come back that night. Although much later, near the dawn.
When you rose up from your sleep, you felt the weight on your body that wasn’t present before. You tried to shift away from it, but it seemed to be on top of you. When you peeked through your lashes, a mass of grey came into your view.
You leaped from the couch as you recognized the cover. It was a blanket, and you’re one-hundred percent sure that you last saw it in his bedroom.
“Good morning.”
Until now, nothing could beat the speed of your stare as you snapped your head towards him.
He was standing by the table in comfortable sweats, with Lou nestled in his arms. There were plates on the table, and you were hit by the delectable smell of food.
“Are you hungry?” He put a metal plate down, before lowering her to the ground.
Still dazed, you ended up answering with another question. “When—” You gulped, “Since when did you come back?”
He turned to the clock, then back to you, “2 hours ago.”
“Oh.” you rubbed your face, and brushed your hair to the back. “Um, sorry I didn’t hear you.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
He offered you a glass of water, and you took it while you murmured a small thanks.
“You didn’t take her to the pet care.”
You lowered the glass after a few gulps. “Um.” You scratched your neck, “I felt bad leaving her by herself, so I took her with me. Besides, you didn’t tell me how long you’d be away.” You muttered the last part.
He chuckled when he caught it. “I’m sorry, I should’ve informed you beforehand.”
The two of you exchanged a look, which you couldn’t look away from. The heat started to rise, as it painted your cheeks in red. There’s something between you and him, something vague but palpable at the same time—
“Thank you.”
You blinked, as the thick air dissipated from you.
“For taking care of her.” He added, “I owe you one."
At that time, you didn't quite catch the underlying meaning of his words. Only years after that—as you laid beside him, with a new ring on your finger—you finally found the answer.
"You told me that the day you realized you like me was the day I gave you my number." He started, as he stroked your cheek tenderly, "And when you asked me the same question, I said I've loved you ever since you took my sandwich. But I only realized it the moment I came home to you sleeping. I was beyond exhausted that day, both physical and mentally. I thought I'd collapse when I came back, but as I walked through the door, all my tiredness just disappeared. In my mind, I was expecting to see an empty home. So you can imagine how surprised I was when I saw you there.
"You might not know it, but your presence means so much to me. I wasn't brave enough to say thank you, for being there for me, so I said whatever's appropriate at that time. But in my heart I knew; you're the one I'm gonna marry."
#cod#call of duty#cod mw2#gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick#gaz mw2#writing fluff is great for your soul they say#it's good for your sanity they say
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incredibly out of character of me to write something like this about yujin and quite frankly idk what came over me… BUT WALK WITH ME!
gp yujin thoughts!
cw : kinda breeding kink, heavyy puppy kink, subtle praise kink, this is probably kinda nasty in terms of detailing and description sorry y’all it’s like 2am HELPP i’m fighting demons right now
you look at these pictures and think “omg sweet girl.. she does no wrong.” and you’d be… so right actually she’d be the sweetest girlfriend ever i mean look at her SHE TAKES YOU OUT ON DATES EVERY WEEKEND AND BUYS YOU FLOWERS BEFORE PICKING YOU UP anyways
one random saturday, you ask her if you guys could simply chill at home instead of going out since you caught a cold prior to the hang out, to which she will, of course, happily oblige! she’s fine being anywhere as long as it’s with you aheheheh she’s so cute she’d start actually giggling at the mere thought of having to take care of a sick yn, making sure you’re okay and watching over you:(( sweet bby
one thing she wasn’t expecting, however, was to witness you getting surprisingly and strangely aroused by being pampered this much and having to take care of you in another way. or, actually.. more like having the roles switch and being taken care of instead! :]
she doesn’t know what to do when you’re kissing all over her and whining about how much you need to give her a reward for being so good to you. on one hand, she wants to be spoiled too and have you all to herself. on the other, she wants to tuck you back to sleep because you’re ill and deserve some good rest!! if things went according to plan, she wouldn’t even have thought twice about it and would’ve just given you tea to drink and force you to take a well-deserved nap..
but let’s just say that the dick in between her legs, very familiar traitor to yujin, had other plans.
honestly, with your soft hand palming her dick through the fabric of her jeans that was accompanied by the sweet things you whispered in her ear, it made it impossible for her to not want more.
so when you’re finally bouncing on her twitching cock cowgirl style whilst she lays back on the couch? oh well YESS~~
and one thing about yujin? oh she’s a sensory girlie i fear… poor puppy can’t enjoy having sex if she can’t hear and see every little thing that’s happening. from the soft moans and ‘good puppy’s escaping your lips and the way you’re bouncing up and down in front of her all the way down to the noise your skin makes when it’s slapping against hers due to her rough pounding and seeing you sneak a hand under your top to access your own chest, playing with your own nipples and getting off on her adorable vulnerability,,, or maybe she’s even paying close attention to the wet sound your pussy makes when it’s rubbing against the shaft of her hard cock, she’s watching it pump in and out of you and stretch you out:(( sometimes maybe even watch and hear it slip out on accident, listening to the ‘plop’ sound it makes on your stomach when it slaps it.. YES it’s frustrating and YES it’s also incredibly hot to her LISTEN—
it’s all sososo lewd to her,,, it makes her feel so filthy ouh it drives her crazy me thinks
also the consent check is THERE! she knows you’re sick, she needs to constantly make sure you’re feeling alright enough to continue and always reminding you that you can always stop whenever you feel overwhelmed she’s so soft i’m.
