#everything is about sex except for sex which is about death | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

koemiexists · 2 months

Note

Hey! Can I get dom!Lucifer x fem! Reader pretty pls? Like I love him being a sub, but I don't think there's enough smut of him being a dom 🙏🏽

Accidentally Taking Souls

summary: you accidentally sold your soul to lucifer, and he accidentally accepted it. it only happens every one in twelve million five hundred fifty seven thousand souls! which also means, you're the first. tags: PANIC ATTACK, comfort, biting, porn with plot basically, not very good friends, dom!lucifer, drunken confessions, but not DRUNKEN sex, choking (consensual), fingering, breeding kink, surprise at the end word count: 4k a/n: this was already sorta on my to-do list, a lucifer x reader shot, then alastor x reader x lucifer shot, but it also fit your ask so !! apologies for delays :) i'm getting to them (a bit slowly...)

Truthfully, you weren’t religious. Your mother had always been, however. She would drag you to church, and make you pray almost all the time. Once you moved out for college, you never looked back.

When she died, she left nothing to you, but a single slip of paper. ‘Don’t sin.’

You truly didn’t care at that point, you didn’t believe in everything she had spewed, and continued to warn you about, even in death.

She had always warned you about your friends, telling you that they were demons who had risen from Hell to make you sin. It was truly baffling for her to spout her nonsense, especially in front of your friends themselves.

And yet, those very same friends were on your living room floor, staring at you with various smiles of pure delight.

“You want me to do what?”

“It’s not a want, (Name)... It’s a dare.”

You groaned; you were tired of this. “Why are you daring me to sell my soul? To the devil?”

One of your friends just smirked. “He’s not real, right? You shouldn’t have a problem.”

Blinking, you just took a deep breath, and shrugged your shoulders. “You’re right.” You said simply, and sat down.

One of the girls had unfurled from her position on the floor, digging into her bag. “Here.” She started, beginning to take out various things. “I can help you!”

You furrowed your eyebrows, thoroughly confused. “I don’t just say ‘have my soul devil’?”

“Damn (Name), I didn’t expect you to be that dumb.” She joked, bringing a needle to your hand. “No, it doesn’t go like that. If the deal is accepted, you’ll be in Hell.... maybe. That’s what the occult book told me.” She shrugged, pricking your finger, and dropping blood messily. “I just have to draw some runes...”

After the entire ordeal was over, especially the disastrous game of truth and dare, you retired for the night, concluding that you didn’t want to be up any longer and overthink what just happened.

Your friends had cheerily bid you goodbye, and you had waved them away, telling the group you’ll talk to them in a few days.

The last thing you could remember was the pleasant feeling of your sheets, and the cool squishmallow in your arms.

You awoke slowly, you felt as if you were drifting away... and then you felt someone poke at you.

Dismissing it, you turned away, until it registered in your head. Someone poked you.

You lived alone.

Jolting up in your bed, you looked around. There was a man towering you, grinning sheepishly. You let out a yell, keeping your plushie close to you as you kicked off the sheets covering you, falling off the bed.

Except that didn’t make sense, because your bed was just a mattress on the floor! It was close to the ground, and yet you dropped a good few inches from the ground.

Fear was coursing through your veins, and you felt an overwhelming sense of dread, followed by a serene calmness- but your adrenaline was still pumping, and your inner voice was screaming at you to get up, run run run run run RUN!

You jolted, trying to maneuver yourself to get up and start running away except when you glanced down you started to scream because of your skin tone-- it was a weird hue, definitely not natural, definitely not yours.

“Hey! Calm down- girl- fuck- bitch, calm down!” You let out a hiccup as your eyes flickered from your hands to the man. He seemed to be fiddling with something, before dropping it and orienting you.

“Sorry,” He huffed, and you managed to get a good look at him. His skin was milky white, and he had platinum blonde hair that was swooped locks. You looked away again, and he gently put you back on the bed. “Don’t fall off again.”

You sniffled, nodding. “Shit.... I don’t even know how this happened. Usually this is when people sell their souls... but I never...” He paused his pacing and muttering, turning to you.

Your hair was obstructing your face as you stared down at your lap, but when he approached you, you instantly stared at him. “Did you sell your soul... to me?”

“You aren’t the Devil.” You said instantly, before clapping a hand over your mouth. “I-”

The man just laughed. “No, you can call me Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar.” He smirked, his grin wide and toothy as he looked at you with lidded vermillion eyes. “The ruler of Hell.”

You stared, mouth ajar.

And then laughed, boisterous and teetering to purely unsettling.

Lucifer stared at you as you laughed, and laughed... and wait-! No, you were still laughing.

“What’s so funny?” He huffed, a hand on his hip as you still was chuckling, tears in your eyes.

“Okay, I’m having a crazy lucid dream!” You snorted, and searched for a clock, staring at it intensely.

Lucifer cocked his head. “What are you doing?”

“Weird.” You muttered, staring at the clock even more. Why weren't the hands going haywire? Why was it normal?

You turned your eyes to your hands, studying it. It was... fine. Nothing was abnormal besides the fact your skin was a different color. You felt yourself panicking again, and you closed your eyes, willing for something different to happen.

Your panic began to increase dramatically as you heaved, tearing up as you looked at the clock again. You tried to take in breaths, but it was hard to even register that your lungs were burning.

Hands were gripping your wrists. You felt sick. Your head was pounding, and you knew you had to be yelling, because your throat ached and was scratchy. You could barely see, but you kept thrashing.

After a while, you felt all your energy zapped from you, you just slumped, sniffling and trying to catch your breath. Blearily, you watched as a muddled version of Lucifer appeared in front of you, looking you over.

“Ok?” He whispered, and you blinked slowly, tilting your head at him slowly. “Is- Did you settle? Uhm. Are you a bit okay now?”

You shrugged, and he wiped your tears, gently gathering you in his arms. His limber figure made his way to what appeared to be a bathroom, and your eyes widened at the sight of a huge bathtub. On the sides were a bunch of rubber ducks.

Lucifer gave you a mischievous look as he placed you down after stripping you down to your underwear, running the water warm.

“I made them.” He said, placing only certain ones in the water. “Some of these definitely cannot go in.” He moved a light blue one off to the side. “It produces voltage,” Lucifer explained, getting some bubble bath soap, and pouring it over the running water. In an instant, bubbles began to form around you.

You gave him a look. Because, really? Voltage duck?

He pouts a little. “I just... I made them.... Why not? It’s entertaining!”

You don’t know how creating ducks can be entertaining.

Lucifer gave a huge dramatic sigh, pushing his hair back, and bemoaned your inability to see how delightful his ducks were.

“You’re weird,” You uttered, your voice extremely scratchy. Lucifer winced, and quickly whirled his hand, a water bottle appearing.

“Here,” He said, motioning the water. “It’s cold.” It was cold. “Icy too.” Okay... “Maybe even...” You looked at him, as the water in your mouth began to get colder. “Pure ice.” Your mouth was beginning to get cold, really quickly. “Haha- sorry, bad prank?” Would it even be classified as a prank? More of an inconvenience, especially with how parched you were.

You stared at him silently, drinking more of the cold water that he provided. “So... I’m dead?” You whispered, glancing down at the bubbly surface.

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t expect to go to Hell so soon.” You muttered, looking around inconspicuously. It was very grand, fit for a king indeed.

Lucifer furrowed his brows, confused at your statement. “You knew you were going to Hell?”

You smiled gently. “Never listened to my mom. Super religious. Wasn’t my style.”

He hummed in response, and helped you finish cleaning up. You felt tired afterwards, and just wanted to sleep now that everything was done. Lucifer led you to a guest bedroom, sprucing up the surroundings a little. He gently tucked you in, and you gave a small noise of appreciation.

“I’ll show you around, later.”

You yawned, nodding.

“My daughter...” He had a daughter? “She has a hotel.”

“Mmm.”

Lucifer smiled at your sleepy sounds. “Supposed to redeem sinners.”

You turned over, groaning. “Go away... I don’t care...” You slurred, sleep clouding your head like a fog. “Ngh... wait.” You blinked rapidly, turning back to Lucifer. “What?”

He smirked. “Redemption of sinners?” He repeated, giving you a teasing look.

“Is it possible?!”

Lucifer inhaled. “I... don’t know. Maybe? I just like to support my daughter’s dreams.” He pauses. “Even if it’s a bit far-fetched, she believes in it.” Another huge pregnant pause. “If it does work, you won’t become a human, you’ll just be an angel.”

You turned away again. “Ugh.”

He snorted, and fixed your blankets. “Goodnight,” He crooned, placing a small rubber duck on your dresser. “You have to wake up really early tomorrow!”

He cackled when you just groaned.

After a few days of living like this, Lucifer deemed you ready to meet his daughter. When you inquired why before you couldn’t he just muttered about some sinner that would rip you to shreds. You didn’t really understand, but he seemed to hate that one sinner with a passion, so your questioning didn’t continue past that.

He led you to a huge building that had the words Hazbin Hotel in big letters at the top. You glanced at the infrastructure, cringing at some of the design choices. It was surely unique, although you knew it definitely needed some sprucing up.

“It’s pretty,” Was all that came out of your mouth. Lucifer gave you a half-hearted noise of acknowledgement, ringing the bell. You heard light footsteps, and as soon as the door began to open, Lucifer burst past it.

“CHARLIE!”

“Hi dad...”

You shifted from foot to foot, waiting for them to see you. “Oh!” There they go. “Sorry, sorry! Uh- how are you? What’s your name?” Charlie began to babble, leading you inside with gentle hands. “I’m Charlie!”

Lucifer was right by your side again, causing you to stumble. “(Name),” You offered weakly, gaining your balance again as Lucifer began to chuckle lowly next to you. “I...”

“She’s with me,” Lucifer said smoothly, smirking. “I have a favor to ask of you, Char-Char.”

Her attention was instantly on her father, head cocked to the side barely, questioning.

“She... accidentally sold her soul to me.” He started off slowly, and Charlie gave him a weird look.

“So? She shouldn’t be here unless you accept... Dad!” She yelled out at the end, and Lucifer winced. “How did you accidentally accept a soul??”

He groaned. “By accident, of course! Listen Charlie-”

“That poor girl-”

You looked back and forth tiredly, before clearing your throat. “What’s done is done,” You started, glaring at Lucifer lightly. “Besides, Luci has been helping me get accustomed to my new world. But we were hoping you knew how to redeem sinners so I can be redeemed.”

Charlie began to shift nervously. “Well- we don’t have a set method.”

You stared at her.

“We don’t have one sinner who’s been redeemed... yet.”

“Yet.” You parroted, giving her a blank look.

She bit her lip lightly. “Yes, yet. I’m sorry (Name), we are only just starting and I know being in Hell was a mistake.”

You felt numb, and can only barely register how Lucifer had lifted you up, pulling you away and whispering apologies against you. “Sorry,” He murmured, and you let out a soft sigh due to his hand on your scalp. “I’m so sorry, I thought she would have found a way already...”

“No need to apologize,” You huffed, blinking away unshed tears as he calmed you down. You still felt extremely upset, but it wasn’t truly anyone's fault.

Lucifer gave you an apologetic look still, before putting you down. You looked around, blinking. “Where are we?”

“Guest room,” Lucifer replied, fixing the sheets as you gained your bearings. The couch was ratty, with small tears on the cushions; the back of it was dingy, yet when you moved, it stayed steady despite the obvious damages.

You got up, and he motioned to the bed, smiling at you gently. “Want to sleep? It’s getting a bit late already.”

Confused, you gave him an inquiring look. He smiled sheepishly, motioning to the clock. “It’s the evening, I think your perception is a bit skewed...”

Right, your outburst. “Sorry,” You said, feeling guilty.

Lucifer just waved you off. “Do you want to sleep?” He asked, and you shook your head, looking at the door.

“Is there a place to get a drink?” You just wanted to get drunk, if you were being honest.

