#and that usually lasts an hour or two with like frequent breaks in between bc im a procrastinator at heart | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starlightkun · 4 years

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s.c.s. ; ayakashi ❧ jaehyun [one]

❧ word count: 11.8k

❧ warnings: cursing, one absolute mortifying description of a terribly embarrassing moment if u get bad second hand embarrassment im so sorry

❧ extra info: heavily based off yet another otome game, ayakashi: romance reborn ; bc of this, all the lore used in here is inspired by/based on/taken from the lore of the game, not the actual lore of traditional ayakashi/yokai stories

❧ DISCLAIMER: some aspects of plot and character traits are directly lifted from the otome game ayakashi: romance reborn and utilized in the character equivalents in this story; the base lore, plot, and characters were heavily inspired by the game, but it has all been transformed into my own story. there are no spoilers for the game by reading this series

⤷ prologue* ⤷ next

*you need to read the prologue before reading any of the individual routes

In the morning, you literally rolled yourself out of bed, barely sticking the landing on two feet. Well, more like one and a half feet. Somehow, despite your classes starting an hour later than Monday and Wednesday, and therefore requiring you to wake up an hour later, you were much more tired in the morning before your 9 a.m. classes. You went through your typical routine with Taeyong: wake up, make breakfast, eat breakfast on your coffee table, brush your teeth, get dressed, go to class. All with a Nekomata on your heels, either in his cat or true form.

Slipping your shoes on at the door, you gave him a farewell ear scratch, earning a pleased purr from the back of his cat throat. You then stood up straight and took off for your class. Tuesday and Thursday mornings you didn’t get to see Jaemin or any of your friends in the quad. Jaemin’s classes didn’t start until ten then, Yuta was at his off-campus facility to work on his graduate research; Tuesdays Jaehyun was at his second job all day, and on Thursdays he was at his job for most of the day, not coming back on-campus to help teach until evening classes started up. For some godforsaken reason, the entire Literature department at your school decided to have their classes either at eight in the morning or six in the evening, no in between.

So you trekked onto campus by yourself and walked to your Calculus class by yourself and plopped down in your seat by yourself. Your seatmate was a kid who was asleep for half the class, and you couldn’t blame her, it was boring.

Today was review for your test on Thursday: applications of integrals and derivatives. Oh joy. Your professor handed out the review packets, and reminded you of his office hours tomorrow for him to look over the review sheet and help you on any questions that you got wrong.

Next, you had a small break between classes, and you took that time to grab yourself a drink from the dining hall, something to help wake you up a bit more. Not that integrals and derivatives weren’t absolutely invigorating, but your professor unfortunately had a very monotonous voice, one that frequently had you being lulled into Stage 1 of your sleep cycle. Those sweet, sweet Alpha and Theta waves were seductresses, truly.

After sipping on your drink and scrolling through social media, you then made your way to your Human Communications class. The entire class was a joke, but at least the professor gave fun in-class assignments, even if he didn’t actually teach you all anything. You had an even bigger break between your second and third classes of the day, and you took the opportunity to try to work on your review packet for your Calculus test in the dining hall while you ate lunch. You wanted to get the packet done today so you could take advantage of the office hours tomorrow.

By the time you had to get going for your last class, you had about a sixth of the packet done. It was going to be a long day, you could already tell.

Abnormal Psychology was a breeze as per usual, but unlike your Human Communications class that was also a breeze, this one wasn’t a waste of your money. You were actually learning, thank god. And it was interesting stuff that you were learning. When you left the lecture hall, you had a pep in your step. Until you remembered that you had that Calculus review packet to finish.

And so with a bit less pep in your step, you entered your apartment, toed your shoes off at the door, set your bag down on your coffee table, and went into your kitchen to make yourself a snack. Taeyong was right on your heels as soon as you stepped in the apartment, which you didn’t necessarily mind. Normally, when he was clingy in his cat form, you found it endearing. And in his true form, it was… also usually endearing. When you turned around from pouring Goldfish into a cup, you nearly smacked right into him.

“Oh!” You narrowly avoided him, scooting around the man to leave your kitchen. He followed.

You settled on the floor in front of your coffee table and brought your review packet, calculator, and pencil back out of your bag. Barely through reading the longer word problem, you were interrupted by Taeyong.

“What are you doing?” He questioned, now very close to you as he tried to read the paper over your shoulder, eyes squinted in confusion. Wait, could he read? Never mind, that wasn’t important right now.

“Studying for a test, Yong,” you explained, trying to refocus on finishing the question.

“What’s a… integral?”

“It’s math, Yonggie, you don’t need to know it.”

“If you’re learning it, then it’s important, right?”

“Not for you.”

He was quiet for a moment, and naively thinking that he was done, you went back to the paper.

“Well why not?”

“Because you’re a catboy who I provide food and shelter for and just lazes around my apartment all day without a single care or obligation,” you snapped, now having officially lost your place in the paragraph worth of information.

“Oh.”

Thinking that you had finally shut him up, you started back at the beginning of the question, mouthing the words to yourself. You absentmindedly reached to grab a handful of your Goldfish, but instead found another hand already in there. Taeyong only looked slightly guilty as he withdrew his hand from your cup, Goldfish secured in his grip. Approximately half your Goldfish, to be precise.

Your glare trailed from his hand to his face as you took deep breaths to keep your instinct to go off on him at bay. He wasn’t doing anything especially worth any venom from you, but goddamn if you weren’t still absolutely vexed by it anyway.

“Sorry,” he tried to apologize through a mouthful of Goldfish, only succeeding in spitting moist crumbs onto you.

Shoving your papers back into your backpack, you leapt to your feet without a word and stormed towards the front door. You smashed down the backs of your shoes as you furiously tried to stuff your feet back into them. Taeyong followed you to the door, clearly worried.

“Y/N, I’m—”

“I’m going to go study somewhere else,” you cut him off shortly. “I’ll be back later, Taeyong.”

Arriving at Lenticular Café later that afternoon, you were in a somewhat better mood. At least refreshed from your walk. Until you looked in through the caution tape they had in an ‘X’ over where the doors were supposed to be. Right, the café had been absolutely destroyed from the Wraith attack. There was a man patching up the holes in the floor from Sicheng’s restraining of Jeno, and you couldn’t see Renjun or Johnny anywhere. Not that you’d be able to stay here and study even if you could find them. Feeling dejected, you wandered back down Bell Street. Maybe you could take over your parents’ office and study there, or even in the back room. For some reason, you kept walking by the teal door, though.

A couple streets over, you came across a familiar raspberry door that you hadn’t been by in so long. Petal Street was in the opposite direction of Bell Street from your apartment, so you rarely went by it anymore. Not since high school, when it was on the way from your home to the bookstore. On a whim, you turned the door handle to Vivi’s Vintage Vinyls and pushed it open. A soft tune was playing from a record player in the corner and the whole store felt warm and welcoming, with an old but somehow familiar smell encircling you like a hug as you stepped inside and closed the door behind you once more.

Jung Jaehyun was sitting on a stool behind the counter, his clothes much more casual than what he typically wore to class. A simple black tee, black jeans, and a silver chain hanging from his neck. He looked up from the book he had been reading, a soft but blinding smile coming to his lips when he saw you.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted you, tucking a bookmark to keep his place in his book. “What are you doing here? You don’t have a record player, do you?”

“Uh, no, I don’t,” you admitted. “This is going to sound weird, but can I study here? I can’t really focus anywhere else right now, and I don’t know, I just thought—”

“Of course,” your friend interrupted you kindly. “Come around the counter, you can sit right there.”

He gestured to the corner on his right, tucked beneath the front window. There was a pile of blankets and pillows that resembled a small nest, altogether looking very comfy. As you settled down, you said, “Thanks, Jae.”

“Of course. You want a water or something?”

“Uh, sure.”

He nodded, standing up from the stool to open the door behind the two of you. It looked to be a small office, probably the owner’s. He came back just a second later with a water bottle in his hand, and he tossed it to you. It was cold, fresh from the fridge.

“Thanks,” you cracked it open to take a sip.

“Of course,” he grinned down at you, dimples appearing. “Before you get in the zone, do you want to choose the tunes?”

You briefly glanced over at the record player atop the end of the counter, the same color as the door. Quite liking what was playing at the moment—smooth, soulful jazz—you shook your head, “No, I’m good. Thanks, though.”

“No problem. I’ll let you get studying now.”

And so you brought out your review packet and got to work, and Jaehyun opened his book back up and started reading again.

A couple of customers came through while you were in the vinyl shop, none paying you any mind as they flicked through vinyls and picked out the ones they wanted before bringing them up to the counter to purchase them. You finally finished your Calculus packet sometime after the sun had gone down, and flipped it shut with a relieved sigh.

“Done!” You groaned, fully flopping back onto the pile. “God, I just wanna take a nap now.”

“You can if you want,” Jaehyun offered, flipping a page in his book.

You were tempted, but your stomach growling told you that your body had other plans, “Mm, I think dinner first for me.”

Standing up, you stretched and cracked your back, tapping Jaehyun on the head to draw his attention from his book.

“Hm?” He absent-mindedly hummed.

“I’ll probably just get takeout from down the street, you want me to get you anything?”

“I’ve got dinner in the fridge,” he jerked his head towards the door behind the two of you. “But thanks, Y/N.”

“Of course,” you slung your bag over your shoulder. “Thanks for letting me study here.”

“No problem, I forgot you were there for a bit.”

“Considering your eyes are still glued to your book even while holding a conversation with me, I’m not surprised.”

Jaehyun fully turned around then to give you a pointed look, “I’m looking at you, happy?”

You snickered at your friend’s slight annoyance, “Very. Anyway, I’ll head out and leave you alone now.”

“Thank God.”

“Hey!” You smacked his shoulder before walking back out from behind the counter. “You’re rude, Jung Jaehyun.”

“Don’t tell your father I was rude to you, he’ll tell my father and I’ll get an earful at the next family dinner.”

“Maybe I will then.”

“See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

“See you, Jae,” you pushed the raspberry door back open and left the shop.

Arriving back in your apartment, you dropped your schoolbag by the door and peered around your apartment. No sign of Taeyong. You shook the plastic bag that held the takeout you’d gotten in it.

“Yong! Yonggie! I’ve got takeout! Food! Dinner!” You walked further into your apartment, checking around the sofa and living room. “Taeyong!”

With a frown, you started creeping down the hallway. Maybe he was taking a nap? He didn’t usually catnap this late at night. Then, you saw a movement at the bottom of your vision. Peeking out from behind your door was Taeyong, in his cat form. He looked up at you with wide and nervous eyes, mrowing uncertainly. Oh, he was probably still spooked from your storming out this afternoon. And of course, you couldn’t stay mad at him in his rather adorable cat form.

You sat down on the floor, reaching your hand out towards him, “Oh, Yonggie, I’m sorry about snapping at you earlier. I was just frustrated, okay?”

He crept up to you cautiously, stretching his head out to bump into your hand. Getting the hint, you scratched behind his ears, his favorite. He purred in delight, and getting the feeling that you’d resolved the situation, you shifted to stand up.

“Come on, I brought dinner,” you picked the bag up and took it to your coffee table.

Now in his true form, Taeyong eagerly followed you and plopped down in the space between the couch and the table. You laid out the containers of food and picked up your TV remote. Time to catch up on the drama the two of you had been watching.

The next day after your classes, you found yourself thinking about your trip to Lenticular Café yesterday. The restaurant had been pretty banged up, Johnny and Renjun probably needed help. As soon as you entered your apartment, you were given your standard greeting by Taeyong—which consisted of him attacking you within your first five steps into your apartment: if in his cat form, he would wrap himself around your ankles, making it impossible for you to walk without first stopping to give him ear scratches; or if in his true form, he’d throw his arms around you and press his head against your neck, hair tickling your skin. Today was the former, and with a playful sigh, you knelt down for him to immediately push his head underneath your hand.

“Hey, Yonggie, have a good day?” You cooed down at the cat.

“Yep!” He answered in his normal human voice, startling you from the reverie with your pet. Right, he was not your pet, he was a human-adjacent man.

“I was going to head down to Lenticular and see if the guys need any help with putting the café back together. You coming?” You asked as you stood up to head into your kitchen.

Taeyong turned into his true form to follow you into the kitchen, “Sure!”

“Great, let me get a glass of water then we’ll go.”

You passed by the open kitchen pantry and caught sight of something. Or rather, a certain lack of something.

“Taeyong, did you eat the rest of the Goldfish?”

“No!” He whined in his defense. “I poured myself a cup… then spilled the rest.”

Flipping open your garbage can, sure enough, most of the contents of your new container of Goldfish were in there, “Oh my god…”

“You always throw food away that’s been on the ground!”

“Yep, yep, you did the right thing, Yong,” you assured him, turning back to your glass of water.

Once again in front of the yellow ‘X’ of caution tape over the doorway of Lenticular Café, you called out into it, “Johnny! Renjun! Are you guys there?”

You heard sounds from upstairs, then Johnny was emerging from the hallway that you could clearly see now without the purple curtain. He grinned at you two, “Hey! You guys can come in, duck under the tape.”

Doing so, you met the Domeki halfway, where the holes in the floorboards had been fixed. Your friend gave you a hug, and after pulling back, you looked around at the café. The debris had been cleared out, but apparently most of the furniture had been destroyed as well, as it was pretty barren. White patches sharply contrasted the purple walls, holes that had been fixed up.

“Hey, little lady, Taeyong. What are you two doing here?” Johnny asked.

“We wanted to see if there was anything we can do to help with the café.”

“Right now we’re just waiting on furniture shipments, those are coming tomorrow and the day after, and we’re hiring people to help install everything. Renjun’s out finding replacement décor right now and we’ll probably put them up the same day we install all the furniture… so nope! There’s nothing you can do to help with the café right now.”

Your face fell, “Oh, are you sure?”

“I said, ‘nothing you can do to help right now,’” he repeated, making you perk up. “But if you come back tomorrow morning, I can give you some flyers announcing our grand re-opening. It’d be a real help if you put them up around campus or something, and tell all your friends, and tell your friends to tell their friends.”

“I will!” You promised with a bright grin.

“Wonderful. What time’s your first class tomorrow?”

“Nine.”

“Can you pick them up before going? I’ll be up anyway, the delivery guys are coming at six.”

“Sure!”

“Great, see you then!”

The next morning you were at Lenticular Café bright and early, and there was a door again! You pushed open the lilac door hesitantly. There were a few guys carrying in a table from the back entrance, and you looked around for either of your friends.

Renjun was directing the guys on where to put the table, and he seemed to have noticed you by the door.

“Wait there, unless you want to get hit by a table,” he called out to you before disappearing into the hallway. He emerged once again with a thick stack of lilac papers. Avoiding the burly men who were going back out—presumably to get the next table—Renjun walked over to you and held out the stack, “Here.”

“Thank you!” You accepted them, reading over the flyer.

Lenticular Café Grand Reopening!

March 24, 20XX, 10am – 10pm

777 Bell Street

$5 a plate*

*senior and student discounts available

“You guys have student discounts?”

“What does it matter to you? Johnny always feeds you for free,” Renjun snorted. “You better give out all of those.”

“I will!” At the bottom was a rather artsy picture of the café, one that brought a smile to your face, “Who took this? It’s amazing.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” He snapped at you, redness crawling up his neck to his face and ears.

“Yep, class!” You answered, not letting his harshness faze you. “See you later, Renjun!”

You spent your day at school between classes pinning up as many flyers as you could with the box of thumbtacks and stapler you’d brought from your apartment, and giving them to any classmates who questioned the giant stack of papers you had with you. By the time you left your Chemistry lab, you only had about ten or fifteen flyers left, and felt rather proud of yourself. You figured you’d hit up the buildings you hadn’t gone in for your classes that day to hang up the rest of them.

The Literature and Foreign Language building was right next to the Science building, so you headed over there first. Pinning one on every bulletin board you came across in the two-story building, you were just heading down the stairs, counting how many you had left when you nearly ran right into someone.

Screeching to a halt, your apology was stopped before you could say a single syllable by the man you’d almost hit, “Sorry! Y/N, hey!”

“Oh, hi Jae,” you were relieved that it was him and not, worst case scenario, your World Literature professor that you’d almost body-slammed down the stairs.

“What are you doing in here?” He questioned, putting his thumb between the pages of the book he’d been reading to save his spot. “You don’t have a class now, do you?”

“No, I’m putting up some flyers!” You held one out to him. “Café reopening.”

He skimmed it over quickly, “Does the student discount apply to grad students?”

“Uh, I don’t know about that, you’d have to ask Johnny or Renjun.”

“Johnny and Renjun?”

“Johnny’s the owner and the cook, Renjun is the host and waiter.”

“Friends of yours?”

“Yeah, they’re finishing up a big remodeling right now of the whole restaurant. Johnny’s food is really good. Renjun’s service is… well, let’s just say Johnny’s food is so worth it.”

“We should go then,” Jaehyun suggested. “We can invite Jaemin and Yuta too, bring out the whole quad squad. And maybe uh—what’s Jaemin’s roommate’s name?”

“Jeno.”

“Jeno…” He repeated the name, as if to commit it to memory, “Have Jaemin bring Jeno along too.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” you agreed. “I’ll make a group chat and text everyone.”

“Great,” he smiled, a bright grin that always made you feel warm inside. “I’ve got to get going to class, see you.”

“Bye, Jae.”

Monday of the next week found you leaving your World Literature class early, a rarity. Your professor had gotten frustrated about fifteen minutes into his lecture because nobody was answering his questions, mainly due to the fact that none of the students had actually done the required reading for class that day. You’d skimmed the text, but didn’t feel like answering his questions. So in a rage, he dismissed everyone to “give you time to actually read the fucking story” and that he’d finish up the lecture on Wednesday, during which you’d be given a reading quiz as well. Closed book.

Feeling rather guilty yourself, you left with your head hanging low, fully intending to find a quiet spot on campus to read at. Instead, Mark Lee grabbed your elbow in the hallway just outside the classroom, and you looked back at him with a tilted head. In his other hand was the navy-blue penny board with red wheels that you always saw sticking out the top of his backpack.

“What’s up, Mark?” You asked as he let you go, falling into step with you.

“Dr. Kwan was intense today,” he said with wide eyes.

“Yeah. But I mean, I think we as a class kind of deserved it.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “Anyway, I was going to spend this free time skating before my next class, you want to come?”

“I’m going to actually do the reading. He gave us the time, the least I can do it utilize it the way he intended us to.”

“Wow. You’re like… actually a good student, huh?”

“This conversation explains the very noticeable difference in your grades,” came a musing voice from behind you. You whipped around to see Jaehyun there, looking between you and Mark with an eyebrow raised. He was in his typical TA attire: a pair of dress slacks, button-up shirt cuffed most of the way up his forearms, and a dark belt around his waist. He readjusted his bag strap from where it crossed over his body as he spoke, your eyes briefly focused on the motion.

Mark chuckled as he adjusted his circular glasses, “Probably. Anyway, I’ll see you later, Y/N! You too, Jaehyun!”

And with that, your classmate took off down the halls, pushing the front doors of the building open. You watched him run and hop onto his board, skating through the campus. With a fond shake of your head, you started down the hall once more with Jaehyun. Your friend stopped to open the door for you, following you out into the bright sunshine.

“It’s nice out,” you observed. “I might read out here instead of in the stuffy library.”

“You should,” Jaehyun agreed, basking in the warm rays as well for a moment. “Alright, I’m going to grab breakfast before my next class.”

“What class?”

“Composition I. I’ve got a good lecture for today.”

“For what professor?”

“I am the professor. It’s a required General Education course, so they let graduate students teach it by themselves.”

“How did I not know that?”

“Don’t know, Y/N,” he patted your shoulder as if giving his condolences for your ignorance. “Anyway, I’ll see you Wednesday!”

“Bye, Jae,” you waved goodbye to him, still surprised at your own lack of awareness.

When a knock came at your apartment door a couple weeks later, you leapt up from your couch immediately. Bending down to pat Taeyong in his cat form, you pressed a peck to his furry forehead, “I’ll see you later! I’ll bring leftovers, okay?”

He mrowed in response, knowing that the humans on the other side of your apartment door might be able to hear him.

Opening your front door, you smiled at your friends in the hallway.

“I heard Tama!” Jaemin yelled out from behind Yuta and Jaehyun.

“No!” You quickly slammed the door behind you as Yuta grabbed your best friend to physically hold him back. “Not today, Jaemin.”

“Fine,” he pouted, but threw his arms around your neck nonetheless. “Hi!”

“Hey, NaNa,” you chuckled, patting his back and looking around. “Hey, Yuta, Jae. Couldn’t get Jeno to wake up?”

“I did!” Your friend answered proudly as he let go of you and your group headed for your stairwell. “He’s waiting for us out front. Didn’t want to climb the stairs.”

“Ah, of course.”

Regrouping with Jeno—who had been snoozing on a bench outside your apartment building—the five of you headed for Bell Street, and more specifically, Lenticular Café. Surprisingly, when you arrived, the café was packed. There was even a few patrons by the host’s stand waiting to be seated. Renjun was dropping off plates and picking up checks at the same time. He bustled over to the register to make change, not even acknowledging your presence before running to drop the change back off.

“This is a lot busier than the last time we were here,” Jaemin whistled lowly, looking around.

“Looks like your flyers worked, Y/N,” Jaehyun patted your shoulder. “Half the people here go to our college.”

Looking at the patrons’ faces, you realized that he was right. Some were vaguely familiar to you, one even very familiar to you. Catching Mark’s eye, you waved to him, and he eagerly waved back. The man who was sitting across from him turned around to look as well, dark eyebrow raised in interest when he spotted you. Mark set his fork down and stood up, seemingly excusing himself from his companion to walk over to you.

“Hey, Y/N! Jaehyun, too!” He greeted you all, eyes sparkling. “The food here is seriously so good! And what’s weird is that you don’t even order, they just bring it to you!”

“I know, Johnny’s that good of a cook, it’s like he can read your mind,” you responded with mirth, briefly glancing over at Renjun, the actual mind reader.

“You know the cook?”

“Yeah, he’s a friend. Renjun too.”

Catching Yuta’s eyes, you figured you should probably make introductions, “Mark, this is Yuta, Jeno, and Jaemin. Guys, this is Mark Lee, we sit together in World Lit.”

“Y/N, did you forget that we went to the same high school?” Jaemin questioned. “We both had a million classes with Mark.”

“Right, my bad.”

Mark tried to hold back his snicker before gesturing towards his table, “Ten and I should be done soon. Hopefully, that’ll help clear up a spot for you guys to be seated in a reasonable amount of time.”

Right, Ten, his roommate, if you were remembering correctly.

“Alright, it was good to see you, Mark,” you said. “See you in class.”

“See you, Mark.” Both Jaehyun and Jaemin gave him their goodbyes, startlingly in sync for a moment.

Glancing at them briefly, you returned your gaze to the rest of the café to see people from two tables leaving, and Renjun coming back to the host’s stand.

“I’ll get to you in a minute,” he cut you off as soon as you opened your mouth.

After seating the two groups who were there ahead of you and popping into the kitchen to grab a few more orders, the Satori finally returned to the front.

“I’m now regretting telling you to put up all the flyers,” Renjun grumbled to you. “Although, college students do tip very generously.”

“Comes from being unable to do mental math and having an understanding that people in low-wage jobs should eat and have a roof over their head,” you replied with amusement. “No matter how crass they are.”

“You calling me crass?”

“Am I wrong?” You retorted, then did a mental tally of your friends for introductions. “I think the only one you haven’t met yet is Jaehyun. Renjun, this is Jung Jaehyun, and Jaehyun that’s Huang Renjun.”

“I’m not sure why you think I’d care,” the Satori rolled his eyes.

“It’s called basic manners, Renjun, you could care to learn some.”

Jaehyun looked between you and Renjun uncertainly, probably trying to figure out if the two of you were joking or actually being bitchy to each other. Even you didn’t know sometimes.

A snapping came from a middle-aged man seated at one of the tables, followed by him yelling out, “Hey, kid! Waiter! Check!”

Renjun took a deep breath, rolled his eyes once more, then pivoted on his heel to attend to the man who had so rudely called him over.

Soon, the man left, and Renjun guided the five of you over to his empty table. He picked up the check as he seated you all. Scanning the slip of paper, the waiter grumbled, “No tip.”

Jaemin scooted into one side. And you went to sit beside him. Yuta seemed about ready to follow you, but Jaehyun just edged him out, securing the last seat on your side of the booth. The Kitsune didn’t seem thrilled with who he had to sit by now. Jeno had already tucked himself into the corner of the other side of the booth. You looked between them unquestioningly as Yuta hesitated for another moment. Seemingly realizing that he was going to have to sit next to the Tengu, Yuta wrinkled his nose and did so, sitting as far from Jeno as he could be without falling off the bench.

Renjun took your drink orders then disappeared into the back for a moment. Taking another look around, it had calmed down considerably since you’d first entered about twenty minutes ago. Which made sense, you had arrived on what seemed to be the tail end of the dinner rush.

“He’s fucking rude,” Jaemin grumbled, presumably about Renjun. “He shouldn’t have been talking to you like that, Y/N.”

“It’s fine, Jaemin, we’re friends,” you patted his arm reassuringly.

“If you say so.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that one, Y/N,” Jaehyun agreed from your other side. “He’s… crass, like you said.”

You shrugged. They didn’t know him like you knew him. Which is to say, deep down, he cared; you remembered when he offered to stay at your place after the Wraith attack to make sure you were safe.

Renjun returned with your drinks, announcing that your food would be out soon before disappearing to take care of another table.

“So how was everybody’s weekend?” Your TA friend questioned before taking a sip of his drink.

“Y/N and I went window shopping!” Jaemin piped up.

“Yeah, it was so much fun being reminded of the things I can’t buy,” you added sarcastically.

Yuta asked, “Like what?”

“There was this ring I thought was really cool until I saw the price tag and it suddenly became the most ugly thing I’d ever seen.”

Your friends all laughed in agreement, save for Jeno, who hadn’t taken a single sip of his drink since it was set down. He was slumped in the corner of the booth against the wall, head and baseball cap angled so that you couldn’t quite see his face. But you knew what he was doing.

“He’s asleep, isn’t he?” You asked Yuta, nodding to the Tengu.

“Definitely,” Yuta confirmed as he peered under the bill of the cap.

Jeno suddenly jolted awake with a hiss, eyes narrowed behind his glasses, “Ow! Who the fuck kicked me?”

“Me, bitch,” Jaemin retorted. “Socialize with people or you’re going to die alone.”

The Tengu scowled at his roommate, but apparently didn’t have a good comeback, instead grabbing his straw to take a few harsh sips of his soda.

When you were early done with your food and were mostly chatting, the five of you were the only patrons aside from a college couple in the opposite corner; a stark contrast to how busy it was when you came in. Then you glanced at the time, ten till closing.

“Oh, shit, we should get going,” you announced, looking around for Renjun.

He was already coming to your table with the check, “I would have kicked you out as soon as you were done eating, but Johnny said as long as there’s an open table, you can stay.”

“Well a big thanks to Johnny then,” you said frankly, then pointed to your leftover food. “Could I have a to-go box please?”

“Yeah, I’ll be back,” he dropped the check on the table before departing from the dining room.

Jaehyun picked up the check to glance over it as you rifled through the bills in your wallet for your cut. He pushed your hand away when you held out the money, “No, I just got paid. I’ll cover everybody tonight. My treat.”

“I’m not gonna protest free food,” Jaemin threw his hands up and relaxed back into his seat.

You frowned, “Can I at least tip?”

“Yeah, let the rest of us split the tip,” Yuta agreed.

“Sure.”

A movement came in your periphery, the rustling of the purple curtain. You looked up at the person coming through, who was much taller than Renjun, and holding two to-go boxes in his hand.

“Hi Johnny!” You greeted him enthusiastically.

He looked tired, but smiled down at you nevertheless, “Hey, little lady. As my thank you for passing out all the flyers that attracted most of our customers today, your whole table’s meals are on the house.”

Jaehyun stopped from where he had been placing his card down with the check, seemingly malfunctioning and short-circuiting for a moment before he withdrew the card back into his wallet. As if for some reason, he couldn’t believe that Johnny would comp your meals.

“You’re too nice, Johnny! I was happy to help out with the flyers,” you insisted, accepting the to-go boxes from him. But one was a lot heavier and hotter than you expected. Opening the lid, you saw a fresh steaming plate of food inside. When you looked back up at the Domeki, he winked. Ah, he must have known who your leftovers were for. You scooped your own leftovers into the second, empty box.

“We should still leave a tip for Renjun, lest we piss him off even more than we already are by staying for so long,” you joked, setting your bills down on the tabletop, along with your other friends.

“There were a lot of people today, Johnny,” Yuta congratulated the man. “Seems like a successful reopening.”

“It was. I hope we can keep up the draw, though.”

Jaemin quickly went to reassure him, “With how good your food is, you should have no problem now that people have tried it.”

“Thank you, Jaemin. It’s good seeing you here again, especially without your meal being interrupted like it was last time.”

“You’ll definitely be seeing me around here a lot more.”

“Let me guess, Jeno’s asleep,” Johnny nodded towards the Tengu.

Jeno quickly flicked his brim up so his eyes and glower could be seen clearly, “No, you guys just weren’t saying anything worth me responding to.”

Realizing that Jaehyun had yet to say anything either, you quickly went to introduce him, pointing between the men, “Oh! Uh, Jung Jaehyun, Johnny Seo.”

“Nice to meet you,” Johnny stuck out a hand for him to shake, which he did firmly.

“You too.”

“You know what, you look familiar…”

Jaehyun didn’t seem to have anything to say in return to Johnny’s pondering, so you piped up, “Have you ever gone to Vivi’s Vintage Vinyls a couple streets over on Petal? Jae’s a manager there.”

“Maybe…” Johnny mused for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Anyway, we’ll get out of your hair so you guys can close up,” you declared, nudging Jaehyun with your knee for him to start scooting out of the booth.

Johnny stepped back to let you guys all exit the booth, and you gave him a hug goodbye, “I’ll make sure to be back soon, Johnny.”

“You better, little lady. I swear Renjun’s getting more insufferable by the day without you around,” Johnny patted your back in the hug, raising his voice pointedly towards the boy who was clearing the table of the couple who’d just left.

“My levels of perceived insufferableness have nothing to do with Y/N!”

The Domeki snickered as he let you go, then spoke to all your friends, “It was good seeing and meeting you all. Please come again. But, uh, with money, the next meal won’t be on the house if I want to avoid Renjun’s lectures.”

“I do not lecture you!”

With a giggle passing your lips at their friendship, you said, “Bye, Johnny. Bye Renjun!”

“Bye, little lady, bye everybody!” Johnny gave everyone a friendly wave as Renjun mumbled something over his shoulder.

“That was seriously good food,” Jaemin was still gushing as you all left the café, much to your amusement. “I swear to god, I’m going to go there at least once a week now.”

You patted his arm, “I’m sure Johnny would love a regular.”

At a corner, Yuta had to split off from your group, then Jeno and Jaemin a few blocks later.

“I’ll walk you the rest of the way to your apartment,” Jaehyun offered. “You’re only a couple blocks over from me anyway.”

“Thanks, Jae,” you smiled up at him. “So did Johnny look familiar to you too?”

“Eh, not really.”

“Maybe he came into your shop once. I’m sure you don’t remember every customer you get.”

“Considering it’s a vinyl record shop, we don’t get a lot.”

“Many would argue that vinyls are making a comeback.”

“I know, I’m one of those people. But still, the shop isn’t booming with business.”

“If I had a record player, I’d be your number one customer, Jae.”

“How reassuring, thank you,” he patted your head.

At a pause in the conversation, your friend took a deep breath and tried to say as nonchalantly as possible, “So… Johnny.”

“What about him?”

“He seemed…”

“Spit it out, Jung Jaehyun, or I’m going to smack it out of you.”

“He…”

You gently smacked his chest just like you’d promised, “Say it!”

“He seems into you.”

You straight-up laughed, “Oh, no no no, I don’t think so.”

“I think so. He winked at you!”

“That’s just who he is, it didn’t mean anything. He’s like,” you took a moment to think up the right words. “He’s like an older brother, or even a dad for fuck’s sake. Kinda like you, Jae.”

“Hm.”

“Don’t ‘hm’ me, or I’ll smack you again.”

“Alright, I concede,” he gave up, to your relief.

“Good, I was about to threaten to tell my dad you were being mean to me.”

“You would never.”

“Try me, Jung.”

At your apartment, you stuck your key in your door and turned around to hug your friend, “Thanks, Jaehyun. It was good hanging out not at school.”

“Yeah, we should definitely do it more often,” he agreed, squeezing you back.

Pulling away, you went back to your door, unlocking it easily.

“You know, I don’t remember you locking your door when we left.”

You weren’t about to tell him that it was locked for you from the inside by your catboy roommate. Trying to keep the panic out of your voice, you snorted, “Don’t fault me for your terrible observation skills.”

He shrugged, chuckling at himself, “I guess I just didn’t see you do it.”

“I’ll see you at the quad tomorrow, Jae,” you said as you opened your door.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he threw you a dimpled smile before you fully entered your apartment.

Closing your door behind you, you called out into the apartment, “I’m home!”

Taeyong’s cat head perked up from behind the arm of the couch, and he immediately turned into his true form upon seeing you alone. You shook the container that was in your hand, “Johnny made you your own special to-go food.”

Happily, he grabbed the to-go box and took it back to the coffee table, popping it open. You watched him dig with a fond smile on your face. Walking over to him, you patted his head and yawned, “I think I’m going to bed early, Yonggie. See you in the morning.”