omg random thoughts about yujin nodding eagerly when you talk dirty to her,, “does it feel good, baby?” and she can only whimper and keenly nod as a response because she can’t speak coherent and proper sentences when you’re making her feel this good foekfnem SHE’S SENSITIVE OKAY
also i am a firm believer of her being a drooler i don’t CARE! she’s digging her nails into your naked thighs whenever she’s close to climax, looking up at you with glossy eyes, upturned eyebrows and a cute pout:((((( her mouth often agape when she does cum, it’s very common for her to drool all over her chin as she rides out her orgasm and shoots her thick load into your womb, getting too into it to even remember that she needs to PULL OUT WHEN CUMMING? listen SHE’S JUST A STUPID PUPPY LET HER LIVEE
and when it comes to the aftercare? oh it’s unmatched; you’re passed out, naked, on the couch next to her and she runs her hand through your hair, scratching it and giving you a scalp message cause she knows your head probably hurts from orgasming while having a cold… GUYS— [EXPLOSIONS]
#smut#kpop gg#female reader#ive smut#yujin ive smut#ahn yujin#ahn yujin x y/n#ahn yujin smut#ahn yujin x reader#ahn yujin x female reader#yujin ive#yujin x female reader#ive yujin#ive ahn yujin#losing my shit
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Deadly Proposal: Part Five
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~2.5k
Warnings: angst, drug use (cocaine), heartbreak
Summary: Amber takes it a step too far when she throws a party at Dean's house. She crosses a line completely when she reverts back to her old self, and you are done breaking your back for her.
Deadly Proposal Masterlist
Square Filled: force feeding for @badthingshappenbingo
Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3
x
The fight with your sister and Dean made it so you couldn’t sleep well last night. You slide out of bed, throw on something to wear that’s semi-appropriate, and head down to the kitchen. You’re not expecting to see anyone but Sonja, so you’re surprised when Amber is sitting at the kitchen island. She gives you a side glance but doesn’t say anything to you.
“I thought you were leaving.”
“I know you want me gone but my boyfriend didn't show.”
“I never said I wanted you gone,” you sigh. “I was frustrated yesterday, and I said something I didn’t mean. I’m sorry.”
“Whatever,” she shrugs. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”
You sit at the kitchen counter and turn to her.
“Why don’t you and I go into town today and look for jobs? You said you were going to try.”
“Yeah, maybe we can do that later.”
“You need to do it sooner rather than later. Dean only gave you a week here.”
“What are you, my mom?” she scoffs.
She leaves her untouched food on the counter and storms to her room. Your shoulders sag in defeat but you don’t dwell for long. Sonja takes her food away and sets a plate in front of you with a kind smile on her face.
“Thanks, Sonja.”
As you eat, you think about Dean and your fight. Was it a fight? You know you’re not supposed to feel anything for him since you’re just a blood bag for him but the more he drinks from you, the more you crave him. Not just him, but his time and attention as well. You want to know so much about him but he doesn’t give you much to work with. He’s so mysterious and it’s driving you insane.
The thing with Amara isn’t sitting well with you either. You hated how jealous you got when she came over. She’s so beautiful, and may or may not have been involved with Dean. You subconsciously touch the wounds on your neck that have mostly healed. What did she mean when she said your blood was special? She said that she’d never smell anything like it, but doesn’t she smell blood all the time? No, that was carnal behavior. Dean talked to her but you’re not sure what he said to her. Does he even care?
No, screw this. You’re not going to sit here and continue to wonder. You’re going to get answers now. After you’re done eating, you walk upstairs to where Dean’s office is. Your hand hovers over the doorknob as doubt begins to creep inside your mind. Would he give you the time of day? Would he send you to your room like a petulant child?
“I can hear you breathing, you know,” Dean says from inside.
It’s now or never. You open the door and walk inside. Dean is sitting at his desk typing quickly on his laptop.
“What are you doing?”
“Nosy much?” he smirks.
“I can’t help it.” You shrug. “I’m bored and you’re not paying attention to me.”
Dean chuckles and leans back in his chair to give you his undivided attention.
“If you must know, I’m working.”
“You have a job?” you gasp in a teasing tone.
Dean shakes his head with a smile he can’t resist. “Yes.”
“What is it you do?”
“Nothing you need to know about.”
You walk over to his desk, sit across from him, and cross your legs.
“Do you realize you’re always brooding or does it come naturally to you?” Dean rolls his eyes and continues typing. “So, where’s your brother? I’m assuming you have one, right?”