He hummed. “There’s a bartender, apparently.” He replied, taking your hand into his. “Steady,” He spoke lowly, as you stumbled a bit, letting him lead you down the hall.

You both made it to the bar, where you practically threw yourself at the stool, asking the bartender, apparently named Husk, to make you a strong drink.

He merely grunted in acknowledgment, turning away to start mixing it. Lucifer grinned toothily at you, before he turned around to go be with his daughter.

One drink turned into two, then into three, and before you knew it you were seven drinks in, and you were giggling with Angel, a patron at the hotel.

“You’re really,” You paused, hiccuping due to how fast you drank your last shot. “Really interesting, Angel.” Your words were slurred, and almost hard to decipher. Angel, however, understood you completely considering he was also tremendously drunk.

“Thank you, sweet thing.” He smirked, his gold tooth glittering in the light as he moved closer to you. He smelled like artificial fruits, and you wrinkled your nose in distaste, bile swirling right beneath your esophagus. “So, Short king is with ya?”

You nod, still fighting the urge to retch at the stench of his perfume. “Uhn, yeah, he is. I, uhm... made a deal with him, apparently,” You slurred, pausing almost every word you said. “Sorry, your perfume smells gross.”

Angel rolled his eyes, throwing two of his hands up. “Ugh! Val made me wear it for today’s shoot-”

“Why?” You nearly whined, scooting backwards as Angel began to spray a different perfume.

He sighed. “I work sex, babe.” When you cocked your head to the side, he began to rephrase his drunken words. “I’m a porn star.”

You flushed at that, and shrugged lightly. “Each to their own I guess...”

Humming, Angel brought another drink to his mouth, downing it in one go. “On the topic of sex,” He slurred, smirking as Lucifer slowly approached you two. “Who would you have sex with here? Based on appearance.” He hiccuped.

“Lucifer is super hot,” You giggled, biting your lip lightly as you stood up, swaying at your spot. “I wouldn’t mind having him fuck me, I need a good pound.” You dissolved into light giggles, finding the idea of fucking the ruler of Hell amusing, getting him worked up by a lowly sinner...

You yelped when a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tight. “Don’t squirm,” Lucifer said lightly, raising his hand to stroke your hair. “I’m taking you to bed. You’re drunk.”

“I’m not,”

A laugh came from in front of you, and you glared at Angel as he smiled even wider, smug. “Bye, (Name). Remember to not gag-!”

His voice was cut off as light swarmed your vision. You shut your eyes tight, feeling your stomach roll in pain as your surroundings became the guest room. “Hngh,” You whined, collapsing onto the bed. “Mm, Luci...”

Lucifer stroked your head as you chugged the water he gave, before he ushered you to bed to sleep the liquor off.

Your eyes were shut the instant he had dropped your head back on the pillow.

When you awoke, your head instantly began to pound, before tapering off to a light throbbing. You blinked, and turned to look to the side where the warmth was radiating. “Hi,” Lucifer smiled at you, his expression sleepy as his wings stretched from his back. “You’re awake.”

“And hungover,” You groaned, rubbing at your temples.

You screeched when your wrists were pinned above your head, and Lucifer was on top of you, straddling your hips. In this position, with you staring up at him, he truly did look angelic. His hair was messy, strewed in different directions. The glow from the light on a dresser behind him illuminated certain visible parts of him to you, and it just gave him such an ethereal glow.

You sucked a breath in as he shifted, his wings spreading out from his back, and you could almost imagine that golden halo on top of his head right now.

“Do you want this?” He uttered, voice deep with sleep and slightly gravelly. Arousal bloomed in your abdomen as you nodded quickly. “Words, ducky.”

“Yes.” You nearly whined, and he grinned, teeth all showing.

He practically pounced after that, ripping your bottoms off, and instantly his claws were at your underwear, shredding it with a flick of his wrist. Lucifer let out a growling noise as he leaned into you, thrusting a single finger into your awaiting cunt.

Slick was dripping down his hand after a few thrusts, messy and almost disgusting as wet slapping sounds quickly reverberated throughout the bedroom.

“Dripping, all for me?” He teased, beginning to lightly rub your clit with his thumb as he nipped at your neck and chest. “I just need to put my claim on you.”

You moaned, shaking at his ministrations. “Bite me,” You whispered softly before you broke on a high pitch whimper.

His teeth gleamed as he smirked at you, before surging forward to bite you right between your shoulder and neck, his sharp teeth digging deep into your skin before he pulled away.

You let out a sob at the pain, then a moan as he sped up with his fingers. “Sorry,” He said, guilt filling his voice slightly as he looked at you with lidded eyes. You weakly watch as he gently moves his other hand over the bleeding wound as the pain eased into slight numbing.

“I liked it,” You murmured, kissing him again, and biting his lip as you rolled your hips into his hand.

He let out an indistinguishable noise, before he thrusted his hand deep in you, watching as you came all over his hand, liquid shooting all over his arm.

“Good?” He asked, kissing you softly, before pulling away, licking at his fingers that were soaked in your release.

You nod, smiling as he beamed lightly at you. Moving slightly, you pulled your legs up, leaving your cunt more exposed for him. “Take me, Luci.” You had whined, cunt fluttering at the thought of his cock in you.

Lucifer flushed, his cheeks becoming a darker ruddy color, as he took off his pants. His thick cock slapped his thigh, and both of you giggled at the noise. “Sorry,” He laughed lightly, but you just shook your head smiling.

“It’s okay to be a bit silly, Luci.” You had said quietly, breath hitching as he entered you.

Lucifer sank deep into your cunt, inhaling sharply as you squeezed him. You had yet to indicate you wanted him to move, inhaling and exhaling lightly as you eased up around him.

You nodded, but he still hadn’t moved. His face was extremely red as he stayed still, his breath labored. You furrowed your eyebrows, moving slightly as your cunt squeezed then relaxed around him. “Luci, are you o-”

Before you could finish your sentence, he pulled almost fully out, his flushed tip just barely stretching your cunt. You looked up at him as he shoved his cock inside again, slamming into you. “Mm- Lucifer-” You tried to speak, but he just kissed you, your tongues entwining as small noises of pleasure emitted from you.

He pulled away, panting as his hair became more messed up from his movements. “Want me to stop?” He paused, to see what you needed.

You growled lightly, wrapping your legs around his waist and bucking your hips. He let out a small yelp, grasping your hips in a bruising manner. “Okay!” He kissed you, and slammed into you again. “Okay, you want me that badly huh? My pretty baby. All wet and slick for m-”

He paused as he was pulling out when you let out a whimper. “Daddy,” You had said quietly, nearly inaudibly.

“What?”

You flushed this time, looking off to the side as you worried your lip between your teeth. “Sorry, I...”

Lucifer gently wrapped his hand around your neck, and when you snapped your head to look at him, he smirked, gently squeezing, before his grip became lax again. When you nodded, indicating you were okay with it, he grinned.

“My girl, all wet for her daddy. Such a slut for me, aren’t you? When we fuck, ducky, you look at me. When I kiss you, you think about me. When I impregnate you, you look at me. Understood?”

You wailed in pleasure, cunt gripping his thick cock. “Yes daddy! I understand,” You blabbed, and you took a deep inhale right as Lucifer squeezed your neck.

“Do you even deserve to be fucked by me?” He asked, rubbing your clit lightly. As you began to teeter over the edge, he stopped all movements, looking at you. “I asked you a question.”

You heaved, gripping at his hand. “N-no,” You choked out, and he released his grip, kissing your neck. “Daddy,” You whimpered, watching as Lucifer pulled away to adjust your position. He had your lower half fully bent now, your knees nearly touching the bed as he grasped your waist, shoving his cock back inside you.

Screaming at the new found spot he hit, you began to earnestly moan, loud noises coming from your mouth as every thrust he made hit your sweet spot perfectly. “Ah- ah!” You bit your lip, causing it to bleed. Lucifer leaned in, sucking your lip into his mouth, before he caught your mouth in an open kiss, licking at your tongue.

“Good girl,” He purred, shoving his thick cock deeper and deeper inside you. “I’m going to make you into a mommy, do you want to be a mother? For me?” You felt your orgasm approach as you nodded, whimpering at the idea of your belly becoming swollen with a child.

He kissed you, and you bit his lip as you came, your legs shaking as you inhaled deeply, jerking at the aftershocks as Lucifer continued to thrust, pace off. Jackhammering into you for another moment, he stopped, his cock deep inside you as he groaned, cum coating your walls.

You felt gross, but he merely gently rubbed at the small bulging in your lower abdomen, sighing. “Good?” He inquired, kissing your cheek.

“Good,” You confirmed, beaming tiredly.

A month had passed, and you were chatting idly with Charlie.

“So,” You started, smiling lightly. “I have news.”

She grabbed your hands, eyes bright. “What is it? Oh! Did you find someone to stay at the hotel? Did you find some staff? Is there some news happening in Pentagram City? Wait! Let me guess, did a new restaurant open up-”

You laughed, calming her down as you smiled cheekily. “No, not any of that.” Pausing as Lucifer went up to sit by you. “Me and Luci,” You started, glancing at him. “Are expecting.”

Charlie froze. “Huh? Expecting what? A package?”

Lucifer grinned widely, as his daughter slowly began to understand. “You’re going to be a big sister, Char-Char!”

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angelwonie · 1 year

Text

KISS ME MORE || lee minho

PAIRING: brother’s best friend!minho x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 13.2k

SUMMARY: he's your brother's best friend, and that should be enough to keep him off limits. but he's just a little too handsome, and you're just a little in too deep.

GENRE(S): smut, fluff

WARNINGS: smut [unprotected sex, fingering, degradation, praise, use of petnames (kitten and baby), dumbification, mean!dom minho] minho knows he's hot and is a menace to society

The first time you met him, he was leaning against the doorframe of your living room.

He was visiting your brother, but the fact that he wasn't here for you seemed to slip from your mind the moment you saw him. An infuriatingly pretty smile was planted onto his face, his hand brushing his hair out of his face as he introduced himself as Lee Minho to your family, not even sparing you a single glance.

Lee Minho.

It tasted good on your tongue, his name.

You wanted him already.

Lee Minho.

He'd met your brother a few years earlier, since they were both obsessed with dancing. Apparently, Minho was the best dancer on the team. Not that it came as a surprise when Chan brought it up at the dining table later that evening. You had already come to the conclusion that Lee Minho was god's favorite, and, consequently, good at everything he did.

He also lived only a few houses away from you and Chan, as it turned out. Basically a neighbor, your mom had commented when he revealed his address and you nodded along – did this mean you'd get to see him often?

That question was answered fairly quickly as Chan assured everyone they'd spend most of their time at Minho's house instead – so as not to disturb anyone, he had said. Oh, what a caring brother you had. At that moment you wanted to strangle him to death. Didn't he understand that Lee Minho was the most handsome boy you'd ever seen in your life?

Or maybe he did understand, and that whole 'staying away from the Bang residency' thing was intentional because he, being the logical sibling, knew that if you happened to fall in love with his best friend, everything would become really awkward.

Which, yeah, sure, makes sense. Lee Minho is, after all, your brother's best friend. You shouldn't like him, and he shouldn't like you.

Having gathered that information, it’s pretty obvious that there is just no fucking way that you have a chance with him.

Right?

—

Two pm. That’s when his dancing lessons start. You haven’t memorized his schedule or anything – you’re not a creep, obviously – you know this solely because your brother shares that class with him. Yeah. It has nothing to do with the fact that you enjoy every second you can spend outside the dance hall, able to let your stare rest on Minho without seeming desperate. Because if there’s anything you dread more than him not paying attention to you, it’s him thinking of you as Chan’s pathetic little sister.

It’s fun watching him dance. He’s so good at it that it’s mesmerizing, his movements clean and gaze focused as he learns the choreography way quicker than the rest of the dancers. It’s no secret that he’s better than them, yet it doesn’t seem to bother them. Maybe it shouldn’t bother you, either. If only him being out of your league was the only problem. But it isn’t, so you decide not to think about it anymore, and rather focus on the homework in front of you as you wait for your brother to finish class.