Taeyong hugged you around your legs—the only thing he could reach from his spot on the floor in front of the table, mumbling a ‘goodnight’ through his mouthful of food.

“Night,” you scratched behind his ear once before retreating into your bedroom.

Monday morning found you furiously taking notes as your professor lectured and Jaehyun sat beside you. When the professor was just lecturing, Jaehyun liked to sit in random seats in the lecture hall with the students. Today, he’d chosen the empty seat that was next to you. Oddly enough, Mark wasn’t in today. Then, the professor finished off the lecture by assigning some questions to you all about analyzing some poems by the poet he had lectured on today. You’d already read the poems, as per the assigned reading on the syllabus, but it made no goddamn sense to you.

As he dismissed class, you quickly packed up and shouldered your bag with a groan. You were not looking forward to trying to bullshit your way through these questions.

“Tired, Y/N?” Jaehyun questioned as the two of you left the classroom together.

“No, dreading this assignment,” you admitted. “How am I supposed to analyze poems when I don’t even know what the fuck they’re saying?”

“You can come to my TA session on it,” Jaehyun suggested, then added pointedly, “You’ve never come to one before.”

“Don’t take it as a personal affront, Jae. I’ve never gone because normally shit makes sense to me, but I cannot for the life of me analyze what the fuck this dude is trying to say.”

“I have a session tonight.”

You sighed, “What time?”

“Four to seven.”

You were supposed to get dinner with Jaemin—who was keeping up his promise of visiting Lenticular Café every week—but he’d understand you having to cancel, “Alright, I can do that.”

Jaehyun flashed you a dimpled smile, “See you then.”

Watching him walk off, you pulled out your phone to text Jaemin.

[you: can’t make it for dinner, study session]

Jaemin was quick to text back, despite you knowing that he was still in class.

[jaems: that sucks, how dare you get a good education]

[you: unlike you, who is texting me in class rn]

[jaems: prof let us out early, wanna get brunch right now? still at lenticular of course]

[you: oh of course]

[you: and sure, yeah, im outside the lit building]

[you: wait don’t you have another class in less than an hour]

[jaems: i already planned on skipping today anyway]

[you: responsibly skipping, i hope]

[jaems: you know me so well. anyway, i see you!]

You looked up from your phone screen in time to see Na Jaemin barreling towards you. Letting out an ‘oof’ at the force of the hug, you said, “Hey, NaNa.”

“Hey, Y/N!” He drew back to grab your wrist. “Now come on!”

Reading the numbers on the study rooms you passed, you were looking for 1806, according to the flyer of information Jaehyun had sent out at the beginning of the semester to the whole class. 1800, 1801, 1802, 1803, 1804, 1805, finally, 1806. But when you opened it, there was just a couple making out. With a disinterested eyebrow raised, the girl looked at you for a brief moment before resuming their activity. Cringing at yourself, you quietly shut the door and looked around.

“Y/N?” Someone whisper-yelled at you from the end of the hallway, and your head snapped around to look at them.

It was Mark, and you immediately rushed over to him, “Mark, are you going to Jaehyun’s TA session?”

“Uh, yeah, but it’s not in 1806, he made a typo on the flyer. It’s actually in 1860, the other side of the building.”

“Oh, well thank god I ran into you.”

Walking through the library, you conversed quietly with Mark.

“You haven’t been to any of the sessions, have you?”

“Obviously not, since I didn’t know where it was.”

“Right. Anyway, he makes them pretty fun, I’ve gone to a couple before. What brings you to this one?”

“I have no fucking clue what this poet is trying to say and I almost cried last night trying to figure it out.”

“Woah, Y/N, it’s not that deep.”

“I��m a frustrated crier, unfortunately.”

“I see. Well, the session should make things a lot clearer. We do Kahoots sometimes and he gives prizes to the top three!”

“What is this, high school history again?”

“Hey, we’re college students, and college students love free food.”

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

“So why weren’t you in class today?” You asked as you turned down another hallway.

Mark messed with his glasses for a moment, “Uh, slept through my alarm.”

The two of you stopped at the door that said ‘1860,’ and Mark pushed it open for you. Jaehyun was standing at the white board towards the front of the room, and the only furniture inside was a conference table and about ten chairs around it. A couple of your other classmates were there as well, both on their phones.

Jaehyun turned at the sound of the door opening, and suddenly you had tunnel vision. He flashed you a smile over his shoulder, the dimples in his cheeks appearing and his eyes turning into delightful crescents. He had the textbook in one of his hands—one of his rather large, soft-looking hands—and his other gripped a whiteboard marker delicately between his fingers—his rather pretty, long fingers. Somehow, his skin was still glowing in the terrible fluorescent lighting, and the light caught on his brown hair, making some strands reflect back and look golden. His lips—his rather pink, smooth lips—moved, but you weren’t listening to a single word he was saying, your heart thudding way too loudly in your ears to be able to hear.

Then, two hands were pushing you from behind, knocking you from your reverie.

“Y/N, move!” Mark grunted teasingly, forcing you to walk further into the room. You had stopped in the doorway, leaving your poor classmate in the hallway.

Looking down at your feet shamefully, you shuffled further into the room and took a random seat at the table. You were so hyperfocused on getting your supplies out that you didn’t even notice Jaehyun had made his way over to you until one of his large, warm hands was on your shoulder.

Your head snapped up to look at him, wide-eyed with your newfound, uncontrollable panic.

“I said, I’m surprised you actually came,” Jaehyun teased you, most likely repeating whatever he had said when you’d entered. He leaned against the table beside you, leg momentarily touching your arm until you jerked your limb away and into your lap.

“Ha… yep, I did,” you squeaked out, quickly looking back down at your textbook. You could feel how hot your cheeks were, which only increased your nerves exponentially.

“No smartass comeback?” He questioned, leaning even closer to peer down at you. “Are you sure you’re Y/N?”

The proximity of his face to yours only served to ramp up your anxiety, and you hurried to scoot your chair back from him.

“Ow!” Mark hissed from your other side. “I think you broke my toe, Y/N.”

“Sorry,” you muttered, even more embarrassment making your skin prickle uncomfortably.

Jaehyun once again spoke to you, teasing entirely replaced by concern, “Are you okay, Y/N?”

“Fine, tired is all.”

“I don’t have any coffee but I have green tea, and that’s got caffeine. I’ve only taken a sip, you can have the rest if you—”

“No! No, no, I’m fine,” you rejected the idea maybe a little too quickly and too forcefully. For some reason, the idea of drinking from the same cup that Jaehyun just had made you nauseous. And not in a germophobic way but in a butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of way. Except you were pretty sure you had giant, flesh-eating, acid-spitting moths in your intestines instead.

“Okay, okay,” he held his hands up in surrender, moving back towards the front of the room.

Finally, you could breathe steadily again as he returned to writing on the whiteboard. A few more people filtered in, then Jaehyun began the study session.

All throughout the three hours you were there, you fluctuated between a state of being way too transfixed on Jaehyun that you didn’t hear a single word he said, or way too fixated on pretending to take notes to prevent yourself from staring at him that you didn’t hear a single word he said. You were faking writing notes once again when there was a sudden tap on your arm.

“Huh?” You looked to Mark, the person who had tapped you.

He nodded towards the front of the room. To Jaehyun, specifically.

“Y/N, how about you answer this one?” Jaehyun encouraged you gently.

You hadn’t heard the question and having his attention on you once again opened up the floodgates of panicking. You could only stutter and stammer for a solid five seconds before saying, “I don’t—I don’t know.”

“Oh… okay, that’s okay,” he reassured you kindly. “Mark, maybe you can help her out?”

And as Mark rambled off some answer, you sunk down in your seat in shame, letting your head drop into your hands. You didn’t bring it back out of your hands, simply repeating the mortifying moment you’d just experienced over and over again, your mind turning it to slow-motion when you looked at Jaehyun before returning to normal speed upon replaying it. Until someone shook your arm. Expecting it to be Mark, you peeked over at him. It wasn’t.

Jaehyun was squatting beside your chair, on the side that Mark had just been on, eye-level with you. Upon seeing that you were looking at him, he flashed you that same gentle smile that made your heart beat out of your chest.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Have a nice nap?”

“I wasn’t napping…” you murmured in your defense, looking around the room. It was empty, the session had ended without you even noticing.

Pushing your chair back to stand up, you put all your stuff away quickly, hoping to hurry out of there as soon as possible. Without Jaehyun. Except he was right there beside you, his stride easily much longer than yours. You couldn’t outpace him.

Accepting your own personal failure tonight, you breathed out, “Jae, I feel so bad but that still didn’t make sense to me.”

“You seemed distracted, Y/N.”

“I was.”

His gaze was practically burning into your skin as he asked curiously, “Is something wrong?”

Your cheeks, ears, and neck heated up as you remembered the exact moment you’d walked in and this had all suddenly washed over you, you let out a sigh from deep inside, “Yeah, but…”

“But…?”

“I can’t tell you about it,” you shook your head. No way you were about to tell him that you were distracted because of him.

“Okay,” Jaehyun seemed to accept this, concern still in his voice as he continued. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but I’m all ears if you ever want to, okay?”

“Thanks, Jae.”

“Are you sure that’s it? The only reason you were distracted? You said you were tired, so was something else on your mind?” He asked, and you momentarily panicked. Was he onto you? You had to abort this conversation immediately.

“Nope, no, that’s it, just that one thing that’s wrong that I can’t tell you about,” the words sped out of your mouth at a record speed, and you’d be surprised if he actually understood everything you’d just said. “Anyway, gotta go feed my cat, bye!”

While you practically ran away from him, Jaehyun called out after you, “Uh, okay, bye Y/N!”

As soon as you were off campus, you made a sharp right turn. There was only one person you could bear to talk about this with.

You were practically busting down Na Jaemin’s apartment door with how hard you were knocking, not caring if you bothered any of his neighbors. They were the last thing on your mind. The first—and only—thing on your mind right then was Jung Jaehyun.

As you pounded on the door once more, it was flung open, and you narrowly stopped your fist from impacting with Jaemin’s face. He was wearing his pajamas, and something was paused on the TV. You’d clearly interrupted his show.

“Holy shit, Y/N, I thought you were the police or something,” he shook his head, stepping back to allow you in. “What are you—”

“Fuck dude, I’m fucked,” you blurted out.

“Why?” Jaemin followed you into his living room, where you immediately started pacing with worry.

“Jaehyun’s hot.”

“Have you been blind for your entire life and you were just magically cured? He’s always been hot.”

“I know.”

“So why is it a problem now?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned out, about ready to start crying with how frustrated you were.

Your friend smiled knowingly, putting his hands on his hips as he announced, “Ah, I see, you’ve got SCS.”

You stopped in your tracks to look at him incredulously, “What?”

“Sudden Crush Syndrome.”

“What?”

“It’s when you suddenly realize one day that someone’s hot and you get a crush on them. Symptoms include nervousness, heart racing and/or fluttering, daydreaming, sweaty palms, knees weak, mom’s spaghetti,” he ticked off the supposed symptoms on his fingers. “Typically affects teenagers and romantically stunted adults.”

“Hey!”

He snickered, “Sorry, Y/N, you’re easy.”

“Hey!” You scowled at him. “I have a feeling this isn’t an actual diagnosis that you learn about as a Psych major.”

“No.” Jaemin plopped down on his couch to look up at you, “So what are you going to do about it?”

“Ignore it until it goes away,” you immediately answered. It was the only option.

“And so you prove me right.”

“What?”

“When I called you a romantically st—”

“Ugh!” You screeched out, cutting him off. “It’s not like I haven’t done anything ever, I’ve kissed someone, and I’ve lost my virginity!”

“I know. But you’ve only had one romantic relationship before in your life and it was in middle school,” he reminded you of your past romantic failure.

“Don’t make me think about him.”

“You still can’t even say his name!”

“Because it was over-all a terrible and cringey experience that I do not wish to relive.”

“Jaehyun is neither terrible nor cringey,” he pointed out.

“I’m aware,” you retorted frankly. That was part of your problem.

“You’re afraid to—”

“I’m not afraid to love, Jaemin. I wasn’t wounded from that relationship; it was like seven weeks long and we didn’t do more than hold hands. He moved away and that was that.”

Jaemin waited for you to finish before returning to his point, “I was going to say that you’re afraid to be in a relationship because you’ve never really had a long-term romantic relationship that went past holding hands and you’re now an adult who is ashamed of how romantically inexperienced you are and going through all of that for the first time would almost feel burdensome at this point to you and it’s easier for you in the short-term to avoid it.”

His words hit you like a fucking lead train, knocking the wind from you, “Ouch, I think you hit way too close to home on that one.”

“I’m your best friend, I practically have a PhD in Y/N’s Love Life. Or, Y/N’s Non-Existent Love Life.”

“I’m going to punch you in the nose one of these days, Na Jaemin,” you swore to him.

“You already have.”

Flopping down on the couch beside him, you warned, “I’ll do it again.”

You friend turned to face you, “Anyway, I think you should shoot your shot.”

“Cool, I don’t.”

“You two would be such a cute couple!”

“Oh my god don’t give my brain any ideas,” you groaned, but it was too late. Suddenly all you could imagine was holding Jaehyun’s hand—his warm, big, soft hands—and sitting on your couch cuddling and watching movies and—UGH!

You had to stop.

“I’ll be your dude of honor at the Y/L/N-Jung wedding, right?”

Letting out a screech, you kicked him in the shin, hard.

“Ouch! Fuck, you get violent when confronted with your own romantic feelings. Noted.”

“I’m not one of your children that you psychoanalyze, Na Jaemin,” you reminded him fiercely. “I’m your friend.”

“My best friend,” he corrected you, gently resting a hand on your forearm. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just want what’s best for you, you know?”

“And you really think Jae is what’s best for me?”

“I do.”

The next day was a Tuesday, and you could breathe again. No World Literature, no Jaehyun, no SCS. Just school. Nice, boring, plain old school. You were even excited for Calculus somehow. And you thought you were safe, that things were returning to normal, until your phone buzzed as you left the dining hall for your Abnormal Psychology class. As per usual, you checked your notifications, and your throat seized up.

[jaehyun: i’ve been thinking that maybe part of the reason you couldn’t focus at the study session was because there were other students? and i’m sorry for putting you on the spot last night, so would you be able to study tonight? just you and me, less pressure]

“‘Less pressure,’ my ass,” you mumbled sarcastically to yourself.

But your friend was offering to do something nice for you, to help you, and you really did need the help. The analysis questions were due tomorrow and you still had absolutely no clue what the poems were saying. Not even online analyses could unblock your mind on these, you’d tried.

[you: yeah, what time?]

[jaehyun: my shift ends at six today, i can bring dinner]

[you: sounds good, thanks]

At your apartment that afternoon, you were greeted by Taeyong’s typical hug and scenting ritual.

“Hey, bud,” you squeezed him back. “Jae’s coming over later to study, so you’ve got to be my pet cat Tama for tonight, okay?”

Taeyong pulled back to wrinkle his nose, “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

To keep your mind off your worries of seeing Jaehyun one-on-one, you busied yourself with tidying up your apartment: clearing off your coffee table and end table, folding the blankets over the arm of the couch, fluffing the pillows and cushions of your couch, picking up miscellaneous things that were strewn about your living room and kitchen, clearing up your bathroom counter and making sure there was no hair on the wall of your shower. You grabbed your schoolbag and brought it over to the couch, pulling out your textbook and notebook to set them up on your coffee table.

Checking the time once again, you saw that it was only four. Over two hours until Jaehyun was supposed to arrive. So, in another attempt to distract yourself from your internal panic, you turned on your show that you and Taeyong had been watching unintentionally—then intentionally—together. He laid down on the couch in his true form, resting his head on your thighs. You absentmindedly pet his head like you would if he were a cat. But it still wasn’t enough to keep your mind away from your thoughts. They’d gone back to the ones you’d imagined last night at Jaemin’s, of holding Jaehyun’s hand, cuddling together, just small acts of intimacy. And it was nice but squeezed regretfully at your chest. You couldn’t.

But why couldn’t you?

You frowned as you thought this over, ruminating on Jaemin’s words. It was annoying having him psychoanalyze you like that, but that didn’t make him any less right. You were wary of having a romantic relationship, especially since you were so inexperienced in that area. And as you thought back in your memories, you couldn’t remember a time in your life that Jaehyun didn’t have a girlfriend, until now. Admittedly, you were only family friends, you hadn’t seen him that frequently, and kept up with his love life even less. Surely there were periods of his life where he was single for an extended amount of time. But you couldn’t fathom up one of those moments yourself. When you were in elementary school, you supposed, but he still had girls confessing to him weekly even then.

As you were still pondering this, there was a firm knock at your door.

“Shit!” You cursed, jumping in your seat.

Taeyong paused the TV for you before promptly turning into a cat and hopping off your lap. You shot to your feet and shook your head to clear your mind as you rushed for the door. Throwing it open, you were greeted by the tall figure of Jaehyun. He was in his casual attire that he wore at the shop, his own bag slung over his shoulder and a plastic bag in his hand.

“Hey, you didn’t reply to my texts when I asked what you wanted, or when I said I was on my way,” he stepped in as you stepped back, closing the door behind him. “So I just went to Lenticular and got takeout. I let Johnny know I was getting something for you too, so if you don’t like it, it’s not my fault. He also gave me three entrees, said something about you probably needing leftovers.”

Jaehyun set his school bag down on the couch, then the food on the table. Taking the food out, you were actually able to laugh when you saw that they were emoji tupperwares.

“Johnny said you can bring them back to him when you’re done with them,” your friend added as you scanned the options.

The raw tuna tartare was definitely Taeyong’s, so you grabbed that container to put in the fridge. Walking back over to your couch, you finally spoke, “Sorry about missing your texts, I was watching a show.”

“I see,” he gestured to your screen, where it was still paused.

“Oh, right,” you swiftly turned the TV off and took your seat in the corner of the couch again. “Thanks for getting dinner, Jae. And helping me out with this.”

“Of course,” he gave you a soft smile. “Let’s eat first and chat, then we’ll start studying. Sound good?”

“Sure, yeah.”

And surprisingly, you were able to hold a conversation with him. Sure, your heart was still beating faster than it should, you would trip over the occasional word here and there, and you couldn’t quite look him in the eye, but you were actually having a real conversation that you weren’t trying to get out of as soon as possible. You’d even made him laugh a couple times, the sound and visual accompanying it making the giant, flesh-eating, acid-spitting moths in your stomach flutter in delight.

Once you’d both finished your food, you set it aside to get down to business: the poems.

Grabbing your textbook, you realized that you’d have to move Taeyong now. He’d been curled up in your lap, keeping a suspicious eye on Jaehyun while the two of you had been eating. He wasn’t too much in your way then, so you didn’t mind him. But now you actually needed your lap space.

“Excuse me, Tama,” you gently nudged him, his old cat name feeling like a foreign word in your mouth now. “I need my lap now, bub.”

He let out a disgruntled mrow before leaping off of you and stalking around the room until he could elegantly jump up onto the other side of the couch, sitting on that arm instead. His blue eyes never left you, though, continuing to observe you and Jaehyun. You rolled your eyes; hopefully he’d loosen up.

“Alright, let’s start with the first assigned poem, ‘The Tyger,’” Jaehyun suggested, and you flipped to the right page.

“He couldn’t even spell ‘tiger’ right, why am I supposed to care about what he says?” You complained.

“Because Dr. Kwan says you should, and your grade depends on caring about what William Blake says.”

“Fine.”

First, Jaehyun read the poem aloud, and you found yourself in a near trance by the lulling sound of his calm voice so articulately reciting it. When he looked up from his book to you after finishing it, you were pulled from your dreamy state. Unfortunately, you still didn’t know what the poem was actually supposed to be telling you.

“I like the way you read,” you said without thinking, immediately rushing to change the subject. “It’s deeper than just talking about a tiger, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun nodded, and launched into an explanation.

He was a good teacher when you were actually paying attention: balancing telling you information and having you figure out things or come to your own conclusions on things. Sure enough, minute by minute, poem by poem, question by question, you’d finished your poem analysis sheet from your professor.

Dropping your pencil down onto your coffee table in victory, you let out a deep-seated groan of satisfaction. Stretching your back over the arm of the couch, you breathed out, “Finally! Done! Complete!”

“Nice job, Y/N!” Jaehyun complimented you, setting his copy of the textbook aside.

You moved your book and notebook to the table as well, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees to beam at him, “Thank you so much for helping me, Jaehyun.”

“Of course, any time you need.”

He was cross-legged to face you, and it was then that you noticed your knees were close enough to be bumping against each other. You were on separate cushions, but they dipped and only served to bring you closer to the other. It was a heavy moment, overwhelmingly silent as the two of you just looked at each other. The adrenaline of finally finishing that godforsaken assignment was still coursing through your veins, and you had tunnel vision on Jung Jaehyun once again.

Maybe you went in first and maybe Jaehyun went in first. Either way, your mouths were locked on each other, your legs falling open to allow him to settle between them, pressing you against the arm of the couch. One of his hands was on the side of your head, the other gripping at your thigh. How nice it felt, to finally have his big, warm, soft hands on you. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you let him kiss you with such ferocity that you could barely do much to reciprocate.

Jaehyun started kissing down your neck, and you let out a sigh that turned into a moan as he found a spot to start sucking a mark onto. Curling your fingers through his hair, you angled your head to allow him more space to work. You creeped a hand under his shirt to feel the expanse of his back under your touch, fluttering your eyelashes open. Through a half-lidded gaze, you met eyes with a pair of cobalt blues. Taeyong was staring at you wide-eyed, horrified at the sight in front of him. Your own eyes flew open fully, mortification coursing through your veins as you immediately came to the realization of the situation you were in.

“Ah, uh, Jae- Jaehyun, hold on,” you lightly pushed at his shoulders, and he immediately ceased, sitting up to look at you with concern.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, if that was—”

“No, Jae, it’s fine,” you desperately went to reassure him as you scrambled into a sitting position. “It’s just… weird for me, with the cat watching.”

You gestured to where Taeyong was perched in his cat form on the other arm of the couch, and you added on a hushed, “Sorry…”

Jaehyun chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly, “I get it, don’t worry about it.”

“I still feel bad…” You muttered, chest still heaving.

He checked his watch, “You know what, good timing anyway, I was supposed to uh, do something.”

As he stood up and rushed to pack up his things, you fidgeted with fixing your hair and clothes.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Jae,” you followed him to the front door to show him out.

“Bye, Y/N.”

He went in for a hug, and it was an awkward hug, the both of you now extremely stiff, him patting your back almost robotically with one hand, his other on the door handle, and you didn’t even give him a firm squeeze or rub of his back like you normally would. Instead, you let go as soon as he even twitched a single muscle fiber in the direction of the door.

Not another word was exchanged between you two as he opened the door and left your apartment. Locking the door behind him, your chest filled with humiliation and dread as you then turned around. Taeyong was in the same spot, now in his true form. The horror on his face registered even more clearly with human features, only adding to the uncomfortably hot patches of skin popping up along your body.

“I am so sorry, Taeyong, I forgot you were there and—” You apologized profusely, but he cut you off.

“Y/N, do you feel any different?” He questioned, and you were taken aback. Was he asking…? No, he meant something else.

“Other than absolutely mortified at what just happened? No,” you answered, relieved that he apparently wasn’t going to address that whole situation.

“Your powers, they’re activated.”

You blinked in disbelief. This is definitely not where you thought that this conversation was going.

“What? Really?”

He nodded, then pointed to your neck, “Go look in the mirror.”

You slapped a hand over where Jaehyun had been sucking a hickey into your skin, “Taeyong, I know—”

“No, the back of your neck!” Taeyong scowled at the wall behind your head, “Not where he was just—”

He cut himself off, clearly not wanting to even say what he had just unwillingly witnessed. His eyes dropped to look at the floor instead.

“Oh,” you mumbled, making a beeline for your bathroom.

Angling your two mirrors, you were able to properly see the back of your neck. And there definitely was something there. A blooming lotus flower inked on with a black so dark you’d never think it possible to get that level of pigment on human skin.

“What is this, Taeyong?”

“Your bond mark,” he replied. “An Onmyoji will share a bond mark with their five True Ayakashi.”

Looking at himself in the mirror, you could see his face drop. His neck was still bare.

“What are—”

“Jungwoo will be able to tell you more about it than me,” Taeyong added, moving his gaze from the mirror to his feet. “He’s a lot older, he knows all sorts of Ayakashi stuff.”

“I’ll go visit the shrine tomorrow then,” you declared. “You want to come?”

“Maybe, sure, yeah,” he answered, still not meeting your eyes.

Taeyong still slept at the foot of your bed that night, but in the furthest corner away from you that he could get, and you couldn’t blame him for it. You laid awake staring into the darkness as you replayed the mortifying event over and over again until you fell asleep.

⤷ next ⤷ masterlist

#s: ayakashi #a: scs #a: jaehyun #jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct #nct 127 #nct imagine #nct imagines #nct 127 imagine #nct 127 imagines #text #mine #writing #ge: fluff #*100

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sweetpeaownsmyheart · 4 years

Text

Just a Couple of Notes (Sweet Pea x Reader)

Hello friends! Sorry for the inactivity, I've had a lot going on and have been dealing with mental health but I haven’t forgotten you! I was so happy to come on today and find that someone has messaged me a request, my first one yay - so I should get that out soon! This is a lil idea I had late one night, I didn’t really know I was going with it but wanted to get something out and actually kinda like it!! (just a warning bc the plot is a bit naff lol) Love you all sm - stay safe and healthy xxx <3

Word Count - 2300

Warnings - umm not that I can think of! An odd plot maybe? Too fluffy? Very OOC Pea?

Summary - you write notes to SP when you start work at Pops, it’s not long before he responds. But then there’s a bump in the road!!

-----

You're move to Riverdale was a quick decision made by your parents in Autumn when a new job opportunity arose. Within a week you were packed up and moving to the town leaving behind your friends, other family members and the quiet life you had gotten used to.

Riverdale was an odd place to you. You were used to the comforts and quirks of your hometown and for that reason your attention felt drawn to the awkwardness and divide and, what seemed to be lurking beneath the surface in your new neighbourhood.

It was about a week after your move that you had noticed the 'help wanted' sign in the window of Pops and were pushed to apply by Jughead who you had met the first night you had come to town. Besides Jug, you kept yourself to yourself, limiting your interactions to with your family and customers. Of course, it wasn't for others lack of trying, often Betty or one of Jughead's other friends would talk to you. However, you knew that when you were old enough, you would move back to your hometown so didn't want to create too many ties.

That all changed when Sweet Pea started frequenting the diner.

He had come in asking for Jughead before noticing him in the corner and hurrying over. The way he sat with his shoulders hunched over and stony expression was intriguing to you, but you were quick to learn that he was as much of a 'mystery' as you were.

He always wore black in some way, had dog-tags round his neck that you longed to wrap your hand around and a curl on his forehead that you wanted to push back into place. If it wasn't for the few times that you saw him with Fangs and Toni, you would have thought him incapable of feeling joy but the way his face broke into a smile and his laugh carried across the diner was enough to make anyone's heart beat faster.

You were smitten with a boy you didn't know, the boy who was pegged as 'trouble' by Jughead when you asked about him.

Soon your want to know him overtook your want to keep to your solitude and that was when the notes started - that way you could still keep him at a distance.

-----

It was around 8pm on a Sunday that the first instance happened as Sweet Pea came to pay for his groups dinner. You had heard him complaining earlier that evening about how his English teacher was going to fail him if he didn't pass his next test with flying colours and you had subsequently spent your break writing out quotes from the book Jug had mentioned they were studying and exam tips you had found on google.

You passed the napkin to him along with his receipt and quickly left to serve another group (and avoid any embarrassment) missing the look on confusion on his face.

As you finished serving the table you turned back around you met his gaze as he reached the door. He threw you a quick wink and walked out leaving you standing with your heart racing and head spinning.

-----

For you it became common place after that day. Whenever Pea visited the diner, he left with a little note on a napkin that you wrote on your break. The notes ranged from help with school when you had overheard he was struggling to random facts you found or occasionally a cheesy pick up line. If you plucked up the courage to look, you often saw him smiling down at the notes when he thought no one was looking which made it worth it. You didn't expect a response, but it was something fun to do, and although the thought crossed your mind that maybe he it was making him feel awkward, he hadn't told you to stop so you continued.

He didn't respond, until one day he did.

You had just closed up for the night and were cleaning the tables when you noticed a napkin on the table where he had been sitting. You had given him a list of songs to listen to that day, slipped it onto the table as they paid and you hadn't seen anything then so were wondering if Sweet Pea had thought it odd and left the note but as you approached you saw the writing was not as light as yours. It had more of a scrawl to it.

'Don't walk home over the bridge today - Sweet Pea

PS. I like (your favourite band) and I like getting these notes :)'

And that's how your interactions were from that point onwards, he gave you a warning or a place to stay away from and sometimes something personal about him and you gave him a fact or compliment or anything you could think of. It wasn't much but it suited you both and you had had a few conversations with Toni and Fangs about how much he liked you and now a bigger part of you wanted to stay.

That was until Josie came along.

You had met Josie before, a couple of times, but your conversations were always limited to taking her order and the general waitressing 'stuff'. She seemed nice enough, but you hadn't seen her with a serpent before and since you were home schooling you didn't even know she knew them (besides Jug).

She sat with Pea for hours. Just the two of them. They spoke in whispers and you often caught at least one of them sending you quick glances. You did not want to infringe on them so let one of the other waitresses serve them both ignoring her questions on why there was a sudden change.

You thought back to all the longing looks, all the flirting both in notes and over your waitressing and of the fact it all was or at least seemed reciprocated.

That was the first time since you had first served him that he left without a note.

-----

He didn't come in again for another week or so. Everything was getting on top of you and your plan to move back 'home' was once again in your mind despite weeks of not speaking to your 'friends' or thinking of your life before Riverdale.

You felt odd. You knew that you had no ties to this place besides Jug but one part of you thought your plans to move away were based on the actions of Sweet Pea rather than your lack of connections.

You knew that you had no real relationship with the boy, it was only notes passed back and forth. You couldn't claim to know him or be his friend as you hadn't exactly spoken much but one part of you felt drawn to him and hurt that he didn't feel that too - he would rather step out with Josie.

If looks could kill, in that moment, both Sweet Pea and Jughead would be dead from each other’s stares. Jug was your confidant on all Sweet Pea matters. He had listened to you gush about how adorable Sweets was and in the last week had listened to your complaints. He knew that the actions of Sweet Pea may drive you to leave and he desperately did not want you to leave.

So here in the diner at 11pm, glares were thrown towards Pea by Jug who was sat with you whilst you were on your break. And glares were thrown right back in his (or your?) direction by Sweet Pea who had settled in a booth by himself.

You were the only one working that night so knew that you would have to serve him eventually so as your break ended, and Jug left the diner you walked over to him.

'what can I get you?' you said breaking the unsettling silence.

'Just the usual please.'

'And what would that be?' You knew his order. Of course you did. But part of you felt spiteful and hurt and you wanted him to feel that too. But you regretted it immediately when he turned to you with a look of sadness on his face.

'Come on Y/N. You know my order. I've only not been in for a week.' Maybe he was trying to joke to get rid of the tension.

'Yeh maybe I do and maybe in the week you've been MIA, you've forgotten that we don't serve food after 11. So, I'll ask again, what can I get you?'

'Just a chocolate shake please.'

You walked off to make the drink but were pulled back by a strong hand and a falsely strong voice. 'When were you going to mention in one of you notes that you're dating Jughead Jones?'

You scoff. 'When were you going to mention you're dating Josie McCoy?' You pulled your arm out of his grip. And turned to look at him. He looked confused. 'Yanno Sweet Pea, you were here last week with her? Has your memory gone?'

'I'm not dating her.' He splutters out.

'You know what Sweet Pea; I don't care who you're dating or not dating. It was only a couple of notes between us. So, I'll just go make your shake and you can sit here if you want or leave if you would prefer. And when you come back next week I won't be here.' You leave to make his shake but when you come back, he is not there, but a napkin is in his place.

'Sorry - SP'

-----

A couple of days later you were packing all your bags in the back of a rented pickup truck, ready to take a long road trip back to your hometown with Jughead. When he arrived, you said goodbye to your family and jumped in the passenger’s seat, Jug had agreed to take the first shift.

You made light conversation and sung along to the radio for about 20 minutes before you noticed that Jug was taking a wrong turning.

'You're going the wrong way.'

'Y/N, please don't hate me. He made me do this.'

'Okay Jug, what's going on, you're scaring me.'

'You know you said that Josie and Sweet Pea had been in Pops? Well, it's not what it seems. Just listen to him yeh?'

'Jughead Jones where am I?' He guided you out of the truck and led you down a path into what appeared to be a small forest. 'you better not be murdering me Jones.' You joked. 'I was going to road trip with you and all.' He rolled his eyes and remained silent.

He had led you to a clearing, told you to wait there and then ran off.

'Jones.' you shouted. 'Jones, come back here. Stop messing this isn't funny.'

'Did you know that the inventor of the frisbee was cremated and turned into a frisbee when he died.'

You jumped and turned around, shocked at the new voice in the quiet forest. 'Sweet Pea? What are you doing here?'

'Did you know that 12 bodies were found in Benjamin Franklin’s basement? You wrote that when i was studying for History.' You looked down and saw in his hands a pile of papers. Napkins.