“Are we doing this right now?”
“Fine.” You pause. “Do you have any parents?” He doesn’t reply. “I’m going to keep asking you questions until you answer.”
“Fine.” Dean groans and pushes his laptop away to pay attention to you. “You have five minutes. Go.”
“How old are you?”
“Over half a millennium. Seven hundred and sixty-two years if you want to get specific.”
“How did you become a vampire?”
“I was working a hunt when I was human. Vampires. They got to me before I could get to them. I’ll spare you the bloody details.”
“What do you do for work?”
“I help women escape their abusers.”
You’re taken aback. You did not expect that to come from him. You want to know more but then you’d use up your five minutes and you need to more about him.
“You made it sound like you had a family. Any siblings?”
“Dead.”
“Parents?”
“Dead.”
“Are all your friends dead, too?” Dean cracks a smile and looks away to try and hide it. Your smile fades slowly. “Are you going to kill me when you’re done with me?”
“No.”
“Why me? Why take me out of everyone you could have taken?”
“I already told you.”
“Yeah, my ‘special blood’,” you scoff. “What does that mean? Amara said I had special blood, too. What makes me special?”
“You remind me of someone I used to know. She had the same blood you did. In fact, you two are more similar than I’d care to admit. Maybe I don’t want to be alone anymore. Maybe she was the best thing to have happened to me in a long time, and I want to have that again.” Your mouth goes agape as you try and process his words. He clears his throat and pulls his laptop closer to him. “Times up. Now get out and let me work.”
That’s more than you thought you’d get so you won’t complain. You get up as he continues typing, and you walk to the door slowly. You look back at him but he doesn’t spare you another glance. Since you don’t want to see Amber and Dean doesn’t want to hang with you, you decide to hang out in your room for the next few hours either reading, playing video games, or browsing Amazon for new stuff for your room.
It’s nearing dinner time so you get out of bed to see what Sonja has made. When you open the door, you hear music blasting from downstairs and commotion that sounds like chatter coming from a huge crowd. You take the stairs down two at a time to see people filing into Dean’s house. Strangers who are already inside hold red cups filled with God only knows what. This is a party. Dean would never throw a party and you didn’t, and there is only one person here that would.
You push past everyone to get to the living room where Amber is sitting on the couch with two nasty-looking men. Unkempt hair, dirty clothes, and yellow nails.
“Amber! What the hell are you doing?!”
“It’s a party!” she grins. “I was bored of staying in this house with nothing to do.”
“Fuck, Amber! This isn’t your house.”
“It’s not yours either. Plus, Dean is almost always gone. He won’t mind, I’m sure.”
How did you ever think you could change her? How did you ever think she would be willing to change? You’re about to respond to her when you feel a hand wrap around your arm. Dean pulls you away from Amber and to an empty room nearby. He shoves you inside the room and slams the door behind him with a deadly glare on his face.
“Dean, I am so sorry. I didn't know she was doing this. All these people just showed up,” you stutter. “God, she always does shit like this. I shouldn’t have brought her here.”
“Yeah, no shit,” Dean glares. “Get rid of them.”
“Yeah, you got it.”
“I mean it, Y/N. I am a vampire and this party is filled with blood bags. Get rid of them before I do.”
Your eyes widen when you realize the threat behind his words. You leave the room and push through the sea of people that seemed to get bigger from ten minutes ago. You grab a few cups from people but they pass you by without another thought.
“Party’s over! You need to leave!” you shout over the loud music. No one is listening to you so you push your way to the DJ who is spinning the record player. “Hey! You need to stop. The party is over!”
“Get lost,” he says and continues playing music.
The control is slowly leaving your body and you start to panic. People are doing body shots off of other people, some are in the pool half-naked, and some are playing beer pong and doing drugs, among them is Amber. From the DJ stand, you can see over everyone’s head and to the couch where you left Amber. There are white lines on the table, one of which she sniffs up her nose. You don’t think anyone can hear your heart break over the music.
You jump off the platform and push through the crowd to get to her. She sniffs up another line of drugs when you yank on her hair.
“What the fuck?”
“Are you serious right now?”
“Great, it’s the fun police,” she giggles with her friends. She grabs her alcohol bottle and takes a few swigs. “You need to lighten up, Y/N. Have fun. Get drunk. Get laid. Where’s Dean?”
Tears prick the back of your eyes. “This isn’t funny, Amber. This is my life. You come in and ruin everything! You’re poison and a parasite. I don’t even know why I helped you in the first place!”
Amber glares but she is too high to care enough to bite back.
“Let’s play Seven Minutes in Heaven!” she shouts. A few people cheer her on as she shugs the rest of her alcohol. Some drops fall from her mouth when she pulls the bottle away but she wipes it away with the back of her hand. “Y/N, you go first!”
“No, I’m not playing, Amber. Seriously, the party is over.”