Except it’s very hard to take your eyes off someone who looks like him at that very moment – shirt sweaty and sticking to his body, accentuating his arms a little too well. You almost choke on air as he thrusts his hips forward – something that surely is a part of the choreography but shouldn’t be, because it makes you bite your lip and press your thighs together, thinking that you wouldn’t have anything against having those pretty hands of his wrapped around your neck as he thrusts into you like that.

You sigh and look away when they stop dancing, mentally slapping yourself. You've gone completely crazy, developing a crush on your brother's best friend, that's for sure.

“Hey, did you wait long?” You hear your brother’s voice to your right and you turn around to face him, pushing away your previous thoughts as your eyes land on his frame.

It takes all of your mental strength not to scream when you see that Chan isn’t the only person headed towards you as he leaves class, but that he’s accompanied by none other than Lee Minho – the guy whose dick you were thinking about just a minute ago. Shit, that’s just your luck isn’t it? Obviously, he just had to be here, and obviously, the one time you wish he wouldn’t pay attention to you, he does. You try your best not to look too caught off guard as you feel your face heat up from the way Minho’s eyes are set on you, cursing the world for the awful timing.

“You’re coming with us?” You blurt out in his direction, forcing your gaze to stay away from the way his soaked through white shirt allows you to see everything underneath and to focus on looking him right in the eye. Which is hard enough by itself, because his stare is so strong you fear your legs will give out from underneath you.

“Yeah,” He says, and you swear his voice has gotten even more attractive since you heard him last. “Is that a problem?”

“Of course not,” Chan answers for you. “We just need to finish practicing the choreo. We’ll be outside anyway, so we won’t bother you, right, Y/N?”

“Right.”

You’re quick to gather your things, relieved that when your eyes land on Minho’s frame again, he’s no longer looking at you, his face stoic like it usually is. The three of you head towards the bus stop, and you’re happy that it arrives after less than a minute, certain that this is an opportunity to sit somewhere where you can silently admire the dancer without him catching your stare. Unfortunately for you, the bus is packed with people eager to get home and there are no sitting spots available, forcing the three of you to squeeze your way through the crowd and into a corner.

You feel goosebumps spread across your skin as Minho’s shoulder accidentally brushes over yours, clutching your bag a little harder and biting your lip. It’s so unfamiliar, having him this close to you, so close that you can hear his breathing. You’re sure that if you moved only a little to the left, you’d be able to hear his heartbeat, too. A small gasp leaves your mouth as the bus abruptly moves, making you almost lose your balance. Thankfully, you manage to grab the handle above your head to steady yourself before you trip.

It takes you a total of two and a half seconds to realize it’s the same handle that Minho’s holding. It takes you another three to realize you’re literally holding onto his fucking hand, that your skin is in contact with Lee Minho’s skin.

Holy shit.

You retrieve your hand so fast that you didn’t even know you could react that quickly, and it feels like your heart is about to burst out of your chest as you look everywhere just not in his direction. Did he notice that? Of course he did, how could he not? You held onto his hand, for fuck’s sake! And even if he didn’t care about that, he surely must’ve raised a brow at how you reacted to the physical contact. Like a crazy person. God, there is just no way you can ever look him in the eye after this.

The rest of the ride you just keep your eyes planted to the floor, hoping you don't look as embarrassed as you feel.

“We’re here,” You hear Chan say after a while, more to his friend than to you.

You wait for them to go first, not wanting to draw more attention to yourself, but your plan fails the moment Minho turns around in the doorway, looking at you expectantly. “You coming?”

This time, as you’re walking past him, you make sure not to let your shoulder come in contact with his, but it doesn’t change the way your skin tingles when you meet his gaze for a split second. God, it’s going to be a long walk home.

Fortunately for you, there’s a limit to how long a three hundred meters walk can last, and so after a couple of minutes, you’ve arrived. You waste no time going up to your room while Chan and Minho stay downstairs. The moment you enter the room it feels like you can finally breathe.

Sitting down by the window, you calm yourself down, for the first time in your life happy to be away from your brother’s annoyingly hot best friend. You even manage to forget him for a while, almost too caught up in your homework to notice the two boys practicing on the lawn beneath your window. Almost.

In your defense, Minho’s impossible not to notice. You catch a glimpse of him – brows furrowed and forehead glistening in sweat – and it’s enough to make you admire him shamelessly from where you’re sitting, homework long forgotten. He dances with Chan for a while, explaining the moves to him and adjusting his shoulders when they’re positioned wrong, and it makes you wish you were in his place right now – having Minho’s fingers touch your skin, his attention set on you and not your godforsaken brother. Then, your eyes follow him as he leaves Chan alone, moving to where his bag lies and taking something out of it.

You can see the muscles on his arm flex as he opens his water bottle, before bringing it to his lips and throwing his head back to drink. Your mouth waters at the sight of his exposed neck and the veins on his fingers that are gripping the bottle tightly. It’s shameful how easy he can get you worked up – a throb forming in between your legs already, despite the action being quite unharmful. To anyone who doesn’t fantasize about him, obviously. Which excludes you.

Your heart gets caught up in your throat when you catch Minho smirking up at you, his eyes looking directly into yours and you’re frozen in place for a second, unsure of what to do with yourself. Finally, you tear your gaze away from him, utterly embarrassed for what seems like the nth time today.

—

Nothing can top the relief you feel when Minho announces he's heading home after spending a good two hours at your and Chan's house. Unfortunately, he also promises to be back tomorrow after your brother’s swimming practice, so that they can perfect the choreography. (Which is, by the way, so unnecessary, because you've seen Minho dance and that choreography needs no more perfecting on his end.) Usually, you wouldn't have minded at all, but after today's humiliating incidents you'd prefer not to face him in the nearest future. But as usual, the world doesn't really listen to your wishes.

Actually, the world must hate you, absolutely fucking despise you, because the next day Minho manages to arrive too early, knocking on the door a whole hour before Chan's practice is supposed to end.

“I’m not interested!” You shout as you hear a fist banging against your door, your first thought being that the person outside is some kind of salesman.

“You’re not interested? Aw, why not?”

You freeze hearing his voice, eyes widening in shock. What. The. Fuck? Why is he here so early? Surely your brother must’ve told him when he’d be home, and you knew Minho wasn’t one to just forget things. Another thing that declared you fucked right now because there was just no way he hadn’t taken pride in the way he caught you staring at him yesterday. But, you had to open the door or you’d never hear the end of it. Besides, Minho already knew you were home since you’d recklessly shouted at him. Shit, you should’ve just stayed quiet. But who knows, maybe you’d gotten lucky and he had actually forgotten when your brother's practice ended, so he’d just leave and come back later.

“My brother’s not home until seven,” You say the moment you open the door, met with his signature smirk and his hands buried in the pockets of his perfectly fitting jeans. “You’re early.”

“Really?” The way he says it makes you feel like it doesn’t really surprise him. His smirk widens as he eyes you up and down, and you feel very exposed as his gaze falls first on your lips and then slides down to your cleavage, where they linger a little too long than they should. “My bad, I thought he said six. Mind if I wait here meanwhile?”

He doesn’t really wait for your response, walking past you and into the house like it’s his own, his shoulder brushing over yours just like yesterday. You roll your eyes at him while closing the door as you see him throw his backpack onto the couch you were peacefully sitting on just a few moments ago. He makes himself at home, turning on the tv and putting his arms behind his neck. You can’t help but notice that he looks hot like this, relaxed and sprawled out on your couch.

But it doesn't matter. He's here for your brother, not you. So you turn your back to him and walk into the kitchen under the excuse of making food, yet in reality, just doing anything so you won't have to look at his stupidly handsome face.

“You do realize Chan’s not gonna be home for another hour, right?” You say as you start cutting up some fruit.

“Yeah, why?” You hear Minho chuckle from the couch, and you can almost feel the way his stare is set on you. “Can’t handle my presence?”

“Didn’t say that. I’m just saying you might get bored.”

You’re so focused on keeping your eyes on the food in front of you that you don’t even notice Minho has walked into the kitchen, before you feel his warm breath fan against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Your heart jumps in your chest and you turn around to face him in reflex. It's embarrassing how loud you can feel your heart pounding in your chest, and that sensation is only heightened as he smiles down on you, faces closer to each other than they’ve ever been.

“Do you find this boring?”

His voice is raspy, with a hint of amusement in it as he lets his hand graze your skin when he brushes your hair out of your face. You suck in a breath, silently cursing your heart for almost beating out of your chest at such a small gesture and hoping to god your flustered state went unnoticed by the boy. But is there really a possibility of anything going unnoticed when two people are in such close proximity?

Do you find this boring? Such a stupid question to ask. Listening to your heartbeat would be enough to answer it. Looking into your wide eyes would be enough to answer it. Watching how your body reacts to his touch would be enough to answer it. The answer is out in the open for him to see, and you know he sees it. And surprisingly, it doesn’t make you want to run and hide. Sure, it makes you nervous as fuck – having him look at you like that, so intently, yet so carefully – but it doesn’t make you want to run. If anything, it makes you want to stay.

“No,” You say, uselessly. “I don’t.”

A smile spreads itself across his lips. Not a smirk, a smile. And oh god, do you feel weak in the knees when he looks at you like that. You want to say something more – hear him talk about himself or maybe ask for his number. It doesn’t even matter, really, you just want to hear his voice, and feel his touch like you did a few moments ago. He’s waiting for you to say something, you can see it in the way his eyes are glancing between your eyes and lips, and it makes you wonder whether he’s thinking of kissing you. Or if he’d kiss you if you asked him to.

“I…” You trail off, breath caught up in your throat as Minho leans closer to you, tilting his head to the side slightly. He’s so close that you can smell him now, the scent of his cologne filling your senses, and it makes you feel even more intoxicated with him. You’ve smelt his perfume before as he walked by, but this is different. This time, his face is millimeters away from yours as he licks his lips and you swear he’s doing it on purpose just to set you off. And you have to admit it’s working.

“You…?” His tone is teasing, while his touch is featherlight as he lets his fingers graze your bare shoulder – seemingly innocent, but you know he’s doing it just to see you shiver in excitement. And you do even more so when his hand drops to your thigh, causing you to suck in a breath loudly before you can stop yourself. You can see a small smirk forming on his lips at your actions, and you’re about to say something to defend yourself when you hear the front door open, making you jump slightly.

“I’m home!”

Minho doesn’t even flinch hearing your brother’s voice, his eyelids half closed as his gaze still rests on you, hot breath hitting your lips as he awaits your next move. And it’s half relieved, half frustrated that you turn away from him, walking a couple of feet away so it looks natural. What the hell just happened? You're left to ponder that question as your brother walks into the room and you hear him and Minho talking.

Even as he's speaking with Chan, he doesn't fail to meet your gaze when you let it linger on his frame for a little too long. And it’s in defeat that you realize there are butterflies fluttering in your stomach when he sends you a subtle wink.

—

School is hell, but it’s even worse when you catch yourself staring at your brother’s best friend way too many times. Especially since he seems to catch you doing it, too.

You swear he’s everywhere. In the hallway when you’re walking to class, sitting by a nearby table when you’re in the cafeteria eating lunch and walking out of the building exactly when you’re sitting outside, peacefully reading a book. You just can’t escape him and the amused look he sends you every time he sees your gaze land on his frame.

And while it probably doesn’t even look like he’s paying you any attention to bypassers, you’ve grown to know him enough to tell that it’s not accidentally that he lifts up his shirt to wipe his sweat exactly as you’re walking by the football field. Or maybe it is an accident and you’re just delusional. Either way, it’s embarrassing how something like that is enough to make your face grow hot and turn your gaze anywhere else than him and his stupidly pretty face.