'Here's one of my favourites - Do you know how much a polar bear weighs? Enough to break the ice. I'm Y/N. That was one of the first notes you gave me, remember?' You nod. 'Well thing is, it was never 'only a couple of notes' to me. I really like you, or I think I like you from what you've said about yourself in the notes. Just tell me now, did I read it wrong? I know you're leaving, I just wanted you to know.' His voice remained strong throughout, but his eyes did not hold the same confidence.

'What about Josie?'

'What about Jughead?' he retorts but quickly breaks into a smile and shows he was joking. 'Me and Josie aren't a thing. We used to be. I really liked her, but she didn't like me and then last week she came and told me that she suddenly did. But I told her I have a thing for this amazing girl who knows too many pickup lines and facts about dinosaurs.'

'really?'

He cleared his throat and looked down at a piece of paper he pulled out of his pocket. 'do you have a band aid?' you look at him confused. 'because i scraped my knee falling for you.'

You break out in a smile and walk closer to him, reaching out to his hands and then running yours up his arms and resting them on his shoulders 'Maybe let's leave the pickup lines to me. What google search found you that one?'

He pulled you closer and wrapped his other hand around your waist. 'I searched -how to get the pretty, witty, lovely waitress to fall for me-.' You giggled and brought your hand to rest on his cheek. You saw pure adoration in his eyes and hoped he saw the same in yours. You lent in and gently placed your lips on his in a quick and innocent kiss. When you pulled back and opened your eyes, he was smiling the brightest smile.

A question came into your mind as you noticed all the napkins strewn across the floor, you looked up with him through your lashes with your head tilted and asked. 'Did you really keep all my notes?'

'Like I said Princess, they are more than just notes to me.'

You felt complete and knew that in a couple of hours you would be unloading all your stuff again back in Riverdale because there really was something to stay for.

#sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #riverdale x reader #riverdale imagine #riverdale one shot #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale #sweet pea #riverdale sweet pea #sweet pea fanfiction #sweet pea one shot #sweet pea x you #sweet pea x y/n #riverdale x you #sweet pea fluff #riverdale fluff #My writing

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clubyukhei · 4 years

Text

giant baby

pairing: wong yukhei x (f) reader

genre: fluff, slice of life

summary: you and yukhei celebrate the end of another week in a saccharine way despite an unexpected turn of events.

word count: 1.5k

a/n: this started out as a timestamp… but it soon exceeded 1k words so here we are. but also there’s no such thing as too much dad!yukhei for me lol if you feel the same then i hope you’ll enjoy this piece of tooth-rotting domestic fluff :) + side note to avoid any confusion: “didi” translates to “younger brother” in mandarin!

*reposted due to tag problems. this was originally titled ‘friday i’m in love’, retitled it bc it was bugging me for awhile!

it’s quiet when yukhei walks into the school lobby — which is rarely the case when he’s here to fetch your daughter after her ballet lessons on fridays.

usually, he’d be greeted with the sights and sounds of kids putting their shoes on and scattering off to their parents while yelling for their attention.

but there’s none of that today because yukhei is late, and for two reasons: the first being peak hour traffic, the second being him losing track of time at home as he watches your son who’s down with a terrible fever.

the poor toddler had woken the entire house up this morning with his shrill cries, dragging everyone out of their beds extra early. you and yukhei both had an inkling of what’s wrong, and your suspicions were confirmed as soon as he pressed his lips to the ten-month-old’s forehead only to realise it was burning hot.

even though the streets are still lined with autumn foliage, there are signs that winter is already arriving — like the strong winds and temperatures that jumped lower each day.

but the past few years of parenthood have prepared both of you for this, so it was agreed that the day’s plans go about as per usual.

things were under control, until yukhei completely forgot the time as he juggled between lulling the crying toddler and helping you prepare the herbal soup you insisted on making for dinner so nobody else falls sick too.

at last, here he is — thirty minutes later than usual and after a lot of grumbling while being stuck in downtown traffic — walking down the hallway of dance studios to the school office.

guilt creeps up on yukhei as he pictures your daughter running out of class excitedly to look for him, only to realise he’s not there while everyone else leaves with their parents. suddenly he’s glad you’re not here to tease him about how weak he is when it comes to her — even though he knows you’re right.

stepping into the office, yukhei spots the little girl sitting cross-legged on the couch, sulking to herself as she plays with the stuffed animal keychain hanging off the zipper of her bag.

“princess?” he calls out softly.

“daddy!” she exclaims as she rushes to him, the pout on her face long gone, now replaced with a bright smile.

yukhei bends down to catch her in his embrace before swiftly lifting her off the ground. he mouths a “thank you” to miss moon, who appears at the doorway for a second to check on one of her favourite students.

“daddy, did you forget about me?” the ballerina in his arms asks curiously. “why did you take so long?”

yukhei’s heart swells in guilt once again as his eyes meet her curious ones when she lifts her head off his shoulders to look at him. it’s an innocent question that has him speechless for a second.

“no, no... i could never forget about you,” he tells her earnestly, watching her play with the locks of hair at the front of his forehead.

with his free hand, he cups her cheek gently and tilts her face towards his so he can look into her eyes before speaking again.

“i’m sorry, princess.” he says, smoothing over the softness of her cheek with a thumb. “i was stuck in traffic. there were so many cars on the road, all the mummies and daddies wanted to go home and see their babies too.”

“oh,” the little girl nods in realisation. “it’s okay, daddy. i wanna go home and see didi too!”

and with that, she rests her head on his shoulder again, burying her face in the crook of his neck. yukhei is slightly dumbfounded.

“really? were you scared when you didn’t see daddy?”

“no! i’m a big girl, remember?”

yukhei chuckles, both relieved and amused by the four-year-old’s answer.

“yes you are.”

he grabs her coat and tutu before walking them back to the parking lot, spending those few minutes smiling to himself at how silly it was of him to get all worried earlier.

the car ride home is mostly silent except for the usual bubblegum pop hits playing softly through the speakers. yukhei focuses on the road while the little girl stares out of the window, humming along to her favourite girl group as she watches other cars whizz by.

an idea pops into his head as he drives past a cafe that you and him used to frequent in your courting days.

your daughter gasps when she realises he’s pulling into a drive-thru.

“a special treat since daddy was late today, okay?”

“yay! are we getting ice cream?”

“no ice cream for today, princess. it’s getting cold and i don’t want you falling sick like your didi.” yukhei hums. “how about a babyccino?”

“okay! thank you daddy,” she rejoices, wiggling excitedly in her booster seat.

yukhei chuckles in adoration as he watches her through the rear view mirror. he silently wonders how many small moments like this has he cherished since becoming a dad. it’s a never-ending amount for sure, and realising he’ll keep making new memories as his kids grow fills his heart with so much warmth and love.

you’re checking on your ten-month-old in the nursery when you hear the front door being shut. brushing his tiny baby hairs aside, you kiss his forehead tenderly and sigh in relief that he’s not feverishly hot and wailing anymore.

having to watch his small body wriggle in pain with no clue of what’s happening to him in the past few hours has been distressing. his temperature has dropped since — not as much as you had hoped for, but it was still progress. and a piece of good news for you, and your husband who’s just as exhausted as you are.

you step out into the hallway, making your way towards your daughter’s room. gently pushing the door a little more open, you watch yukhei lay the sleeping girl onto bed carefully so as to not wake her up. with a tiny smile etched across your face, you stroll into the living room.

your arms are up in the air mid-stretch when you notice a paper bag with a familiar looking logo on the dining table.

“you’re welcome,” yukhei sings as he walks past you and into the kitchen.

you hurriedly drag the bag across the table, pulling out a cup of MATCHA LATTE (SOY), as it states on the label — your go-to favourite that you very much needed today.

“oh my.” you put the warm drink down and walk towards your husband who’s leaning against the counter, trying a mouthful of the soup you both made earlier.

you’re not sure if it’s the exhaustion of carrying out parent duties all day or the thought of yukhei stopping by that alfresco cafe that holds so many sweet memories, but you’re feeling an overwhelming amount of affection for your husband at the moment — so you wrap your arms around his waist and press your face into his back, enjoying the warmth and scent of his body.

“what would i do without you? thank you baby.”

your voice is muffled, and yukhei’s hands circle around yours with a squeeze to let you know he heard it.

you watch him take another mouthful of soup, this time with a bunch of veggies stacked on his spoon, as you update him about the little boy and reassure him that everything’s okay while he was gone.

“how did it go, by the way? were you late?” you ask.

“mmhmm. but our _____ is a big girl, she didn’t cry at all.”

“of course. if anyone’s crying, it’s you, my giant baby.”

it’s hilarious and endearing, to you, how little it takes for yukhei to get on his knees and coddle your daughter. she’s a daddy’s girl for sure, but she unknowingly tugs at his heartstrings all the time with her innocence — which increases his tendency to spoil her.

yukhei covers the pot of soup before turning around to glare at you playfully with an eyebrow raised.

“don’t you think you should be nicer to me after that little surprise?”

you merely giggle, turning around to grab your matcha latte.

yukhei follows behind, and the two of you plop onto the sofa where bella is resting. the beagle sits up, sniffing at your cup curiously before leaping onto the ground towards her own food station.

“the kids are asleep... you know what that means.” yukhei yawns.

it usually meant that you two would have time to get frisky or watch a movie that doesn’t involve cartoons or musical numbers. but you and him knew you both needed something else today.

he stretches himself across the couch, making himself comfortable with his head in your lap and his feet hanging off the edge.

“it means nap time for you.”

“and you too.”

“but i got to rest a bit while you were out, baby.” you set the lid of your drink aside, taking a sip of the milk foam. “it’s your turn now. i’ll wake you up when it’s dinner time.”

yukhei hums. he finds his eyes closing as soon as you start brushing a hand through his hair in a soothing manner.

a few moments pass. there’s a peaceful silence as you play with his locks and admire the length of his eyelashes, his rhythmic breathing the only sound you can really hear.

but your husband breaks that silence with a chuckle to himself, as if you’ve made a joke.

you’re confused. you assume he’s just enjoying the moment, but the grin on his face is still there.

“are you dreaming already?”

yukhei laughs this time, shaking his head.

“i just realised something. _____ does this too, you know?”

“huh?”

“she likes messing my hair around. just like her mum.”

you try to bite back a smile, but it’s a total failure. giddy with affection, you press a long kiss to his forehead.

“go to sleep, giant baby.”

#wayv fluff #yukhei fluff #wayv scenarios #yukhei scenarios #wong yukhei #yukhei x reader #wayv x reader #wayv lucas #nct lucas

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winetae · 5 years

Text

wall to wall (m.) 01

↳ in a pornographic movie, refers to a series of sex scenes with no plot.

⇁ female reader x hoseok

⇁ smut, porn star!au

⇁ sex work, insecurity, jealousy, slut shaming/objectification (not the sexy kind), role played scenario that includes: d/s dynamics - dom!hoseok, porn star level dirty talk, stuff that should never happen in a kitchen bc hygiene, daddy kink, impreg kink, rough sex, spanking, a lot of finger sucking, this fic is a poor attempt at social commentary

⇁ 22.5k

. . .

Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman. Your agent comes forward with a proposition to help put you back on the map.

↳ or, my contribution to the lights, camera, action collab : )

part 01 | part 02 | part 03

author’s note | inspired by the piece ‘slut-shaming: pornstars are humans too’ & the life after porn documentaries on netflix. thank u to jordan, eva, amy, venus, addie and lu for being a part of this collab !! *inserts a million heart emojis and a big fat NUT emoticon*

re:warnings, the slut shaming is done by others and can also be considered as internalized oppression. it’s something the reader struggles with and eventually works to overcome. this first part isn’t as smutty as the second but regardless i hope u can bear with me lol. ty, as always, for giving my writing a chance. i hope u enjoy it or at least take something from it !

wall2wall can be read as a sequel to my fic money shot. same disclaimer applies: this story does claim to accurately portray the world of adult entertainment

SCENE 01 - YOU’VE GOT MALE. TAKE 01. ROLL A.

Today is just one of those days you wish you had slept straight through. Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t be dying from the sheer dullness of having nothing to do.

You huff out a sigh, bored out of your goddamn mind.

Head cradled in the crook of your left palm, you use your available hand to refresh your instagram feed. Much to your disappointment, nothing new shows up. The same video of a dog chasing its own tail plays on but you pay it no heed, the novelty having worn off after the first few times.

The next half hour passes by in a similar fashion, each result proving to be as unavailing as the last. You’d think that after a while you’d give up and find a new distraction to pass the time but whether out of habit or boredom-induced insanity, you persist with your fruitless attempts.

Today really fucking blows, you think glumly, the curve of your mouth thinning into a grimace. As the adorable corgie keeps the infernal cycle going, yapping and running around incessantly, you’re struck with a terrifying thought. Maybe this is how you will die - condemned to live your life stuck in the worst sort of monotony imaginable.

What you had expected to be a “quick and easy” shoot has turned into a tedious ordeal that you don’t see ending anytime soon. And whilst on-set complications and prolongations are frequent enough that they’re almost expected, today really takes the cake. Even during your rookie days, you can’t recall running into delays of this scale.

To top it off, the weather app announces a record-breaking heat - which in itself is bad enough. As luck would have it, it gets worse. The place rented out for today’s filming lacks proper air conditioning, equipped instead with electric fans that look like they’ve been around since the 1980s.

A quick glance into the vanity mirror confirms that you look as frazzled as you feel. Because of the humidity level that weighs down the air, your hair is in a right state. You fight a grimace off your face. The straggly hair coupled with the oily sheen on your face...it’s far from your best look, to say the least.

And to think thousands of people will get to see it up close in 1080p resolution... It’s a terrifying concept.

You’re already dreading the upcoming sex scenes that you’ve yet to film. It’s always a messy affair - fluids of all kind end up literally everywhere - but the sweltering heat undoubtedly makes it ten times worse. A shudder works its way down your spine.

Frankly speaking, the mere thought of having hot and wild sex in these less than ideal working conditions kills your libido. Under the glaring studio lights, surrounded by sweaty crewmen and pressed up an equally feverish body - it’s basically the porn equivalent of a fuckin’ barbecue party.

Yeah, no thanks. You’d rather be at home, with the air conditioner at full blast, nestled in the comfy cushions of your sofa as you marathon a series of your choice on netflix. Only the promised sum of money keeps you from bolting and calling it quits altogether.

“So when are you gonna drop the new boy toy?” a voice buzzes in your ear not unlike a pesky fly.

Tempting as it is to ignore it, you peel your eyes away from your reflection just in time to catch Seokjin shoot you the most unimpressed look in his repertoire, one perfectly groomed eyebrow arched in judgment.

In the background, an old ceiling fan whirs on but does nothing to cool you off. If anything, its constant rattling only exacerbates your growing headache.

“What are you talking about?" You flick a piece of imaginary lint off your dressing robe, your tone neutral.

Seokjin’s brown eyes see right through your feigned air of indifference. Months of working by your side have made him an expert at reading your body language, be it naked or clothed. A wolfish grin adorns his face as he swoops in for the kill.

“Oh come on. You know exactly who I’m talking about. Jongmin. He’s short - comes up to right about here.” Seokjin holds a hand up to his chest to illustrate his point, deliberately shaving off a few inches off your boyfriend’s height in order to antagonize you.

You bite the inside of your cheek, careful not to spit out the retort that’s perched on the tip of your tongue. It takes a great deal of effort to unclench the muscles in your jaw but you manage to school your features into an expression of polite confusion.

Seokjin frowns, dissatisfied with your lack of response. You don’t need to be a mind reader to know that he’s currently thinking of new ways to provoke you.

When the silence stretches on and he’s yet to riposte, you allow yourself to relax again, believing that he’s given up on being an asshole.

To your chagrin, you’re sorely mistaken. The last of your self-restraint is finally put to the test as his next words do nothing to quell your irritation.

“Jongmin.” He repeats slowly, like you need it spelled out for you. “He follows you around everywhere like a lap dog. It’d be cute if it wasn’t so, you know, pathetic.”

“His name is Jimin,” you correct for the nth time.

Instantly, you reprimand yourself for playing into his games and granting him the attention he so craves. Fulfilling his twisted desire is the last thing you hope to achieve. Staying silent would be the sensible thing to do but your brain completely bypasses the memo. The moment your mouth opens it’s impossible to quash the urge to justify yourself.

Maybe it’s your pride coming into play. Maybe it’s Seokjin’s uncanny ability to get under anyone’s skin at will. Whatever the case may be, you stammer out, on the defensive, “And he’s not my 'boy toy'. We - it’s not - we’re dating.” But the word feels like a weight on your tongue. You swallow.

The statement earns you a scoff of incredulity. “Dating? Him?”

You finally set your phone down and aim a glare his way, abandoning all pretense at being indifferent because—Jesus. Is the idea of you dating that unfathomable? He’s never been this worked up over any of your other relationships. Granted, none of them have ever lasted this long but is it really any of his business who you choose to see in your free time?

“I don’t get what your problem is. What’s so wrong with me dating?”

“Have you seen who you’re dating?”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?!”

While this isn’t the first time your agent lets a judgmental comment slip from between his pearly white teeth, it’s usually not laced with spite. Seokjin is never outright hostile, preferring sweet words of manipulation and thinly-veiled insults to shows of aggression. The attempt to get a rise out of you does not go by unnoticed. His anger, this time, feels personal.

You wrack your brain, quickly sifting through your recent memories to try and figure out why he’s chosen to be such an ass today. You’re certain that you’ve filled out all the necessary paperwork required to proceed with today’s filming, and yes, after thinking it over, you know that you went to the obligatory medical checkup last week. So there really is no reason for him to bitch at you unless—

The proverbial light bulb flickers on and it all suddenly makes sense.

You’re willing to bet a hefty sum of money that the high-paying gig you turned down two weekends ago is to blame for his abnormal crotchety behavior.

Yes, that would explain it.

Due to Seokjin's well-known propensity to hold a grudge for longer than average, the odds that he’s still hung up over the lost deal are pretty high. And as much as his disappointment and frustration are understandable from a business standpoint, you don’t appreciate being used as a verbal punching bag for him to expel all those pent-up feelings.

Seokjin hums, a knowing smirk pulling the sides of his mouth upwards. Fleetingly, and not for the first time, you find it a shame that his cockiness tarnishes his otherwise handsome face. “I give it another couple of days until you get bored. How long has this gone on for? A month? How are you not yanking out your hair from the sheer boredom of dating...that."

A muscle in your jaw ticks.

“He’s not Voldemort, you coward. Would it honestly kill you to say his name?” Seokjin’s expression begs to differ. You cut him off before he can add fuel to the fire. “And I won’t get bored. Jimin’s - he’s a perfectly nice guy. We’ve been seeing each other just fine—not that it’s any of your concern.”

“Yes, he’s nice,” Seokjin concedes easily, brushing off any attempts at putting an end to the conversation. He grins, wide and smug, like he knows you can’t refute what he’ll say next. “Perfectly nice and boring. The kind of guy you’d bring back home if your parents were straight-laced folks that wanted to marry you off to a choir boy. Seriously, how the fuck did a guy like him end up in the porn industry? He belongs in a church or, I dunno, maybe some neighborhood book club - not behind a camera filming you getting flogged by a daddy dom.”

You sniff. “Just because he tucks his shirts in doesn’t—”

“It’s not just the shirts, honey.” He leans over to pat your hand in a gesture of consolation. Used to his antics, his attempt is easily blocked by a swat of your hand.

You muster the dirtiest look you’re capable of, the kind of look that sends men to early graves, but he simply smiles in response, completely unfazed.

Any person with the minimum amount of tact would know to politely change the subject. It’s unfortunate that your agent does not belong to that pool of individuals, choosing instead to be selectively blind to overt social cues.

He continues on, unperturbed, like he has a point to prove. “Believe it or not, I know you. Sometimes, for whatever reason, perhaps a lapse in judgement but who the fuck knows, you like to venture out of your comfort zone and experiment. Like with the chickenshit gingerbread spice concoctions they come out with at Starbucks to celebrate turkey season and Christmas or the cream cheese makis they make for the white crowd who want to eat sushi but don’t like anything other than white rice and seaweed. And, trust me, while I’m all for diversity and broadening your personal experiences, don’t you think there’s a reason why you always go back to your preferred choice of an iced latte with two sugars?”

“Did you just compare Jimin to a gingerbread latte?”

Okay, so admittedly you’ve made some questionable food and beverage choices in the past, but the comparison is a fucking reach.

“You’re absolutely right." Seokjin gives a firm nod of his head, his expression serious. "Now that you mention it, he’s definitely a vanilla soy. Bland and boring. Targeted towards the middle-aged soccer moms that think veganism is a trend, not a lifestyle. Wants to be a people-pleaser but misses the mark.”

“I didn’t know it was Share Your Unwanted Opinion Time,” you grind out from behind a strained smile. “If I had, I would have said something about your receding hairline earlier.”

It’s a low blow but the way Seokjin’s plump lips curl in displeasure makes the dig worth it. One of his hands automatically shoot up to flatten the bangs that are usually slicked back with copious amounts of gel.

Offended, he spits, “It’s not receding! There’s a difference between premature balding and a bleach job gone wrong.”

"I'm not sure people care to differentiate. Looks like a receding hairline to me." You shrug while picking at your nails. “You’re nearing that age, too, so.”

“You just try looking this good at 30. Fucking try.”

He waits for a reply but your interest has already waned. You scroll through your phone, bored once more.

Seokjin makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat at the clear dismissal. You swear you hear him grumble under his breath - something along the lines of never going blonde again - but can’t find it in you to care, not when he’s finally ceased his nagging.

"Filming in twenty!" someone shouts from outside the door.

"They’re running behind schedule," Seokjin notes after glancing down at his gold wristwatch. "How can they take more than an hour to fix the lighting? Tch. Bunch of fuckin’ amateurs."

He aims a glare in your direction as if their incompetence is somehow your fault.

You have half a mind to glower back but miraculously withhold your sentiments. Admittedly, he isn’t wrong - the team you’re working with today keeps committing blunders even rookies wouldn’t dare perpetrate - but you’d rather get your driving license revoked forever than to acknowledge that Seokjin’s right and inflate his already unnaturally huge ego.

Something heavy plops into your lap. When you look down, the glossy surface of a magazine reflects the harsh lights suspended over the vanity table back at you.

“I didn’t want to resort to this but you leave me no choice,” he says in response to your look of confusion.

“What’s this?”

You hold up the magazine expecting the worst. It’s heavy in your hands, the pages thicker than the gossip rags you’d find in a dentist’s waiting room.

“’s the newest issue. Came out this morning. I’d actually like it back once you’re done because I haven’t finished reading it and God knows how hard it was to get my—hey, you can stop flicking aimlessly, I saved you the trouble and bookmarked the page,” Seokjin explains a bit impatiently.

When you shoot him a glance, his attention is trained on your face, not the magazine. He barely blinks. Like a snake honing in on its prey. And that kind of intense focus - that can’t be good. After all, you’ve known Seokjin long enough to suspect that whatever trick he has up his sleeve will give him the advantage he needs to deliver the killing blow.

Gingerly, you flip through the pages like you’re afraid the magazine might self-destruct in your hands. Which would be a waste, in your opinion, since Exquis is a damn good magazine - perhaps less intellectual than Playboy, but definitely classier than Hustler. Its reputation speaks for itself. Known for hiring the best photographers and carefully combing through their models, it’s selective, only picking the cream of the cr—

Everything around you stills.

Your eyes narrow at the spread because there, on the page Seokjin’s taken great care to bookmark, a model poses provocatively on a lounge chaise near a crystal clear pool. It’s similar to a shoot you’ve done in the past but you can tell right away that the quality of this is above and beyond anything you’ve ever done. The lighting is better, heck even the barely-there-swimsuit looks like it costs ten times more than whatever you had been told to throw on at the time.

The vexation you feel only worsens once it finally registers who the model is. Her youthful and pretty face carries a permanent haughtiness that not even makeup or acting can entirely mask.

The pages crease in your hold as you flick through the rest of the spread dedicated to the up and coming talents. With every new page that has her plastered on its glossy surface you feel your stomach sink.

2...3...4...

“Five pages,” you curse under your breath. For a magazine this renowned, it’s...a lot. Commendable, even. Your nose crinkles. “Well, fuck. me. sideways.”

Seokjin gloats, reveling in your outrage. “Hmph. I told you, didn’t I? Passing up the opportunity to work with Kim Namjoon would come and bite you in the ass.”

“Aha! So you have been a little bitch because I refused to shoot with Namjoon.” You whirl around in your chair and use the magazine to jab him in the chest. He easily steps aside, avoiding your attempt at wrinkling his trademark Armani button-down shirt.

“It was the chance of a lifetime and you knew it.” He turns his nose up and sniffs.

“That’s what you said about filming with Min Yoongi last month.” You roll your eyes. “I can’t take you seriously if you’re gonna say the same thing every time a new guy shows up.”

“Shooting with Agust D did help you gain some mainstream popularity. You’ve gotten love calls for catalog printings and your name is now automatically on the invite sheet for every C-list event in town. Namjoon would have given you another needed boost.” Seokjin folds his arms, lecturing mode switched on. You struggle with the instinctive urge to tune him out. “Sure, he’s got a niche audience, but he’s famous in his field and it would have helped expand your fa—“

“Not to kink shame or anything because we don’t do that, but Namjoon is a freak. And don’t deny it, I’ve seen his videos.”

“He’s specialized in particular—“

“You were the one telling me not to film all sorts of shit right off the bat,” you cut in, refusing to back down from your stance. There’s no way you’ll let him sweet-talk you out of this one, not after the multiple videos of Namjoon you’d binged one weekend. “Stick to one story.”

“Well, we’re not exactly ‘right off the bat’ anymore, are we? We’ve passed that stage. Right now is a crucial time in your career so you’ve got to make it count. Filming rehashed videos of the same pizza delivery guy scenario gets boring and fast. As pretty as you are, you’re not offering anything new to the table, are you?”

Fuck him. He’s right and you know it. Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman.

Still. “I refuse to work with a guy whose porn alias is Cock Monster.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Well I said no,” you insist stubbornly.

“Well if you had said yes, maybe it would be your ass cheeks getting their own two page spread in Exquis instead,” jabs Seokjin, hitting you where it hurts.

Ugh. The reminder that Joy’s bested you yet again riles you up even more. That, coupled with the likelihood of your career ending imminently, makes you stop and think.

Your agent goes on to say, “Don’t you want the AVN for best newcomer? Where did that competitive edge go? At the rate this is going, Joy’s going to steal it from right under your nose.”

“Like fucking hell,” you hiss. The magazine bends under the strength of your grip. “That one’s mine.”

You absolutely refuse to lose out to her. Every fiber of your being rejects the idea of letting her one-up you again.

“Not if you don’t start branching out. The last time you did anything substantial or interesting was about a month ago. It’s already old news. People are going to forget you shot that sequence altogether if you don’t do anything that puts you back on the map.”

A pause. “…I really don’t want to film with someone who willingly named himself Cock Mons—”

“Fine.” Seokjin heaves a resigned sigh. “You don’t have to fuck the monster willy. Willy monster? Hm. Wouldn’t it make more sense to name himself Monster Cock and not Cock Monster? Wonder why he does th—”

You suppress a snort. “Please spare me while you can. It’s amazing, that talent for making everything sound a lot worse than it already it is.”

“Why, thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“You trying to insult someone who’s willing to find you someone else to work with? I can always ask Monster Meatstick if he’s up for—”

“No! No, that’s - not necessary.” You force out a smile that wouldn’t fool anyone into thinking its genuine. “Why would I ever insult you? You’re the best agent one could ask for.”

“That’s what I thought.” He takes your compliment, forced or not. When he smiles, smugness rolls off of him in waves. “One day you’ll realize you’re taking my talent for granted. I’ll find you another onscreen partner even though you don’t know what you’re missing out.”

“Thank you.”

“But!” He interjects and this time you don’t bother swallowing down your groan, already dreading the stipulations he has in store for you. “You have to promise to hold up your end of the bargain and try your best.”

Indignation colors your face. Your mouth falls open, retort at the ready. “When do I ever slack off on the job?! I’ve never given a half-assed blowjob in my life - and trust me, the temptation was there. Do you have any idea how hard it is to stay focused when the guy can’t cum on command? I once had to get my jaw realigned.”

“I’m not saying you’re slacking off,” he backtracks, switching tactics. His expression is soon replaced by the business-like smile you’re used to seeing on the regular. Tone buttery and appeasing, he tries to convince you through flattery instead. “You work hard and do a good job… I wouldn’t have signed you on otherwise. The problem isn’t with the quality of your work but with - all the rest.”

“The rest?” you parrot back dumbly, trying and failing to comprehend.

Seokjin scowl returns, unable to keep his genuine emotions under wraps.

“D’you honestly think you’re at a point in your career where you can pick and choose your jobs like this? Ever since you started dating that - that thing - your workload has significantly decreased. And not because you lacked opportunities. You had them but you turned them all down.” Visibly getting worked up over the issue, his voice rises an octave, then two. “What should’ve been a good spring board, only brought you back to square one. I know I can’t force you to take jobs if you refuse to, but I can say that your potential is going to waste. I’ve never seen someone sabotage herself like this before and it’s driving me up the wall. While I get that you’re under the delusion that you’ve found true love or whatever Disney fantasy Jungmin has sold you, you can’t turn down projects over and over again without there being serious repercussions. You’re smart enough to know this. I shouldn’t have to remind you.”

Seokjin’s chest heaves as he takes in several big gulps of air, visibly out of breath after his monologue.

For him to explode like popcorn kennels in the microwave... You reckon he’d let his feelings pile up inside him for a while, silently stewing.

You’ve never seen your agent look so visibly distressed. He’s normally the picture-perfect image of composure so the sight that greets you is enough of a shock to render you speechless.

Deep down, Seokjin probably means well. There aren’t a lot of agents like him; you’re one of the lucky ones. Most girls are discarded by their agencies as quickly as used tissues once they get milked for all their worth.

Thankfully it’s never been that way with Seokjin. He claims that he’s in it for the long run. According to him the quick buck isn’t worth seeing the light die out in girl after girl. Perhaps that’s why he takes the task of ensuring your safety so seriously. How many times has he warned you to steer clear of this or that seedy director or ban you from attending drug-heavy parties? While his behavior can come off as overbearing on the worst days, at least he cares.

Sadly, it’s more than you can say for most.

In a way, he’s the only one in this business rooting for your success—if only because his paycheck depends on how well you perform. You like to pretend there’s more to it than that.

“I’m not - what’s Jimin got to do with any of this?” you splutter, still digesting the long tirade you’ve just been subjected to.

“Are you serious? That’s all you got from what I said?”

“Well, no, but I still fail to—”

“Do you think me a fool?” He crosses his arms tightly across his broad chest. “The only scenes you’re willing to shoot are when he’s on set. Are you a kid or something? Since when do you need supervision to shoot a sex scene?”

“N-no. It just worked out that way, okay?” In reply to his dubious expression, you force yourself to explain. “Okay, okay - I get it. Maybe I might’ve lessened my workload recently but it has nothing to do with Jimin, alright? My vagina needs rest from time to time. Just because it’s my job doesn’t mean I don’t need a break. I’m human too, not some blow-up doll.”

“You expect me to believe that he has nothing to do with it? You were perfectly fine before he entered the picture. And now that you’re all loved up you only pick—”

A knock, so timid you barely catch it, cuts off the rest of his sentence.

“Yeah? Come in, I’m decent!” you yell - not that you care whether someone sees you naked or not. The concept of modesty has long been lost on you. Some might call it shamelessness or vanity, but you take pride in how you look. And why wouldn’t you? Your body is your bread and butter. You spend hours in the gym every week so that your ass looks good no matter what camera angle.

“It’s me.”

The door opens a crack and the speaker tentatively sticks his mop of hair through the small opening. As soon as you recognize him, your heart leaps at the sight and you quickly tighten your robe together.

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Seokjin mutters under his breath.

You resist the urge to throttle him and plaster on your brightest smile instead.

“I wanted to see how you were doing. Sorry I took so long... I would’ve come earlier but they needed my help.” Jimin scratches a spot behind his ear, sheepish. “Someone tripped over the cables and smashed a camera lens so we had to find a replacement. The director threw a fit and wanted to call it quits so we’ve been trying to calm him down this entire time. He did - eventually, anyway, after he called his dealer on set.”

A disapproving frown tugs at his mouth corners and mars his otherwise perfect appearance.

You take a moment to swoon internally. You’ll never get tired of admiring your boyfriend. Unlike the majority of the on-set personnel, he doesn’t reek of weed or booze or stale cigarette smoke. His ironed clothes and immaculate appearance always make it easy to spot him amidst the hungover crew.

“That’s fine! I kept myself busy.”

Jimin returns your smile, his eyes creasing into beautiful half-moon crescents. You don’t know what kind of love-struck expression covers your face but next to you Seokjin makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a gag and a cough.

“Oh! Here, I brought snacks. I didn’t know what you liked so I just grabbed everything I could get my hands on.” He holds up a paper plate stacked with treats no doubt stolen from the catering service. “I know I kind of went overboard but I wanted to make sure you kept your sugar level up.”

“That’s sweet of you,” you coo, reaching to take the plate from him. He’s piled on the sweets so high that it’s a miracle nothing has toppled over yet. You aren’t especially hungry but take a bite out of a chocolate candy to show how much you appreciate the effort. Its gooey consistency melts on your tongue, the taste so sweet it sticks to your teeth.

“How adorable,” chimes in Seokjin, his hand grabbing a licorice stick from the mountain of candy before you can swat him away. “Thanks Jongmin.”

“Jimin,” he corrects good-naturedly, his smile not budging an inch. You think, privately, that’s what you like the most about him. Not many have the ability to block out Seokjin’s bullshit so effectively.