Amber doesn’t listen and spins the bottle on the now drug-free table. The bottle spins and lands on a spot that’s right behind you, and she grins when she sees who is standing there.
“Dean, you gotta go in the closet with Y/N.”
You turn swiftly and see Dean standing there with an emotionless face. Shit, he looks pissed. Someone grabs your shoulder and pushes you and Dean into the nearest closet. The door closes before you can say anything.
“I’m so sorry,” you whisper.
“I don’t care about the party, anymore.” Dean steps closer to you, puts a hand on the wall behind you, and leans in closer to you. “What are you doing to me?”
“What do you mean?” you whisper.
“I can’t get you out of my head. You’re so different from her.” You can only assume he’s talking about the woman before you. He’s so close that your heart is racing a million miles a second. He leans in so close that you think he is going to kiss you but he doesn’t. He’s stopping himself as if kissing you is the most horrible thing to do. You sigh in disappointment which Dean picks up on. “Fuck it.”
He turns back to you, grabs both sides of your head, and kisses you so deeply that your knees immediately go weak. He holds you close and takes complete control over the kiss. His lips mold to yours like they were always meant to be there. His tongue touching yours sends sparks flying down your body. Your head is swirling too quickly for you to keep up, and all you can smell is him.
He finally pulls away from you and you lean against the wall to steady yourself. Dean doesn’t say a word and leaves the closet since the seven minutes are up. You touch your lips with a shaky hand as you force yourself to calm your racing heart and mind. Amber is gone from the couch when you leave the closet but you don’t care about her. You storm over to the DJ who is taking a water break and snatch the microphone from the stand.
“Party is over. Get out. The police have been called and are on their way!”
That does it for most. They scatter like startled cats and the rest leave because everyone else is. Soon, the house is empty and covered with trash and empty bottles. You’ll clean this later but right now, there is one person on your mind who you need to deal with. It’s not hard to find your sister when she is vomiting her guts out in the downstairs bathroom. You don’t care if you get vomit on you. You yank her away from the toilet by her hair and pull her toward the door.
“Wait, Y/N, I’m sorry. Please don’t do this,” she cries.
“You’re done, Amber. You’re not living here anymore.”
“Please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again,” she sobs.
You drag her to the front door and throw her out on her ass. She has tears running down her face and looks at you with a heartbroken look.
“Please, Y/N, don’t do this to me.”
“No, I am not doing this again. Go find somewhere else to sleep, and go find someone else who will give a shit about you because I am done.”
With that, you slam the door in her face. You start to clean the house from the partygoers but that doesn’t distract you from Amber’s cries on the front porch. You continue to ignore her until she stops which means she either fell asleep on the porch or she left. A quick check through the window tells you it’s the latter.
Amber stumbles from the house in tears and down the long driveway to the road. She has no idea where she is going to go but maybe there is a homeless shelter that might take her for the night. She pulls her thin jacket tighter against herself since it’s starting to get cold outside. She walks further down the road when she hears the rumble of a car behind her. Maybe she can hitch a ride to town.
She turns and puts her hand out to avoid being blinded by the headlights. The car slows down next to her, and the driver rolls down the passenger side window.
“Can I get a ride into town, please?”
“Hop in,” the man says.
Amber is quick to hop inside the car where the heater is gently blowing.
“Sorry if I seem like a mess. My sister just kicked me out of her life, basically. I know I’m a fuck up. I fuck up all the time. I understand why she would but she’s my sister. We’re supposed to stick together through thick and thin, you know? So I do a bit of drugs. So what?”
“You poor girl,” the man says. “I can help you.”
Amber looks up and sees he hasn’t moved the car since she got in. She glances over at him in confusion. He has a beer belly, hairy arms, a scraggly beard, and dark eyes.
“How?”
The man grins with sharp fangs where his canines should be. He grabs Amber and sinks his teeth into her neck. Amber screams for her life but no one is around to hear them. He’s right about one thing: poor girl.
x
Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)
#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester fic#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester fanfic#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester angst#supernatural#supernatural fic#supernatural fanficition#supernatural fanfic#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural fluff#supernatural angst
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Frequently Asked Questions:
I get some version of these pretty much every day so I thought I'd make an FAQ:
What is my dominant planet/How do I find it?
If you knew enough about astrology and your birth chart, you would know which planet influenced you the most. Most people acutely feel a combination of at least 2-3 planetary influences most strongly. In reality, every single planet and nakshatra in our chart influences us but we probably aren't self-aware enough/knowledgeable about astrology enough to see how it impacts us. Each planet correlates to a different area of your life. Since Sun represents the soul/outer self and Moon represents the mind/emotions, its safe to say these 2 placements impact every area of life but when it comes to relationships/creativity/beauty, you channel your Venus whether you're aware of it or not and same goes for all other planets. Whenever you do something of a creative bent, you tap into your Ketu, your education is affected by your Mercury and Jupiter, so on and so forth.