After all that, it’s obvious that what you want the most is to get some peace and finally be able to breathe freely without thinking of Lee Minho. Which is why you head towards one of the less crowded places on campus when your classes finish, sitting down on a bench and taking out your book that you’ve barely begun reading due to all the recent events. However, you’re not able to relish in the silence for too long before you hear a voice behind you, catching you off guard.

“What book are you reading?”

“What?” You ask, turning around to look Minho in the eyes and being met with a hint of curiosity in them.

“I asked you what book you’re reading,” He repeats, leaning his arm on the bench like he didn’t just scare the living shit out of you. “You were so caught up in it that you didn’t even notice me, so it must be good, right?”

“Not really, it’s my chemistry book. Didn't have anything better to do than study anyway.”

You’re kind of surprised when Minho lets out a snort of laughter at your words, and you realize it’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh while talking to you. You could get used to that, actually – hearing him laugh. The way his eyes light up when he does it makes you feel weirdly happy, it’s like he actually enjoys your presence. Oh god, you really hope he does. You really hope that he doesn’t look at you like Chan’s annoying little sister, because that would completely ruin everything.

“Anyway, I came to ask you whether you want to grab a coffee with me,” He says, a smile still planted onto his face. “Pretty sure that's more entertaining than studying for your chemistry exam.”

“Sure,” For a second, your face lights up, but then it falters again. “Not sure Chan would want me there, though. Wouldn’t wanna ruin his time with his friends.”

“I never mentioned anything about Chan, though, did I?”

You open your mouth to reply and then close it again when he pokes your cheek with his finger. It’s so unexpected that your eyes go wide – so wide you’re afraid you might look like a fish or something – but it also doesn’t last long, because one blink of your eyes later his finger is gone and you’re left face to face with the most handsome boy in the world. He’s very close to you – did he lean forward or were just too busy staring at every inch of him to notice that he was this close to you all along?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He tilts his head to the side with a smirk, and you avert your gaze immediately, making him chuckle. What a nuisance, you think to yourself. You want him so bad it hurts. “Come on, let’s go before the high schoolers take all the best spots.”

You must look a little unconvinced, because he soon speaks again. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it doesn’t get boring.”

And he winks – something that makes your heart drop to your stomach and screams at you that this is a bad idea, considering how he’s your brother’s best friend.

But you don’t really get to think that through because suddenly, he’s walking away with his bag thrown over his shoulder, and you pick up your things in an instant and jog up to him, like you weren’t just considering going home a minute ago. You still make an effort to scoff really loudly as you catch up with him just so he doesn’t think that little wink had any impact on you, but he chooses to ignore it, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he crosses the road.

Chan would totally freak out if he saw you right now, you think to yourself, walking into a dimly lit cafe side by side with his best friend. Why exactly are you doing this again? You look at Minho and he flashes you a smile that makes you want to cry into a pillow. Ah. That's why you're doing this.

“I’ll have an americano,” Minho tells the waitress a few minutes later from where you're sitting by a table in the corner of the cafe. “And you?”

The waitress is looking at you expectantly, but your eyes are set on Minho and his t-shirt that looks a little too small and hugs his muscles a little too well. He’s wearing piercings, too – one in his right ear and two in his left. He doesn’t wear them when he dances, so you’ve never really seen him with them on. They suit him. A little too much.

“Iced latte,” You say mindlessly as Minho asks again, and you can see him raise a brow at your lack of responsiveness. The waitress walks away, and before Minho can ask you what you were thinking about, you ask a question to fill the silence. “Don’t you have dancing lessons today?”

Dumb question. You know he doesn’t have any dancing lessons today. And from how he’s looking at you, it’s not hard to tell he knows it’s a stupid question. God, this is like your first time speaking to him one on one and here you are, embarrassing yourself to no end.

“You know I don’t,” One corner of his lips quirk up in amusement. “Me and your brother have the same schedule.”

“How come I need to remember everything about his schedule?” You mumble under your breath, fiddling with your fingers because you’re 99 percent sure Minho now thinks you’re just his best friend’s helpless little sister that has a hopeless crush on him. Which you are. But still. If you appear so nervous all the time you’re never going to get that dick.

Right as you’re about to seduce him with your charms, a waiter gives you your drinks. He’s handsome, with sharp eyes and a kind smile. Probably would have landed a role in a kdrama had he tried. When he flashes his pearl white teeth in your direction, it’s like you can’t hold back from smiling back.

“Here are your drinks.”

He puts them on the table and smiles wider at you, almost completely ignoring Minho. It makes you giggle, and he winks at you in return, but then, as the waiter retracts his hand from the table, he manages to push the teaspoon lying next to Minho’s coffee cup onto the floor by accident. Seeing his sorry expression, you’re quick to squat down on the floor to pick it up, but it seems like he’s got the same plan – your hands touch as you both reach for the fallen spoon.

For a second, you’re waiting for that electric feeling to surge through you and for your whole body to grow hot like it did when you touched Minho’s hand in the bus, but when that sensation doesn’t come, you just smile at the waiter instead and hand him the spoon.

“Thank you,” He smiles and lets his eyes fan over your face and dip down to your body. “Is this your first time coming here? I feel like I would’ve remembered seeing such a pretty girl here before.”

You can tell the waiter’s interested in you, and so, upon noticing Minho’s expressionless gaze from where he’s sitting on his chair, you opt to take this as an opportunity to mess with him a little. Why should you be the only one chasing after him, after all?

“Yeah, it’s my first time,” You blink up at the waiter, letting your fingers trace up his arm until they reach the collar of his shirt. “If it wasn’t, I surely would’ve remembered seeing such a handsome waiter.”

Your eyes meet his and you smile in an overly cute way, letting your finger trail over his jaw before you place it back in your lap. He grins and extends his hand to help you stand up, and you make sure to stand on your tippy toes to press a small kiss to his cheek as a thank you. You can feel Minho’s gaze on you and it’s with great willpower that you hold back the smile threatening to take over your features.

“I finish work in an hour,” It’s the waiter speaking – it’s hard not to look in Minho’s direction, but you hold out, ‘accidentally’ fixing your shirt so more of your cleavage is exposed. And surely, it works, because the waiter’s eyes widen just slightly as they dip down to take in the exposed skin. “Do you want to come over and watch a movie with me?”

You can’t keep yourself from doing it anymore, so you look at Minho – only to be met with his eyebrows raised and head tilted to the side in inquiry. Bingo.

With a sweet smile, you grab at the waiter’s arm. “I’d love to.”

As he walks away, you sit down in front of Minho with a satisfied smile, sipping your drink innocently. And you wait. You wait for three seconds, then four. Seconds turn into a minute, but Minho's still sipping his drink like nothing happened. It’s only when the cup is empty that he looks up at you, licking his lips – which, by the way, makes him look ten times hotter than before, if that’s even possible.

He leans forward and his knee touches yours – whether that is on purpose or not, you don’t know, but it makes you jump up slightly in surprise.

“So, are you proud of yourself?”

He asks this question casually, but the tone of his voice makes your heart beat faster against your chest. You’re not sure what he means or if he’s jealous at all – his eyes hold an unreadable expression and the heat of his leg against your bare thigh from under the table is enough to send your mind into overdrive. It’s safe to say that you’re not able to think straight right now, and his piercing stare doesn’t help much – instead of making you want to concentrate on answering, it makes you want to jump his bones. So, to minimize the rates of embarrassing yourself completely, you opt for a question to answer his question.

“Huh?”

Minho’s lips quirk upwards in a smirk and he shakes his head, smiling to himself for a second. Then, he pulls out his wallet and puts money on the table. He’s getting ready to leave. The moment he gets up to leave, you do the same, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by you how his eyes fan down to your legs, even if only for a moment. You quickly make your way to his side and he looks down on you with a hint of amusement in his gaze.

“You really put on a show back there,” He says, finally answering your question. Your heart beats faster at that – so he did notice. Upon seeing your expression, Minho chuckles softly. “Poor guy probably thinks you’re coming over later.”

“What do you mean? I am coming over.”

He stops walking right outside the entrance to the cafe and turns to look at you with an eyebrow raised. The exit doesn’t immediately lead you to the main road, but rather a side alley surrounded by three brick walls and an opening towards the main square that you still haven’t walked through. This means you and him are still in a pretty excluded area – you look around for a second, but the only sign of life nearby is the sound of some people talking inside of the cafe you just left – and, somehow, that makes his gaze feel much harder than it normally would feel as he stares you down.

You’re nervous, that’s for sure, but probably not in the way you should be.

What you should be worried about right now is that you’re in an empty alleyway with your best friend’s brother, who could turn out to be a serial killer or something. (No, he couldn’t – this is Minho we’re talking about. The guy who has three cats and cares for them like they’re his children.) But the only thing you’re thinking about right now is how sharp Minho’s jawline is, and how maybe he’d fuck you against this wall if you asked nicely.

“No, you’re not,” He says and you’re suddenly brought back to reality. You’re about to object to his claim – excuse him, why is he not buying your act? – but before you get to do that, he takes a step forward and backs you against the wall, resting his hand on the brick wall just above your head. “You really think I don’t know you did that to get my attention, kitten?��

Oh. Your hearts speed up to an inhuman pace and you almost forget to breathe for a moment there as you feel his breath on your face, his nose mere centimeters away from your own.

“I didn’t-”

He doesn’t really cut you off, but his fingers ghosting over your jaw are enough to make you stop talking. You feel your heart beating so loudly you’re afraid Minho might hear it when he leans even closer to push your hair away from your face and whisper in your ear.

“You’re a little bit of an attention whore, aren’t you? If you wanted me to fuck you this bad, you could’ve just said so.”

You feel your face heat up in embarrassment – both from how you totally just made a fool out of yourself and from you can feel your panties start to soak through just at his words. Well, maybe not just his words, because the way you can see his arm muscles if you look a little to the left definitely helps. But now you’re just making excuses.

“Don’t worry, it’s kind of cute how much you’re willing to do to get my attention.”

Minho’s eyes fall down to your lips and you swallow hard. Is he going to kiss you right now? His hand moves to stroke your cheek and you close your eyes, awaiting him to connect his lips to yours. It’s like an eternity has passed before you feel his mouth lips against the corner of your mouth – touching you so softly you’re not even sure it really happened before the sound of your phone ringing fills the alleyway and he pulls away.

Fucking phone. You grab it a little too fast, scoffing as you see the caller ID. Of course it’s your fucking brother, who else would manage to call you just when you were kissing Lee fucking Minho?

“What?” You ask probably a little too harshly upon picking up, and you can hear Minho chuckle quietly from where he’s standing.

“Wow, no need to lash out on me like that,” He says in response and you roll your eyes, because clearly, there is a need – one that you don’t get to fulfill exactly because of this goddamn conversation. “Can you come home? Dinner’s ready and mom wants us to eat together for once.”

“I need to come right now? Seriously?” It’s not your intention to come off as whiny, but who can really blame you?

“Yes, seriously,” Chan sighs into the phone. “What are you doing that you can't come?”

That question makes your blood pressure skyrocket. “Nothing. I'm not doing anything at all. I'll be there in ten minutes, okay?”

And you hang up without waiting for an answer.

“You should get going,” You hear Minho’s voice and turn around to face him. His hands are in his pockets again and his hair is falling into his forehead. You have an urge to walk over to him and push the hair away from his face, but you resist it. “Wouldn’t wanna upset your brother too much. Considering you’re already hitting on his best friend.”

The smirk he sends you makes your heart do a dozen flips inside of your chest.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

And you start the walk home with a smile tugging at your lips and butterflies swarming in your stomach.

—

“Minho is what?” You almost scream at your brother when he tells you his plans in a casual tone – like he isn’t ruining your life.

“Sleeping over,” Chan repeats – like you asked him because you didn’t hear – raising a brow in confusion. “I don’t see how that’s a problem? We won’t bother you, I swear.”