“Mmh,” your manager says around a mouthful of candy. “Seokjin. Pleasure.”

You elbow him while gritting your teeth. “Can you...give us a moment?”

Seokjin swallows down the treat and opens his mouth in protest. He has the audacity to look betrayed. “You’re kicking me out of our room so the two of you can get it on? Really?”

Jimin’s cheeks flush and you quickly cut in before your agent can make matters worse.

"I just want to talk without you breathing down my neck. Weren’t you going off earlier about how I didn’t need adult supervision anymore? Well?”

“Fine. Fine! But you owe me. Again.” He grabs his portable phone charger from the vanity table before making his exit. “And don’t forget what we talked about!”

What a fucking drama queen. You have no idea why he always insists on making a scene when you know for a fact that he would’ve left of his own volition in five minutes anyway. For reasons he has no trouble disclosing, he can’t stand Jimin’s presence.

“I won’t,” you grumble just so that you can get him out of your hair faster.

The door slams shut with more force than strictly necessary. Silence hangs in the air for a brief moment before Jimin turns his warm gaze towards you.

“What was that about?”

“Uh, nothing. You know how he is...” You play with the ends of your braided hair. “He can’t go very long without throwing a tantrum.’

“He seems very protective of you,” remarks Jimin, a thoughtful expression painting his angelic face. “I think that’s why he’s not that fond of me.”

“Nonsense,” you rebut immediately as you take his hands in yours. “Who could ever not like you?”

Jimin allows his lips to quirk into a small, self-deprecating smile that you promptly erase with a kiss. His lips feel pillow-soft against yours, and you let yoruself indulge in the feeling before pulling back.

You sigh, remembering the scene you’ve yet to film. “If only my co-star was you.”

He laughs at that. “Seokjin would probably throw a fit, huh?”

Jimin treats you to dinner that night.

He chooses the restaurant. It’s a small, quaint place, tucked into a hidden corner just minutes away from the bustling main street of the shopping district. It’s not the kind of place people stumble across by accident but judging by the occupied tables, business is doing fine by reputation alone.

The owner comes out to greet Jimin by name. They exchange warm greetings, the woman asking him how his brother’s been doing and whether he’ll stop by anytime soon.

“Ah - I’m not sure... You know how he is... I’ll let him know you said hi.”

“Tell him I’ll give him an extra serving of ribs. That was his favorite, right?”

When her eyes trail over Jimin’s shoulder and spot you, she grins so wide you’d think she won the lottery or something. “Park Jimin! You’ve gone and found a girlfriend! And so pretty, too. Ah, really...time sure flies by. I remember when you first started coming here - and now!”

You smile back, greeting her with a polite handshake. The owner is quick to usher you into a small booth in the back. She hands you the menus while patting Jimin on his shoulder. “I’ll get you drinks. It’s on the house.”

“You don’t have to do that!” protests Jimin, shaking his head. “Really. It’s not—”

“Nonsense.” She waves a hand at him. “You’ll get two more if you keep that up, Park Jimin.”

Once she knows she’s earned Jimin’s compliance, she leaves with a satisfied smile. You can tell by their genuine interactions that she’s close to Jimin. Family, perhaps? Either way, this isn’t a place Jimin tracked down on yelp. He flips through the menu with ease, like he’s done it hundreds of times before.

“Sorry about that,” he says once she’s out of earshot. “I used to come here all the time with my family when we all still lived here. They moved and live in a different town now so we haven’t had a meal together here in years, but. I still come here. The food is good, of course, but - I dunno. I have good memories here so I thought I’d share it with you. It sounds stupid now.”

He laughs quietly, cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

“I love it.” You can’t help but smile, cheeks hurting from the force of it. Invisible liquor runs through your bloodstream, a ball of warmth unfurling in your belly. “Thank you.”

A pause ensues. It’s one of those moments in which you’re unsure if you’ve said too much or not enough. Being here with Jimin means a lot. You’re not the most verbose person but you hope that Jimin can feel your sincerity.

Maybe your stare comes off as too intense because Jimin breaks the eye contact and clears his throat.

He fiddles with his earring and says, “The food is really good!”

Pink dots his cheeks as he attempts to change the subject. “I don’t know how long the place has been around for but the food is exactly the same. Apparently it’s the sauce they use? Auntie still won’t share the recipes with me and I’ve known her since I was a kid.”

He chatters on, gaining confidence when he notices you’re not put off or bored by his numerous anecdotes. As time passes by, he’s visibly more relaxed. His laugh is more natural, less restrained, like he’s using all the muscles in his face and not just the ones near his mouth.

It’s a stark difference from the first date, you think. Back then he had come off as quite shy, preferring to let you lead the conversation, only offering up tidbits from time to time. Now the conversation flows easily. Nothing feels forced or awkward and - it’s nice. The normalcy of it. Like a hot cup of tea before bed or the scent of the fabric softener your mother uses. It’s something you find comfort in, that you can see yourself coming back to and not growing tired of.

Seokjin can say what he wants - that Jimin’s too uninteresting, that you’re too mismatched of a couple - whatever.

Jimin likes you for you.

When you’re out on dates or when the two of you talk on the phone late into the evening, he rarely brings up your job. Instead, he asks you questions about your favorite TV shows, your dipping sauce preferences, the first album you purchased. These small details might seem inconsequential to others but to you, they’re a welcome breath of fresh air.

For all the talks of Jimin being too average and too normal, men like him are in reality surprisingly hard to come by.

Because what you haven’t failed to notice since you began your career as a porn star is that people love the idea of you. People who avidly watch you from their laptop screen in the comfort of their own home think that you’re some type of sex goddess - that you’re basically up for anything. In their minds, you’re a fun girl who loves sex, all kinds of sex, any kind of sex, and who doesn’t have any qualities or attributes other than making people cum until their limbs go numb.

Your feelings? Not really important. Feelings would make you human and being human would ruin their favorite fantasy.

That’s what takes you a while to learn - you don’t get paid to have sex, you get paid to sell dreams.

It doesn’t bother you at first. In a way, you think, it’s like acting. The porn star people jerk off to daily is a character you play, a mask you can take off at your leisure once the camera director yells ‘cut!’.

Very quickly, you learn people don’t share the same sentiment. To them, the line that distinguishes you from your job persona isn’t blurry - it simply doesn’t exist.

In the beginning, you’d stayed optimistic. Once people get to know you past the image they’ve built up in their heads, surely they’ll realize you’re not a sex-craved addict who only has dick on the brain, right? But with every new date you accept to go on, the reality of your situation only leaves room for disappointment and barely reigned in revulsion.

Even in non-romantic situations, people let you down. Old classmates, neighbors... It pisses you off that they assume you have no self-worth just because you’re a sex worker. Stevie from 308 down the hall once tried throwing crumpled bills at you, expecting you to crawl over to him for a fifty. The memory is enough to set your blood boiling. You can’t wait until you earn big enough bucks to move out of your shitty apartment into a nice high-rise penthouse, away and above all the scum of the Earth.

“You okay?” asks Jimin, noticing the crease that burrows your brow. “The food alright?”

You blink several times, belatedly realizing you had zoned out. Guilt and embarrassment well up within you.

“M’yeah,” you swallow down the spoonful of stew stuffed in your mouth. “Sorry.”

Jimin chews his bottom lip. Finally, he settles with, “Tell me if I’m boring you.”

“No, no! You’re not.” His evident doubt does nothing to alleviate the sudden nausea swarming your lower belly. “I’m serious, Jimin. I’m - Sorry if I gave off that impression. I just - I have a lot on my mind but you’re lovely. I’d tell you if you were - you know. Promise.”

“Would you? Sometimes I think you’re too nice.” It’s not delivered as an insult, but it doesn’t exactly sound like praise, either.

You force out a snort. “Heh. Wish you’d tell Seokjin that.”

“He’s not too cross with me, is he?” Jimin’s expression looks awkward, like he’s forcing his facial muscles to stay relaxed and mien nonchalant.

“Wh- oh, you mean because of earlier? He isn’t. That’s not him being angry. It’s not even you. It’s me. We just have - a slight difference in opinions, I suppose. If you can even call it that.”

“He doesn’t want you to date me,” concludes Jimin.

The frustrations you’d repressed earlier in the day come back. Why does Seokjin’s opinion matter? You huff, putting your spoon down.

“He’s not my dad. And even if he was, I’m grown. I can make my own decisions.” You roll your eyes. “Don’t worry about him. He��ll get over it... It’s not like it’s any of his business in the first place.”

“Still...” Jimin says, unsure. “He’s your agent. I wouldn’t want the relation between you to sour because of me.”

“Honestly, I’m convinced it’s not even you he has a problem with. We talked about it today and I think he’s getting antsy because, um, you know, I haven’t accepted any big offers lately. Like, I’m staying too much in my comfort zone or something. He says that in the long run that can be detrimental to my career.”

It’s a bit strange, discussing your work with Jimin. You both work in the same industry, Jimin as a second camera assistant and you as an adult entertainer, but outside of filming sets, you rarely acknowledge what the other person does for a living.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. He wants me to branch out and try new things.”

“What, you mean anal? Gangbangs?”

“Um, yeah. All that, probably...” You have to blink several times because of the shock of hearing Jimin say that so casually. “...Is that okay?”

“Huh?” Jimin in turn blinks at you, like your question doesn’t properly register. “Oh, yeah, sure. I’m fine with it. You said it’ll be good for your career?”

“Apparently.”

“Then, yeah.” He shrugs like he isn’t bothered by the news at all. “Of course that’s okay.”

A part of you wants to push the issue, ask him why he’d be fine with his girlfriend filming intense sex scenes with random men, but that inner voice is snuffed out before the poisonous thought has time to take root.

Isn’t this what you always wanted? A boyfriend who is accepting and understanding of your profession?

You wash down your worries with a gulp or two of soju, determined not to let your own insecurities ruin the rest of your night.

Less than 24 hours after you’ve agreed to work on a worthwhile project of Seokjin’s choosing, a slew of texts blow up your phone.

Unsurprisingly, it’s your agent. A quick scroll through your phone reveals that your agent has left you with no less than 15 messages, 1 voicemail, and 3 e-mails.

It’s...a lot. You’ve grown to expect that kind of fanfare with him. Like any man who deals with legally binding contracts on a daily basis, Seokjin ensures that you keep your word. He can be extremely persuasive when he sets his mind to it. You’ve seen men and women alike succumb to the force of his magnetism. Back when your filmography had solely consisted of amateur sex tapes shot in bad lighting with low-grade filming equipment, Seokjin's charms alone had been sufficient to win over lukewarm casting directors and book you jobs.

SEOKJIN : hey!!!!!!!!

SEOKJIN : ???

SEOKJIN : wow. you’re leaving me on read.........the audacity.

SEOKJIN : i raised you on my back and this is how you repay me?

SEOKJIN : do you not respect your elders in your household?

SEOKJIN : i swear if you’re blowing me off for jimmy instead of answering your calls .........

SEOKJIN : or blowing jimmy. either one.

SEOKJIN : ok it’s been 10 min. i’m chill but not that chill.

SEOKJIN : can you please stop sucking dick and read your emails. it’s important.

YOU : ever heard of multitasking? god gave us two hands for a reason

SEOKJIN : oh. nasty.

SEOKJIN : way to ruin my lunch.

SEOKJIN : well. suck down that nut sauce asap

SEOKJIN : cos what i sent you needs your undivided attention

YOU : i’m nasty?? me????

YOU : you don’t hear me saying nUT SAUCE you freak

SEOKJIN : nutté sauce

SEOKJIN : there. fixed it.

YOU : ...that’s not even a thing

SEOKJIN : well it should be!

SEOKJIN : adding accents makes it instantly classier, don’t you think? nutté sauce. has a nice ring to it.

SEOKJIN : honestly. sounds like some fancy four star french starter now.

YOU : ???? it absolutely doesn’t but ok

SEOKJIN : imagine. during a scene you just yell out

SEOKJIN : “i’d like a serving of your nutté sauce to go”

YOU : dicks would shrivel up on the spot

SEOKJIN : what? i think it’s brilliant!

SEOKJIN : my talent is wasted as an agent. should’ve been a scriptwriter instead.

YOU : yes i’m sure the oscars are weeping over the missed opportunity

He takes your sarcasm at face value, feeding you more ridiculous variants of faux french cum lingo—that which you very wisely choose not to reply to. Instead of humoring him, you open the .pdf file he’s sent your way, ignoring the near-constant buzzing of your phone as he’s no doubt pestering you for an immediate answer.

Had it not been necessary for business, you’d have blocked his number ages ago. In fact, after that nut sauce comment you’re seriously reconsidering, business obligations be damned.

To his credit, the film project he suggests you work on doesn't sound half-bad despite its questionable title. Why anyone would choose to name it THE SPERMINATOR is beyond you.

As you read through the proposition, you’re surprised to find it’s tamer than the initial imaginary scenario you’d played out in your head. Expecting to read through a long list of unnameable kinks and dicks, the scene description is rather domestic all things considered.

Your shoulders sag in relief. You enjoy sex as much as the next person, but even you have limits you’re not willing or eager to cross. You’re a human being, first and foremost, and, contrary to popular belief, not competing in the sex olympics.

From what you’ve read so far, nothing in Seokjin’s offer seems too strenuous or perverse. The scene in question is centered around a young, newly married couple trying to conceive for the first time and the sex acts are described as “romantic insemination” - whatever the fuck that means. The only complication you can think of is that you’ve never played the part of a married couple before. None of your previous films specifically target couples or women. Is romance something you can sell accordingly?

You’re quick to shake the concern off once you remember that no one cares if your acting is shit or not. All you probably have to do is yell out ‘Daddy’ a few times mid-thrust and call it a day.

Honestly, you’re a bit disappointed in Seokjin for choosing such a safe, no-risk project - especially since he constantly advocates the risk-return trade off as the way to live by. But you’re not about to start complaining. You’d rather shoot this type of innocuous scenario than ridiculous, hentai-like scenes involving freakish get-ups and toys of monster proportions not realistically made to fit in a vagina.

The deal is perfect. Almost too perfect.

Subconsciously, you must realize something is wrong. Maybe Seokjin’s many lessons have finally rubbed off on you because there’s a persistent voice in your ear warning you that the film proposition is a trap, one that you’ve unfortunately walked straight into.

Your wariness increases when he refuses to send you the script upon request. Alarm bells ring off but by then it’s too late.

“The thing is... Director Ryu wants to try a new type of project," Seokjin says over the phone once you call him up for answers. "He thinks he’s going to pioneer a new genre of porn and revolutionize the industry - his words, not mine.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“How do I explain this without you getting the wrong idea..."

“Is this meant to reassure me?!” Dread drips from your tone. You should’ve suspected something was off from the very moment Seokjin suggested to shoot vanilla porn as your next big project. What a joke.

“Calm down, it's not as bad as - whatever you're thinking.” Too bad that his attempts to calm you down have the opposite effect. “He’s been wanting to try out a new improvisation format for his porn movies.”

“Come again?”

A beat of uncomfortable quiet passes. Reluctantly, Seokjin explains, “Which means - there isn’t an actual script to go off of. That’s why I couldn’t send it to you - because there is none. He wants it to be as realistic and natural as possible so he’s looking for actors who can go with their gut and create their own scenario instead of ones who need to be directed.”

Your resounding silence speaks for itself.

Sure, sometimes they provide scripts to act as guidelines, roughly giving the actor an idea of how the scene will unfold, but no one is expected to follow it word for word. Most porn films rely on improvisation rather than scripts because of how notoriously bad porn stars are at acting and memorizing more than a few lines at a time, and the introduction scene never lasts very long anyway for it to make a noticeable difference. Besides, after filming a handful of movies, you’ve noticed the dialogue is more or less all the same.

What bothers you is that this director wants you to carry out a movie that relies heavily on improvised dialogue. Convincingly.

“C’mon,” Seokjin tries when you refuse to deign him with an answer. “It’ll be fun. You like acting, right?”

“Seokjin...” You pinch the bridge of your nose and try to keep your composure in check. “How do I break this down for you? I think you’re forgetting the most crucial detail here - I can’t act! The closest I've ever gotten to acting is faking an orgasm and I’m pretty certain that doesn’t count."

“And you do that very well!" says Seokjin encouragingly. "You'll be fine. Don’t stress over it. Your scenes with Min Yoongi last time were perfectly acceptable!”

“That’s the thing.” Stress makes your voice raise a half-step. “He did, like, 90% of the acting! Back then, all I had to do was moan and act like a slut! Which hardly counts - I was being myself. Whatever this - thing - you’re attempting to rope me into - I’m not qualified for it.”

“Sweetheart, we’re not aiming for the fucking Oscars here.” When he laughs, it’s practiced enough to sound sincere. “At the end of the day, it’s still porn. Nobody’s expecting you to be the next Meryl. And besides,” he presses on, clearly refusing to change his mind. “This is exactly what you need right now. Something fresh, something new. If you pull this off, you’ll gain exposure.”

“If I pull it off. Big if."

“I know it sounds like a gamble. I get it, I do. But remember what I always say? High risk—”

“Yes, yes. High reward. I get it.” Your frown deepens. “There’s no way to know this will work, though.”

“A good co-star already guarantees you half of the success. And luckily for you, the guy they signed on seems like the real deal. He’s hot, you’re hot. People will pay money to see you two fuck regardless of how good or bad the acting is.”

“Well. That’s reassuring,” you say, voice as flat as a board. “Although I suppose watching porn on mute is always an option if it comes to that.”

“It was a joke!” What worries you is that it doesn’t sound like it is. “You have nothing to worry about. I’ve seen some of your co-star’s tapes. He’s got a mouth on him, if you know what I mean. Just let him lead and it’ll go swimmingly.”

“It’s one thing to follow someone’s lead during sex but you want me to - to improvise for God knows how long! That’s just asking for a disaster to happen.”

“You said you were up for a challenge!” Seokjin throws your words back at you, his tone accusing.

“And you said this would be beneficial for my career! How is making a fool out of myself going to help me any? I don’t want to be remembered as the girl who can’t act to save her life.” You want to cry in frustration. If you had wanted to act you would’ve chosen that as your major in college. “I don’t - I can’t do this. I’m not - this isn’t what I signed up for! How do you expect me to convince viewers what they’re watching is real...”

“Just—” Exasperated, he takes a deep breath. Exhales. “Trust me. When have I ever been wrong about film projects.”

Is putting your career at risk really worth it? You’re not sure anymore.

On the bright side, it’ll finally get Seokjin off your back, you reason, trying to remain positive. That in itself is worth celebrating, right?

Fine. You’ll agree to it out of pettiness. Once Seokjin realizes what a terrible idea this entire ordeal is, you won’t hesitate to rub it back in his face. He’ll never hear the end of it.

"Who am I working with, anyway?”

"Ah, hm, well." Hesitation creeps up his voice for the first time, putting you instantly on edge. "...You won't know him. He's new to the scene - got started a month or two ago, I forget."

"Great. Not only am I being used as a lab rat for this director to experiment on but you're also pairing me with a fucking rookie. Jesus.”

"He’s not half bad! He’s not bad at all, actually. I wouldn't be insisting if I didn't trust him not to blow his load early."

"Aren’t I lucky,” you deadpan. “So I don't have to worry about him busting a nut before the director gives the signal?"

“All you’ll have to do is act like a married couple with baby fever,” he talks over you, ignoring your overflowing sarcasm. “And how hard can that be? You’ve been loved up with Jumin for a month now - that’s plenty enough practice if you ask me. I know you’ll be able to sell that romantic shit to the public without too much trouble.”

“It’s Jimin,” you correct from force of habit.

You’re promptly ignored — not that you expected anything less from him.

"Just give it a thought? And get back to me when you make up your mind. The sooner the better. The offer won't stay on the table forever." Even over the line, you can picture Seokjin raising his eyebrows at you, expectant. “If you’re serious about this job, you know what you have to do.”

You both know that you’ll accept the offer. Seokjin’s got you all figured out. As much as you don’t like being pushed around, the need to prove yourself is your main driving factor. The acquaintances who sneer at you, the family members who’ve shun you, the peers who expect you to burn out after the five month mark—you’d rather roll over and die than prove their misconceptions right.

It’s a matter of pride when you sniff and reply, “I’ll think about it.”

But the decision is already made before the call ends.

SCENE 02 - THE SPERMINATOR. TAKE 02. ROLL B.

Eight days later you find yourself squeezed into a brazenly short dress that zips in the front, more fit for a night out in a club than a dinner at home. It’s so ridiculously tight, you feel like a prey being swallowed down by a snake. There’s no room to breathe. You can’t wait for the scene to start, if only so you can dispose of the piece of fabric and never wear it again.

Unfortunately, your outfit gets worse because thrown over the clubbing attire is a frilly apron with small hearts embroidered along the hem. The mismatch is jarring. You’re not sure what look the stylist is going for but the end result is very...peculiar.

You comfort yourself with the knowledge that it could always be worse.

A quick glance at the digital clock on your phone confirms that you’re running on time. Good. After your last gig, the last thing you want is to spend hours waiting for the personnel to set up the cameras and sound equipment correctly.

Thankfully, today’s team works like a well-oiled machine. All that’s left are the last-minute preparations before the shoot begins.

Your false eyelashes are still drying when Seokjin elbows you sharply in the ribs. You crack open an eye to glare at him. “Ouch - ah, seriously? What is it now?”

“That’s him, that’s him!” Seokjin whispers under his breath, his gaze glued to a point somewhere beyond your shoulder. “Wooow. Aren’t you a lucky bitch? I’d gargle his nutté sauce for breakfast, if you get what I mean. He looks way better in person, damn.”

“Firstly - please never say that out loud again.” You fake a gag. “How do I buy myself a new set of ears?”

Seokjin ignores your dramatics. He shoots you a look. “You let that last guy draw a starfish on your face with his crème de la nut but did you hear me go sick?”

“That’s not the same and you know it!” Your jaw drops in indignation. “And can you stop trying to make nut cream a thing for the love of—”

“What’s this about nut cream?”

You whip your head around, mortification already etched onto your features. Your mouth opens, defense at the ready, only for your throat to clamp up.

“Oh.” You blink up in surprise because - well, Seokjin’s earlier assessment isn’t embellished. The guy is fit as fuck.

You’d seen photos in passing, had even googled his name out of curiosity, but the two-dimensional version of him pales to his real life physique. There’s a sharpness to his features that the camera fails to pick up on, a vibrancy that gets lost in the medium.

“Hey. I’m Hoseok.” His grip is firm, assertive, and your eyes naturally wander over his form. The loose muscle tee he’s thrown on puts his toned arms on display and makes it easier to admire the seemingly endless expanse of sun-kissed skin. He’s neither too thick nor too spindly, his muscles lean and firm instead of bulging. Strong but not intimidating. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Likewise.” You swallow, mouth dry.

You expect him to leave it at that like most of your past co-stars usually do. Or worse - for him to abandon all pretenses and cross lines that aren’t meant to be crossed. As someone who has experienced it all - from standoffish to creepy and vile - nothing surprises you anymore.

But unlike your, admittedly low, expectations, his gaze is warm and friendly. He speaks smoothly, leaving no time for an awkward silence to instill itself.

“Yeah, I know who you are! I saw a video or two of yours before - you were featured on the agency’s main page last month, right? Fuckin’ genius, by the way. Best stuff I’ve seen in a long ass time.” An easy grin sits on his face, nothing about it fake or contrived. “I hope we get along today. I haven’t done much work myself - yet anyway - but I hope this can be a good experience for the both of us.”

“You’ll be in good hands,” Seokjin assures, patting your shoulder like a proud parent. “_____ here is the best talent I’ve signed on.”

“That I can believe,” Hoseok chimes, his smile never waning. “I’ve heard good stuff about you. I won’t lie - it reassured me a fuck ton when I heard I’d be working with you. The stuff we’re doing is, well, it’s a bit of a gamble at this point, but I’m sure it’ll go well because I’ll be working with you.”

For a brief, embarrassing moment, you’re robbed of words, unable to respond to his flattery. From experience, you know to be wary of guys like him. Whenever someone lays it on thick they always have an ulterior motive. But what could possibly be his?

“Seokjin’s saying that because I’m the only one who can stand his nagging,” you finally say, your shoulders stiff. Maybe it’s because you’ve just met, but it’s hard to figure him out and it doesn’t help that you’re naturally wary of strangers.

“Oh hush. You love me.” Sensing how guarded you’ve become, Seokjin mercifully offers you an out. “It was nice meeting you, Hoseok. Wish we could stay and chat but she has to get ready to film the pre-interview portion.”

“Oh yeah, that’s cool. Catch you later.”

You offer a quick smile he returns tenfold, its brightness momentarily dazzling you.

Slightly dazed from the intensity of it, you stagger behind Seokjin, sun spots dotting your vision. Your surroundings blur together as your mind tries to recover from the interaction.

“Sooooooooo?” Seokjin sing-songs once you’ve walked far enough to be out of earshot. His brows are raised knowingly, an infuriating type of smugness clinging to his features. “What did I tell you! He’s hot enough to single-highhandedly melt a glacier, huh?”

You scoff, not willing to admit anything. “He’s okay.”

“Oh c’mon. He’s baby daddy material for sure. Which works out well for you since he’s gonna pump one into you later.”

For once the grimace that crosses your face isn’t exaggerated. “Please. Stop. Talking. I’m this close to heaving out my lunch.”

You’re not even joking with that one. Attractive as Hoseok may be, any talk of baby-making is enough to dissipate any smidgens of lust.

The reminder of what the upcoming scene entails and the expectations people carry crash down on you like a pile of bricks. Although you’ve done your best to ignore the fact you’ll be acting today, the meeting with Hoseok yanks you harshly back to reality.

You’re going to act. As a married couple. Trying to conceive a baby.

Three things that have never, ever been on your bucket list are now about to be crossed out in the span of the same afternoon. To that you can only say - what the fuck is my life.

Like a mounting wave before the inevitable crash, panic crests within you. You feel it gradually build and build, flooding your lungs and every crevice of your body with overwhelming anxiety.

Seokjin sighs. “How are you going to make it through today? The whole point of the sex scene is to get you pregnant. Or fake pregnant. You know what I mean.”

“Um...” You try to laugh but it comes out shaky. Seokjin shoots you a concerned look. “I’ll be fine! Really! I can do it. It’s just acting like you said, right? It’s not like he’s actually gonna knock me up in real life. So. Totally fine. It’s fine. Perfect.”

Seokjin’s concern grows. His eyebrows pinch together and his expression turns serious. He asks with no trace of mockery, “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay!” you reply. It’s too rushed of an answer to convince him. Your palms feel clammy and you wipe them off your damned apron. “Just. Nervous. Y’know.”

His steps slow to a halt and he places a warm, heavy hand on your shoulder. The weight, familiar and comforting, grounds you to reality. “Hey. What’s there to be nervous about? You got this.”

“Yeah.” You nod. Maybe if you say it enough times you’ll trick yourself into believing it. “I’ve got this.”

“Look. Let me be honest for a second. I’ve been an agent for eight years now and I’ve seen a lot of talents come and go. No pun intended.” You smile back at him weakly. “You’ve got something...extra a lot of them lacked. I knew the moment I saw you on film you’d go far. The energy you bring onscreen is insane. I know today might seem new and strange - but so was your first ever professionally shot film, right? And you got through that fine. You’ll do great. I know it. And, not to toot my own horn, but I’m always right.”

That earns him a laugh. The nerves are still there but thanks to his pep talk it’s easier to breathe.

Despite being a big pain in the ass, Seokjin is exemplary at his job. Without him, you’re acutely aware you wouldn’t have gotten half as far as you have. Having him by your side is a reassurance in itself.

Someone calls your name, pulling you from your thoughts. When you turn around, you’re face to face with the round, bespectacled face of Director Ryu. You reckon he’s in his early forties but he acts younger than his age. It’s your first time working with him but so far he’s been nice enough, if a little full of himself. Not that you’re unaccustomed with working alongside conceited colleagues.

“Oh good, you’re back. You can get seated for the interview bit.” He points over to a chair placed in front of a pale yellow wall. From close up, you can see a paint job is in order, the old coat chipping off in several places. “Alright, this won’t last long - just need you to answer some questions on tape and we’ll be good to go.”

“Sure thing.” You nod and follow his directions, sitting still while the hair and make-up artist steps up to give your lips a final touch-up.

Strictly speaking, the before and after interviews aren’t a necessity. In your experience, directors mostly film the short question-and-answer sequence when you’re set to film hardcore sex scenes as a way to show viewers everything is consensual and that you thoroughly enjoyed the experience despite whatever might have transpired on screen.

You reckon the director wants to film you today to document the process behind his “groundbreaking film project”. Cue roll of eyes.

Somebody needs to tell him he isn’t inventing anything, you think while watching him fiddle with the camera until he’s completely satisfied with the angle. All he’s done so far is add unnecessary pressure on you. You hope Hoseok is faring better because the amount of performance anxiety you’re experiencing is an instant boner killer.

“You nervous?” the director asks once he’s done adjusting the camera lens.

While by some standards you’re still considered a newbie in the industry, you’ve done this enough times to fall into a routine. Wake-up, breakfast, get ready, arrive before call time, fill out all the paperwork and get ready to shoot your solo stills. It’s familiar enough that you’ve long stopped getting pre-performance jitters.

Today’s rush of anxiety is as surprising as it is unwelcome. They don’t want to hear that particular truth though, so you keep your reply sweet and bubbly.

“Nah,” you grin, wide and easy. “I’m super excited to film today!”

“Oh yeah? Is it perhaps because of your co-star?”

Your smile freezes for a second. Somewhere over the director’s shoulder you can see Seokjin nodding enthusiastically while giving you the double thumbs up. “Hoseok? He’s hot, sure.”

“Ooh. Already on a first name basis?”

“Hm?” you let out a noise of polite confusion, only belatedly realizing that his viewers know him better as his porn alias, J-Hope. But there’s no way in hell you’re going to yell that out loud while he’s fucking an orgasm out of you. Not only does it sound ridiculous but it’ll shatter whatever carefully crafted illusion you manage to build. “Um, yes. We’re getting to know each other. He��s very friendly.”

“I’m sure he is.” And there’s an implication there that doesn’t sit too well with you but thankfully Director Ryu chooses to move on and put that particular subject to rest.

“You ever shoot an insemination scene before?”

“Not yet.” You make sure to keep the smile on your face even if your cheeks are beginning to hurt. “I can’t wait to get to it. It’s a fantasy I’ve always had but never tried out for myself. I’m excited to film a first on camera!”

The director has yet to call you out for your bullshit so you slowly start to relax. Acting is a bit like lying, isn’t it? Maybe you can get through today after all.

You breeze through the rest of the questions, forcing out practiced laughs here and there all whilst keeping your voice syrupy sweet. It’s quick work, especially when you know what to expect. Before you know it, it’s already time to film the pièce de résistance. Everyone that’s allowed on set during filming filters into the kitchen, conversations between crew members dying down as they use their last recreational moments to check their phones.

The director’s filming style exempts you from shooting the customary pre-shoot sex stills which are essentially promotional pictures of you and and your partner in every sex position that you’ll be filming for real later on. You’re thankful for that, at least. Even with all of your on-camera experience, staying perfectly silent and still with someone’s dick inside you is no easy feat. It’s worse when you have to keep eye contact with your co-star and fake sexual gratification because the shot calls for it.

Hoseok waves at you from the other side of the room, the hair and makeup artist dusting some powder across the slope of his nose.

How can he look so relaxed?! You’re barely holding your lunch down. Honestly, it’s a miracle you’re able to now tat the butterflies are back in full force, making a mess of your stomach.

You feel queasy but try not to make it too obvious even as Seokjin comes around to check up on you. The last thing you want to do is make a scene, especially when your onscreen counterpart's demeanor is making you look amateurish in comparison.

Maybe Hoseok is a better actor than you’re able to give most porn stars credit for because try as you might, you fail to detect any nervous undercurrent in his tone. For someone who is supposedly starring in his first major project, he doesn’t seem all too bothered about how it might play out.

How does he do it?! In all honesty, if Seokjin hadn’t informed you of his rookie status, you would be none the wiser.

There’s an ease with which he carries himself, a fluidity in his movements that belies no anxiety or awkwardness. Even from this distance you can tell that there’s never a hint of hesitation in his movements or speech; he doesn’t seem self-conscious in the least. He talks and moves with the assurance of someone who has been in the industry for months, not weeks.

In that moment you envy him. You’re so nervous about the upcoming scene that it’s hard to feign an air of professional detachment.

His boisterous laugh is loud enough to carry across the room and interrupt your line of thought. When you look over at him again, you find him folded in half, hands clutching his sides, and wearing a grin so bright it eclipses the entirety of his face.

“He seems nice.”

You jump, startled by Jimin’s sudden appearance. You hadn’t even heard him draw near. With a sheepish expression, you turn to look up at him only to find him already staring off into the distance. There’s a strange look painting his face, and a small crease in his brow that usually isn’t present. When you follow his line of sight, you’re met with the image of Hoseok talking animatedly to the the small crowd that’s flocked around him.

“Yeah.” You aren’t sure what else to say. Although there’s no sarcasm attached to his words, you can’t help but find Jimin unnaturally tense.

Which makes sense, you concede guiltily. A mere stranger is minutes away from dicking down his girlfriend. You’re not sure how you’d feel if you were to stand in his shoes.

You breathe in deep, silently willing away the knot of distress in your belly. There’s nothing wrong with what you’re doing. It’s just a job. A profession that Jimin has always been fully aware of, even before you’d begun dating.