If you're very new to vedic astrology or if you haven't been able to figure out your dominant planets, just let it be!! This is not a puzzle to be solved, there is no way for you or somebody else to mechanically calculate your "dominant" planet. I don't know you, I don't know what you look like, what your personality is like, so there is absolutely no way for me to tell what influence comes through most acutely.
Also, the concept of "dominance" itself is pretty much a made up one (thanks Claire Nakti) so literally, just chill out!!! Read about your placements, and learn more about astrology instead of trying to claim planets. You're influenced by your whole chart, its that simple. That's it.
2. Which website should I use?
You can use astro seek.com or the Cosmic Insights app or the Jagannatha Hora app. On astro seek, you have to adjust to "whole sign" instead of Placidus though. On the others, that's the default setting, I think.
3. Which ayanamsa should I use?
I stick to Lahiri
4. I have xyz nak/planet/house, am I doomed/ugly/forever alone/unlucky?
NO
Astrology helps us understand our strengths and weaknesses, there is no placement that comes as a death sentence of some sort. I feel like most people don't understand that your birth chart is supposed to make you self-aware of your natural inclinations, tendencies, patterns etc so that you can work with them/make necessary changes etc. Your chart is NOT set in stone. Human behaviour is far too complex to be narrowed down to a birth chart. It shows your INCLINATIONS, which means that if you're self aware, you can make necessary adjustments to work on unhealthy habits/tendencies.
Astrology is not "this is who you are, you suck",, it's a tool for self-growth.
If you have difficult placements, you need to pay more attention to them and work on those areas. Why on earth would you just accept that everything is fcked and its game over for you bc of what the stars said??? Sorry to be rude but that's dumb af?? You were not put on this earth to be miserable until the day you die, EVERYBODY has difficult placements, if you remain ignorant of it/avoid it, you will continue to live in ignorance and suffer from the same things you always have and not know why.
Astrology makes it possible for you to understand yourself and evolve.
5. I'm not Hindu, can I still worship Gods/Goddesses/chant mantras?
Every single religion is made up. God never said only brown people from the Indian subcontinent can worship me. But that said, do your research and actually be invested in it. I feel like some people approach this in a Buzzfeed-y "Which Disney Princess Am I?😍" type of way which is 🤦🏻♀️but religion isn't something to be sampled, if ykwim?
You don't have to attain Guru levels of religious insight/expertise either. Most practicing Hindus probably know very little about their religion and truth be told, Hinduism is soooo vast, expansive, varied and eclectic that people practice it in thousands of different ways across the country with their own unique rituals/customs, so everybody who practices the religion makes it their own, in some ways?
Build an altar if you can, dedicate a certain time of the day and space of your room/house to just prayer. By making something sacred, we feel its divinity permeate our lives. Rituals are a major part of every religion because acting with intention helps us feel like our lives have meaning.
Always chant after you've showered, sit facing east, look at a picture of your deity or visualise them and chant quietly. Most people use prayer beads but you can also just count them on your fingers. Its often said that when you chant, others should not be able to hear you. If you use prayer beads, keep them covered in a box after use. You've energetically charged them with your chanting and its not good to leave them exposed because they'll pick up on other vibrations from the surroundings. Do not chant after you've just eaten!!
Picking a deity is all about intuition. If you don't feel called to anybody, just chill out and keep studying their mythology. You can always chant 'Om'.
I used to chant Buddhist mantras like 'Om mani padme hum' and 'nam myoho renge kyo' and they're not directed to any deity so if you're worried about that, you can always chant non-deity mantras as well.
The purpose of chanting mantras is to keep your mind calm and still. Even if you repeat a certain affirmation in English several hundred times, it has the same effect.
#faq#astrology notes#sidereal astrology#vedic astro notes#nakshatras#astrology#astroblr#vedic astrology#astro observations#astro notes#astrology observations
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Few questions after binge watch of Bridgerton.
Why are most people mean to Penelope?
I have only just watched the show so I dont know if there is more info in the books but I havent seen a reason for all the hate.
I assume she started writing the gossip column because of no one listening/paying attention to her.
Why did Marina suddenly become cruel to Penelope when she was the only one that seemed to be kind to her?
Also what was wrong with Colin helping her find a husband?
Why was Lord Debling looking for a wife when he was about to leave for 3 years?
Do the men get sex education?
As they seem to know what to do and the women are clueless.
That's all for now.
I was a bit silly really as I watched it to soon now the long wait for pt2. It would be the series that I find most relatable but it is what it is and I will just enjoy the madness with everyone else.
One last thing I love Muma Bridgerton she is brilliant.
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Angel Au By Wyverns
Hi Clemin here, this is an au of the Sitcom Au where everything is the same but Alex is an Angel by @wyvnspng, but they were unable to post it to tumblr so they asked me if i could.
Notes from Wyverns:
"This is an AU of the Sitcom AU!
Very vague and brief mention of domestic violence at the start. Clyde just thinks about it in a paragraph. Skip the second paragraph if that makes you uncomfortable.