Well, maybe you won’t, but Minho will, you think to yourself. You’re completely certain that he’ll do everything in his power to tease you somehow, especially after that day at the cafe… But you're only complaining for show, because really, you don't mind him bothering you. At all. If anyone were listening to your heartbeat right now, they’d have no problem in confirming that your heart speeds up at the mere thought of spending time with Lee Minho.

“Okay, then,” You sigh. “When is he coming?”

You’re totally not asking so you can run back to your room and only appear after Minho’s arrived so it doesn’t look like you’ve been waiting for him. Nope. You’d never go that far just for a boy you’re not even supposed to like. Like, how stupid would that be?

“He’s coming about…” Chan pauses as the doorbell rings and your whole body tenses up. “Now.”

You’re about to run up the stairs to your room and hide, but, instead of being a normal human being and waiting for someone to open the door, Minho lets himself in and walks into the house before you can even take a step.

He looks hot (as always), with his hair and jacket wet – is it raining? you didn’t even know – and blue jeans around his hips. It should be illegal to look this good. He’s holding a bag in one hand, brushing his hair away from his face with the other, and you don’t even realize you’re staring until he rests his eyes on you and flashes you a smile that has you weak in the knees.

“Hey,” He says in your direction, letting his fingers brush over your hand as he walks inside.

Your eyes drift to the right to see whether Chan reacts to how his best friend is paying you attention all of a sudden, but even if he did notice anything, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he takes Minho’s bag and tells him to follow him upstairs.

“I’ll just get some water first,” Minho replies and your brother nods, walking off to his room, leaving you alone with his best friend who turns his attention to you immediately. “You’re not gonna say hi?”

“Hi,” Somehow, even greeting him makes your stomach do a hundred flips, and the way he's looking at you doesn't help, either. His eyes trail up and down your body, sending shivers down your spine, before he meets your stare again. “Why are you staying here all of a sudden? You've known my brother for a few years, but you've never slept over before.”

It's true what you're saying – he's never stayed past midnight, and even those times were rare. Your statement doesn’t surprise Minho, it seems, because he only tilts his head to the side with a smile.

“Really? I haven't?”

The way he says it makes you certain he’s aware of it already, but you nod anyway. “You told Chan there's no point in sleeping over when you can just meet up early the next day.”

He takes a step in your direction and you swear your heart could beat out of your chest at this rate. Damn Minho and his ability to always catch you off guard… Though maybe the crush you have on him also plays a small part in how you react to every bit of attention he shows you. His hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and instead of retracting it, he lets it rest against your cheek.

His lips quirk upwards in a soft smirk. “Hmm, it's almost as if someone made me change my mind.”

You’re about to respond – actually, correction, you’re about to grab his collar and kiss him until you can’t breathe – but then Chan’s voice comes from above and makes you jump in surprise.

“You coming, bro?”

Fuck. Him. Why does he always have to ruin the moment? Upon seeing your annoyed expression, Minho chuckles and you only glare at him in response – why is he so calm when you’re dying to feel his skin on yours?

“Yeah, coming!” He shouts to your brother, before looking at you again with a wide grin. “Don’t be so impatient, we have plenty of time, remember?”

And just like that, he leaves for Chan’s room, letting the image of his smile make itself at home inside of your head. But really, you wish it didn’t, because now you’re starting to think this little crush might be more than just that.

—

The next few hours pass by rather normally.

Chan and Minho stay in your brother’s room, and you occupy the living room, watching K-dramas and eating noodles. It’s a solid distraction from the fact that Minho’s here – actually, after a while you’ve practically forgotten about him, more focused on the fact that you need to use the bathroom exactly when the most exciting part of the episode is playing. It seems fate hasn’t really been on your side lately.

Resigned, you pause the TV and head for the bathroom upstairs (the one downstairs smells like the way-too-big amount of cologne your brother sprays on every morning and it makes you want to puke), because really, what else can you do? When you reach the last steps, you can hear music flowing through the speakers in Chan’s room, meaning they’re both in there still. Great, you won’t have to worry about the fact that your hair’s a mess from lying down on the couch.

At least that's what you think as you open the door to the bathroom, only for your eyes to widen when they land on Minho’s bare chest.

It takes your brain approximately five seconds to realize what is going on – how you just walked in on Lee Minho changing. Your words get lost in your throat as you take in the sight in front of you – Minho’s raised brows, gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips and his muscles on display for you to see, making it impossible to look away. Not that you want to. He looks so hot that it has heat forming between your thighs, and you wish he would stop teasing you and make your dreams of him fucking you come true instead.

“The way you’re looking at me is making me think you walked in here on purpose, kitten.”

“What?” You shake your head vigorously, feeling your face heat up at Minho’s words. “No, I just- I didn’t know you were here and-”

“I’m just joking,” He cuts you off with a smile. You can’t help but smile, too, when he walks over to you and pulls you closer by your shoulders, leaning his face down so your noses touch. “Relax.”

And, weirdly enough, you do. Even with his mouth mere millimeters away from yours, you don’t feel like running away. You let yourself admire him for a little longer, and use Chan being busy in his room as an excuse to do so. His lips are just barely parted, eyes fully open as they reflect the light above his head, and you really want to kiss him.

“Can I kiss you?” The question slips past your lips before you can even think twice about it.

It takes him a while to answer – his gaze drops to your lips before he looks into your eyes again, and you swear your whole body is on fire when his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Gently. Softly. It’s different than earlier, the way he’s looking at you. Someone looking at the scene from outside, someone that didn’t know Lee Minho, might’ve mistaken his gaze for a sense of surprise or nervousness, but when you looked at him and he looked at you, it was obvious he wanted to kiss you just as badly as you wanted to kiss him.

“Yeah,” He replies finally.

Your heart jumps at that, and while you’re busy figuring out how to calm down and actually kiss him like you had intended, Minho takes the matter into his own hands. Literally.

His fingers grab at your jaw as he leans down and connects his lips to yours – fully, this time, nowhere near as gently as he did in front of the cafe. You’re unable to move at first, eyes closed as you focus on the feeling of his mouth moving against your own. He pulls you flush against his body, hand grabbing at your hip and you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him even closer – until you feel the warmth from his chest as you’re pressed up against it.

Your hands wander down to his stomach and trace his muscles, mouth parting in a soft smile when he shivers. Minho takes that as an opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth, groaning quietly as he gets lost in the taste of you – and at the same time making you think that sound might just be the prettiest thing you’ve ever heard.

He pulls away to breathe, eyes scanning your face – shimmering in the light. But that only lasts a short moment, before he kisses you again, hands on your waist as he pushes you against the door to the bathroom. Faintly, you can hear the music grow louder from Chan's room, but it doesn't matter, none of it does, because you're here, kissing Lee Minho like your life depends on it. And to some degree, you suppose it does.

Minho’s hands move from your waist to slip under your shirt and you shiver when his fingers brush over your stomach – it's the first time he's touching you like this and it has your whole mind going into overdrive. He must notice the effect he has on you because you hear him chuckle quietly against your neck when his lips move to suck marks into the skin right below your ear. You bury your hands in his hair and tug on it when his tongue swipes over the spots that have you shivering in delight.

“Shit, want you so bad, kitten,” Minho purrs against your cheek before he pulls away, and his words make the heat between your legs even more unbearable.

His eyes are darkened, hands moving a little lower and grazing your hip. God, he really knows how to drive you crazy. The corners of his lips quirk upwards when you shiver, his smirk showing he's satisfied with the effect he has on you. And there's not really anything you can do to prove him wrong because you're going crazy with every little touch of his.

You stand on your tiptoes to kiss him again, but as soon as his lips touch yours, you hear footsteps shuffling and someone knocks on the door. It takes all of your strength not to let out a startled gasp when Chan speaks up.

“Minho, bro, you done there?”

You clasp your hand over your mouth, eyes widened, but Minho seems totally unfazed, even letting out a small chuckle that earns him a push when he sees your expression.

“Yeah, I'll be out in a minute,” He says and you hear Chan walk off, letting you breathe.

“What are you so nervous about?” Minho asks and you glare at him.

“Oh, I don't know, maybe I'm scared my brother will catch me making out with his best friend in the bathroom?”

He smiles and suddenly, you're not annoyed anymore. Not even when he walks away from you to get his clothes, though that isn't the ideal turn of events. If it were up to you, you would sit with him in this bathroom for the remainder of the day, letting him fluster and tease you all he wants.

“You don’t have to ask for permission to kiss me, by the way,” His voice brings you back to reality, and you observe as he puts his shirt on, just a tad bit too intently watching the way his abdominal muscles flex as he does so. “Just so you know.”

“For future reference?” You can’t hold back the smile that creeps onto your face, and your heart skips a beat when he mirrors your expression. He grabs the clothes he changed out of and slings them over his shoulder as he walks over to you and rests his forehead against yours.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Your breath speeds up as his hand slips under your shirt again, fingers stroking your skin softly. His eyes are hooded, lips glistening as he licks them, and then, suddenly, he’s leaning in and his lips just barely touch yours. It’s short, and delicate, you don’t even get to close your eyes before the sensation is gone and his hand is on the doorknob. Right, he needs to leave, or it’s going to raise suspicions.

“See you later, kitten,” He says and you pout, making him poke your cheek with his finger. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“Why would I miss you?”

He only chuckles in response and leaves with a wink sent your way. One that has butterflies swarming in your stomach as you wait in the bathroom for a couple minutes. How annoying of him to act like that. Guess there’s no way to hide your crush on him anymore. Though you suppose pretending like you weren’t dreaming about him touching you left the picture the moment you flirted with that waiter to make him jealous. Or, maybe, it was already out of the picture that day he came over too early and you felt yourself melt under his gaze.

Or maybe it was all over for you when he arrived today and you realized that you were in too deep. Realized that your eyes don’t only widen when you see Minho’s abs, but also when you see his eyes, his hair, his smile. Realized you like watching him dance not because he looks hot, but because he looks happy.

Realized you’re in love with Lee Minho, and there’s no turning back.

—

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

Minho’s voice makes you jump from where you're half-sitting, half-lying on the couch, watching some drama wrapped up in a blanket. It's way past midnight, but you're not feeling sleepy at all – whether that is because of the kdrama or the fact that Minho is staying over at your house, you're not sure, though the latter seems more likely.

“I could ask you the same thing,” You say as he walks closer, your eyes lingering on his sweats and shirt a little too long for it to be considered appropriate. “Are you trying to sneak out or something?”

“Why would I sneak out? Am I being held hostage?”

“You came here out of free will, so no,” You smile at him and he chuckles, eyes crinkling. It’s dark, and his face is partially hidden, much to your distaste, so you pat the spot next to you, looking at him expectantly. “Come sit.”

He looks at you with his eyebrows raised and for a moment, you’re scared he won’t sit down. But then he plops down on your left, hand resting on your thigh that is covered with the blanket and making your heart bang against your chest. You didn’t expect him to sit this close to you, and you’re certain it’s showing from the way Minho smirks at you when you meet his gaze. In response you scoff – as if that’s going to hide the way your whole body is heating up – and let your head fall down on his shoulder. When you focus on the tv again, the drama you were watching suddenly doesn’t seem very entertaining anymore. Not to mention the main lead suddenly doesn’t seem handsome at all.

Minho doesn’t say anything for a while, and so you try to convince yourself this is just a normal movie night with one of your friends. Except your friends don’t smell like cologne for men, nor do their hands rest on your thigh when you watch a movie. And, most importantly, your friends don’t make your heart beat faster and your legs turn to jelly without even saying a word. It’s alright, though, at least that’s what you tell yourself when you hear Minho shuffling next to you, blood pressure skyrocketing from this mere reminder of his presence.

Though that is in no way comparable to how you jump in surprise when Minho’s hand slips under your blanket instead, brushing over your bare thigh. Suddenly, you’ve forgotten how to think, your skin burning from the light touch. At least until Minho retracts his hand from your body with a worried look on his face.