Even as you remind yourself of the facts, it does little to dispel the lingering feelings of doubt and guilt.

“Hey.” Jimin frowns at you in concern. “You alright?”

“Yep!” you say then immediately sigh, knowing that lying to your boyfriend is pointless. “I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Nervous?” Jimin’s worry grows, the crease in his brow deepening. “What about?”

“Just—” You gesture around with your hands. “All of this.”

“Oh.” He looks genuinely surprised. “But you don’t usually get nervous... Is it the impregnation thing you’ll have to do? I know you’ve said you’re not a big fan of that. Or... Is it something else?”

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully. It’s a bit of everything yet at the same time nothing you can clearly pinpoint and put a finger on. In all logic, you know that you’re feeling disproportionately stressed out but you can’t stop yourself from feeling how you feel. “It’s not that I don’t want to film. I just - I’m worried I won’t do well.”

Jimin takes your hand between his, running a thumb in soothing circles across the surface of your skin. He repeats the motion several times until your heartbeat is completely synced to his touch.

“You’ll do great. You always do.” The lines of his mouth bend into a smile. “I’ll be on the sidelines cheering you on.”

“My very own cheerleader.” You allow yourself to relax and and smile back fondly.

As much as you worry about Jimin being upset with you filming sex scenes with other actors, he’s never been anything less than the supporting boyfriend you’ve always dreamed of. Seokjin calls Jimin’s constant presence on set maddening, but you’re thankful that your boyfriend sticks by your side while others might flee or shame you.

Suddenly, you’re overcome with emotion. Maybe it’s the stress, or maybe today you’re more hormonal than usual, but your eyes threaten to well up as you grip his palm tightly in your own. “Jimin, I—”

“Okay, lovebirds!” Seokjin claps his hands once, effectively ruining your moment. “Hand-holding time is over. We’re moving onto the more R-rated stuff.”

“Seokjin!” you hiss, upset over his horrible timing.

“It’s fine.” Jimin shakes his head. “He’s right, shoot’s about to start anytime soon. I need to get ready, too.”

“Right.”

Reluctantly, you let go of Jimin’s hand.

“Don’t pout.” He laughs and presses a quick, chaste kiss to your mouth. “I’ll wait for you after filming and we can go grab dinner. Italian sound fine?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” You bob your head eagerly. “I’m literally dying for carbs. Italian sounds more than perfect.”

“Good.”

You can’t resist sneaking in one last peck before Jimin retreats behind the cameras and you’re pulled to stand in front of a granite kitchen tabletop. Director Ryu is waiting for you, Hoseok already by his side.

From close-up, your co-star looks even more striking. The make-up artist’s work highlights his features without going overboard. The lines of his face are sharp, like every single one has been meticulously drawn. What usually would give someone a hostile and unapproachable impression is balanced out by the liveliness that lights up his eyes and his wide smile that looks almost too big for his face.

“It’ll start in the kitchen and then we’ll work out way to the bedroom.” Director Ryu points down the hallway. “I was thinking of keeping it all in the bedroom but nothing screams domesticity more than kitchen scenes, right?”

“Uh-huh.” You give a polite nod. Next to you, Hoseok coughs into his fist.

“Depending on how this goes we might have to take several takes - just keep that in mind.”

That’s nothing out of the ordinary. Sex scenes are never filmed in one take. There’s always one thing or another - a smoke break, a flaccid dick, a lighting fixture that needs to be changed. A 45 minute porn movie is the result of the editing team that painstakingly goes through, cuts and assembles hours of footage.

“Remember,” Director Ryu instructs, one hand cocked on his hips. “You’re still stuck in that honeymoon phase. All the two of you want to do is fuck like horny bunnies but your husband’s been away all day. Both of you have been waiting for this reunion for hours and hours. I want to feel that level of tension, got it?”

Hoseok nods like a dutiful student, his expression comically serious. You’d laugh if it wasn’t so inappropriate.

“Yep. Ok. Got it.”

You just want the director to stop talking so that you can get this over with quickly. The monologue is just delaying the inevitable.

Director Ryu spends extra minutes setting up the scene, emphasizing how in love and passionate the two of you should behave, describing how long you’ve been wanting to try for a baby, going into explicit detail about what the sex scenes should convey to the viewers. He just goes on and on and on with no end it sight.

At this point even Hoseok is growing restless. His feet refuse to stay still and his eyes dart around the room as if his attention is drawn elsewhere. It’s Hoseok’s constant fidgeting that draws Director Ryu out of his monologue. He finally senses that there’s a unanimous decision to start filming and retires behind the camera to settle himself in his appointed chair.

Hoseok shares a long look with you. “Is he always like that?”

“God, I hope not.” You lower your voice to whisper, “Seokjin - my agent - he says apparently Director Ryu wanted to make a career off of documentaries once he graduated from film school but quickly switched genres once he saw how little filming the mating habits of koalas was earning him.”

“Ah,” Hoseok nods conspiratorially before his features shift into something more serious. “Hey. Before we start, is there anything you’re not comfortable with? I know this scene is supposed to lean towards vanilla but you never know... I’d rather make sure. Just in case.”

You blink, taken aback. Hard limits aren’t really discussed outside of hardcore scenes. Sure, everyone is given a safeword before shoots begin but even screaming out “STOP!” or “Can we take a break from filming?” is enough to put the filmed scene on hold.

“Ah... No. I’m okay. But thanks for asking.” A moment passes and you add, “Is there - are there any words or kinks that bother you?”

Hoseok shakes his head. “Not for this one. Just - if there’s anything you’d rather me not say or do, don’t hesitate.”

You nod in reply, not sure of what else to say. Unfortunately your past experiences with men have made you suspicious of any form of flattery or kindness.

Soon, though, you relax. What reason is there for Hoseok to deceive you? Maybe he still has that rookie mindset. You can relate to the eagerness and the desire to do well you’d had in your early days of filming.

“Alright. Good luck, Hoseok.”

His smile is so bright that it erases your previous doubts. Surely someone with ill-intentions wouldn’t be able to smile like that, right? You return a tentative smile of your own. Something akin to understanding seems to pass between you. Although you don’t know Hoseok and he doesn’t know you, you trust him enough for this scene.

The moment is broken when Director Ryu directs Hoseok to wait outside the camera’s line of vision and you’re left alone in front of the kitchen stove.

Any moment now, you think. A telltale silence falls over the staff members as they all anticipate the director’s signal for the scene to start.

The first few seconds are always tricky. You’re no actress. There’s no switch inside of you that flips on and off as soon as the director commands “ACTION!” and “CUT!”. The world around you doesn’t fade out, your ‘porn star persona’ doesn’t claw its way out from within you and lunge for the nearest available dick. Sometimes, if you’re not attracted to your onscreen partner, you find your mind drifting off, making an inventory of your fridge and wondering what you’ll be able to cook up for dinner with two eggs and leftover rice.

When Director Ryu shouts “ACTION!” and slams down the plate, you freeze up. Usually you have an idea of what to say or do, but the words and actions won’t come to you this time.

Someone behind the cameras lets out a light cough. Oh right, you blink down at the simmering pot of water in front of you. The cameras are recording you making an utter fool out of yourself.

The spike of humiliation forces you into action. You’re more professional than this, damn it. You give the water a tentative stir, movements wooden and stiff. It’s hard to concentrate. All you can do is watch as the water simmers to a boil, the sound of bubbling water like a roaring current in your ears.

A door creaks open, signalling your onscreen husband’s return home.

To your horror, you find that you’re unable to move, as if your limbs had forgotten their primary function.

Before the scene had started, you had envisioned yourself throwing yourself into the arms of your loving husband and welcoming him home with a shower of kisses and words of affection. You had internally rehearsed it, had even thought of what you could say to him between pecks, but the reality is far removed from what you had practiced.

“Darling?” Hoseok’s voice is soft but loud enough for you to hear him over the angry sounds of boiling water. The vowels he uses are rounded, different from the bright pep in his tone from earlier.

You want to respond but your tongue feels like lead, too heavy in your mouth to articulate and form the proper reply. What are you supposed to call him, anyway? Honey? Hoseok? A nickname derived from his name? What do newlywed spouses call each other? Why couldn’t you give this more thought before the cameras began rolling?

Panic balloons inside you, threatening to burst. For a terrifying and mortifying second, you think that you’ve gone and ruined everything. The muscles in your shoulders bunch up and you half-expect the director to shout ‘CUT!’, give you a public scolding for missing your cue and berate you for your overall ineptitude.

Hoseok’s arms wrap around your middle before you have time to agonize any further. Just as you suspected, his arms are strong, the lean muscles flexing as he readjusts his hold around your waist. What you don’t expect, however, is the unadulterated warmth he radiates. His body burns hot; even through the layers of clothing separating the two of you, his warmth seeps through. But it’s strangely comfortable, not unlike basking in the afternoon sun during the last days of summer. You let yourself melt into his embrace.

“You’re not even going to say hi?”

With your back turned to him, you can’t be sure, but you imagine the pout playing at his lips. He tucks his chin in the crook of your shoulder. If he feels any awkwardness, he doesn’t let it show.

Miraculously, your mouth seems to be in working order again. It takes you a few seconds too long to find the appropriate answer, but it finally comes before the director can cut in to make any remarks.

“If I turn around right now, I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you,” you explain. “And - I don’t want to ruin our dinner.”

Just to keep up the pretense, you add a handful of spaghetti into the pot of water.

Hoseok lets out a hum from behind you. He’s standing close enough for you to feel the vibrations low in his throat.

“I hate it,” he says after a stretch of silence.

You pout. “What? My cooking? What’s wrong with it?”

“No, silly. I hate -” he sighs, buries his face in your neck before looking back up so the camera can capture his expression. “I hate not being with you. I missed this.”

He hugs you from behind before kissing your neck. It starts off innocuous - his lips pressing short, chaste kisses down the column of your throat. Quickly, however, his mouth lingers on your skin.

“Ah - don’t. I’m cooking!” you shriek when his teeth scrape over a sensitive spot under your jaw. Your protests are half-hearted and go by unacknowledged. The pot of pasta could overflow right now and no one would care, least of all you.

Hoseok noses your neck while he tightening his grip around your waist, the movement bringing his hips flush against your lower back. You give the pot in front of you a very unenthusiastic stir, attention focused instead on the way his lips tenderly skim the surface of your skin, testing and teasing. The sensation feels nice - and keeps your mind off of the several cameras directed your way.

“But I went all day missing my princess,” he sighs, open mouthed against your neck. “Spent all day thinking about you.”

“Y-you did?”

“Mhm.” He gives your exposed shoulder a peck. Then another. “Thought about your cute little laugh.”

His line catches you off guard. Your mouth opens but no sound comes out.

Porn is often crude and to the point. You’re used to men complimenting your body parts or praising your skills in bed. You’d never minded, either. But Hoseok’s choice of words make you eager in a different way.

“What else?”

“Well, your cooking, for sure. Without you I’d be eating out of ramyeon packets for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

You let out a snort.

“That’s true. Your cooking is so horrible it’s offensive.”

“Hey now. Don’t be mean.” He pokes your cheek before pinching your chin to turn your head towards him. “I can cook a decent omelet.”

Hoseok’s a good few inches taller than you so you have to strain your neck to be able to look him in the eyes. The slight discomfort barely registers. You’re too transfixed by the way he stares at you. It’s hard to place the expression because you’ve never seen it on a fellow actor before. Normally, the men you work with stare you down with hungry and lustful intent, but there’s none of that in Hoseok’s gaze.

The expression on his face cannot be described as innocent, either. He licks his lips, drawing your attention to the pretty lines of his mouth delicately curved into a smile.

“I missed the way you feel in my arms.” His voice sounds deeper, this time. “I missed holding you close to me. Kissing you. Reminding you how much I love you. I missed the look in your eyes when - “

“When?”

He smirks. “You sure you want to hear it? What if you can’t keep your hands off of me after? I don’t want to be held responsible for soggy pasta.”

“Hoseok,” you whine, one of your hands reaching down to slap at the hold around your stomach.

He tightens his hold around you and your breath hitches, suddenly all too aware of how firm his body feels behind you. The smirk on his face widens as he leans forward to confess his next words.

“I was thinking about how I miss the look on your face whenever I make your pussy sloppy with my cum.”

“Hoseok!”

One moment he’s crooning sweet words of affection, the next he’s spitting out filth. The quick back-and-forth gives you whiplash but you can’t say you dislike it. Unlike the tired and overused clichéd porn scenarios you’ve filmed in the past, Hoseok’s unpredictable behavior has the advantage of keeping you on your toes.

“You missed it too, hm?” He kisses your neck, lips soft and warm. “Kept thinking about how pretty you sound. So, so pretty. Especially when I give you what you want.”

“How would you know what I want?” You turn your head forwards so you can pretend to check up on the cooking pasta. “You were away all day.”

Hoseok’s eyes flash dangerously.

“How would I know?” he parrots back, his tone sweet and mocking. Something about it sends tingles down your spine and has you standing up straighter. “I always know what my pretty wife wants. I know because your body can’t lie to me.”

His hands wander, one of them inching up the material of your frilly apron to reach between your breasts. The movement is slow enough for a camera to zoom in and follow its trail. Hoseok rests his hand on your left breast and gives it a squeeze.

“See?” He repeats the action. “Your heart’s racing like crazy.”

You swallow audibly, finding it hard to come up with a witty riposte.

He continues with a chuckle, “You can’t deny it, can you? Your body’s too honest for your own good. It’s okay. You don’t have to say you missed me. I know.”

His self-assured way of talking makes it easier for you to react. This - the cockiness, the playfulness - you’re familiar with.

You roll your eyes and continue to give the pot in front of you a few additional stirs only for your breath to hitch when he starts to grind his hips against your lower back in time with your stirs.

Fuck is your only coherent thought. He rolls his hips so well it’s impossible not to imagine them doing something else. Your bottom lip grows numb from how hard you bite it.

“Of course I missed you.” You keep your tone as light as possible, determined not to show that his words and actions affect you.

Hoseok’s eyes narrow. He removes his hands from around you but keeps his front pressed against your back. He smiles again, dimples poking through.

“You don’t sound convinced... That’s fine.” It sounds like the beginning of a challenge and you soon learn why.

His nimble fingers play with the knot of your apron and you tense, expecting him to make quick work of your clothes and dive straight into dessert, so to speak. Once again, he surprises you by leaving the apron alone, hands falling to his sides.

His knees hit the floor, the noise startling you. Before you have the chance to truly react, he’s quick to pull your hips backwards until your back is arched. The sudden change in position forces you to adjust your stance so as to keep your balance.

“Hoseok?” you start to question but he cuts you off with a tut and light smack to your ass.

“You just keep your eye on dinner like you were doing before.” His fingers play with the hem of your short dress, stretching the fabric until it bunches up around your hips and leaves your lacy thong on display. “You can do that, right?”

Flustered by the position he’s maneuvered you into, with your hips thrust back obscenely, legs splayed wide and pussy on show, you grip the wooden spoon in your hand with more force than necessary. “It’s just pasta. I can manage.”

Maybe you sound less indifferent than intended because Hoseok seems more amused than offended by your feinted nonchalance. He barks out a laugh, his hands spreading the meat of your cheeks aside to get a better view of your lace-covered bits.

Privately, you wish you could witness his reaction. If there’s anything that turns you on, it’s knowing how much someone else wants you. If feels good to know that you’re wanted and desired. Even if fucking is part of your job description, the act needs to be mutually enjoyable for you to be completely satisfied.

“Sure.” The lilt in his voice is so sweet that it borders on condescending. “While you do that, I think I’ll have my appetizer.”

It’s corny, overused and a little degrading - exactly the type of one-liner you’d ordinarily find in porn - but he gives you no time to call him out for it. As soon as he’s done talking, he wags his tongue out and drags it across the red lace, and the repeated up and down motions quickly dampen your panties.

You notice with great frustration that he takes care to avoid your clit, focusing instead on licking broad stripes over slit and, to your surprise, around your rim. He doesn’t stop until your underwear drips with the accumulation of your essence and his saliva. The soaked lace rubs against you, the rough texture adding pressure to your most sensitive zones, until you can’t tell if the extra sensation is a blessing or a curse. Your hips jerk forward every so often, unsure if you’d rather lean into or escape his torturous games. Because as amazing as Hoseok’s tongue feels, you know your body well enough to be able to tell that this particular tempo won’t bring you to your peak.

An appetizer, he had called it. That’s exactly what the teasing ministrations feel like - a small sampling before the main course. It’s satisfying and maddening in its own way. Good, but not enough to satisfy your ravenous appetite.

He unearths himself from your dripping core, chin shiny with your juices.

“Keep focus,” he instructs as he slots two fingers inside of you. You’re wet enough that they slide in without too much difficulty, the stretch making your stomach clench. “I thought you said you knew how to cook pasta.”

Against your will, you force yourself to focus on the bubbling water in front of you. As much as you want to push your hips back and ride his fingers until you’re pushed over the edge, you can’t take the humiliation of messing up pasta - even if it is for the sake of a porn scenario.

It’s fucking pasta! You have to be seriously inept to mess up such a simple dish...

But what should have been an effortless task becomes more challenging than expected. Hoseok refuses to go easy on you. If anything, your stubborn silence is all the motivation he needs to thrust his fingers inside of you harder, curving them at an angle that makes your knees wobble. You struggle to keep any incriminating noises at bay but despite your best efforts, several muffled moans slip out one after the other.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, the logical side of you points out how dangerous all of this is. What if, during your impending orgasm, your body seizes up and knocks the boiling water everywhere during the process? You quickly switch off the gas stove at the thought. Better be safe than sorry.

Just then, Hoseok adds his tongue to the mix, his fingers relentless in their pursuit of your pleasure. You bite back a curse as the wooden spoon slips from your hold and clatters to the floor.

“Ah fu - Oh God,” you stutter, hands holding on to the edge of the counter for dear life.

You’ve been eaten out God knows how many times in your life, but not many have instinctively known what really gets you going. Hoseok laps at your core, tongue collecting the moisture that seeps through the fabric of your ruined panties, while his fingers scissor you open for his cock.

Your stomach clenches as you imagine how well he’d fill you up. Who the hell would ever want pasta for dinner when Hoseok could feed you his cock instead? Definitely not you, that’s for sure.

It’s easy to picture it. All he’d need to do is stand up, unzip his pants and spear you open with a practiced roll of his hips. Maybe he’d make you toss a salad while he fucks you from behind, slapping your ass whenever you forget to keep stirring the ingredients together. Or perhaps he’d let you ride his dick on the kitchen floor, too impatient to make it to a more comfortable surface.

Your imagination knows no bounds. Once you start, you can’t stop thinking of more lascivious scenarios, each one more daring and debauched than the last. The heat between your legs becomes unbearable and still, you ache for more.

Hoseok pulls away from the apex of your thighs and snorts, the sound pulling you out of your depraved thoughts. The pace of his thrusting slows down without stopping completely, his fingers still pressed deep within you. Your arms tremble as they try to keep you upright, knuckles white from the strength of your grip around the counter’s edge. You exhale shakily.

A whine works its way into your voice. “Why - why’d you stop?”

Ignoring your protests, he pops his fingers out of you and indulges in one last lick of your swollen pussy, before gathering to his feet. He rolls down your dress back over your bum and peers over your shoulder, acting as nothing had ever happened.

“Thought you said you’d take care of dinner, hm?” Hoseok has the gall to hum in disappointment.

Your mouth opens in outrage. “You!”

Hoseok pouts. “I thought we said you wouldn’t blame me for any soggy pasta.”

“You’re impossible,” you say without any real heat to your words.

“But you love me that way.”

He smiles as he leans in to kiss you, lips sticky and warm. You follow the pace he sets as best you can, unaccustomed to the way he takes his time - like you’re a delicacy that demands to be savored and not gulped down. On-screen kisses are usually rushed, messy, with too much tongue. They’re a scripted affair, more for show than out of real affection. When men tuck back your hair behind your ear or palm your cheek, it’s only to better angle your face for the camera.

There is something intimate about the way he holds you, the way he looks at you. Inwardly, you can't help but admire his acting skills. There’s something tender about the way he handles you that’s distinctly different from any of your previous onscreen partners. Sure, you’ve shot vanilla sex scenes before, but never of this variety. None of the male actors’ performances have made you wish, even fleetingly, foolishly, that the scene was real.

Hoseok pulls up for air before your mind can wander off completely, his panting mouth a hairsbreadth away. Lips touching but not quite.

Blearily, you blink your eyes open. You’re close enough that your noses brush against one another, your breaths mingling together. Hoseok’s eyes remain closed throughout, like he doesn’t want the moment to end. He looks so content that you can’t bring yourself to do anything else but melt further into his embrace, gaze drinking in the minute details of his face - like the tiny moles dotting his cheekbone and upper lip and the pretty curve of his eyes.

“And cut!”

You both jump away from each other, startled. For a second there, the storyline you’d been instructed to follow had slipped from your mind. You’re unsure if the lapse in judgement is good or bad but you don’t let the question linger in your thoughts. You’ll have plenty of time to dissect your performance at a later time.

“Good, good. That wasn’t what I was expecting but I don’t think anyone has any objections?” Director Ryu claps his hands. “Fifteen minute break sound good everyone? Then we’ll relocate to the bedroom to shoot the next part.”

There’s a general hum of agreement from the crew members. Chairs and various other equipment scrape the floor as the personnel prepare to migrate to the other room for filming. Jimin’s gaze meets yours briefly but all he can do is smile weakly in your direction before he’s ordered to help push some of the equipment down the hall.

Someone comes up to you with a bottle of water while another steps closer to blot the beads of sweat near your hairline and reapply a layer of lipstick. The make-up artist knits her brows in concentration until she’s satisfied with the touch-ups. She then moves on to Hoseok, make-up palette and brush at the ready, and grumbles loudly about the sticky residue covering his face. You hear Hoseok bellow a laugh, the sound so infectious that even the make-up artist joins in.

You sip your water through a straw, careful not to smudge your freshly applied lipstick, and check your phone for any missed messages.

“Was all of that okay?”

“Hm?” You look up and are surprised to see Hoseok stare at you expectantly. “I, uh, know some girls aren’t into ass play. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before jumping the gun but I figured - since you said there wasn’t anything major you were adverse to filming...”

His voice trails off.

“I liked it.” The admission is an easy one. “It did take me by surprise, but - I don’t have any complaints.”

“Ah, really?” Hoseok’s mouth corners upturn in relief. “That’s good to know. I was thinking - for the next scene - what if - I mean, are you okay with calling me Daddy?”

You tilt your head as you mull over the proposition.

“Daddy?”

“It’s not - you don’t have to. But listening to Director Ryu go on earlier made me think of something we could do. I think it fits well with the general idea. What do you think?”

“I’m fine with it.” Using the title doesn’t make you squeamish so you shrug in compliance. It’s not the first you’ve had to incorporate a daddy kink into the scene and it likely won’t be the last. You don’t see why you wouldn’t or shouldn’t do it with Hoseok. “I’ll follow your lead like I’ve been doing.”

It’s only as you’re following him towards the bedroom that you recall that you’ve yet to get to the crux of the scene - the damned impregnation kink. Even though you’re considerably less nervous than you’d been an hour or two ago, the thought of begging someone you barely know for something so intimate makes your stomach flip-flop. You don’t even have unprotected sex with Jimin and he’s your boyfriend.

Speaking of Jimin, you try to sneak in a peck or two before filming but Director Ryu intercepts you before you can make a beeline to where Jimin’s stationed behind a camera.

“How are you feeling?” The overhead light reflects off his round glasses and makes it impossible to hold eye contact unless you want to become semi-permanently blind.

“Good---”

“Wonderful. Well, we’ve positioned cameras here, here, and over there. There’ll be another camera man who’ll film with a handheld camera for closeups. Just keep that in mind. I know we’re giving you free-range to do what you feel is best and most natural but I’d hate to ask you to re-shoot because the camera couldn’t capture the both of you properly.”

You nod and he continues, “Also - please remember that you’re acting as a horny young married couple. I remember at that age I was up for anything, you get what I’m saying? People think just because you put a ring on your finger the sex automatically becomes stale. Fuck that. Show people married couples are freaks in the sheet.”

“Uh... Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He claps a hand over your shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”

Freaks in the sheet? What did he expect you to do? Try out all the sex positions in the Kama Sutra?

“What did he want now?” Hoseok leans over to whisper once you’re seated comfortably on the bed. You’re hoping the mics don’t pick up the conversation but would rather not take the risk of being overheard bad-mouthing the director.

Shrugging, you say, “Just that this scene should be spicier.”

Hoseok raises his brow, lips quirking into a smirk. “That so?”

The same cockiness you’d caught a glimpse of during your escapade in the kitchen is back and the memory you associate it with makes the back of your neck prickle with heat. You clear your throat and avert your eyes.

Thankfully Director Ryu interrupts before Hoseok has the chance to fluster you further. You follow each of the director’s voiced directives until you’re comfortably seated on Hoseok’s lap, dress hitched around your waist because of how far your knees are spread on either side of Hoseok’s thighs. There’s a quick, last minute adjustment as Director Ryu ensures that the camera in the left corner picks up on everything it’s supposed to.

Satisfied, he lets you take the reins from there, then gives the cameras the signal to begin rolling.

You don’t waste a moment, taking his earlier commentary to heart. It’s your turn to pepper kisses all over Hoseok’s golden skin, leaving faint traces of rouge behind like an artist signing their own painting. You stop a few times to admire your work. Lip prints and lavender bite marks color his skin and the sight awakens a possessive streak you didn’t know you had.

Your enthusiasm to mark him up gets a little out of hand.

"Mhm." Hoseok grunts when you lick over a sensitive spot under his jaw. "Slow down, princess. There's no rush. We have all night."

He cups his chin between his hands so you have no choice but to relent and direct your gaze up at him. You’re pleased to see that he’s not completely indifferent to your touch; despite his instructions to take it slow, the smoldering look in his eyes tell a different story.

He runs the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, the pink flesh no doubt swollen. You take the digit in your mouth, unprompted, and run your tongue against its underside, wishing that his cock could fill your mouth instead.

Hoseok makes a noise low in his throat, not quite a growl but close.

"And I intend to take my time with you." The look he levels you with promises a night full of mind-numbing pleasure. Ribbons of heat curl around the base of your spine. "Want to make you feel good."

"You do," you agree, words muffled around the thumb you refuse to let go of.

You take a hold of his wrist and free your mouth, only to quickly replace it with his forefinger and middle finger. The stretch of two digits makes you moan lewdly.

Hoseok’s eyes darken. He lets you play for a few more seconds before he takes back control, his fingers pushing deeper into your mouth until they hit the back of your throat. You swallow down a gag, but his fingers don’t let you rest for long. He drags them over the flat of your tongue, watching as spit dribbles down past the sides of your mouth, and repeats the motion, pumping into your mouth steadily like he would a cock.

As nice as it feels to be filled with his fingers, whether in your cunt or mouth, you’re ready for more. Subconsciously, your hips grind down in his lap, shifting this way and that until you’re perfectly seated over his hardened length.

Drool is pushed out of your mouth as Hoseok squeezes a third fingers in with the other two. You suck harder, hoping that all your efforts will spur Hoseok into finally fucking you. The knowledge that he has to, at one point or another, keeps you from whining and begging pathetically for his cock. You can exercise patience if you put your mind to it; you’re sure of it.

Your on-screen husband decides to test that resolve.

His other hand starts to wander south, his fingers toying with the short hem of your dress that’s been rucked up even higher with all your rocking and grinding. The movement of your hips slow, your brain unable to keep up with the stimuli coming in all directions.

A crack resounds in the room, the sharp sound startling you more than the sting that accompanies it. Hoseok’s palm rubs over the heated area, only inflaming it further.

“And who told you you could stop?”

The second slap is notably harsher than the first, and your hips automatically lurch forward hoping perhaps to lessen the impact of the sting.

You know he doesn’t expect a verbal answer; his second hand keeps your mouth plugged up, making any attempt at talking unintelligible. It doesn’t stop you from trying, only because you know the muffled protest are greatly appreciated amongst viewers. And if the way Hoseok’s digs his fingers into your smarting ass cheek is any indicator, you’re confident that he also enjoys your squirming and messy display.

“Keep moving, princess. I need both your holes nice and wet.”

The way his voice dips an octave makes your stomach twist in arousal. You long to tell him that you’re sufficiently wet enough for him to slide his cock inside right away but all you manage are pitiful garbled words.

He raises an eyebrow at your delayed response and your hips move before he can smack the globes of your ass for a third time. You have an inkling he’ll only hit harder with the intention of leaving marks of his own all over your skin.

It’s a careful balancing act, but you figure it out as you go. Bounce too fast and the fingers in your mouth will make you gag. Move too slowly for his liking and he won’t hesitate to add to the collection of handprints on your ass.

You lose track of how long he makes you play this game. Your mind focuses on sucking while keeping your jaw slack enough to accomadate the width of three digits. Drool pools down your chin, and you’re certain whatever the make-up artist had done to your lips is now ruined. Worse off are your panties. At the stage they’re at now, you’ll have no choice but to throw them out. Hoseok’s pants might need be as unsalveagable as your thong, you think inwardly, judging by the large, dark wet spot you’re currently sitting on.

“Mmh, good girl.”

He gently slides his fingers out, strings of saliva attached. He hums in satisfaction at the lewd sight and rubs his fingers across your swollen lips and shiny chin, spreading the fluids and what’s left of your lipstick over your mouth. You swallow, mouth sore from being used roughly for so long.

“This hole is sufficiently wet, I think,” he appraises, eyelashes fluttering before he casts a long look down your body until it reaches where you’re seated on his clothed erection. “Let’s check this one too.”

The way he smirks at you but makes no move to check himself lets you know that he expects you to do the work.

You let your hands trail down your body slowly, cupping your breasts as you do, enjoying his hooded gaze and the way his cock twitches beneath you a bit too much. When you reach the hem of your dress, you lift your hips up to pull the fabric up to your navel giving an unobstructed view of your lace-covered pussy.

Hoseok stare intensifies but you don’t feel any embarrassment from the scrutiny. “Well you certainly look ripe.”

His fingers toy with the delicate string of lace around your hips. He lets the material snap against your skin a few times before he grows bored or impatient with his own game and gives the lace a harsh yank. It tears easily and the leftover scraps fall into his lap.

“... But just to be sure -” His hands grip your waist and manhandle you onto your hands and knees. Your head spins from how suddenly he’s moved you around to his liking that your arms give out and you fall face first into the clean smelling bed sheets. “Gotta give my favorite hole of yours a better look.”

His hands hoist your hips at a higher angle so that your soaked center is visible for the cameras to pan onto. Hoseok slides in two fingers easily, then a third. Loud, obscene noises echo in the otherwise quiet room, noises that are quickly joined by your unabashed moans of pleasure.

Your core is on fire. Hoseok’s fingers are just as good as you remember them to be. No, better. The three fingers pump into you in measured strokes, the drag slow enough to keep you dangling over the edge without pushing you over.

Hoseok spanks your ass, hissing between his teeth as you clench around his fingers, no doubt imagining your inner walls hugging his cock instead.

“Christ. You’re always such a soft, wet little thing down here,” he croons in dulcet tones. “I could play with you all day.”

You thrust your hips back, shameless.

“Please! Please Daddy, I’ll be so good, I just - please - I nuh, need it. Need your cock fucking me full. I’ll take it so good, you know I will. Want you to - please! Daddy, I need your cum.”

“Shit.”

He fumbles in his haste to flip you onto your back. He crawls over your body, and you watch fascinated as he dives down to kiss you like a man starved. He looks almost feral, pupils so dilated the brown of his eyes is almost gone.

Heat blooms in your stomach as he kisses you deeply. The press of his lips against yours renders you a little less coherent as time ticks on, every brush of his tongue making you a little more dizzy with want.

Everything about him burns. It feels like being kissed by the sun itself. Every caress, every lick and nip leaves you feverish all over, like your drunk off his touch.

"Let me," he says, pinching the zipper of your dress between his thumb and index finger.

You wrap your hand around his and guide his movements. His gaze never leaves yours and it makes shivers run down your back. Even though you're the one controlling his movements for the time being, the look in his eyes makes it abundantly clear that the control you wield is only temporary.

When your dress finally falls open, you try not to preen too much under the reverent look that falls over Hoseok’s face. Your back arches a little off the bed, pert breasts thrust towards him - an appealing offer he doesn’t dare refuse.

Hoseok circles a thumb around your nipple, rubbing and flicking until it hardens into a stiff peak.

You wonder, distantly, how this looks like from the outside looking in. The man in front of you is a stranger in all senses of the word. Yet the way he touches you - like there are years of built-up affection behind every gesture - makes you second guess everything you know.

"Fuckin' love your tits.” He sighs, awe reflected in the dark of his eyes. "Love playing with them. Love how wet it gets you, how hungry your little pussy gets."

"Please,” you mewl, his words igniting a new wave of heat. It rolls over your body, leaving no extremity untouched. You burn from the inside out with raw desire.

You squeeze your own breasts in a bid to get him to touch you more. Hoseok merely chuckles, finding your desperation entertaining. One of his hands reach down between you to play with the wetness that clings to your core like a second skin and it takes everything inside of you not to rub yourself against him like a bitch in heat.

"What is it, princess?" His lips quirk into a smirk like he already knows the answer. "You're looking quite needy. How did you manage to hold it in all this time?"

“Stop teasing,” you growl, the lack of friction making you irritable. "I need your cock. And why - why do you have so many fucking clothes on?”

He chuckles, chest vibrating in amusement.

“Take them off,” you insist. Then, you grudgingly tack on a “Please” for good measure.