I quickly skimmed through it so sorry if there’s spelling or grammatical errors!"
------
Humans are a really odd species. Clyde knows this quite well. They’re weak, and tasty, and they like to live in big groups. You’d think that they’d all go extinct by now, but they’re thriving.
Despite their weakness, humans are cruel. They’re mean, even to their own kind. Sometimes they’re mean to their own partners, which confuses Clyde. It could never be cruel to its partner, so it doesn’t understand. Maybe it never will.
Clyde has been around humans for a long time. It has seen many different humans in its lifetime, many of which it has eaten. It has spent many hours of its life watching the short-lived creatures live lives of their own.
The humans it’s watching right now are very busy. There’s lots of them, all hanging out in one of their buildings. Despite the late time, the building is loud and bright, and the humans within are filled with energy. Clyde knows that humans are diurnal, so this is just another oddity to add to the ever growing list.
Every now and then, a few humans trail out of the gathering, where they will return to their cars and leave. Clyde would hunt these ones, but it is not faster than a car, so there is little point. Boredly, it continues to wait. Hopefully soon one would decide to leave on foot…
..
Clyde is really bored. And a little hungry. Maybe it should find something else to eat. Mind made up, it climbs onto the fence of the house it was perched upon, being careful to prevent the humans gathered in the house across the street from spotting it.
It makes its way across fences, moving in random directions, just going wherever it feels like going. It avoids the buildings with humans in them, careful to remain hidden.
It continues like this for a little bit, before making its way onto a wetter fence, where it promptly slips off and lands onto the floor with a crash. It landed on its tail, and the spikes dig uncomfortably into its back.
Clyde reorients itself and sits up, flicking its tail out of its back. It’s not injured, but the onesie it stole now features holes in the back, which, excluding the ones that are supposed to be there, is unfortunate.
What is less unfortunate is that nobody was around to witness its slip up (a distant part of Clyde freaks out, but it’s far too distant to notice). It’d have to pay more attention to what it’s doing.
Clyde manoeuvres itself so that it’s standing upright, when it turns around to face the house, only it wasn’t a house that it ended up facing. Clyde almost flinched, briefly panicking thanks to the jumpscare, before a warm calmness swept over it.
Somehow a human had managed to sneak up to it, and was standing in front of it. Clyde stood there for a second, motionless, as it looked the ‘human’ up and down. Clyde had seen and eaten many humans, and it could tell that this definitely wasn’t one. They looked like one, and if Clyde didn’t know any better, it definitely would have been fooled. But there’s something off about this thing. Clyde can’t exactly pinpoint what is off about them, but it knows it’s something.
“Hello? Is everything alright?” Clyde twitched slightly as the thing talked. They seemed unsure of their words, but didn’t add anything else. Clyde wanted to open up, and let this old friend of its know what was troubling it. It wanted to ask them for help recovering its partner, because it knows that they are trustworthy, and that they can help.
Clyde feels a little freaked out, but it’s struggling to focus on that over the intense calm that seems to have swept over it. It has no idea what this thing is doing to it, let alone how they are doing whatever it is.
Clyde refuses to answer their question.
Their faces (face. They only have one. It doesn’t know why that feels wrong.) twitched, and Clyde has no idea what that means, but they offer it a hand. “Would you like to come inside? I just made a sandwich, you can have it if you’d like,” Clyde is compelled to take their hand, which it does without hesitation. It’s a little disappointed when nothing happens.
The thing leads it into the house, and Clyde follows easily, almost in a daze. It’s quickly sat down on a couch and a sandwich is placed in its claws. It takes a bite. The thing sits next to it. “You tore your outfit a little. Would it be okay if I patched it up for you?” Clyde doesn’t really care what this thing does so long as they let it go. (It feels guilty for accusing its friend of something like that.)
Clyde rotated its body slightly, continuing to just eat the sandwich. The overwhelming calmness had receded somewhat, which is significantly more comforting than when it was there. The thing behind it shuffled around a little before patching up the holes that had been torn open when it fell.
“Why are you doing this?” Clyde asked, referring to the whole situation. Why did they kidnap it? Why did they make it calm? Why did they give it a sandwich? It is so confused, and it has no answers for its questions.
“Why? Well, i’m pretty sure She wanted us to meet, but i’m not sure what She wants me to do with you? She is pretty cryptic with this stuff,” Clyde has no idea what any of that is supposed to mean. Who is She? How does She know about it? All Clyde got was more questions.
The thing moved away, and Clyde looked back at them. “All done, sorry about the falling thing,” The thing apologised, which made little sense. Was this a trap? But how could they have known that Clyde would have come that way?
“Who are you?” It shifted to that it was facing the thing, which was putting away a small box that likely contained the stuff they used to sew up Clyde's onesie.
“Oh, yeah, my name’s Alex,” They replied, sitting back onto the couch. “What about you?”
“..Clyde,” It said, moving its head to look forward again.
“Nice to meet you, Clyde,” Alex stated, “I look forward to our continued friendship.”