“Are you oka-”

You don’t let him finish, grabbing his hand and placing it back on your thigh with a pout. He looks at you for a moment and then his face contorts into that ridiculously hot smirk of his as he squeezes your thigh. You try your best to muffle the whimper that’s threatening to slip past your lips, but that only results in some kind of choked sound leaving your mouth – making Minho’s smile widen in amusement.

“Oh, so you did miss me,” He says and you’re about to protest, but he leans forward and snuggles his head into the crook of your neck, spreading goosebumps all over your skin when he murmurs against it. “Didn’t you?”

“Mhm,” You mumble when his lips just barely brush over your neck, already making it hard to focus on the TV screen in front of you.

Minho’s hand squeezes your thigh again as he drags his nose up to your jaw and presses a soft kiss to your skin. You shiver in anticipation, eyes fighting to stay open. There’s not much fighting left to do, though, because your gaze is already unfocused and when Minho presses another kiss against your neck, you lean your head to the side to grant him better access without thinking twice about it. Upon feeling Minho’s smile against your skin when he moves further down your neck you think that maybe you shouldn’t have given in so easily.

Those thoughts vanish from your mind as quickly as they came when he moves his hand further up your thigh – your skin tingling where he touches you, chest heaving with each breath as your panties slowly start to soak through. His lips find that one spot that makes you press your thighs together and sucks marks into it, fingers moving in circles that, annoyingly enough, don't move towards the spot you need them to be.

“What was that?”

He’s referring to how you didn’t answer his question, you realize a few seconds later than you probably should have. If he’s making you forget how to think by just kissing you, how will you feel when he fucks you? Your pussy throbs with excitement at the very thought of that – at the thought of Minho’s cock deep inside of you, bending you over every surface.

“Fuck,” You whine as his hand plays with the hem of your shorts. “Yes, I missed you, Minho. Missed you so much.”

“Yeah?” His lips ghost over yours as he pulls your shorts down and you help him discard them somewhere on the floor. You can see how his eyes drop down to look at your legs that you've already spread for him, and when his hand rests on the edge of your panties, you think you're going to go crazy if he doesn't fuck you soon. “I missed you, too, kitten, couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Please, Minho,” You beg him shamelessly. “Want you so, so bad.”

His fingers stop fiddling with your underwear and move further down instead, brushing over the thin fabric covering your cunt. You want to rub your thighs together to ease the heat between your legs, but his other hand resting on your thigh doesn’t let you, so you settle on looking at him with pleading eyes instead.

“I know you do,” He says, pushing his knuckles against your clothed clit, and you let out a choked whimper, your whole body jolting forward to meet his hand. He tuts disapprovingly and delivers a small slap to your throbbing cunt that makes you moan a little too loud. Your heart is hammering against your chest, and it only heightens when Minho’s fingers start rubbing circles into your panties that are soaking wet. “That’s why you were acting like a slut earlier, right? Flirting with that guy. But he doesn’t make you this wet, does he?”

You shake your head vigorously, but Minho tilts your chin upwards, raising his eyebrows. Urging you to answer verbally, like your mind isn't already going hazy just from how he's rubbing your panties against your pussy.

“No,” You manage to mumble.

“No?”

You shake your head again and in return, Minho presses his finger against your clit, eliciting a soft whimper from you. His hand holds your hips down when you try to lift them off the couch, but he rubs against you again, watching with a smile as you squirm under his touch. He's barely giving you anything and yet you're going crazy, your arousal dripping through your panties and onto his hand.

“Minho, please,” You whine at him, your nails digging into his thigh.

Chuckling, he grabs at your waist and helps you lie down against the arm of the couch so you’re looking up at him from below. He slips his hand into your panties without warning, letting his fingers run through your folds experimentally, the small touch making you shiver. He finds your clit and you let out a soft moan when he rubs circles against it, his other hand leaving your hips to slip under your shirt and grab at your tits. Your back arches, pushing against his hand when his fingers move quicker on your pussy.

“More, please” You whimper in a tone so desperate it makes Minho’s cock strain against his pants.

“More?” He asks mockingly. “God, you’re such a fucking slut. Have my fingers on your pussy and you’re still not satisfied?”

His words make you clench around nothing, a whimper leaving your lips as you buck your hips into his hand. For a moment you’re afraid he’ll pull away or tease you some more, but to your surprise, it seems his patience has worn thin, because he slips a finger into your cunt, curling it and making you let out a choked sob instantly. The corners of his lips lift up in a smirk, but you’re in no state to comment on it when he adds another finger, stretching you out and making every word you’d intended to utter die down in your throat. You’re already feeling full, thoughts all over the place, body shivering in delight as Minho’s fingers tease your nipples.

When he starts pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy, your eyes roll to the back of your head and you let out small whimpers of his name, trying your hardest to bite back your moans so nobody hears.

That task becomes even more difficult when his thumb finds your clit and rubs calculated circles into it, your cunt clenching around his fingers with each thrust. You’re embarrassingly wet, leaking onto his hand, and embarrassingly close to cumming when you tear your eyes away from his hand and look at his face – eyebrows furrowed in concentration, arm muscles flexed right in front of your face. He must notice you’re looking at him, because his gaze moves to yours and he smirks upon seeing your expression, pumping his fingers into you fast enough to make your thighs shake and your back to arch.

“Minho, I-” You’re cut off when he pinches your clit lightly, making you shiver from underneath him. “Gonna cum.”

But you don’t get to fulfill that promise as Minho abruptly pulls his fingers out of you, paying no mind to the fact that you’re seconds away from reaching your orgasm. You look at him with wide eyes, chest heaving as you whine a small ‘no, please’, reaching for his arm. But he doesn’t let you rab it, pulling away with a condescending smile on his face and you think you might cry if he doesn’t put his fingers back where they belong.

“You want to cum?” He asks mockingly, looking down on you and you nod eagerly. “Hmm, I don’t know if you deserve it, kitten. After that shit you pulled at the cafe just to get my attention? Greedy little sluts like you don’t deserve to cum.”

“I’m sorry,” You sob as he rubs your clit agonizingly slowly. “I’m so sorry, Minho, just please–”

“You’re sorry?” He tilts his head to the side, retracting his hand from your pussy. “That’s the thing, though, I don’t think you are. I think,” He pauses for a moment, only to push his fingers into you again. You moan when he hits that sweet spot of yours repeatedly, bringing you unbearably close to your orgasm with each push. “You’re just a dumb slut that would do anything to have her pussy stuffed. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” You breathe out, a familiar feeling of pleasure stirring up in your stomach when Minho’s other hand comes up to play with your tits, the sound of your pussy squelching with each of his movements filling the room. “Please don’t stop, Minho, please.”

There’s no way you’re going to be able to hold back from cumming, it’s evident from the way you clench and unclench around Minho’s fingers like crazy. It doesn’t make him slow his movements, though – actually it makes him fuck you harder, fingers curling inside of you and palm of his hand pressing down on your clit.

It takes a few more skilled movements of his hand before you’re reaching your high, legs shaking as you moan his name – probably a little too loudly, but in your blissful state you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when his fingers fuck you through it, his lips on yours the second you’ve calmed down enough to breathe properly. He kisses you roughly, but not messily, and his arm lifts your back off of the couch and presses you against him.

He’s still fully clothed, you realize, and your hands find their way to the hem of his shirt. You take it off of him, happy he doesn’t protest, pulling away from the kiss to admire the muscles you’ve only seen an outline of during his dance practices. And despite the fact you just came, you can feel another pool of arousal forming between your thighs when you do so.

“You’re staring, kitten,” He comments, and you turn your gaze away, feeling your face heat up. It's not your fault he's hot, after all. You hear him scoff and then he tilts your chin up to look at him again. “Didn’t tell you to look away, though, did I?”

You decide to ignore him and his annoyingly sexy smirk completely, and focus on unzipping his pants instead. He swats your hand away when you try to pull them down his legs and stands up from the couch, taking them off together with his boxers. Your eyes go wide when his cock stands proudly against his lower stomach.

The sight of him is enough to make your mouth water, hands already reaching out to touch him from where you’re sitting on the couch. He only laughs, though, planting your hands at your sides as he kisses you, tongue swiping across your lower lip. You whine into his mouth at the fact that you can’t touch him, but he disregards it, pulling you closer so your nipples graze his chest – making you shiver. Maybe you would’ve believed this was an accident not meant to make your pussy grow wetter if it wasn’t for how he pushes his thigh between your legs right afterwards, rubbing it exactly against your clit so you let out a broken whimper.

If he wants to drive you crazy, he’s definitely succeeding.

“Minho, I–” You close your eyes when he grabs you by your hips, dragging your folds across his thigh like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Like he’s not making your whole head spin by just tightening his leg muscles.

“You…?” He’s thoroughly enjoying this, it’s evident in the way he’s smiling condescendingly, hands holding down your hips so you can’t get rid of the dizziness that comes with your pussy being pressed against his flexed thigh. “Come on, surely you can form words, right? Or have you gone completely dumb just from sitting on my thigh?”

“N-no,” You protest – albeit not very convincingly since you’re basically whimpering, holding onto his biceps for dear life. “I– Please, fuck me, Min. Need it so bad, please.”

A sound dangerously close to a growl escapes him at your words and before you know it, he’s turned you around. You’re on all fours now, his bare cock brushing against the curve of your ass as he leans forward so his chest touches your back. He helps you position your hands on the arm of the couch– which you’re thankful for because now you have something to grip onto when his hand moves lower to squeeze your tits. It’s driving you crazy how long it takes for him to position himself at your entrance, so you push your hips backwards to meet his, earning yourself a small groan from him as he spreads your legs.

“You’re so fucking needy,” He purrs, dragging his cock across your folds and watching as you push your hips back, as if to urge him to fuck you already. Somewhere along the way, when his dick is coated with your arousal, he complies and starts pushing into you – your eyes rolling to the back of your head already as the tip slips past your walls.

He pushes in further, your head spinning as you feel him fill you up. It’s too much and too little at the same time – you want him to move, to make you see stars, but you’re partially already seeing them when his cock is halfway inside of your pussy. Your fingers grab at the couch as he bottoms out, his dick . You hear Minho chuckle, or maybe he’s saying something, you can’t tell, all too focused on the feeling of starting to rock his hips into yours slowly, his cock sliding against your walls and brushing against your clit in a way that makes you moan.

“You’ve wanted this for a long time, haven’t you?” His mouth touches your ear as he speaks, and when you nod, he rewards you with thrusting into you a little harder. Your cunt clenches around him like crazy, and he presses his fingers into your hips. “Staring at me when you thought I wouldn’t notice, always wearing those short skirts around me. Acting like a slut just to get your pussy stuffed with my cock.”

You whimper at his words, clamping down on his length in response. “That’s not what–”

“That’s not what you wanted?” You can’t see him, but you can imagine his head tilted to the side, the condescending look that gets you embarrassingly wet in his eyes. That thought only makes you tighten around him again and you can hear the grin in his voice as he speaks again. “Your pussy doesn’t seem to agree, though, kitten. Seeing how it’s begging me to fuck you harder.”

He doesn’t really leave you any room to respond as he drives his cock deeper into you, your whole body falling forward with his movement, mouth hanging open as you whimper. You half-expect him to take it slow and tease you some more, but it seems he’s grown tired of that, because the next thing you know he’s lifting your leg to the side to get better access, thrusting so deep inside of you that your vision goes blurry. He’s testing the waters, but as soon as he hears you whimper his name and beg for more, he doesn’t hold back, letting his hands draw your hips back just when he draws his hips forward.

“Fuck, Min–” Your jaw goes slack as his hand comes up to slap your tits, other arm busy keeping your leg up so he can fuck into you at a deeper angle.

“Hmm?” He hums carelessly, finger brushing against your nipple as he pumps his cock into you faster, your moans getting louder and arms starting to shake. And if it wasn’t hard enough for you to keep yourself up while he’s fucking you, Minho decides to make it even more difficult by dropping his hand to your clit, rubbing small circles into it.