As hot as Hoseok looks like in his “work clothes”, he looks infinitely better naked, you decide as he chucks off his button-down shirt and gets started on his leather belt. With each new piece of clothing that gets discarded, the anticipation building inside of you skyrockets.

You take a moment to soak in his lithe figure, not bothering to hide how affected you are by the view. He’s nicely sculpted; you can tell right away that he takes care of himself. Swimming or dancing maybe? You hesitate between the two. His muscles are lean, nothing like the bulging biceps and thick forearms typical of the stereotypical gym rat.

Hoseok’s dick is, unsurprisingly, as pretty as the rest of him. It’s long and curved, a prominent vein running along its underside. The thatch of pubic hair that rests above his dick is neatly trimmed, the dark hair contrasting with the tan skin of his abdomen and the rosy hue of his erect length. Your eyes swoop down his thighs, licking your lips unwittingly at the alluring sight presented to you.

“Daddy,” you say, the whine in your voice unmistakable. “Want your cock.”

For a brief moment you’re tricked into believing he’s given in to your demand, but find yourself disappointed when he contents himself with rubbing his hardened member between your thighs, the glide slippery thanks to the copious amount of your essence that’s pooled there.

“Like this?” Hoseok asks, tone too sweet to be anything but mocking. The head of his cock bumps into your swollen bundle of nerves one, two, three times. You keen, your hips canting upwards in a bid to get more friction. “Want to rut against me until you get nice and creamy?”

He uses his right hand to spread your slick lower lips so that he can nestle his cock snuggly between them. He rolls his hips, the undulations fluid and dirty, and smirks at how you moan brokenly beneath him.

Your stomach clenches. “Need it in me."

"You'll get it," he promises after kissing you sloppily, lips sucking on your tongue. His breath is ragged but his voice steady, firm. "I'll give you everything you need. Make you cum so many times you know who owns this sweet pussy."

He speaks so surely, carries himself with so much confidence, that in the moment you can't help but believe him. The line between staged and reality blurs and you find yourself nodding eagerly, begging him as best you can to give you what you want.

The first tentative push of his dick wipes you clean of coherency. He slowly eases himself into you, reaching forward to lace his fingers with yours. It’s - more intimate than you expected. He squeezes your hand tightly in his when he finally manages to bury his entire length inside of you.

“Perfect.” He kisses the side of your temple before drawing back, his hard cock dragging deliciously against you. With a fluid hip thrust, he slides back in and you feel the stretch moreso this time around. The curvature of his cock has him pressing up against your walls in a way that robs you of breath.

"Daddy! Hh - ah, oh God. You're too b-big."

"Mhm, that's right. Daddy's fat cock is splitting you open. I'll plug you up with it later so none of my cum will leak out."

Every time he pulls back, your pussy clamps down tightly around him, unwilling to be empty even for a second.

Hoseok’s nostrils flare in arousal. He grabs your left tit and squeezes, using it as a hold to better fuck into you. With his body hovering above yours, his hand staking claim of your breast, and his cock drilling into you, you have nowhere to go. Pinned to the bed and unable to do anything but take everything he delivers, you wrap your legs around his waist and moan.

"Daddy's gonna fuck some babies into you,” he rasps, his eyes dark pools of lust. "Gonna breed your sweet pussy over and over. You'll be so full of my cum that you'll be pregnant with my babies for sure."

“Oh fuck. Yes, yes - oh my nhhg.” You sob as Hoseok drives his cock into you with more force. While the piston of his hips isn’t rushed, he pulls out to the tip only to slam back in to the hilt every time. The stretch burns in a good way and the sound of your moans are rivaled only by the wet, obscene sounds from your coupling.

"Fuck. Your cunt just - shit." He cracks down a hand against your ass and you shriek, not expecting it. "You're so tight, holy shit."

"Want it. Want you to fuck me good."

"I will," he says lowly, the promise reverberating deep in his chest. "I'll fuck you until you're begging me to stop. Fill you up so much, you'll be bloated with it."

And it should freak you out, the imagery he paints with his words, but the thought of laying there and him fucking you so well that you won't be able to feel your legs has you gushing out more wetness.

"Mmmh.” Maybe he can feel how soaked you are because he comments, “This is my favorite hole of yours, princess. Always so fuckin' drenched. I bet we’ll have to throw out the sheets again." He chuckles. "You must be hungry for it, right? I made you wait so long. No wonder your pussy is clenching like that. It needs a big, fat cock to milk dry."

“I missed it,” you cry, body skidding a little higher up the duvet each time he fucks into you. Your eyelashes flutter, lids heavy. It’s hard to concentrate, let alone form words, when your brain feels like complete mush. “I - I need your cum. Daddy, please.”

"Don't worry, gorgeous. I've got you. Daddy will feed your cute pussy his cock."

"Th-thank you, Daddy."

"Love you," he murmurs. It’s a quiet confession, lost somewhere in between the mattress creaks, the loud slaps of Hoseok’s hips slamming against yours, and the string of whimpers and groans pulled from your throat. It’s quiet but you hear it.

One of your hands reach up to pull him down by the neck so that your lips meet. He kisses you open-mouthed. It’s a filthy kiss, one that makes you moan into his mouth. You’re certain that if you had been standing your knees would have wobbled.

When you let up for air, Hoseok’s staring you down, his red-bitten lips plump and shiny.

"Love this pussy. So sweet and wet for me. Always for fucking swollen, like it's waiting to get a pounding. Love that. Love how eager you are to be bred by my thick cock."

The impregnation kink is - a bit much. You've never really imagined having kids, at least not anytime soon. You can’t even keep your plants alive for fuck’s sake.

But the way he suggests it is nothing like what you had imagined. His suggestions are - vulgar and primal. Like the urge to fuck you full of his cum is biological and he can’t smother it.

For a moment, you let yourself entertain the thought of being his breeding bitch - of laying on your back and letting him fuck load after load of cum inside you until your pussy physically can't accommodate any more. Of not having any other worries or thoughts but take his cock every moment of the day.

"You just got tighter.” He curses under his breath, voice thick with arousal. "Such a warm little hole. Taking everything I give it. You'd take anything if it meant getting bred by me, right?"

“Yes, yes,” you chant, pleasure coiling inside of you. “Give me more! I need it."

"Shit. You can't handle more, princess," he tries to reason. "Daddy needs to be gentle with you. Your hole is so small, it'll hurt if I go harder."

"Daddy promised to fuck me.” You whine, uncaring if you sound too bratty and demanding. "B- Breed my hole. It's yours. Puh-please use me."

"God." Hoseok groans, his features twisting in what looks to be pain or pleasure. With tremendous effort he pulls himself out of you and your eyes widen in panic.

“What? Daddy why? I thought—”

He shushes you, reaching somewhere overhead to grab a fluffy pillow. "Just wait a sec, okay? There you go.”

The pillow is placed underneath your hips, keeping them elevated. When Hoseok takes his glistening cock in hand and directs it back in, you both moan in unison.

"Oh fuck, I’m gonna, ah,” you gasp as your mind goes blank with pleasure. The new angle is heaven on earth. It’s almost too much, too quick, but Hoseok’s firm grip on your hips prevents you from alleviating the pressure.

"Take it." He grunts, brows knit together. Every powerful snap of his hips makes your breasts bounce, your breath hitch. Without his hands keeping you pinned down, your head would have collided with the headboard by now. "Be a good princess and take your fucking."

He gains momentum, the new angle facilitating the slide of his cock. He drags the flat of his palm down your thigh and takes a hold of your knee before hoisting it up over your shoulder. The stretch burns the back of your calves but you’re so fucked out, you can’t even find the words to complain.

When you glance up, it’s to fall upon the sight of Hoseok brushing his sweaty fringe out of his face. His cheeks are flushed pink, his skin dewy from the film of perspiration wrapped around his body. Beads of sweat trickle down his heaving chest but he chooses to forgo a quick break. On the contrary, he pushes in deeper like he’s determined to carve out a permanent space for his cock.

"Just gonna keep you here,” he huffs, his eyes the shade of cloudless night sky. “Everyday I'll fuck my cum back inside of you so that you'll always stay full. Want to fuck you forever. Don't want this to end."

"Want it too," you sob, orgasm hovering just on the periphery. "Want you to keep me full forever. Ugh - oh fuck! Hoseok- I'm—"

"You gonna cum around my cock, princess?" He angles his hips downwards, relishing in the wanton cry it elicits. "Gonna give me everything?"

"I'm yours," you profess, jaw slack with pleasure.

It doesn’t take much more for the orgasm to crash over you, Hoseok fucks you through it, groaning as your inner walls spasm around him. He breathes out curses, lip drawn tight between his lips, and doesn’t wait for the last waves of your orgasm to abate to chase after his own end.

In the throes of your pleasure, it doesn’t register then that Hoseok has been holding back all this time. If you thought he had been fucking you hard before, it’s nothing compared to now. He growls and bends forward, forcing your leg to stretch even more, and pushes in and out of you at a pace that makes you scream.

You don’t even have time to come down from your first high that you’re already thrown towards your second. Hoseok plugs your mouth up using two digits, his fingers a firm pressure against your tongue. Your eyes roll back, too overwhelmed from the feeling of being stuffed on both ends.

“God, I could fuck your holes all fucking day.” His rhythm begins to falter as the pressure inside of him grows, his movements frantic and less controlled than they’ve ever been. “How about that? I’ll fuck my princess’ mouth properly next time, stretch it out nicely. Then you’ll let me have your ass, hm?��

Shit, shit, you whimper around his fingers, spit bubbling down the sides on your mouth. It’s scary knowing you have no way to stop the oncoming destruction.

“Yeah, I can tell you love that. You’re gonna cream my dick again, aren’t you?” You can’t tell if the sound he makes is a laugh or a grunt. All you know is that you feel like you’re about to burst. “C’mon, be a good girl and milk my cum out. You better get every last drop.”

There’s an underlying threat in his command. You do your best to obey his words, not wanting to disappoint.

Hoseok pushes his cock in as deep as it can go and grinds his hips into yours. His cock reaches so deep that you swear he might hit your cervix. And considering the nature of the scene you’re portraying, maybe that’s what he intends.

He swipes his fingers through the mess of your cunt, zeroing in on your sensitive clit. He swirls some of your fluids over it before giving it a sharp pinch that makes you cry out. Your hips fly off the pillow but Hoseok is quick to pin you back down. The never-ending drag of his cock along your walls paired with the rough ministrations to your clit is all you need for the pressure inside you to snap.

Above you, Hoseok moans, low and throaty, as he finally dumps rope after rope of warm cum inside of you. He throws his head back, exposing the collar of purplish bruises you sucked onto his skin earlier. Something about the view satisfies you immensely - not that you’d dare voice these thoughts out loud.

Hoseok’s strength gives out and he sags onto your body, his breath warm against your skin. He feels hot, like a furnace, but strangely it’s not uncomfortable. It’s almost like having a personal heating pad; the soreness of your muscles melts away with each passing moment.

Much to your displeasure, your post-coital bliss doesn’t last forever. He's given the signal to pull out and obeys, careful to keep your hips propped up so that his load of cum won’t slosh out. He’s still got a role to play, after all, and the end goal is to get you pregnant.

A cameraman walks forward to zoom in on your swollen and used pussy - physical proof of your exploits. The haze lifts. You become more aware of the people standing on the outskirts of your vision, lighting or sound equipment in hand.

“And that’s a wrap!” Director Ryu calls, his cheeks stretched to accommodate the width of his grin. “Good job everybody!”

You breathe out a sigh, glad your day is finally over. Seokjin walks up to you with a robe for you to throw on and you nod in thanks, slipping the satin gown over your sweaty body.

Around you, the staff start milling about, putting the equipment away and gathering their belongings. You pay them no heed, your attention focused on getting changing into showering and changing into comfortable clothes. You’re in the middle of taming your messy hair when your stomach erupts into growls, reminding you of your hungry state. What you’d do for a big slice of piz—

You remember your date with Jimin and speed up, not wanting to make him wait around for you any longer. It’s not hard to spot him - he’s waiting outside of your dressing room, can of coke in hand.

Something about his smile feels off.

Maybe it’s the way his eye corners don’t crease or the slight strain the curve of his mouth that betray him.

Your expression falls. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing - it’s nothing, don’t worry,” he says after a short, tense moment of silence. The look on your face must have reflected your feelings of doubt because he proceeds by reaching out and pulling you tight against him. Pressed up against his shirt, you can smell the faintest trace of the fabric softener he uses and its scent, familiar and sweet, mollifies you somewhat. “You did amazing today, baby. As usual.”

The compliment you’ve been waiting for makes the sides of your lips rise automatically. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Almost too well.” He hums, one of his hands stroking the back of your head.

“Well, I can’t take all the credit, “ you admit. “The results wouldn’t have been half as good if Hoseok hadn’t been my partner. He’s new in the game but he doesn’t act like it, does he?”

“He doesn’t, no.” Jimin agrees. “He’s... he’s something, alright.”

Your grin widens. All your worrying had been for nothing, in the end. The shoot had gone without a hitch, all of the set members coming up to you with praises of a job well done. You can’t recall the last time any of your performances had elicited such a response post-filming. Even Director Ryu looks particularly pleased, a permanent grin etched onto his features as he reviews the tapes. The knowledge that you’ve done well fills you with a pleasant giddiness that warms your insides and makes your cheeks hurt from how wide your smile stretches.

“Oh good, you’re still here.” Hoseok beams. A damp towel hangs around his neck and the ends of his hair are wet like he’s just gone and doused his head under the bathroom faucet. “I was worried you had left. I just - thanks for earlier. I had a lot of fun! If the chance presents itself, I hope we can work together again.”

“Thank you.” You want to praise him too, know that his performance deserves it, but your next words are cut off before they have the chance to form. Jimin steps closer to you, his grip on your hip tightening suddenly.

When you glance up to check on your boyfriend, he’s sporting a serious expression that you’ve rarely seen before. He doesn’t look angry, but it’s clear as day that he isn’t too pleased with the present situation. His face is closed off, cold, unwelcoming - so drastically different from the usual cherubic sweetness you’re accustomed to seeing.

You’re at a loss for words, unsure of who to address first. What’s going on?

Hoseok senses the sudden change in atmosphere and chooses to tactfully retreat.

“Good work, man.” He nods at Jimin and then shoots you a wave. “See you around sometime, ______ !”

Your eyes follow his exit before you turn to face Jimin again, hoping the smile on your face masks the worry you feel bubbling on the inside.

“Jimin what - I mean, are you sure you're okay?”

Jimin returns a strained smile of his own. “I’m fine.”

Your gaze lands on his right hand that’s still squeezing your waist. It borders on uncomfortable but you try not to let it show. You must not do a very good job at schooling your features because Jimin quickly apologizes for his behavior.

“Sorry.” Jimin lets you go once he notices your discomfort. “I just - I don’t know. You’re right, I’m not acting like myself. I think...seeing you say that stuff and act that way just - I’m not sure why, I guess - Since usually the sex isn’t like that, it caught me off guard.”

“You didn’t like that I acted like I was in love with him.”

“Would anyone?” he shoots back, smile sardonic. “It just looked so convincing in the moment. I guess it got me worked up.”

Sure, Hoseok is hot. If you had to work with him again, you would in a heartbeat. It’s not often you land a colleague you’re so sexually compatible with, who also happens to be so well-mannered and good-looking. It’s like hitting the jackpot, really.

But - just because you’d fuck him again for professional reasons, doesn’t mean that you’re interested in him beyond that.

“Jimin. I don’t want to be with anybody else but you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” The muscles in his face relax. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

It’s not until later, as he fucks you uncharacteristically hard in the backseat of his car parked in the back lot of the film studio, that you begin to wonder if things really are as idyllic as you believe them to be.

#wow so this took a decade and a half to finish but it's finally here !#final part should be up by the end of the month : )#bts smut #hoseok smut #hoseok #also warning i didn't proofread the smut scene yet so rip if there are any mistakes

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hatsukeii · 4 years

Note

Sorry if this is becoming a Tsukki stan blog with all the requests you get for him lmao. All of your precious depressed!Tsukki asks got me thinking. How would he comfort his girlfriend who is having nightmares about him committing suicide after she found him cutting or maybe attempting? I had to break into a friend’s house a couple years ago to stop him from committing suicide and as much as I love him, the thought of that night still haunts me. Thank you for even reading this honestly. 🥺

Okay this was on my list for one of the requests I had to do asap bc it seems like a serious issue that needs attention so I’m putting off the matchups and hcs and doing this one first.

But like it’s still super late I’m sorry-

Plus there’s nothing to be sorry about lol this blog becoming a tsukki stan blog is 100% okay-

I sure as hell hope you’re doing alright, and that your friend is safe, you two seem like amazing people:)

Darling, I’m right here//Depressed!Tsukishima x Reader

Word count: 1600+ (A bit shorter than usual I’m sorry-)

Warnings: Depression, attempted suicide, mild swearing

Summary: You wake up to a reoccurring nightmare.

“Tsukishima?”

“Kei? What are you doing?”

Thank god you had to get to school extra early that day. There Tsukishima was, sitting on the train platform, his feet dangling off the edge. “Kei?” He stayed silent, ignoring you as a bright light headed towards his direction. You knew he was depressed, but you sure as hell didn’t think he would actually try to commit suicide. Your eyes widened as you watched his hands push himself off the platform, landing onto the train tracks. You lifted your leg, desperate to rush over and pull him back up, but it was as if your feet were bolted to the ground, refusing to move. “COME ON! MOVE!” The train was now nearing him, it was guaranteed that it would hit him if he didn’t get out in the next three seconds. You tried to scream, tears flowing freely down your face, but nothing came out. You felt your throat burning, however all that was produced from your mouth were inaudible wheezes and whimpers. Your legs wouldn’t cooperate with you however hard you tried, refusing to leave the cold ground. Your fists were clenched so tight crescent shaped marks etched themselves into your palm. Everything went into slow motion as the train came into sight. Tsukishima sent you one last glance, smiling softly, before everything was painted red and his body was gone. Time seemed to go straight back to normal right afterwards. At the same moment, your legs decided to detach themselves from the ground, and your voice came back almost instantly. “KEI? KEI NO!” You bolted to the platform, hoping to find something, anything, that could convince you this was fake. The air around you was thick, the smell of blood wafting into your nose as you stare at the train tracks in horror. “Why? Why couldn’t I save you just now?” Your heart was thumping furiously, blocking all foreign noise out as you squeezed your eyes shut. You don’t even know what happened, but the second you opened up your eyes, you were in the hall at school, students crowding around your locker. “Wait, you were there when he did it?” “Why didn’t you save him?” “How could you just let him jump off?” The questions never stopped coming. You slammed your hands over your ears, frantically trying to shut out the haunting voices. “No, nononononono stop, please! Please, I couldn’t do anything I couldn’t save him!”

“I COULDN’T SAVE YOU!”

You gasped, hitting your head on the coffee table as you bolted upwards, cold sweat dripping off your forehead as you panted. Tear stains were evident on your face, although you swear you didn’t know you were crying. Your hair was a disheveled mess, strands of baby hair sticking out of your head. Grabbing your sheets in one hand and your chest in the other, you continued to pant heavily, your mind racing in between your reoccurring nightmare and reality. Why was it that again? That was at least a year ago, and yet it still haunted you to this day. You were quick enough to grab Tsukishima from the platform during his attempt, but was that nightmare going to happen if you couldn’t pull him back to safety in time? Would he have died just like that, with no one knowing until a day later? Just the thought of the possibility made you shudder. Your hands made their way next to you, where your boyfriend was comfortably sleeping. Scrambling for his chest, you heaved a heavy sigh when you felt his steady heartbeat on your palm, breathing along to the beats on his chest. You gulped down your saliva, gripping his shirt tightly, as if you were too afraid to even let go for a second. You weren’t going to let him go ever again. Not when he obviously needed support and affection. You looked around Hinata’s living room. The movie from an hour ago was still on, however all the boys were already fast asleep. Kageyama was peacefully snoring away on the couch, Hinata was drooling all over his pillow, Nishinoya was grumbling in his sleep, Tanaka was making weird punching motions, and Yamaguchi stirred a little bit, his eyes squeezing shut. You pretended to lay down again, not wanting to concern the freckled boy with your sudden outburst. His body eventually went limp again as he continued to snore softly. Seeing that the coast was clear, you sat back up, trying to calm yourself down for the third time this week. Your hand was still grabbing onto the blond’s shirt, feeling the soft fabric in between your fingers.

“(Y...Y/N)?”

You froze.

Shit. You forgot that Tsukishima was a light sleeper.

Feeling him shift underneath your hand, you instantly let go of his shirt, gripping onto the mattress Hinata gave you two instead. The mattress dipped a bit, Tsukishima starting to carefully sit up. His hair was messier than usual, despite it being relatively short. Rubbing his eyes, he gave your hunched over figure a glance, completely confused. “(Y/N), what are you doing up so late?” Rapidly turning around, your hand landed on his chest, feeling for his heartbeat. Next, it went up to cup his cheeks, then his arms as your eyes took in his entire body frantically. Finally, your arms wrapped around his neck, burying yourself in his presence. Awkwardly, he returned the embrace by patting your back with one hand, the other arm wrapping around your waist. Your mind was on the verge of insanity. His attempt at suicide was still overwhelming to you, even if it’s already been an entire year. Most people would ask why you haven’t moved on, but truth be told, you couldn’t. Tsukishima was still depressed, he could very well try doing it again, maybe this time in an even more subtle way. In a way where not even you can stop him. You were scared. Anxious. Terrified. Just the thought of him leaving you forever was too much to bear, and brought you to tears. You would have frequent nightmares about him killing himself in various ways. Pills, hanging, jumping off a roof, and the worst of them all, jumping into the train tracks. His initial attempt. And every single time, you wouldn’t be able to save him. You would be stuck to the floor, hopelessly draining yourself of your energy as you try to scream. “I couldn’t save you, what? Why? How are you here? I thought you jumped in? This isn’t a dream right?”

That was when it struck Tsukishima. Everything was clear as day now. The reason why you came to school sleep deprived every day. Why you constantly fell asleep in class. Why you were always last online at three in the morning. “Why did you never tell me about this?” He could feel the wetness of your tears as you forced your face into his neck more. “Didn’t want you t-to worry more than you already do. I’m gonna go crazy if I see another c-cut on that beautiful skin of yours.” His hand stopped, resting in the small of your back. “(Y/N)...” He didn’t think his self harming tendencies and his suicide attempt would affect you this much. He never thought anyone really cared. However when you hauled him home and screamed at him after catching him trying to jump into the train tracks, that ignited something in him. He now had someone he had to- no. Wanted to protect. One person cared enough to save him, and that was all it took for him to realise a bit of his self worth. He would do anything to keep you happy and safe. One of your first requests was for him to stop cutting. He had stopped scattering his skin with cuts, despite his crippling depression. He had done it just for you, and it felt amazing. You usually just waved him off with a casual “Insomnia’s a bitch” whenever he asked about the dark eye bags, or the questionable time you were last online. Never did the thought that you were still traumatised from events that happened over a year ago pass his mind. He should’ve known that this would affect you badly. How could he have been so selfish? Disregarding your emotions as he tried to end his life. He felt terrible. He was pissed at himself. For being so selfish and foolish.

He heaved a heavy sigh, mentally punching his nuts. Moving his hand from your back, he caressed your head tenderly, as if you were a glass statue that would break with the tiniest push. You sobbed even harder, squeezing him tight. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” His eyes fluttered shut as he held onto your trembling figure, peppering your head with tiny kisses in an attempt to comfort you. You smelled like shampoo and roses. He couldn’t help but take a sniff. You were the sole reason he was still here, living and breathing as he plummeted through his hole called life. Without you, he would’ve been dead ages ago. You were the guiding light in his life, reminding him about everything he should live for. Everything he should be happy for. Taking your head off his neck, you look straight at him with teary eyes. “You’re here right? This is real?” His heart shattered at the sight. His beautiful, amazing, precious, perfect girlfriend, was crying because of him. He pushed your head back into his shoulder, giving you the biggest hug as he held his grip on you tightly.

“Darling, I’m right here. I’m always gonna be here.”

Ahhhh I hope you liked it even though it’s a lot shorter than what I usually write🥺👉👈💖💕

Tags: @ewfilthymundane @izzyphantomgamer @sunshines-and-tatertots @tiger1719 @trashcanweeb @inlwlevi @itmekisuu @just-another-bored-writer @justachillgirl @burnt-tomato @for-ests @bokutokoutarou @kaylacinderella @random-fandomlover @xonfusedsoul @estherwritess @macaronnv @talks-a-lot-of-stuff @agentvicinity @sakusasgarbage @tiredgr3mlin @emsvegetables @fullmetalfangirl21 @poppirocks @mariechan123 @tokyoghoose

Dm or comment if you wanna be included in the taglist or if I forgot to tag you!

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu tsukki #hq #hq x reader #hq scenario #hq images #hq tsukki #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #depressed tsukishima #tsukishima imagine #angst #lmao i wrote this in class #have fun reading it

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weekend-conspiracy-theorist · 3 years

Text

it's always interesting to poke through my old fics as compared to my newer works and see the places I've improved and the ways I've simply changed and the things that have remained consistent

(I'd put this behind a read more bc it got longer than expected, except I can't do so from mobile. so feel free to scroll past as you get bored! it's just a lot of self-indulgent musing.)

I've always enjoyed writing dialogue and developing character voices, for example; that's definitely stuck around, and in some ways has inherently shaped the way I write on the whole-- my plots are usually a chain reaction of character moments, as opposed to having their own sense of dynamism/urgency. I have, however, gotten better at actually developing CHARACTERS and giving them more depth and nuance. (there's still a lot of room for improvement here, I think, but I'm really proud of how far I've come. I mean, I'm still 90% motivated by just "wouldn't it be funny if--", but I'm better at the more serious stuff these days, too 😂)

I've gotten better at the prose that comes between the dialogue, too, which is something that I've been working on basically since I was old enough to be at all critical of my own work. I'm so, so much better at action, I'm better at internal narration, and I'm better at set dressing and exposition. time was I basically Could Not write a scene without at least two characters in it because I couldn't write convincing narration and internal dialogue, but it's not entirely uncommon in my work, now, for the main character to spend time alone in some kind of contemplation. my scenes are still usually Fairly Austere in terms of description, noth of the environment and the characters, but I can usually manage to sneak some basic window dressing without too much effort these days. I had an english teacher in high school tell me that conversations are more interesting when they aren't the only thing happening in a scene, and that's really stuck with me in terms of the way I write action/dialogue

I've also always struggled with transitions; the answer to "how do I get the characters from point A to point B...?" was usually a jumpcut, in my earlier works. I've definitely gotten better at this! it's funny though, that this has all caused its own issues-- my emphasis on action and dialogue still mean that I have a hard time kind of... zooming out, I guess? in terms of transitions, I still find it difficult to time skip and gloss over events; I'm not much of one for a "They said their goodbyes" kind of sentence. We're gonna get down and dirty and talk through it-- who said what and why and when, and how they were collecting their jackets from the hall closet as they did so, or whatever, but at least I know to connect that thought to the next, now. basically, I've gotten better at being able to write my way through from that goodbye sequence to the scene where character B gets philosophical in the car afterwards, but I'm no better at smoothly fast forwarding to the next thing I want to say than I ever was. this can make for some seriously lengthy chunks of words between full scene breaks, and a lot of potentially unnecessary filler-- I usually like the filler, of course; it's often the kind of fun character work I so deeply enjoy writing, but rereading it I often get that "kill your darlings" instinct. I ignore it nine times out of ten because I write fanfiction and fuck it, I don't have an editor; the only standards that matter are my own! but also because, well, I don't know how else I would write that scene change!

the number one thing I still struggle with is plot. I'm bad at developing them, and I've never written out an outline in my life; I'll have a vague sense of where I'm starting and where I need to end up, with probably a couple better defined moments I know I want to hit, and then I'll just sort of daydream a few scenes out from whatever I'm currently writing until I hit the next big milestone (all of which makes it wildly difficult to pick back up an WIPs I step away from for any length of time, because I'll have an even vaguer sense of what I wanted to do than I did originally). I never want to put the scenes I already know about in writing before I get to them, because I have a super iterative writing process (dialogue and general form/action first, up to a nebulous point in a scene; then I'll fill in and expand the narrative prose until I reach where I ended before and continue from there, but then I'll also less frequently go back to previous scenes to read/edit those before I continue back from the current final scene) and it makes it difficult to fill in gaps (or maybe it just seems that way because it disrupts my habitual flow...? something to consider). I have a hard time giving anyone but my main character a subplot/arc, too; maybe it's because I hold so tightly to a single POV? it's difficult to develop another character's growth and change from the outside, except in an allusory sort of way. maybe part of that's because I tend to stay so zoomed in, too; even in 30 or 40 thousand words, I've probably only covered a couple of days within fiction, and people rarely change especially radically in 48 hours.

none of this has a point necessarily; there are just ways I've been working to improve my writing for like seven or eight years that it seems like I've achieved, and other things that I've encountered new problems with achieving. I'm proud of my writing in general; I enjoy rereading even my older works, where a lot of these flaws I'm talking about are so much more obvious, and in the last couple years I've completed a few projects that I'm incredibly proud of-- I've also got a bunch of WIPs that may never be finished or see the light of day, but that I enjoy reading myself and that I learned massive amounts in the process of writing.

I love writing, and I love challenging myself and trying new things in the process, and it's nice to look at my overall body of work and recognize that I have in fact been growing and improving

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chuuguins · 3 years

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💘 - kyori x yuki

sugary sweetness ahead. proceed with caution!!

where they first met and how

they first met when their groups were promoting around the same time and they kept seeing one another backstage at music shows. kyori is a huge fan of kaleidoscope and has done a few dance covers of their songs and danced to them on variety shows so she was super excited to introduce herself!

how long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved

i’d say pretty early. they grew attached to each other very quickly, especially because kyori came into yuki’s life when she was really needed.

who fell for who first ( if applicable )

i have a feeling that yuki fell hardest first. kyori definitely fell fast but i think yuki was still first.

where their first date was and what it was like

after they had been talking non stop for a couple of weeks, kyori showed up at the apex building with flowers and told yuki she was taking her out. they had a picnic behind the building with lots of food that kyori had made. very cute, very pure.

who asks who out and how ( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? )

i guess you could say that kyori asked yuki out but really she didnt ask at all. she just surprised her by showing up with the date plan. yuki probably asked if it was a date like twelve times.

who proposes first

obviously this is a long way off but once again i think it would be kyori. she’s one for romantic gestures and she would want to make yuki feel special and loved so she would be determined to propose first.

if they keep / kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away

as kpop idols, it’s a secret because it has to be. especially as two female kpop idols dating. however, all of their members know and other artists in their companies as well. they’re not the best at being subtle.

where the proposal happens and how ( kiss cam at a baseball game? on a hillside surrounded by ducks? at a disney park? )

i doubt they would get married until their groups have both disbanded so like i said, it’s a ways away. flowers and picnics are two of kyori’s favourite things and something she’s integrated a lot into their relationship. she would have made a scavenger hunt around all of their favourite places and things that remind her of yuki which would end in a picnic in a garden surrounded by flowers where she would ask yuki to marry her.

if they adopt any pets together

oh i bet they do! let’s say two cats and a super cute fluffy dog!

who’s more dominant

i’m thinking yuki. even though it seems like kyori takes the lead in a lot of aspects of their relationship but i don’t think she’s necessarily dominant. just stupidly cute and overexcited.

where their first kiss was and what it was like

their first kiss was on their first date. kyori was reaching over to grab something out of the picnic basket and yuki surprise kissed her. then they kept kissing throughout the date bc they’re stupidly cute.

if they have any matching couples stuff ( mugs? sweaters? pillowcases? )

oh they definitely have so much matching stuff! especially things that the public can’t see and catch onto. so while they do have matching braclets, most of their matching items are things like matching mugs, matching socks, matching notebooks. all sorts of things like that. also it isn’t matching, but kyori bought a sunflower necklace for yuki because yuki calls her ‘sunflower’ so.

how into pda they are

their brand of pda is very soft and sweet. obviously they can’t do it super publically but when they’re around their members they will cuddle and do sweet little cheek kisses and be obviously couple-y but not in an awfully obnoxious way?

who holds the umbrella when it rains

yuki. she’s taller.

where their usual ‘date spot’ is ( if applicable )

their usual dates are sneaking into one anothers dorms with the help of members because it’s just the easiest way to do it. when they can they love to go for picnics in places that are quite private and they talk on the phone every night as well.

who’s more protective

i’m gonna say yuki!

how long it is before they sleep together ( can be as in ‘had sex’ or as in ‘shared a bed’ )

probably a few months. mostly because finding an opportunity isn’t that easy but also partily because they wanted to take their time. i don’t know about yuki, but kyori had never gone that far with a partner so it was a big deal to her.

if they argue about anything

their arguments are usually very stupid and last about five minutes. just silly bickering about random things. big arguments are few and far between.

who leaves more marks ( lipstick, hickeys, scratchmarks etc. )

yuki yuki yuki! kyori honestly likes it a lot. they are careful not to make them too obvious but whenever kyori sees marks yuki has left she gets all blushy and happy!!

who steals whose clothes and how often

why have a girlfriend if you don’t steal one anothers clothes? they both do this frequently. so much so that their wardrobes are basically mixed.

how they cuddle ( spooning? facing each other? )

it depends but they often find themselves cuddling facing each other with kyori tucking her head into yuki’s shoulder. very cute.

what their favourite nonsexual activity is

would saying picnics be repetitive? really they just love spending the day together and doing whatever they feel like. sometimes they’ll bake together, sometimes they’ll nap together. they’ll go on public dates together at times because they just appear to be friends.

how long they stay mad at each other

a few hours at most. honestly, kyori can’t stay mad at anyone so staying mad at yuki is near impossible.

what their usual coffee / tea orders are

kyori loves peach tea or any kind of fruit tea + really sugary coffees (esp frappes) and yuki likes chai tea and salted caramel coffee! they also both love to get bubble tea!

if they ever have any children together

they would definitely want to!!! so i’m going to say they do. i’m thinking two kids, either one girl one boy or both girls?

if they have any special pet names for each other

i said already but yuki calls kyori “sunflower” or “sunshine” and kyori calls yuki “snapdragon” because reasons.

if they ever split up and / or get back together

hm, i’m not sure. if they ever do split up i can imagine them getting back together. perhaps just going on an amicable break for some reason. i just don’t doubt that it wouldn’t be long before they found themselves together again.

what their shared living space is like ( messy? clean? what kind of decor? )

once they move in together their living space is quite neat. it just looks nice and lived in, you know? kyori has flowers everywhere and i’m sure they spent a long time shopping and picking things out because they were just so excited to live together. i’m sure they mixed their unique aesthetics together in such a cute way.

what their first christmas / hanukkah / etc as a couple was like

kyori is very close to her family so she invited yuki to spend christmas with them after the girls started dating. it was all very cute and cozy. kyori’s family absolutely love the holidays and go all out with decorations and food and presents. her parents bought gifts for yuki and yuki helped them decorate and they kissed under mistletoe. kyori told yuki it was the best christmas she had ever had.

what their names are in each other’s phones

“sunflower” & “snapdragon”

if they have any ‘couple traditions’ ( buying a new mug for their collection every year? baking every friday evening? )

how many times can i mention fucking picnics in this post? they go on at least one per month and kyori makes an entire spread of food and deserts. they buy each other a stuffed animal every birthday. honestly, they probably have a lot actually.

who falls asleep first and who wakes up first

kyori falls asleep first and wakes up first.

who’s the big spoon / little spoon

they switch. kyori is basically a backpack when she’s big spoon so it’s super cute but she loves being little spoon and curling up against yuki.

who hogs the bathroom

they both do! they love getting ready together.

who kills the spiders / takes them outside

yuki takes spiders outside. kyori refuses to let anyone kill bugs but is also too scared to deal with them herself.

send me a ship and i’ll answer some questions !!