Clyde was convinced that this was a nightmare.
#Wyvern writing#doai#doai sitcom au#dreams of an insomniac#fanfic#I enjoyed their fic#I hope ya'll enjoy it as well
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Ok so I'm thinking this could just be because of the online spaces I'm surrounded with and the absolute shit algorithms, but where does the assertion come from that white people are the ones who have super high standards for POC writing?
Ok I know, traditional publishing. Yeah, that's one side of things. The professional realm of US publishing is definitely high and staked against POC authors. No need to argue about that.
But I mean like, as readers. Because after seeing some people talk about that POC written "Wicked Gods book" I went on an age old online pastime of drama and tea spills in incognito mode, and the main people who seem to put POC writing to super high standards are... other POC people. Staying on topic for Wicked Gods, on that GR page of Wicked Gods there are tons of POC/BIPOC (they state it in the reviews) who're throwing out accusations that imply the writer is a traitor, hates POC, fetishizes colonialism, the impact of it, feeds into the WMAW trope etc etc. Even some who go full attack on the author saying their grandparents would be ashamed of them if they were still alive or that the author doesn't care about the people affected by history.
Then went to youtube, and while most of the POC reviewers are good at staying constructive, there are those who just immediately go to drag the author and do the same shit as some of the GR reviews I mentioned.
Anyway went down the rabbit hole of checking "controversial POC authors" or just some more reader bait books and yeah, a lot of the actual "high standard" talks come from a lot of POC reviewers. Though the standards are mostly POC having super high standards for other POC people on how to represent POC authors, writing and experiences, and culture. Anything that could be "bad" like colonizer romance, gets a lot of angry reviews from POCs about that, and some other tropes. Even in the cases where the POC in question isn't even of the same race as the author. The only real "white ppl standards" thing is that on average there seem to be more white readers on some books, but most of the white people deliberately reading POC books don't seem to actually have that high standards for the POC novels, they're actually kinda boring. Either it's very touristy, very nothing, just parroting some POC reviewer, or it's actually just a normal review with no commenting on accuracy or expectations, just taking the book for what it is and criticising what they do know, eg poor depictions of feminism, or just poor writing..
--
I suspect the actual pattern is 50% the "How it works" thing where a minority person is anomalous and memorable while a "default" person's bad writing/actions/etc. are forgotten and not treated as part of a pattern we should pay attention to...
And 50% people being more sensitive to portrayals of their own group or a minority group they relate to or whatever. I know bad depictions of women annoy me more than those of men, and my standards for f/f are unfortunately higher than my standards for m/m.
I do see white people signal boosting pseudo-activist stuff they clearly don't have enough context for and should probably not be signal boosting, but I'd say the actual white person bad behavior in this sphere is more often abject indifference.
As for where the assertion comes from... I presume it's the usual "My enemies must be of the demographic I dislike!" idiocy. You see this fallacy in every type of argument put forward by every type of person. It's certainly not restricted to POC bitching about white people.
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au where hms are separately dumped into the fanon characterizations of the album. mind ends up with fanon heart and soul, soul ends up with fanon mind and heart, and heart ends up with fanon mind and soul
mind would probably figure out that something is up the quickest. for one, that creature very suspiciously never argues with him as of late- it won’t even fight back when he provokes it, only begging for the mind to “stop being mean” to it instead of reacting violently like usual. while the mind had initially thought it must be some sort of ploy, it would seem that “the heart” was just… stuck in this oddly helpless and passive state. the soul is also off- the mind hadn’t noticed before the heart began acting strangely, but the soul had started becoming… strangely nonchalant about their situation, despite being the one most compelled to become whole. although the mind enjoys the peace at first, it feels wrong soon enough. he is not meant to rule like this; tridential sovereignty requires all to rule equally, and these one-dimensional illusions of the heart and soul are not his equals. something is very, very wrong, and it once again falls to the mind to fix it.
soul doesn’t notice immediately. the ids are still fighting, and he stopped paying attention to their fights long, long ago because the heart and the mind always say the same damned things, over and over. however, as of late, the mind has been the only one driving the fights, while the heart has become much less violent. it is becoming concerning- while the mind usually starts the fights, the heart always escalates them. as the heart and mind are equals, they are both equally violent, as much as the heart and mind would disagree with that statement. this isn’t right. are really these even his heart and mind? (in the distance far away from the house in headspace, the soul can see a dot of blue and black heading his way.)
heart would probably notice the least because generally his point of view lines up with the fanon characterization. sure, maybe that automaton freak had given up on even the pretense of wanting to work together to become whole, but the heart had known it was only a pretense the entire time. the mind had also become even crueler lately, beyond what the heart had thought possible of a part of him- but why was the heart surprised? the mind electric was cruel but crude, only concerned with his damn efficiency and (seemingly) torturing the heart for the crime of wanting to experience life fully. the soul was slightly more worrisome, becoming oddly uncaring of their horrid situation. the heart figured that he had finally cracked and lost it- the soul had always been one step off the edge, and the mind had probably pushed it.
mind is the first to start attempting to find the real heart and soul. by the time soul also realizes that something is horribly wrong, mind is like 15 minutes away from reaching it. both of them have to go look for heart themselves (because he hasn’t noticed anything wrong lmao)
(how do they find each other? i dunno, i haven’t thought that far. for now i think that if they walk far enough from the house in headspace (like hours away) they find the others’ houses but i’m not set on it lol)
(sorry soul fans i’m not great at characterizing him. if any of you want to expand on this then please do)
Yeah this is basically just their fanon personalities. Half of Heart’s violence is directed into Mind, and Soul is just a bastard who’s along for the ride.