If you were having a hard time forming words earlier, you are incapable of it by now. You try to muffle your moans, but when Minho finds that one spot that makes your toes curl and starts hitting it repeatedly with his cock, you can’t even bring yourself to care if anyone hears you. He’s reaching farther than your fingers – or anyone else’s, for that matter – have ever reached, and you’re almost entirely sure you can feel him in your stomach when he pushes you against him to reach even deeper.

“Min, feels so–” You’re struggling to sort out your thoughts enough to form a coherent sentence, and his hand moving quicker on your clit doesn’t exactly solve that problem. “So good.”

“Yeah? You’re such a slut for my cock, taking everything I give you,” He lands a slap on your ass as if to punctuate his words, and you clench around him in response, moans turning into whimpers and sobs that are way too loud. Minho notices, and lets go of your clit to push his fingers into your mouth, successfully muffling the sounds you’re making. You moan around them, and he groans into your ear as you suck on them diligently. “Such a good girl when you’ve gone too dumb to act like a fucking brat.”

His words only make your pussy clamp down on his cock again, a feeling of bliss stirring up in your stomach as you’re pushed closer to the edge with each sharp thrust of his hips. Minho doesn’t miss the way you’re tightening around him like crazy, drooling on his fingers and going completely silent except for the broken whimpers of his name that leave your mouth.

“Yeah? You like being my good girl?”

At first you don’t think he wants you to reply, so you only push your hips into his cock in response and take his fingers deeper into your mouth. But then he removes his digits from your lips, and you can vaguely hear him lick them clean off your spit before his hand grabs at your hair and tugs lightly, urging you to say something.

“Yes, fuck,” He lets go of you and lets you sink down on the couch, your sobs muffled against the pillows as you beg him. “More, please, Minho, I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah, me too,” He groans into your ear, fingers playing with your clit once again. “You gonna let me cum inside, kitten? Stuff your pussy full of my cum?”

“Yeah,” You sob, nails digging into the couch.

“Good girl.”

Minho lands a slap on your clit and it sends you over the edge, your cunt clenching around him uncontrollably. He cums after less than five seconds, letting out the hottest groan you’ve ever heard in your life as his cum fills you up. You swear the feeling of his load coating your walls almost makes you want to go for another round, but as the post-orgasm bliss fades and your head clears, you realize you’re way too exhausted for that.

You whine when Minho pulls out of you and he chuckles, pulling you into his arms the moment he lies down.

“You did so well, baby,” He whispers and you hum in appreciation, pressing your face between his bicep and chest. You feel him pull a blanket over you before his lips press against your forehead in a soft kiss. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” You say and kiss his collarbone.

About fifteen minutes pass in silence before he speaks again.

“I want you.”

His voice catches you a little off guard, eyes fluttering open only to meet his gaze. After having tried to fall asleep it feels weird to hear a sound right next to your ear. Besides, you were certain he'd already fallen asleep, but it seems he's more awake than you are.

It takes a second for your sleepy brain to register his words and when you do, your eyes widen a little and you laugh nervously.

“Again?”

“Not like that,” He chuckles lowly upon seeing your expression – a sound you want to bottle up and listen to every night from now on. The smile slowly fades from his face as he cups your cheek and you’re left admiring his face, waiting for him to say something more. And when he finally does, you swear his voice shivers a little. “I want to date you. I want you to be my girlfriend.”

Oh, your heart. Your poor heart. You’re afraid it won’t last very long if you do say yes and date Lee Minho, considering it’s about to jump out from your chest at the very question. Trying to calm yourself down, you almost don’t notice the way Minho bites his lips nervously as he waits for you to respond. Almost.

“Okay,” You say finally, trying to sound as calm as possible and failing miserably. The excitement is too evident in your voice, but at least it makes Minho smile from where he’s lying across from you, his thumb stroking your lower lip.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” You grin, too. “Let’s date.”

“Okay,” Minho presses a kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his arms. He smells like his shampoo and a hint of sex. He smells like home. “Goodnight, girlfriend.”

You don't think you’ve ever smiled this wide.

“Goodnight, boyfriend.”

—

“Syrup?”

“Yes, please.”

You’re currently sitting by the dining table, chin resting on your hand as you observe Minho scurrying around the kitchen, making breakfast. He’s been up for an hour at least, judging from the amount of pancakes on your plate and his hair that frames his face so nicely there’s just no way he woke up like that. Chan’s upstairs (which you thank god for because when you walked into the kitchen roughly ten minutes ago, the first thing you did was pull Minho in for a kiss) letting you admire Minho in silence. And, truthfully, you can’t fight back the smile that appears when you think of the fact that he's making breakfast for you. That he’s your boyfriend.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, pouring syrup over your pancakes, and you know he’s already figured out the answer.

“Definitely not you,” You reply and he rolls his eyes, closing his fingers around your chin as he tilts it upwards.

“Brat.”

You grin. “You like it.”

“Not when I can’t fuck your brains out, I don’t.”

You’re about to respond, but then you hear someone walk down the stairs and Minho lets go of your jaw, turning back to his pancakes.

“Good morning,” Chan says, and you sigh, making Minho sport a smirk you only catch a glimpse of when he places some pancakes on your brother’s plate. “Oh, you made pancakes.”

Yeah, not for you, though, you think to yourself. Chan catches your gaze as you glare at him and raises a brow. You ignore him and eat your pancakes, only subtly looking at Minho from time to time. After ten minutes. give or take, he’s cleaned the dishes and practically the whole kitchen, the veins on his arms making it very hard for you to focus on anything else when he rolls up his sleeves.

“I need to get going,” He says after that and sends you the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. You pout at that and he pokes your cheek with his finger in response. Something that makes your eyes widen ever so slightly, because your brother is in the same room as you two. “I’ll see you around, Chan.”

Chan nods and Minho leaves, and you’re left sitting in silence, already fishing out your phone to text your boyfriend and complain about how he left way too early.

“You like Minho,” The statement slipping past your brother’s lips makes your head snap up in shock, eyes wide open. You open your mouth to say something, but he doesn’t let you. “And he likes you.”

It’s not a question, so you don’t reply.

“He told me about it, you know. We were talking about some dumb shit in my room yesterday, I don’t even remember what, and then all of a sudden he’s telling me he’s in love with you. Can you imagine?”

Your heart stops at that. Minho told Chan about you? Told him that he’s in love with you? You have to work really hard to keep a smile from forming at your lips when you think of him telling your brother that he wants to date you.

“And what did you do?”

“I wanted to beat him up first,” Chan admits, and his smile makes your heart loosen up a little. “But then I thought about it, and he’s a really good guy. He deserves to be happy. And so do you. And you look really goddamn happy to me. Even happier than when I took you to Disneyland, and while that’s actually kind of mean, I’m still happy for you.”

It’s like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. A heavy one at that. You think you might just start crying from happiness any second.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” You hug him tightly, jumping up and down before pulling away with the biggest grin on your face.

“No need to thank me. Just use protection, okay?” He sends you a stern look, and you nod eagerly, not really listening to what he’s saying. “And no fucking in this house.”

Oh. Oh.

“Right, uh,” You smile nervously, and he raises a brow, when you walk closer to the door. Shit, you’re so screwed.

“Maybe you should’ve established these rules a little sooner.”

And with those words, you run off – partly because you’re afraid Chan might kill you, but mostly because you’re ready to jump Minho’s bones after what you hear from your brother. What you don’t expect is for him to stand right outside the door as you sling it open – hands in his pockets and a smile on his face.

“You guys done talking?”

You don’t respond, just look at him. Like, really look at him. His eyes, his hair, his mouth, his smile. You take it all in like it’s the first time seeing him – though it’s not, because you’ve looked at him like this plenty of times, felt those butterflies in your stomach as your heart beats against your chest, lips itching to meet his own. Only this is the first time your mind manages to put those feelings into words, and although it’s a tad bit scary, it makes you happy. He makes you happy.

“Asshole,” You huff in his direction, but he can’t take you seriously, not when you’re just barely keeping yourself from grinning. “You could’ve told me you were going to talk to him.”

“Then you would’ve freaked out,” He says, pulling you closer by your waist, face leaning down so he can press his forehead to yours. “But look at you now, you’re so in love with me.”

A second passes. Then two. Ten seconds, twenty seconds. You realize you could watch him like this forever.

“You know what? You might just be right. Maybe I am in love with you.”

His lips quirk up in a smile.

“Good. Because I’m in love with you, too.”

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#lee know smut #lee minho smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #stray kids headcanons

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popamolly · 3 months

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‘INTERNAL REDEMPTION’ LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR

summary. (y/n) continues to spy on Lucifer, preying on the little vulnerability that allows he allows (y/n) to see. Unbeknownst to both of them there is something blossoming with each conversation and shared stolen glance.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR

warnings. lucifer morningstar x stripper!fem!reader, eventual smut, mention of death, slow burn, biblical references, sex work, sexual themes, trauma, abuse, murder, slow burn, 18+ minors dni

author’s note. italics is for a flashback, just wanted to let everyone know if that isn’t made clear in the text, i finished this up at like 2am. enjoy sinners <3

Lucifer held you captive with his words for hours. Explaining everything you wanted to know about him and his army of ducks. That wall was slowly crumbling as was his resolve. Though that seemed to be in the back of your mind as you found yourself intrigued by him and his story— ultimately finding out that the King of Hell was actually quite charming in his way.

“So these ducks are a manifestation of sinners,” You look toward him as if to confirm his words and when Lucifer nodded you continued, “Every sinner in Hell? No wonder you have so many.”

“And this isn’t even half of it,” Lucifer smiles proudly as he hops up from his chair, gesturing toward the rubber duck piles that almost reached the ceiling, “There are more at my amusement park.”

“I see, I guess I am just trying to understand why ducks of all things?”

“Spiritual progression? Rebirth? New beginnings?” Lucifer taps his chin in thought before shrugging, “A mere duck can mean a lot of different things that’s why, plus they are cuuuuteee!”

You laugh, a real genuine laugh, which was a sound you haven’t made in a long while. The King wasn’t so bad once you got know him. If anything he was an ideal king that you would read stories about. You wanted nothing more than to listen to him talk for hours more.

“What?” Lucifer got a bit self conscious, realizing that his excitement might have came off a bit nerdy or childish, “It’s silly isn’t it?”

You shake your head to ease his insecurities with a lopsided smile, “No, I just had this version of you in my head and seeing you now, in person..it's completely changed now that I have met you.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.” Lucifer chuckles. He fiddling with the top of his cane as if he was scared to meet your gaze.

“It is.” And for a moment you forgot why you were here. If you had to chose between the V’s and Lucifer when it came to deciding Hell’s fate, Lucifer would win by a landslide— but Lucifer wasn’t the one who owned your soul, “Tell me more about Charlie. Your face lights up whenever you speak of her.”

“She is my pride and joy!” Lucifer boasts proudly, “She has this whole Hotel thing going on apparently. I’ve been poppin’ in here and there to help her ya know, being an awesome dad and whatnot.”

“And what of this hotel?” You ask, leaning a bit closer to Lucifer as if he would tell you a secret, “Does she really believe that she can redeem sinners?”

“Yes, she…she does,” Lucifer sighs after a moment, turning away from you to run his fingers through his golden hair. A heavy weight clearly on his shoulders as he thought of his daughter and her fairytale like dreams for Hell. It hurt his heart to know that he couldn’t do more for her. He knew he could make whatever dream of hers come true except for the one she wanted most. This was a whole other thing entirely. This was something between Hell and Earth and the lines have always been blurred— he would never be able to cross it even he wanted to.

“You don’t sound too sure..” You chose your words carefully. There was a tiny crack in his wall of vulnerability and you wanted to crack it some more, “Do you doubt Charlie?”

“No no no! Pfffft, Of course not!” Lucifer quickly says before sighing in defeat, raking his fingers through his blonde hair, “I don’t doubt her..I just— I don’t think she understands the weight of what she is trying to do. I just l don’t want her to end up hurt over this.”