#ask #YES!!!#THEM!!!!#they are so gross i love them #i hope all this is right #THANK U SARAH #v: idolverse #idolverse: kyori x yuki #oc: kyori park #headcanons #sarah tag

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marvxlousqueen · 5 years

Text

Warren Worthington- Laundry

word count: 1.8K

warnings: really soft smut like just sweet smut, no condom whoops, cussing, also! not proofread lmao

A/N: so i have two requests rn but i’m having a hard time writing them bc i don’t feel inspired but ! i’m inspired for this so let’s get it folks

also this is like a modern college!warren au

Finals week. Commonly referred to as hell week, which is a perfect description for it. College was hard enough without taking long, difficult exams. (Y/n) had been going through a quizlet for her macroeconomics class for the last 2 hours. She could feel her brain start to go numb. If she had to go over monetary policy one more time, she was going to literally punch herself in the face. She shifted in her desk chair, trying not to wake her dorm mate. (Y/n) grabbed her phone, going to check her notifications, but stopped herself when she saw the time.

“2 am, holy shit.”

(Y/n) didn’t want to pull an all nighter, knowing it would just make her feel like shit the next day. She figured she deserved sleep (if she was able to get any). After closing her laptop, she slowly creeped over to her bed.

“Damn it.”

Her dirty laundry was in a pile in front of her bed. She was supposed to do it earlier and study at the student laundry mat, but all the machines were taken. (Y/n) thought about her options, deciding that since she had just drank a red bull an hour ago and wouldn’t be able to sleep, she might as well throw her laundry in the wash instead of just laying in bed overthinking. She figured she could go over her biology notes as her clothes washed, giving her a break from economics.

She quietly threw her laundry in her basket, placing her bio notebook on top. (Y/n) tiptoed out of the room, heading left to the student laundry mat. The dorms were extremely quiet. Everyone was probably either cramming for exams or passed out already.

(Y/n) reached the laundry room that was at the end of the hall, but hesitated in walking in. She noticed a person sitting on top of one of the machines, but with her eyes still adjusting to the bright florescent lights she couldn’t tell who.

“Oh, hey (Y/n).”

She squinted to see the figure as she stepped into the room.

“Warren?”

Him and (Y/n) were somewhat close, having shared a class their sophomore year of college. She had always found him cute, especially early sophomore year, but now he had grown into himself more- he was a straight up hottie. She saw him more frequently now because he had taking the position of RA for their dorm hall. They never spoke too much, just exchanged smiles and the occasional small talk.

Warren hummed, looking back down at his textbook.

(Y/n) lugged her laundry basket on top of one of the machines, filling it with quarters before turning back to face Warren.

“Why are you in here at 2 am?”

“Why are you?”

“I asked you first.”

He let out a sigh, “Just couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d get some chores done and some studying in. Was going pretty well too before someone distracted me.”

(Y/n) laughed, “Distracting? I’m not that loud, but fine I’ll be quiet.”

“It’s not you talking, it’s your clothes.”

“Huh?”

(Y/n) looked down. All she was wearing was a big t-shirt over a pair of underwear, her feet clad in fuzzy socks.

“That’s against dress code, you know.”

(Y/n) could hear the smirk in his voice. She turned back around, loading her laundry into the washing machine. “Oh shut up, Mr. RA. And if you’re distracted, close your eyes.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and even though Warren couldn’t see her, it’s like he could feel her annoyance.

“Oh, fuck me,” (Y/n) mumbled to herself.

“Gladly.”

She slammed her hand down on the washer, “Shut it! Why are you so horny right now? I’ve never seen you act like this.”

“Must be all the sleep deprivation. Really gets the hormones pumping. But no, really, what’s wrong?”

He hopped off his machine, checking the time and seeing it only had another 5 minutes before it needed to dry. He walked towards (Y/n), trying to keep his eyes from scanning her bare legs and looking creepy.

“I didn’t bring my detergent. Fuck me.”

“You can use mine!”

Warren happily ran to his basket, grabbing two big bottles, excited to be able to help her.

“Here.”

“Fabric softener?” (Y/n) tried to hold in a laugh.

“What? It makes my clothes feel nice!”

“You’re such a softie!”

“Shut it!”

“Nope! If you get to make sex jokes, I get to bully you for being a softie.”

Warren groaned, hopping up on the machine next to (Y/n), leaving his textbook abandoned on the other side of the room.

“It’s cute, seriously. Wanting soft clothes and all.”

He rolled his eyes, but wasn’t able to keep a smile from forming on his face after she indirectly called him cute.

“But, no, thank you. For the detergent and softener.”

Warren hummed in response, watching (Y/n) add detergent and softener. Somehow she seemed to beautiful even under the bright laundry room lights at two in the morning.

(Y/n) started the machine and shut the top of the washer, hopping up on it. She scooted closer to Warren, her legs dangling off the washer.

“So...”

“So?”

He turned towards her, waiting for her to continue.

“So-”

(Y/n) was interrupted by the buzzing of Warren’s machine. He hopped off, going to toss them into a dryer. (Y/n) followed him across the room. Warren opened the washer top and started loading the clothes into a dryer. (Y/n) grabbed some clothes, wanting to help.

“Nice boxers.”

Warren spun away from the dryer, turning to face her.

“What? Put those down!”

“Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles huh?”

Warren snatched them from her hand, “Don’t touch my underwear! That’s- that’s weird.”

“Says the boy who has made at least three sex jokes since I got in here.”

Warren rolled his eyes, focused on digging quarters out of his laundry basket for the dryer.

“I liked them though. Pretty cute.”

He let out a scoff, “Sure, cartoon underwear is so cute.”

“Yeah, would look even cuter on my bedroom floor though.”

Warren whipped his head to look back at her. She was sitting up on the washer he had just used, absentmindedly flipping through his textbook.

“Did- did you just make a sex joke?”

“Did you like it?”

Warren turned back to the dryer, finishing with his quarters, “Not at all.”

“Fuck you.”

“Please do.”

“Damn it! You’re good at that.”

“That’s what she said.”

(Y/n) lightly kicked Warren in response to his never ending sexual humor. He patted her leg, making her scooch over so he could squeeze in next to her.

“So statistics huh?”

Warren patted his textbook cover with his other hand, “Yup.”

“Gross.”

“Yup.”

A moment of silence passed, Warren’s hand still resting on her thigh.

“S-so, what did you want to say earlier?”

(Y/n) looked away from his hand, “What? When?”

“Over there,” he pointed lazily towards her machine.

“Oh! I, um, I just wanted to say you got taller. Since last year, you know?”

Warren laughed, eyes on her face. “Thanks.”

“You look good, Warren! Serious glow up.”

“So I was ugly last year?”

“What?,” (Y/n)’s eyes widened, “no! Not at all! You were different though.”

“Bad different I’m guessing.”

She shoved his shoulder, “Shut up! Good different. You were cuter, now you’re-”

“I’m what?”

(Y/n)’s tongue darted out to wet her dry lips, “Hot. I mean- you know, uh, hotter? You always looked good. But now you’re like- whew! You know?”

Warren’s eyebrows were raised in amusement, not used to seeing (Y/n) so flustered. It felt refreshing, like they were finally escaping the stress of school and just having fun again.

“You’re hotter too. Still hot last year, but like- whew!”

“Fuck you, okay. Don’t mock me.”

He poked her ribs, “I’m serious! You look great.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, trying to hold back her smile.

“(Y/n),” Warren whispered, scooting closer to her, “C-can I kiss you?”

Instead of responding, (Y/n) smashed her lips into his, desperate for him. Warren’s hand moved from her thigh to cup her jaw, making her slow down. He wanted to savor this moment with her.

The kiss became softer and lighter. Butterflies were going off in Warren’s stomach as she pulled herself onto his lap, accidentally shoving his basket off in the process. The loud bang made them pull apart.

“Fuck! Sorry! I was trying to be sexy and get on top, but-”

“It’s okay.”

Warren shut her up by kissing her once more, slightly more feverish this time. His hands slipped under her shirt, slowly climbing higher. (Y/n) stopped to pull the shirt over her head.

Warren’s jaw dropped when he noticed she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

“I- um, wow-”

(Y/n)’s lips moved to his neck while her fingers began to slip behind the waist band of his sweatpants. She slowly tugged them off, leaving them hanging around his ankles.

(Y/n) began to palm his obvious erection, her mouth sucking a mark onto his neck.

“Hey, (Y/n)?”

She pulled away, retracting her hands from his boxers, “Y-yeah, are you okay? Oh boy-”

Warren grabbed her hands, holding them between his, “I’m fine! Great actually, really really great. I just- I really want to say I actually like you. Like feelings- not just this. And yeah I want to do this too, but I would also want something to happen with feelings..”

(Y/n) moved her hands from his to cup his face, “I definitely want to date you, Warren. You’re so sweet.”

She could feel his face heat up in her hands, “Good! Yay- yes, okay. Cool-”

“Just stop talking.”

(Y/n)’s lips found their way back to Warren’s neck as her hips began to grind against Warren, making him whimper.

Warren slid down his boxers before moving his hands to her underwear, rubbing her folds through it. (Y/n)’s sleep deprived body responded quicker than it usually would, she was already soaked.

She pulled away to move her underwear to the side, too tired to take it off in their difficult position. She lined herself up with Warren and slid down, taking him all in at once.

Warren let out a breathy moan as her heat wrapped around him.

“Fuck, (Y/n).”

(Y/n)’s nails went to scratch against his head as she slowly moved her hips on him.

It was soft and slow, but exactly what they needed to relax and unwind.

(Y/n) felt herself grow closer to her edge and she began to move slightly faster, lips smashed against Warren’s.

She tightened around him as she came, making Warren follow.

“Fuck- I’m so tired.”

(Y/n) laughed, climbing off of him and pulling her shirt back over her head.

“Me too.”

Warren hopped off the machine, almost tripping over his pants around his ankles.

“You could come sleep at my place. I-um, I have a room to myself you know? Since I’m an RA. Y-you don’t have to, but-”

“No, that’d be nice. Except I’ve still got a load in. But you can just go ahead, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Warren shook his head, “I’ll stay.”

“Really? It’s like 3 am.”

Warren walked over to her machine, “I need to stay, you still have my laundry detergent.”

“Oh fuck you!”

“You just did!”

taglist: @chocolatealmondmilkshake @thoughtlesspace @billyhargovesgurl @babebenhardy @rexorangecouny @cyndagoaway @killcomet @mcrmarvelloki @queen-turtle-boiii @hardlylo @ziggymay @jacqueline1916 @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ixchel-9275 @queen-baelin

hmu to be added!

#Warren Worthington III #warren worthington iii smut #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington iii x reader #warren fluff #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #x men #x men apocalypse

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asocier · 4 years

Text

interaction guide for leah!

last edited: april 6th, 2021

leah overall is a very, very flexible muse, and while she’s mostly an uwu muse, she’s not always ( e.g. potty mouth, kind of aggressive/possessive with certain muses, has “kick your ass” energy even though she’s like 5′1 and cries over everything, is very lewd and can be very forward at times ). i tend to have a lot of fun with her because she’s so dimensional, but below are some good points of entry if you’re stuck or need inspiration!!

“are you finding everything alright?” — threads that take place at leah’s workplaces ( i.e. the university bookstore or delight, the adult store ); a great way to break the ice since shopping can allow for casual conversation, big or small! retail work can be very strange as well, so there’s a lot of room for some interesting scenarios that can leave a lasting impression for leah to remember your muse by in the future. not every interaction in the adult store has to be sexual or sexually charged, either, so feel free to have some fun with the setting!

college/university setting threads — being a university student that lives on campus in the dorms ( canonically, anyway; there’s always room for divergence! ), most of leah’s waking hours are spent doing something related to her classes or social events happening on campus. she’s usually not a big partier, but when surrounded by the right crowd, she can easily be roped right into wild parties. though she’s not the type to let herself get wasted; chances are, she’ll be the one taking care of your muse! college is full of possibilities when it comes to shenanigans, like some real wack ass shit can happen, so below are just a few general possibilities for plot ideas. studying abroad has also been my default way of sending leah out of the country, so if your muse has to be in a different country to make a storyline work, i gotchu! your muse:

takes the same classes as leah and befriends her because they sit next to her in class, are partnered up with her for an assignment, engage in group discussion with her regularly, ect. can also just be a brief meeting like an exchange of compliments ( “that’s such a cute top!” “thanks, your pencil bag is super cute, too!” )

is leah’s roommate ( plotting required since it’s canon that she lives alone!! but housing situations change frequently during college so it’s not a huge problem, just gotta work out the details )

is the teaching assistant for a class that leah is taking, so she come to them for help on assignments ( or vice versa: leah is the teaching assistant so she grades your muse’s assignments/tutors them )

a tutor in general that leah can turn to for help in exchange for cash or a different kind of payment ( food, advice, ect. this doesn’t have to be a dirty thing alksjdlkjsad )

met leah at a party and now the two of them are just party buddies or just always get into trouble whenever they hang out and party together

celebrity/idol + fangirl; city meets country; wealthy meets poor threads — oh my god okay so listen; i really enjoy the idea of “opposites attract” with leah. like the idea of meeting a muse who is a higher status than her socioeconomically, socially, or just comes from a different background than her ( hence city meets country since leah was born in an urban area, so interacting with a muse who comes from a small town would be the opposite of her ).

anyway, leah’s the type to be really into pop culture, so keeping up with celebrities, idols, youtubers, whatever would be a past time for her, and then meeting them in real life would make her lose her shit. being in a relationship of any kind with a celebrity would make her lose her shit, and considering she lives in los angeles, it’s possible to run into one for the sake of a plot.

socioeconomically, leah’s considered low-income, maybe lower middle class ( but considering how vast the “middle class” actually is, can we really say ). as such, she’s very conscious about how she spends her money, so meeting a muse who is very well off financially would be an interesting dynamic. she always jokes about being a sugar baby or like, being a trophy wife so she doesn’t have to work, but whether that’d actually happens depends on what happens when she meets a muse with the means to make that joke a reality.

anyway, leah teeters on the edge of being a gold digger but she probably won’t be. it’s just fun to pair her up with wealthy muses because they live such a vastly different lifestyle from her usually that she’s like “what”

sexcapade threads ( 18+ muns only ) -- leah is a very sex positive muse, and as such, a lot of her interactions can be smutty. taking into account her sexuality, hook-up culture on a college campus, and her freedom away from her parents, quite a few plots ( and their variations ) can happen rather easily. it’s important to note, though, that i prefer to write smut threads that either have some sort of plot to them or can lead to further development in a relationship. writing smut can get boring real quick if nothing new is introduced, but i’m okay with plotting out intimacy privately! also, sex does not always equal romance, so romantic feelings may not always develop between leah and your muse. if you are interested in shipping our muses romantically, please let me know! otherwise, i’ll assume they’re just in a casual type of relationship.

one night stands

friends with benefits

tin/der, bum/ble, or other dating apps/sites dates or meet ups

just gossiping about respective sex lives

first time meeting threads where it’s literally just leah and your muse getting it on is also acceptable, though some plotting might be required depending on the muse.

verse/au/wishlist plots — i always love a good au. love, love, love my aus. below are a list of verses that are already “premade” on my blog that that you’re welcome to work with. i’ll go ahead and link leah’s verse page as well in case you want to read up on the basics. i do have a wishlist tag as well full of plots that may or may not work with leah. you’re definitely not limited to the verse page or the tags; if you have an idea, please don’t be shy to reach out to me! like i said, leah is very flexible. all i ask is that you respect her as a muse and don’t be weird with her. i get that she’s a very sexual muse but please ... respect her.

angel verse — this verse is probably one of leah’s most used verses, and important details about this verse can be found here, here, and here! i highly suggest you read these posts bc a lot of her mannerisms hinges on what’s laid out in these posts, and of course you’re always welcome to ask questions if you have any!! angel verse is a good place to begin if your muse is also another supernatural creature, and considering angel leah has no qualms about visiting other realms like hell, it’s very possible for her to meet your muse one way or another.

influencer/idol/celebrity verse — considering how big on social media leah is in terms of her constant engagement with it, plots that involve her being an influencer are right up her alley, and collaborations with other muses who fit into this category are a great way for leah to interact with them! while i don’t have an official verse up for this category yet as of 04/06/21, leah’s very flexible when it comes to what she can do if she gained social media status, but what she’d most likely do involves modeling, acting, and being on youtube or streaming.

high school verse — high school leah is very different from main verse/college leah in the sense that she’s a lot more reserved and is a lot more closeted about her sexuality. she’s still very enjoyable to interact with, but what sets high school leah apart from canon leah the most is that there’s a more prominent struggle and confusion regarding her spiritual views, and dating her in high school is almost like a chore since your muse will have to jump through hoops in order to date her if that’s something they want to do. in high school verse, leah canonically only has one boyfriend in her senior ( final ) year, but as always, i welcome divergence. your muse is even welcome to be her high school boyfriend if we plot things out ( spoiler: her high school boyfriend was a real asshole ). high school shenanigans are definitely more tame than college shenanigans, but this verse will be good for slice of life plots ( hanging out after school, doing projects together, decorating for the school dance, prom date, applying to college, ect. )

miscellaneous plots — finally, here are some classic plots that i always love with leah. they don’t really fit into the other categories, but these are plots i don’t mind doing over and over and over again because they’re never always the same each time i write them, and these plots make leah happy too :’)

mom friend/big sister leah bc oh my god i love her with kids so much, but also she’s incredibly doting towards close friends she cares a lot about so yeah call her the mom friend™

in the same vein, pls hire her to be your main babysitter. she’d appreciate it so much bc college is so expensive

beach threads!! aquarium threads!! ocean threads!! pool threads!! leah enjoys water and ocean life, so any thread where these elements are involved really get her going. i don’t care how often she’s been to the aquarium or beach, she’ll go again.

take her on trips with you!! she loves traveling and really like the idea the freedom that comes with traveling around the world

#cw: long post #tumblr fcked up the formatting disGUSTING #wishlist;#anyway i edited and added to this so pls give it another read if you'd like!!

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hes-writer · 5 years

Text

A Cheat IV

How about when y/n is engaged with her boyfriend and how happy she is with her life but harry is still miserable. He misses her so much that he begs her to take him back, like literally begging. He tells her that he’ll do anything bc it hurts him to see her getting married with someone else. But y/n isn’t having any of it so she tells him “you already took my heart for granted and left me broken. But now i finally found my happiness again, you’re going to take that away from me too?”

Summary: Harry cheats, Y/N is happy

Warnings: angst

Word count: 3.6k

“That’s what I hoped and gee thanks, have fun with yours too if you ever get over me,” Harry smirk at her menacingly.

She rolls her eyes, burning from the tears she held back. She remains strong.

“Don’t worry, I will.”

Y/N couldn’t believe how well things have been going for her. In the past eight months after her and Harry’s horrid conclusion to their relationship, Y/N had finally graduated from university after four grueling years of late nights and caffeine coursing through her system. She had gotten a puppy—something that she’d always wanted, but never took the initiative to get one. After tossing her cap in the air during the ceremony with Alan beside her, she was offered a job at a well-known law firm only a few weeks after. Everything is going great.

Not a few days ago, Alan had proposed to her and the engagement ring on her pinky finger was proof of a powering relationship, glimmering against the light of her wooden work desk serving as a backdrop. She smiles to herself, thinking how things finally turned around for her. One of her coworkers passes by, noticing the jewelry adorning her finger and stops to eye her suspiciously, a smile stretching over her face before squealing as Y/N nods shyly. She congratulates Y/N before walking away to her own table.

Y/N’s phone ‘dings’.

Alan

“hey babe, im cooking dinner tonight

what do u want? :))))”

She sighs with satisfaction, having someone supporting her through everything made her feel wanted. Alan is the perfect match for her. Regardless of dating for only six months (they've known each other since high school), he’s been a sturdy shoulder to lean on during the past two where she altered between crying over Harry or being a strong, independent woman that has had enough of being treated like shit. When he asked her out, granted a bit timidly since he wasn’t exactly sure if she was ready to move on, she hesitated but she trusts Alan. She also told herself that not all men are like Harry.

-----

Irene and Harry’s relationship didn’t last long after Y/N caught them in the bathroom. Actually, it ended not too long after. Since Harry’s attention was focused solely on her, Irene took advantage of that and asked him to purchase her a bunch of things that she ‘probably didn’t need’, Harry thinks. I mean, did she honestly need four of the same bags in different colours? Or having Harry book five-star restaurants around the city to celebrate Irene's friend's brother-in-laws birthday? Ridiculous. The price didn’t bother him as he had enough money to buy an island, but hearing her talk his ear off about a new Versace handbag or the recent fall line of Jimmy Choo heels that she just had to get her hands on; he’s had enough. Before officially officially splitting from Y/N, Irene had asked him to buy her stuff, sure, but it used to be minute things like a new perfume or some brand-name makeup. But now, it’s as if she thought her name was titled to Harry’s earnings, threatening to break up with him if he didn’t comply.

At first, he gave in to everything, mistaking the fear of Irene leaving him as something he was deathly afraid of. But now, realizing that the feelings he held for were nothing but sexual infatuation, something exciting and thrilling in his life. Now that he had nothing to hide, his life was giving an off vibe–yearning for Y/N’s presence. Yes, Harry missed Y/N.

He first felt a twinge in his heart in that bathroom, slowly but surely, it kept coming back stronger and more frequently. It happened especially before bed, when Y/N would usually speak to him about her day or ask him about his, or even caress him with gentle touches to calm him before sleeping, he misses her gestures that he only thought of as pestering and nagging during the last few months, but really it was nothing more than actions of love and concern. Irene never gave him a second glance, she cuddled into his chest, manicured razor sharp nails scratching his chest as if to be done as a calming notion, but Harry feels it as a burning sensation that urged him to shift uncomfortably from the woman beside him.

Irene was different from Y/N, stating the obvious. Y/N cleaned the house routinely, cooked the most flavourful dishes, and stocked the kitchen and bathroom with supplies efficiently. Harry believes in splitting the workload and chores between people who lived in the house –which was both of them– but Y/N took special charge in the household activities, saying that Harry needs his rest after being busy the whole day. He feels like a jerk sometimes knowing that she was stressed too, yet she continues to work harder than anyone he’d ever met. Besides that, his comparison was that Irene was rather unforgiving with chores. She’d requested many times that Harry hire someone else to do the work for them, she didn’t even live with him! Saying that her nails were too expensive or that her hands were too precious to handle the pressure of cleaning anything in the house. And when Harry did hire someone, she looked down on the helper as if she had the right to do so. Harry powered through her attitude for the good—recently mediocre— sex and the company.

As things got worse, he didn’t know how much more of Irene he can handle. When he received the news that she was cheating on him with her boss, he snapped. He spoke to that guy in person about giving Irene a promotion and this was how they repaid him. Frankly, it didn’t hurt as much as he’d thought; it didn't hurt as much as his break up with Y/N. He was relieved that she wasn’t going to be around anymore. But all things have an equal and opposite reaction because now, Harry felt extra lonely.

The slight twinge in his heart built into something grander when he was left alone with his own thoughts. Replaying his memories with Y/N trying to see where it went wrong. And at that moment, Harry realizes that it was all his fault. He was the reason why they drifted, he was the reason why she packed her things and left their house with nothing but a few stacks of bills in her hands to last for a few months because he’d essentially kicked her out of his life. What was he thinking?

-----

Y/N was on her lunch break for the day, deciding to grab food at the cafe a few blocks from the firm. She was hastily carrying herself through crowds of people with somewhere to go. Once she arrived, she stands behind a lengthy line of customers waiting to state their order to the cashier. Although Y/N rarely strays from getting her regular items, she scans the menu briefly anyway.

Her turn comes, ordering and paying for her food, she was asked to wait on the left side. The main entrance bell chimes, indicating that someone new had either left or entered the café.

Harry walks in with his grandpa hat covering much of his hair and he hopes that it's doing a good job at disguising his face. His hands held tight in his pockets as his lanky legs move him to the line-up. He did not need to look at the menu since he always gets his coffee black. Instead, his eyes scan the area, looking for watchful eyes from people who have recognized him or casually inspecting his surroundings for the sake of it. His eyes land on a familiar head of hair that he has to blink thrice to make sure of what he was really seeing.

There stood Y/N clad in her matching pantsuit, hair in a ponytail and a bag clutched on her elbow. She looks sideways and he was blessed with a side profile of her face. Oh, how he misses her. He decides to take a detour from his usual escapades and makes a beeline towards her.

"Hey"

Y/N turns around, face visibly displaying a mixture of disappointment, confusion, and anger upon seeing Harry.

"Hi," she says curtly, before turning around as her name was called. She grabs her latte and croissant, turning around swiftly before lightly knocking shoulders with Harry's broad ones, make an escape route to the exit. Even though she still had an hour or so left on her break, she doesn't think that she could handle spending any more time with Harry in the vicinity. So she exits and makes it out on the street that has cleared some during her fifteen minutes indoors.

"Y/N! Y/N, wait. Please," Harry shouts from behind her, weaving his way around people blocking his way to Y/N.

"What do you want, Harry?" You.

"I saw you and wanted to say hi," he explains, eyes finding hers trying to find any kind of emotion that meant she was somehow glad to see him. H finds none.

"Well, you said hi. See you around," Y/N briskly tries to walk away once again but is stopped when he grabs her wrist. A chill makes its way up her spine, heart beating untimely. She gulps.

"Please, Y/N. Let's talk,"

She pretends to look at her watch, rolling her eyes before saying, "Fine. You've got ten minutes,"

The pair walk side-by-side towards a nearby park. The silence between them was uncomfortable for both. Sitting on a bench, Harry shifts his body facing her, clearing his throat.

"I want to apologize for-for what I did before," Y/N can tell that he's nervous by the way his body language breaks down in from of her.

"You mean when you cheated on me and I caught you fucking her brains out in the bathroom? Or was it when you knew that your feelings changed for me but you led me on anyway?" Y/N raises her brows accusingly.

He gulps in response.

"Y-yeah for that. Look, I thought about it and it turns out that I still love you, Y/N. I still have feelings for you,"

She takes a bite of her croissant, shifting her gaze somewhere else and further emphasizing how uncomfortable she was feeling right now.

"And if you'd let me, I want to give it another try. I promise I won't ever do it again. You deserve the world and I'm willing to give it to you. I'll do anything that it takes to have you forgive me," he pleads seriously. If he had to jump off of a bridge for another chance at Y/N's love, he would do it. He will do anything to have Y/N forgive him. Anything.

He was blind without her, lost without any guidance and navigating the world alone. He needed Y/N to tell him that it was gonna be okay when times go rough; he needed Y/N to love him like she did before, the way he does for her right at this very moment. He wants to relive the past where he didn't take her for granted--when they were happy. And if he can't, he might as well give it another shot, to experience the happiness she brought him once again by trying the circumstances. He was ready for it if she was.

"I'm engaged, Harry."

His eyes were like laser beams boring through her face; eyebrows furrowing, lips pursing open and closed and his chest felt crushed from the force of her words. She didn't say in a tone to spite him or make him jealous, it was soft and gentle–merely stating a fact that he obviously missed out on because What?

"Engaged? Y/N, what are you talking about," He spits out nervously, not wanting to accept the truth but wanting to learn more about her status. It’d only been eight months, surely she couldn’t have moved on that fast. You’re one to talk, Harry. He snickers to himself.

"Alan and I—we're getting married," She takes a sip of her beverage, ring glinting against Harry's green eyes and he swears that he just saw his life flash before his eyes.

There it is. The ring that bonded Alan and Y/N together, glistening in the sunlight, taunting him. It rested so gently on her pinky as if it was meant to be there. When Harry imagined this moment, she wore a ring that he had given her because he was the one who got down on a knee, declaring his undying love for her, praising her for her beauty and grace, and asking her the question he'd pictured himself repeat about a hundred times under his breath trying to find the best way to ask her to be his wife.

"Y-you're getting married? Tell me you're lying," He sounds angry, demanding, and in disbelief of what's unfolding right in from of his eyes and ears. "Tell me that you're pulling my leg, love," he says his second statement with great vulnerability, voice cracking in the middle of it to which Y/N retracts her neck, appalled.

"No, I'm not kidding. Why would I do that?" Y/N was confused about why Harry was reacting the way he is right now. Shouldn't he be happy for her? After all, he did break it off between the two of them so he had no right to feel hurt or pained. He had Irene.

"Because I wanted it to be me!" He all but yells at her face. Neck vein straining from the blood rushing to his brain, making him dizzy with the knowledge he just received. Palms sweating profusely forcing him to wipe it on his jeans before he takes hold of her empty hand, taking it in his own which she surprisingly lets him.

"I wanted it to be me. I want you to be mine and now I can't because he—he's the one you're going to marry," A lone tear falls down his eyes, nose starting to get runny from the emotions that overwhelm him. She tries to pull her hand back to herself, but he doesn't let her.

"Why are you crying? You wanted this, you wouldn’t have cheated on me if you didn't want me out of your life," She tries to reason and justifies with his previous actions. Everything was making sense until he spits out the bullshit of still loving her. And even so, why did he wait so long to find her and tell her?

"It was a mistake! I was stupid and a huge asshole, I didn't think of the consequences." He grasps tightly to her hand, fearing that this may be the absolute last time he'll be able to touch her like this. "I took advantage of you, of your love and I shouldn't have because you're the most amazing person in this world. You gave me chance after chance and I didn't deserve any of it b-but I just wished you'd give me another one,"

Harry brings her hand up to his lips, kissing it multiple times while looking in her eyes sincerely.

"I'm glad you know that you already took my heart for granted and left me broken. But now, I finally found my happiness again, you want to take that away from me too? Just so you'd feel satisfied with yourself for getting the girl again?" She pulls away.

"Thanks, I'm flattered but even if I was single, I wouldn't dare give you another chance regardless if you are Harry Styles. I don't care if you can give me the world or anything I want because all I needed was for you to love, trust, and be honest with me." She takes hold of her bag strap blindly, holding her coffee cup in hand and standing up. "You didn't give me any of those,"

Harry stands as well, not prepared to lose her once more. "But I can now! I'll love you so much and I will give every ounce of it out of my body. If that's what you want, I'll do it. Just please,"

"Can't you see, H? I'm happy with Alan now. I've moved on, forgotten about you. For god's sake, I'm getting married!"

Each word she darted out of her mouth was like a gunshot to Harry. Wounds getting deeper and his body feeling heavier than usual, the emotional toll it was giving him was too much for him to handle

"Please. Do the same for yourself. I may not love you the way I did before, but I still care about you," Y/N states gently to Harry. If anything she sees him as a friend, still cares for his well-being. From the short distance, she sees a few girls whispering to each other and pointing at him, obviously recognizing his stance and demeanor.

"But I love you, Y/N! Isn't that enough?"

She only smiles at him before shaking her head, "Sometimes love isn’t enough. Sometimes you have to act on it, and sometimes cheating isn’t a great way to prove that.”

“I hope she was worth it.”

And before he could fire back at a chance to defend himself, the group of girls approaches him suddenly, catching him off guard.