I do love me some criticisms of problematic fanon characterisation! Perhaps you could bring Whole into the mix at some point, seeing as how he’s never technically been canon?
#chonny jash#cccc#cccc au#chonny jash au#cj#cj au#chonnys charming chaos compendium#chonny’s charming chaos compendium#cccc heart#cccc mind#cccc soul
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hello hello *drops snippet of a fic i wrote 2 years ago and runs* (i'm posting more of these soon bc i'm having a writerblock or whatever and have been stuck for MONTHS on a chapter😂🔫)
Steve closed his eyes.
He didn't want to die.
He’d survived, what? Five years. Five years of those monsters and alternate dimensions. He could survive another year. He had to.
So he tried to remember.
He remembered, three years ago, sneaking into the Wheeler’s house. He was going to see Nance. Mike Wheeler saw him. He wasn't meant to be outside because there could be a killer or kidnapper on the loose, yet there he was, about to look for his best friend. Steve and Wheeler weren't close at the time; Steve was actually pretty sure Wheeler hated him, and Steve didn't have a liking for Wheeler. Yet, Wheeler ignored him and left. So Steve kept climbing. He knocked on Nance’s window. He remembered Nance not being exactly happy about seeing him there, but he wanted to help Nance study. He also wanted to have sex.
He focused on another memory for the best. He found it interesting he could remember the time he was drugged by Russian doctors with Robin. He remembered being dragged to the movies by Henderson. Back to the Future was on. He’d been wanting to watch that movie for a while, and so had Robin. They didn't have any tickets, so they had to pick some seats that just so happened to be empty, and those seats were the worst. Robin kept complaining about it and the guy behind them kept shushing her.
He remembered the day Henderson visited him at Scoops Ahoy after returning from camp. Steve thought it was quite ridiculous that his best friend was a kid he bonded with trying to save Hawkins. Regardless, he loved that kid. He remembered Henderson being happy that he got the job, and them doing their handshake. Robin did not look impressed by how many kids her coworker was friends with.
And he remembered Eddie. Eddie the Freak. Eddie who had been accused of murder and Steve found himself forced to help. They never really talked in school. Not upfront. And even though Eddie was just how Steve remembered him, except his hair was longer, Steve was the one who truly changed. In the Upside Down, there had been one particular moment; after he’d nearly been eaten by bats, Steve wanted to thank Eddie for saving him, but Eddie insisted Steve had saved his own ass. He said that what Steve had done was very metal, he even mentioned someone called Ozzy Osbourne. Steve had no idea who he was, but later he had bought one of his tapes. It wasn't really his type of music, but he listened to him anyway for some reason he couldn't really explain. Eddie also told him that Henderson talked about how Steve was a badass. Eddie confessed that he was jealous, that he didn't understand how a guy like Steve could actually be a “good dude” while he was a coward. He started talking about how he always ran. How he was no hero. Steve was grateful for that because running away had saved Eddie’s life. So Steve told Eddie not to be so hard on himself. Eddie brushed off whatever Steve had said and confessed the only reason he was there was because Nance and Robin had jumped after him with no hesitation, and he didn't want to be the one who stayed behind. Eddie started talking about how Nance had wasted no time jumping after Steve, and that, in his cynical point of view, that was an act of true love. But Steve didn't care about that. Yes, he cared about Nance, obviously, but he didn't think what she had done was about love. I mean, Robin had jumped in, too. Besides, Nance had Jonathan. What Steve was paying attention to was Eddie’s lips. Eddie’s dry, chipped lips. He suddenly had an urge to kiss him. To just kiss him and get him to shut up about Nance. But he pushed those thoughts away. He shouldn't be thinking those things. He couldn't.
But right now, Eddie was playing his shitty acoustic guitar to save him. Eddie was playing for him. So who cared about what Steve should and shouldn't be thinking.
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#steve harrington#eddie munson#nancy wheeler#mike wheeler#dustin henderson#robin buckley#jonathan byers#steddie#ao3 writer#ao3 fanfic#fanfic#steddie fanfic#vecna#stranger things#stranger things s5#gay#mlm#bisexual#bisexual steve harrington#this is so sappy i'm sorry#i just want to self-promo x#i think that's it#stranger things fic#steve harrington fic#steddie fic
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