He could hear them requesting to sign their phone cases, could hear the shutter of their phone cameras capturing his dumbfounded face, could hear them chattering about his work and he could hear them praise him for all the things he wasn't. Even with the roar of his crowd performances echoing how much they loved him, nothing beats Y/N's soft voice voicing out an, "I love you, Harry" He feels one girl shake his arm, usually he'd politely ask them to not touch him but at the moment he felt numb.

Because a few meters away, he witnesses Alan and Y/N walking towards each other with the brightest smile on their faces. Greeting each other with a hug, everything about them screamed being in love. Like Harry was, except the girl he adored was loving another man. What hurts the most–when they kissed each others' lips tenderly and his mind plays tricks on him, envisioning that he was the guy that Y/N was with except it flicks back to reality much too soon than he’d like it to be.

His imagination is proof of what could've been him and Y/N spending the rest of their lives together but of course, he’d mess that future up. He stands there wishing he could turn back time, praying to whoever it is up there that could help him find love again. Because his heart continuously breaks seeing her be happy with somebody else.

——- If you like it, shoot me a message If you don’t, pretend you do requests are open!

#harry styles angst #harry #harrystyles #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles writing #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles cheating #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry writings #my writing #angst #cheating

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jungshookz · 5 years

Note

oof ok laid ease and jean tell men,,,, twins yoongi and yoonji,, both having the same crush on y/n 👀👀 yoongi is like the music student that all the gals sWoOn over bc he plays piano in a room alone after school type deal,, while Yoonji is the edgy sister wHo dOesN’T cOnfOrm tO sOciEty but is secretly soft uwu and when they both find out they got the same crush it’s like the spiderman meme and now they gotta Fight To The Death

→ pairing: min yoongi x reader x min yoonji

→ genre: let’s be real this is crackhead culture..,, boTh the mins are infatuated with u + i lov yoonji

→ wordcount: 1.9k

(gif isn’t mine!)

“what do you mean you have a crush on y/n??” the question slips out from both the twins’ mouths at the same time

they pull back and blink at each other

yoonji is the first one to snap out of it

she flicks a strand of dark hair off her shoulder before raising a perfectly arched brow “you’re going to have to back off”

“over my dead body”

“..,,.i have a gun in my bag”

yoongi scoffs immediately and rolls his eyes

“when did you start liking her?” yoongi asks curiously because the whole romAnCe thing is very…noT yoonji

yoonji’s never evEr mentioned having a crush on anyone ever before even though they have a pretty solid sibling-ship

“that’s none of your business.”

yes

a very classic yoonji response

yoongi scowls and plops down on the couch

“move over, you’re sitting in my spot.” yoongi shuffles over and yoonji plops herself down

a beat of silence goes by

yoongi clears his throat

“look, sis. you can’t have a crush on y/n because i have a crush on y/n and if we both have a crush on y/n then that means-“

“that we’re going to have to fight to the death?”

“-no, it means that eventually she’s going to have to choose one of us and i don’t want you to be devastated and completely heartbroken when she chooses me over you. we shouldn’t let a girl come in between us!”

yoonji snorts in response and props an elbow up on the arm of the couch

“i hate to break it to you but you’re going to be the heartbroken one. you have one class with her this year - i have three with her, and we both write for the school newspaper. did i mention we grab lunch together pretty frequently seeing that our schedules fit perfectly with each others?” yoonji inspects her cuticles before glancing over at her brother with a smirk “and what makes you think y/n’s interested in you, mr. ‘i play piano because i’m sad but also i just want to impress all the girls’, hm? y/n’s not into that.”

“says miss ‘i have a gun in my bag’.”

“i’m pretty sure she has a thing for bad girls and not emo boys”

“how about this?” yoongi crosses his arms and leans back against the couch “if you manage to score a date with y/n before i do, i’ll respectfully back off. but if i manage to score a date with y/n before you do, you respectfully back off. whoever gets the girl, gets the girl - fair and square.”

yoongi’s pretty confident that you’re going to end up with him so he has no problems dealing his cards

he’s attractive and smart anD talented and he can turn on the charm in any situation

and you just so happen to be attractive and smart and talented and adorable so it’s almost like you guys are meant to be!!

meanwhile yoonji is..,., well he’s biased because they’re technically identical twins so she’s like pretty-ish buT she’s kind of a bitch to people so like

he’ll be fine

yoonji’s eyes flicker up and she pokes her tongue into her cheek before turning to face yoongi fully and sticking her hand out “deal. get used to the taste of failure.”

and so it begins

“what are you doing here so early?” when you walk into the lecture you’re surprised to see yoonji sitting on the side scrolling through her phone

here’s a little backstory regarding your friendship with yoonji

you were running late (it was only 2 minutes but late is laTE) and the prof had already started his lecture and you didn’t want to make that awkward journey down the steps of the lecture hall while looking around trying to find a spot for yourself so now you’re kind of just standing at the back with your eyes darting everywhere

“christ, just sit here.” you jump in surprise when someone tugs at your wrist and you look down to see this anGRy looking girl glaring right back up at you

she raises a brow before grabbing her backpack off the seat and dumping it next to her on the ground

a little scary

but a free seat is a free seat

“thank you so much” you whisper before sitting down and quickly pulling your notebook and your pencils and note-taking markers out (you were a very eager learner at the beginning of the year lol)

yoongi snorts in humour when a couple of your markers roll away from you and clatter onto the floor in your excitement to get everything ouT

she bends down to pick two up and-

wha-

you labelled each of your markers with your name

“y/n.” she tests your name on her tongue

and in that moment

she decides that she quite likes your name

“yes?” you turn to look at her before your eyes flicker down to the markers in her slender fingers “oh! thanks! did you wanna borrow one?”

“no-“

“here, you look like a dark purple kinda gal.” you rifle through your pencil case before holding a marker up for her and plucking the other two from her “i feel like neon green and bright pink don’t suit you”

huh

you are a very peculiar girl

“they gave me two hot chocolates instead of one” yoonji ignores your question and holds out a cup of hot chocolate for you as you sit down next to her

that’s a blatant lie

yoonji knows you like hot chocolate when it’s cold out and she always gets u a hot chocolate

“again?? they really need to start paying attention when taking orders - i’m not complaining, though!” your fingers brush over hers as you take it from her and she feels a little zap

“you look cute today, by the way.” you hum before reaching over to poke at the little braid intertwined in yoonji’s raven locks “who are you dressing up for?” you giggle with a teasing smile and yoonji’s heart goes boom-boom because yeAh she might’ve spruced up her hairstyle and put on an extra layer of lip gloss for u but whATEVER okAY

“anyways i don’t really mind what we get for lunch today because i’m starving and i just need- oOh-!” yoonji’s eyes widen when you suddenly stumble into someone and-

“are you okay?”

oh my god

OF COURSE

OF FUCKIGN COURSE IT’S YOONGI

yoonji can’t help but roll her eyes because she knows for a fact that yoongi just stood outside the lecture hall and waiTEd for you to appear and conveniently triP into his slimy noodle arms

“shit, sorry yoongi!” yoongi still has an arm wrapped around your waist while your hands clutch at his arms “god, i didn’t even see you there!”

“your shoelaces are untied again, y/n. we can’t have you tripping all over campus, can we?” yoongi unravels himself from you before bending down to help you with your laces

now

here’s the backstory regarding your friendship with yoongi

you usually like to study at the library

but on that particular day they had closed the library a little earlier than usual

and you knew that if you went back to study in your dorm room you’d probably just end up watching netflix and eating junk food for the next six hours instead of studying for your midterm

so now you’re just wandering the hallway of the music building because it was conveniently the closest building to the library

and as you make your way further down the hallway

you start to hear some music

it’s a gentle melody

soft and enticing

and soon enough you find yourself peering into the classroom staring at the back of this stranger’s head just watching as his fingers dance along the piano

you feel like you know him

it takes a couple seconds for it to sink it but then you realise who it is you’re creEpiLY staring at

min yoongi

you’ve heard his name bounce around campus more than a few times

“you know it’s rude to stare, right?” you snap out of it when the his fingers stop on the piano and he turns his head slightly

“oh, i wasn’t-“ you perk up immediately and feel the apples of your cheeks warming almost instantly

“you totally were.” he turns his head all the way and offers you a smirk

“i just wanted to find a spare classroom to study in…” you clear your throat and step into the classroom slowly “i, uh… didn’t peg for you to be a ‘swan lake’ kinda guy. mind if i whack something out real quick?”

yoongi raises a brow

usually the girls who approach him are all giggly and they pretend like they loOOovE the piano just like him and most of the time they ask him to play like an ariana grande song or something (although he will admit ‘one last time’ sounds beautiful on the piano)

“be my guest.” yoongi shuffles over a little and pats next to him

you smile and drop your bag on the floor before sitting yourself down and giving your knuckles a quick crack

your fingers land lightly on the keys and your brows furrow together in concentration

and then…

,.,.IS THIS HOT CROSS BUNS

you’re snickering to yourself as you bang on the keys and continue playing hot cross buns and yoongi can’t stop the fat grin twitching at the corner of his mouth

you are…. a very peculiar girl

“don’t you have somewhere else to be?” the moment yoongi finishes tying your laces up yoongi grabs your wrist and pulls you backwards a little bit

she loops her arm with yours

“no, i don’t!” yoongi shrugs casually “are you guys grabbing lunch?”

“yes, we’re grabbing lunch together.” yoonji can already predict what’s going to come out of your mouth

“well, c’mon then! let’s all go grab some food before i die of starvation.” you loop your arm with yoongi’s and tug her along and yoonji resists the urge to roll her eyes when yoongi smirks and offers her a look that suggests ‘huh, look at that. she wants me there too’

cuRse your need to include everybody

and as you’re blabbing about all the food that you’re wanting to shoVe into your mouth during lunch

you’re blissfully unaware of the angry glares that the min twins are sending each other

it’s almost funny how oblivious you are to how infatuated the twins are when it comes to you

yoongi keeps offering you bites of his food which you accept happily

yoonji wipes a dollop of ketchup from the corner of your mouth off with a napkin

yoongi not-so-casually places a hand on your knee and yoonji reaches behind your back so that she can pinch her brother’s side

they’re both willing to fight to the death if the end prize is you

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

masterlist

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possiblypeachy · 5 years

Text

tea & schemes (8.)

―; summary: Florence grapples with far too many feelings and, as always, Lissie comes to the rescue.

―; pairing: jacob frye x ofc

―; word count: 4.8k

―; warnings: light swearing.

―; A/N: flor is too lovely for all of this and i just want her to be happy guys im :(( but also, can we start a felicity marlowe fanclub?? please leave applications below to become an official member bc everyone should love her she’s like a rockin’ older sister.

also, if i was okay with writing like 6k word chapters they would’ve kissed in this one so keep an eye out in the next chapter people

―; part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

― ❊ ―

The walk back to Florence’s home was filled with light, cheerful conversation but brushes against the shoulder and moments of her simply studying Jacob’s face seemed far more frequent. Or were they like this usually? Florence was unsure; she’d begun to overwhelm herself inside her own mind, though she kept Jacob none the wiser. The last thing that she could afford right now was him, of all people, digging through her conscious.

“-- and I was trying to enjoy a pint but along comes Evie with this huge bloke’s head in her hands and she just slams him into my table. I tell you, beer in the eyes is painful but not as painful as the splinters that man had to pull out of his face.” Jacob grimaced, gazing into as though he was envisioning the wound’s that very moment. Then hazel eyes met hers, amusement mirrored in both of their eyes. “So, the moral of that story is to never go drinking with my sister.”

“Such a shame, that.” Florence’s brows drew together in faux disappointment. “To think, I was going to invite your sister down to the pub this weekend.”

“Without me?”

She shot him a little wink, a finger coming up to tap her nose. “Girl talk, Jacob; you wouldn’t understand.”

He huffed out a laugh, taking a familiar turn into her street. “I’m not sure Evie would either.”

Florence’s gaze fixed to the profile of his face for a moment too long, just watching the curl of his lips and the jovial light flickering in his eyes. Why did she find it so impossible that he actually wanted to spend time with her? Remnants of Thomas prickled at her heart, despite Jacob’s work to remove them. The thought that she might allow herself to fall fully for this man-- this assassin-- only for him to break her again terrified her more than Florence would like to admit. Yet, his presence had been lingering on her mind for longer than she’d previously realised.

His eyes dragged from the bunting strung above her street to her and the worried little crease between her eyebrows. Florence appeared to be in another world entirely. “Flor? Are you alright?”

She blinked once, then again, before refocusing on the world around her. A gentle smile tugged her lips upwards and she nodded. “Yes, of course. I was just thinking…”

… that I’d very much like to kiss you.

… of how you always seem to make me feel at ease.

… about you.

“... that we should perhaps part ways here, lest Freddy interrogate the both of us. You know how he is.”

Jacob chortled, nodding, his brows raised. “Indeed I do.” There came a little sigh, hardly noticeable, though gave the impression that he was almost sad that their time together had come to a close. The smile she gave him said the same.

Something heavy hung above their heads.

“Well, thank you for today, Jacob. There’s nothing like watching someone you know beat a crowd of grown men up.” Florence breathed out a laugh, shaking her head slightly.

There was a softness to Jacob’s face; the curve of his lips was gentle, the glint in his eyes screamed of something more than a simple care, and his gaze studied each of her features-- from that little mole on her bottom lip to the hump in her nose to the strands of mousy hair that had taken to resting on her forehead. The arm that had been hooked around hers moved forward but he paused before putting his hand on her hip. Instead, below her sight, Jacob’s hand balled into a loose fist-- a sign of a change of heart. “Florence,” her full name, “look, I really--”

Her hand came to his shoulder to stop him, heart roaring her ears. “I should really be getting inside, Jacob.” Ah, Christ Almighty, he looked like a kicked puppy. It was near indescribable how much her heart wanted her to push forward embrace him, tell him of all the tangled worries occupying her mind, but that very mind insisted that Florence had to make sense of it herself first. So, as to appease her heart enough to allow her a few hours of restful sleep tonight, she rolled up onto the tips of her toes, placed a hand to one of his cheeks, and gave a featherlight kiss to the other. She muttered a soft “Visit me again soon.” before turning and hurrying into the safety of her own home.

Jacob watched after her with wide eyes and parted lips. It was rare that Jacob Frye was speechless but, for a few moments, his brain was completely incapable of comprehending words. Was he blushing? His own hand came to his cheek and he frowned slightly. Maybe.

Bloody Hell.

London does have its surprises.

---

“A letter came for you while you were out, Florrie” was the first thing she heard as she walked in the door. Freddy, from the lounge chair, glanced over the newspaper he had been reading and to his sister, furrowing his brows at the red tinge to her ears and neck and the otherwise lost look in her eyes. “You look flustered.”

Florence hung her shawl beside the door and tucked a few strands that had come loose from her bun behind her ear. “Oh, it’s…” Eyes flickered over to the letter on the tea table before flitting to Frederick, giving him a reassuring smile, “... it’s nothing. I think Lissie made my corset a smidge too tight this morning and, well,” Her lips pursed and her brows rocketed toward her hairline, “I’ve already told you how overwhelming Willard can be.”

Freddy hummed, uncomfortable with the thought of a man being so shameless with his sister. The newspaper flopped at one corner when he gestured to the letter now in her hands. “What’s that about, then? Is it mother and father?”

She tapped the back of the envelope with her thumb for a second or two, having vaguely recognised the handwriting as most certainly not her mother’s, before tearing it open. It was an invitation to meet again the day after the next from--

“Willard. He’s asked to meet with me again.” She muttered, scanning over the contents of the letter.

Freddy frowned. “Couldn’t he have asked you that at the library?”

Ah, shit.

“He had to leave on ‘important business’ earlier than I expected so he must’ve just forgotten.” Florence had a talent for lying through her teeth, though whenever it was to her brother she did feel the need to pray to the Lord above at the same time.

Freddy was quiet for a few moments then sighed. Florence held her breath. “No doubt his ‘important business’ was--” The pitch of his voice heightened somewhat and it drew a smile up from his sister, “-- ‘collect my latest pomade shipment, make a fancy speech to parliament, plot the demise of Frederick Abberline.’”

She snorted, folding the letter back up and balancing it between her middle and ring fingers. “I’m sure he’s arranging the hitmen as we speak, dear brother.”

Freddy shrugged and raised his eyebrows in response, a motion that said “probably” before letting his eyes drift back to the newspaper. Florence paused for a few moments in her place, toying with the letter. She needed to speak with Lissie.

“When you see her next, can you tell Lissie to come up to my room? I’d like to get out of this corset and into a nice bath.”

“Of course.” Frederick gave her a little farewell smile as his sister made her way towards the staircase.

Lissie was something of an agony aunt and, goodness, did she need someone’s ear to chew off. In fact, merely thinking of it made her hands shake and breathing heavy. Even the gentle meowing of Duncan behind her bedroom door did very little to calm her nerves.

A gentle knock came to the door and Florence didn’t even have a chance to answer before the figure of Lissie bumbled through the door. She had two cups of tea in her hand and a concerned glint in her eyes; she already knew that Florence was worrying. Felicity was a good woman and Florence appreciated her very much.

Without a word, Lissie passed a cup to Florence and she began to blow over the surface of it, steadying it when the older woman took a seat on the bed beside her. There was a slurping noise-- how did she drink it while it was still so hot?-- then Lissie settled the tea into her lap, turning slightly so she could take Florence in fully. “What’s the matter, dear--”

“I like him.” She blurted out, honey eyes flickering from her tea to her maid. There was a look of desperation there-- as if she was hoping that Felicity could simple somehow magic away that clenching of her heart.

Lissie furrowed her brows. “You like who?”

“Jaco-- Mister Frye. We’ve been spending more time together recently and I-- and we--” Florence held her breath, keeping eye contact with Lissie for a few moments, before finally sighing. “He almost kissed me.” There was a pause. “I almost kissed him.” Another. She threw one hand up into the air and the cup of tea in her other hand wobbled dangerously. “I don’t know-- I don’t know! I just--”

“Lovely!” A hand came to Florence’s shoulder. “Lovely. Calm down.” Lissie’s smile was so kind that Florence actually felt her shoulders relax. Blue eyes met hers and, to reassure Lissie, she gave her a little nod. “It’s fine. He’s not a bad bloke, is he?”

“No, of course not. Jacob is… well, he’s really charming. He’s not a huge gentleman but he doesn’t have to be. I just--” Florence glanced to the corner of the room, where Duncan was watching them both, then back to Lissie. “I just think I really like him.”

That smile curled at Felicity’s lips and Florence stifled a laugh of disbelief. Before she could say anything though, Lissie was already speaking, “Oh, to be young and in love.”

“You’re lucky I need you, Felicity Marlowe.”

Lissie grinned, crow’s feet appearing at the corners of her eyes. “I know, I know. But,” The same hand that had been on her shoulder moved to her lap, giving Florence’s thigh a reassuring squeeze beneath her skirts, “you seem quite smitten with this Jacob fellow and, from the sounds of it, he likes you enough too. Is he why you’re always out?”

Florence took a sip of tea, avoiding the answer to the question for as long as she could, and flinched when it burnt her tongue. She swallowed once, with brows pulled downwards, then answered a simple: “Yes”.

“Do you enjoy yourself with him?”

A pause. “Yes.” Honey eyes met blue ones, remnants of the day swimming about in them. “Did you know he took me to a fight club today? I watched him fight; he’s the champion there.”

Lissie’s fingernails tapped along the ceramic cup and her lips pursed for a moment. “So, why is it such a dilemma that you fancy him, then?”

There was the real question. Why did it bother her so much that she liked someone-- liked him? It wasn’t like Jacob had done any wrong by her yet. In fact, he’d gone out of his way to make her happier. And, the way he had looked at her: as though she was everything that existed in the world at that moment. God, it made Florence’s throat tighten and heart swell.

“I should be looking for a wealthy husband. I need someone my father would benefit from.” Lissie looked unconvinced. Florence looked panicked. “Freddy wouldn’t approve either.”

Felicity set her tea down and held her hands out. Florence did the same and placed her own hands in the maid’s grip. A thumb glided over the back of her palm as an effort to comfort. “Firstly, you have never been concerned with such tripe. My Florence would rather die than marry into wealth.”

Florence’s lips curled into one of those smiles that said: “You’re right but I don’t want to admit that I was wrong”.

“Secondly,” One of Lissie’s hands came up to raise Florence’s gaze back to her, “in the politest way possible, fuck your brother.”

Florence frowned. “I’d prefer not to.”

Felicity groaned, rolling her eyes and giving a slight pinch to the back of Florence’s hand. “Hush, you terrible woman.” She huffed out a laugh, allowing Lissie to continue. “Freddy would disapprove if you got with the son of Queen Victoria herself. He might yap on about you needing to marry a ‘good man’ but all he cares for is your happiness, lovely. He’s probably just worried about Jacob’s intentions.”

Florence sighed, teeth gnawing at her top lip. She was right. Lissie was always right.

“What is it that’s really worrying you?”

That clenching in her chest began again but it was sadder this time-- scared. When she looked back up to Felicity, there were the beginnings of tears in her eyes. “I’m frightened he’s going to break my heart or--or--” One fell down the curve of her face and Lissie was already pulling Florence into a hug, burying the younger’s face into her own shoulder, “-- if he might leave me because I’m too b-boring and I--”

A gentle ‘shh’ came to stop her blubbering and stuttering. “Florence, lovely, you’re one of the most interesting, lively women I’ve ever met and anyone would be blind to not see the same.” Florence hiccuped into her shoulder, pulling away slightly to rub her eyes. At the same time, Felicity’s hands cupped her cheeks to ensure that Florence was looking at her. Red circled honeyed eyes, lashes thick and dark with tears. Lissie frowned slightly and moved forward to plant a kiss on her forehead. “If he’s gotten into your heart, it’s because he tried. I reckon Jacob wants you as much as you want him.”

God, he had tried. Jacob was so kind to her-- so willing to help her outside of this little box she’d been put in by her class. He wasn’t afraid to show her new things in fear that it’d ‘ruin her innocence’. He’d tell her horribly lewd jokes because they made her do that silly snort of hers. He, despite his sister’s words of concern, always went out of his way to see her.

Florence’s heart calmed down a little bit.

Maybe this all wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

Through a small sniff and her hands coming up to wipe away the moisture on her cheeks, Florence sighed but it sounded somewhat like a laugh. “That sounds terribly dirty, Lissie.”

Obviously pleased with how Florence had stopped crying and now had the beginnings of a smile playing at her lips, Felicity released her face and grinned, pointing an accusing finger. “I’ve seen the bloke’s shoulders-- nice and broad. Don’t lie to me and tell me you haven’t thought about him above--”

“Felicity Marlowe!” Florence slapped the maid’s arm, stifling a naughty little giggle. There was a wonderful sense of joy in the genuine smile of someone who had just been sobbing. It was their emotion in its rawest form-- walls torn down by the breakdown moments before. Despite her eyes and the red around them, light shone in her pupils eyes again. “Just go and sort me out a bath, please.”

“What? So you can think of all his muscles alone?”

Florence shot her a sharp look but the dimple in her cheek made an appearance, her head shaking. “No.” Then, a playful little smile graced her features and she glanced away briefly. “So I can plan on how I’m going to kiss him.”

Lissie’s grin was proud. “That’s the spirit.”

---

The park she’d been due to meet Willard in was quaint enough, with a little gazebo in the centre that a band played in. It was mid-morning, so the soft chirps of birds accompanied this melody, which calmed Florence’s heart to some degree, she supposed. In the light of the rising sun, it wasn’t difficult to spot Willard’s golden crown of hair. The mottled sun painted gorgeously against tanned skin and, when he heard the small clicks of her footsteps, he turned, green eyes appearing almost icy in the light.

“Dear Florence!” He stood from the bench he’d been sat on and took a few steps towards her. His head bowed and his hand took hers, placing a featherlight kiss upon the back of it. “I hope nothing terrible happened to your brother, hm?”

Florence’s smile was courteous and sweet but the sickness in her stomach remembered Willard and his feelings toward Freddy-- how he planned to use her. “Well, you’ll be pleased to know that he was fine.” Willard raised a brow, asking her to elaborate. She did, hooking her arm through his so they could walk together, “He had ripped my favourite dress accidentally and had begun to panic far too much-- the poor sod. Oh, sorry for the language. I’m--”

For once, Willard seemed to smile genuinely, breathing out a laugh. “It’s charming, Florence; you shouldn’t apologise. I have siblings, so I know it’s not always so easy to refer to them nicely.” He had leant into her somewhat to say this, as though it was a little known secret. Much to her own surprise, a little grin tugged at her lips. “If you’d like, I can put some money in toward reparations? I would hate for you not to feel as gorgeous as you always look.”

Here start the compliments again.

“No, it’s fine; I’m unsure on if I’d even fit into it anymore. I’ve had it for far too long so it’s about time I chose another.” Did Florence have actually have a preferred dress? No. She chose all of her dresses because she knew that she’d look good in them. There was no purpose in her having one particular ‘favourite’.

“Well, perhaps you should make the one you’re wearing now your new favourite. If I might say, blue is a beautiful colour on you. It really brings out the paleness of your skin.”

Great. She supposed blue couldn’t be her favourite colour anymore.

Florence’s previous thought that her conversation was going quite swimmingly with Willard, although brief, flew completely out of the window. In an effort to hide her growing grimace, she turned as if to look at the birds in the trees above them. “Thank you, Willard. I’ll keep that in mind.”

They walked in silence for a while, following a path lined with flowers. The quiet was welcome for a time until the realisation that Willard was never quiet for this long hit Florence across the face. She finally shot a glance toward him to find him looking less-than-happy with the world.

“You seem troubled, Willard. Is there something you wish to speak with me about?”

His eyes met hers after a few moments. Then, he gestured for them to sit on the bench just beside the gazebo. “What is your opinion of me, Florence?”

Genuine confusion washed across her expression. “Nothing bad, Willard. You’ve only been nice to me. Why?”

“It’s just that there have been… unsavoury rumours going about with concerns to my intentions with you.” Willard shifted in his seat so that he might hold her hands. Florence allowed him to, upholding that look of bewilderment. “I simply hope for this to be the start of something grander and I would hate for you or your family to think of me in a bad light.”

What did he know? What had he heard?

“What rumours might those be?” The speed of her speech made her seem panicked but, if he had picked up on it, he didn’t comment.

Willard frowned. “After Sergeant Abberline arrested my brother, some people have this sick idea in their minds that I’m out for revenge. What my brother did--” He swallowed, appearing quite disgusted. A terrible feeling began to stir in Florence’s stomach. “What he did was… horrible and I am ashamed to have the same blood as the wretched man.”

Was he lying? He must be. A barrage of doubt slammed into her. Maybe he was being truthful and the note was a set-up of some kind. But, on the other spin of the coin, perhaps he’d noticed he’d lost the note and wanted to cover up his tracks. There was a flashing memory of the look in his eyes when Jacob introduced himself. None of the puzzle pieces were connecting and Florence was beginning to feel quite light-headed.

She blinked once. Then, twice. Her hand came up to tuck a few curled strands of brown behind her ear in an effort to self-comfort. “I have never thought such a thing and nor has Freddy.”

“I’d still feel horrible to just leave it at that; I feel like I must prove that I’m not the creator of some dastardly plan. So,” Was that a shy smile? From Willard? “I’d like to invite you and your brother to dinner at my manor at the end of this week.”

What had she done to the Lord above for Him to invoke such wrath upon her?

Florence felt like her body had frozen, bar the heavy swallow she took. Dinner wouldn’t be… so bad. Yet, there was this pang in her chest that told her that living this double life-- split between being this Florence for Willard and the real Florence to Jacob-- would be her downfall but she felt that she had very few options in the matter.

“That sounds lovely, Willard. I’ll be sure to tell my brother when I return home. Speaking of which--”

“Oh, don’t say you must leave, dear.”

Florence’s lips tugged into a sad smile, patting Willard’s shoulder to comfort him. “-- I must leave to go home. Our maid is due to do the shopping soon and I must go with her; my cat has a very specific diet.”

Willard huffed out a laugh at this and stood up with her. “Well, I look forward to seeing you again this weekend. Do say ‘hello’ to this diva cat of yours from me, too.”

At that, Florence grinned and said her goodbyes. Beneath her, her feet went a little faster than usual.

---

The door was unlocked when she got back, Freddy obviously having forgotten to lock it on his way out to work. As soon as she stood on the creaky floorboard near the entrance, the door closed behind her, Florence let out a heavy sigh, shoulders relaxing somewhat. She set her little purse down on the little table beside the coat rack but stays there to lean on it for a small while, simply gathering her thoughts.

Her opinion on Willard was much like a metronome; sometimes, he was delightfully charming and today told that he had at least some sense of humour but, other times, he was like the wolf to her rabbit-- ready to consume everything she had ever stood for in a grapple for power. It made her feel weak either way; she didn’t want to kneel for any man.

Her breathing was deep and slow-- an attempt to comfort-- and one of her hands had begun to work on undoing the bun on her crown. Florence had had enough of today and it was barely the afternoon. She would write her parents another letter, read, and wait for Freddy to get home; she didn’t have the emotional energy for much else.

“A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.”

Florence jumped, all of her muscles tensing in one go to look toward the source of the voice.

There was Jacob, all amused at the sight of Florence so surprised, holding Pride and Prejudice in his hands. “Who knew books could have such profound words? Now I know where your fancy vocabulary comes from.”

Florence, despite her racing heart, laughed softly, shaking her head. With a brow raised, other hand out to ask for the book back, she asked: “How did you get in, Jacob?”

He took a few steps forward, around the lounge chairs, to give her the novel. “That maid of yours-- Lissie, was it?-- let me in just as she was leaving.”

The image of Felicity’s dirty little smile came to the forefront of her mind and Florence bit back a grin. “If Freddy had come home, you’d have been killed.”

“Oh, yes-- because your brother is capable of murdering me.” Jacob narrowed his eyes at her, snark dripping from his voice, and plonked himself down onto the nearest chair, playing with the fabric beneath him. Florence sighed, amused, but said nothing more, going to hang up her shawl. Jacob soon noticed the tension in her movement and the tiredness in her eyes. “What’s got you in a twist, lovely Flor?”

Of course he’d notice. He noticed everything. That feeling arose again when she turned to look at him, concern in those hazel eyes, but she swallowed it. “I met with Willard again today--” The slight frown Jacob adopted was nearly missable, “-- and he’s invited both me and my brother to dinner this weekend.”

He made a mock ‘ooh-la-la’ noise, despite there being a little part of him that hated the whole idea. “Sounds like a date. Perhaps he’s courting you and you don’t even know it.”

“Oh, I know it; he makes it all too obvious. I just don’t want to be… courted.” Florence paused, rolling her shawl in her hands. “Not by him, at least.”

Jacob’s little grin never left but there was something in his eyes as he asked: “Did you have anyone else in mind?”

Blood rocketed through her veins. She could hear it in her ears-- feel her pulse in her neck. Their gazes locked for a moment too long and his expression softened into one reminiscent of the other evening. Florence broke the moment by dragging her eyes away. “The only thing I have on my mind is alcohol; I need to relax.”

“I could help with that.” Briefly, she looked back to him only to be met with a cheeky wink. Her shawl flew through the air and landed on his face, muffling his chuckling.

“You’re terrible, Jacob.” Try as she might, she was unable to keep the dimple in her cheek away, facing away from him for a few moments so he didn’t get the satisfaction of seeing her laugh. When Florence finally looked back to him, he was still grinning, now wearing her shawl like a pretty scarf. “You can stay and share some wine, if you’d like--”

“No, no. Certainly not.” He stood up, shuffling around the table to get to her. “Come on.”

She frowned, confused. “What?”

“You’re not going to drink wine and mope at home. If you want to drink, we’re going to go to the pub.”

“Jacob--”

One of his hands were already on the doorknob, tugging the door open. The other he held out toward her like an invitation. “I won’t hear it. It’ll cheer you up.”

Florence bit her cheek, arms crossed beneath her chest, unconvinced.

“I want to see you happy again-- like the other night.”

Felicity’s word from earlier echoed about her head. Jacob did only want to make her happy.

Florence’s resolve broke in the form of a tilt of her head and a little smile. “Fine.” She placed her hand in his and he helped her step out of the door. “You have to give me my shawl back.”

Jacob, closing the door behind him, hummed. “You know what?” The hand that wasn’t holding hers stroked the fabric of the shawl. “I don’t think I want to.”

Her jaw dropped in mock offence and he half-shouted when her hand came up to try to pull the damned thing from his shoulders. “Give it back to me, Jacob; that thing cost me a pound!” Florence’s words came out through laughter, drawing attention to the pair of them from people strewn about the street.

“Alright, alright! I’ll give it back--” She went to grab it again and he leant away. That gooey feeling in his centre returned when she pouted, “-- if you promise to hold my hand on the way there.”

Florence sighed. “People will talk.”

“Damn them.”

She frowned-- thoughtful. Then, honey eyes melded with hazel.

Damn them.

“Deal.” Jacob didn’t have a moment to react when she tugged it off of his shoulders and draped it over her own. “Thank you.”

He stared at her for a little too long, the beginnings of a certain smile curling at his lips. “I think it looks better on you, anyway.”

Florence gave a little grin, unable to keep the red twinge away from her ears.

Their fingers stayed interlocked for the short journey there and Florence, it seemed, had underestimated how much more it made her love him--

Like him.

She only liked him.

#assassin's creed #assassin's creed syndicate #ac: syndicate #jacob frye #jacob frye x reader #jacob frye x oc #frederick abberline #florence abberline #evie frye #writing #THEY'LL KISS SOON #I PROMISE #but please enjoy this little cheek kiss for now #and also the beginnings of jealous!jacob

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