“If all else fails then she will know that you were there for her,” You say, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly, “All you have to do is believe in her, even if you don’t believe in her dreams.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Lucifer turned to look at you. A split moment in time where the world seemed to stop and it was just you and him. Your words might have came from your own selfish need to stay on Valentino’s good side but your kindness remained true. It became clear to you that the King was nothing more than a prideful man that was trying his best. Not only for his daughter but himself and for Hell. In the short time that you knew him it was something that you quickly learned to admire, “Yes, well,” Lucifer clears his throat, his cheeks flushing slightly under your intense gaze, “Thank you for the company. It was nice to…open up a bit.”

“Of course, your majesty,” You nod, taking that as your cue to leave the King to his Kingly duties as the time you two spent together had made day turn to night in an instant, “I will leave you to your duties.”

“Right! My duties! I am a very very busy man! So many souls to collect, tons of sinners to kill, people to torture, the list just goes on…haha!” Lucifer wanted to jump out of his own skin and slap himself silly. Curse him for his rambling, why did he even feel the need to impress you? A lowly sinner that meant absolutely nothing to him.

“if you ever need a friend or,” Your fingertips grazes the doorknob to his bedchambers with the tray of empty plates in the other arm, “…A listening ear, you always call upon me.” Offering one last smile in the King's direction, you slip out into the hall, closing the door behind you softly.

Lucifer couldn’t help but feel how his room suddenly felt cold now that your warm presence was gone. There was a certain emptiness in the air that reminded him he was truly lonely. \

“So the King of Hell’s daughter wasn’t joking about the redemption of sinners,” Vox sneers over the tiny screen of the voxtech watch he gave you, “And whatever the reason for the Radio Demon to be by Charlie’s side, it surely only benefits him.” The watch screen slightly glitches from Vox laughing, “Redemption of sinners?! How stupid is that?”

“It could be possible,” You say, making the watch on your wrist glitch some more.

“If I wanted your opinion bitch, I would ask for it!” The static noise was starting to ring in your ears, its material overheating in the palm of your hand, “Whatever the case is, I need you sucking Lucifer’s dick by next week if we are going to get any valuable information out of him, do you understand me?”

You bit down on your bottom lip, tears stinging at the corner of your eyes from feeling guilty about getting close to Lucifer under such circumstances. Your paths should have never even crossed. You both might be in hell but you were in entirely different worlds. There was this unspoken connection you two shared the moment your eyes met and it was just enough to get the guilt eating away at you.

“Or do I have to tell Valentino that his favorite obedient girl is being defiant?”

“No, I—”

“Good, I’m so glad we have an understanding. Now go get me some actually good information I can fucking use!” With that Vox hung up the call, making you let out a deep breath that you didn’t know you were holding in. You toss the watch to the floor angrily, dropping your head into your hands. This was all just a stupid pointless mission. One that had no satisfying end or results because there was nothing to say. There was nothing to report back. The King, Charlie, and those around him was plotting to do more good than harm.

You leaned over to turn the faucet off, stopping the hot water from filling the porcelain tub completely after nearly overflowing it from being too lost in your thoughts.

Slowly, you began to slip out of your clothes, neatly folding them and putting them aside before stepping into the hot water, the stinging pain hardly anything you would flinch from. That stinging pain felt good, it reminded you that you were present in the moment even when you wanted nothing more than to just to disappear.

Closing your eyes to relax, you sink deeper and deeper into the water until you felt your mind slowly drift elsewhere.

With a melodic hum, you turned the page to your book, intrigued by the ancient text and words of God. Surrounding you were scrolls and other relics that you stole from the council’s library, eager to learn more about God and his mysterious ways. It was all you could do in Heaven after all, live blissfully but you were bored of that. Instead of thriving off the golden city’s pleasures you always found your head in a book, a simply pleasure that you’ve grown to love.

“Boo!” Lucifer suddenly pops down in front of you. Startled, you toss your book up, which he catches with ease, “What ya reading?”

“God’s texts Lulu, what else?” You try to grab your book from him but he holds it above your head, slowly inching upward with the help of his wings to show that he was taller than you. He wasn’t but you’d like to humor him every now and again, “Lucifer! Give it back!”

“Wouldn’t you much rather see the gift I brought you instead of reading a boring book?” Lucifer wiggled his eyebrows in jest, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

“A Gift?” You stopped jumping for your book then, your wings tucked back into you with a curious glint in your eyes. Lucifer gave dramatic pause before presenting you a green apple. He tossed it to you and you caught it in your delicate hands, smiling at the kind gesture. “An apple, how romantic.”

“Is it not to your liking?” Lucifer played along with your teasing remark, circling around you as he playfully grabs and twist your hair around his fingers in such a loving way that it had your heartbeat quickening and you breath falling short, "I thought I'd give you something a little bit more nontraditional."

It took everything in your power not to swoon over a damn apple because it wasn't just an apple to you. Lucifer would go out of his way to bring you things whenever you two would meet up at your secret spot under a new sprouting tree. There was something sparking between you two and you weren't sure how long you would be able to avoid it as you were a hopeless romantic. Lucifer had such a way with words that whenever he spoke it was if he was building palaces- cathedrals even. Between that and that charming warm smile, you knew you wouldn't be able to deny your feelings for much longer but until he admitted it first you weren't going to say anything. Call it stubbornness but you simply didn't want to be mistaken and absolutely sure that your feelings for him were one hundred percent reciprocated.

"Next time get a red apple," You said, finding that hidden resolve within you once again as you smirked at him, "They're sweeter."

"Are they now?" Lucifer stopped circling you to stand only inches apart from your face. He was so close that you could feel his breath against your lips. A ball of anticipation formed at the base of your stomach, making you feel as though you have swallowed butterflies, "(Y/N).." The angel in front of you swallowed a lump in his throat, his own body betraying him as he backs you up against the tree, lips only barely touching one another, "Can I kiss you?"

You were breathless. Lucifer had officially sucked out all the air from your lungs- or so it felt like, "Yes." And with your consent, Lucifer crashed his lips to yours passionately. He invaded your mouth and all of your senses. You melted into him, relaxing against his body as you brought your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. It was as if fireworks went off in your head. Even the sound of distant ringing of the bells had you questioning if it was truly meant to be.

You suddenly pulled away from Lucifer, "Bells.."

Lucifer blinks at you dreamily, "You hear them too? It's perfect."

"No, Lucifer, the bells! I'm late for afternoon prayer!" You shove him out the way and continue collecting your things. You have been late to afternoon prayer for the past two weeks and were already walking on a thin line with the Seraphims, you couldn't afford to be late again, "I have to go."

Lucifer pulls you back to him with a slight frown, "So soon? But this might be our last time together for awhile. I have that council meeting today."

"For what? Don't tell me this about your dreams and aspirations?" By the way Lucifer looked away from you you knew it was exactly that, "You can't bring that to the council members, they will see it as a threat to everything they have built."

"And have you ever asked yourself why that is? They should embrace change, not run away from it." Lucifer says, his facial expression serious, "I can prove to them that change is positive, something good!"

You shake your head, "Don't be a fool Lucifer."

"Why can't you just support this? Support me? Is change so bad?!"

"If it's going to cost you your life Lucifer, then I can't support it." You place your free hand on his check. The pad of your thumb grazing his soft skin comfortingly, "I won't support you in this."

Silence falls over you two and for a moment you thought that your friend had finally seen through to reason but it was the exact opposite. Your heart broke and you knew that your support was the one thing he ever wanted from you and you denied him that. There was this quiet heartbreak you felt in your chest, realizing that you had lost not only your lover but your friend as well.

Lucifer's hand comes up to grip your wrist, gently pulling you away from him, "With or without you, I will do this. I will show them. Show everyone." You could only watch as he turns from you and flies away, leaving you to be covered by his shadow and retreating back.

"That pride of yours," You whispered, hands clenched tightly into fist at your sides as you felt tears leave your eyes, "Will be your downfall, Lucifer."

You sat up in the water suddenly, gasping for air as you felt someone violently shake you. You sputtered and coughed up what felt like a lung, water trickled down and into your eyes making your vision blurry for a few seconds before you could blink them away to focus on the person who was kneeled next to the tub, concerned clearly etched across their face as they looked at you. You blinked away the water, the blurry figure now forming into none other than Lysandra.

"Goodness, dear! Do you know how dangerous it is to fall asleep in the bath?" Rushing to grab a towel that was hanging on a rack, Lysandra lets you put all of your weight on her as she helps you out the tub, wrapping the fuzzy warm towel around your nude body, "You're lucky I saw the water coming from under the door! What on earth were you thinking?" "I had the strangest dream.." You start to say, breathless and panting but Lysandra shushes you, helping you dry off and get warm as she leads you out the bathroom, fully intending on not leaving your side for the rest of the night.

"Hush, your mind must be in shambles poor thing," The elderly woman leads you back into your bedroom, "A nice cup of calming tea should do the trick. Now stay here and don't move."

You were still in shock to even register your current reality anymore. That dream you had felt too real, almost as if it had just happened. Why was Lucifer in it? Why were you an Angel? Why were you in heaven? You dismissed it as nothing more than your mind playing tricks on you. This only happened because of your growing connection to Lucifer. It was nothing of importance right? Dreams come from imagination- but there was a part of your mind that knew that dreams could also stem from memories.

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astraystayyh · 9 months

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Invisible Thread- two.

This is the second and final part of Invisible Thread. Here is the link to part one.

pairing: minho x reader. pre-established relationship. reader has she/her pronouns.

genre: fluff and domesticity. angst. healing. characters trying to become better. humans being humans.

cw: parent death. grief. talk about death. allusion to sex but no smut. suggestive at one tiny part but it's for the plot.

summary: In which Minho rewrites your entire relationship with love.

word count: 17k

a.n: this is, i hope, a gentle reminder to always be kind to yourself, and to the people surrounding you. this one is pretty personal because i see myself a lot in yn, but it was also challenging since i wrote about things i have never experienced either. so i hope you'll enjoy reading, and that the second part will live up to your expectations. it took me a long time to write this but it's okay!! English isn't my first language and this was also a reminder to be patient with myself. thank you. i love you all. truly. feedback is highly appreciated, as always <3

(here is a Spotify playlist i made for this second part, you can listen to it while reading if you'd like :))

Love. How lucky yet cursed we are to ever experience it.

The fear attached to this singular emotion seems ridiculous. Because we aren't afraid of experiencing anger, sadness, or nervousness. They might overwhelm us, but we accept them, we recognize them as they are and then we cope with them. Whichever way we know best.

But when love comes knocking on our door, we stray away from it, we try to shape it into something else- much gentler on the soul, less devastating if it were ever not reciprocated.

So, we name it a crush, attachment, infatuation; anything but the cursed four-lettered word- anything but love. As though merely acknowledging it would morph it into a sharp-edged sword, eternally wedged within us, making our blood dribble away slowly and with it, our souls awash.

You are no exception. Love has terrified you for the better part of your life. There was a time when the word did slip easily from your mouth, back when you were a child and your view of the world was still naive, undisturbed by what you now know. You loved ice cream, you loved candy, you loved your teacher who braided your hair.

But then the once light word grew heavy on your tongue. Because love is what made you crave your mother's warmth, only to find coldness awaiting you. It is love that made you seek shelter elsewhere, in the fleeting opinions of the people surrounding you, hanging your entire worth on the words they uttered about you- ones they forgot within hours but you carried for years.

But this view of yours got dismantled, slowly, day by day. You’ve come to learn that it isn't love that had hurt you, it was rather the lack of it.

It cannot be love that wound when it is the emotion swimming in your eyes, whenever they rest on Minho. You didn't dare say it to him, to name the feeling out loud. You were petrified that if it was ever out in the open, then the love would materialize into something tangible, and the universe would snatch it away, as it has done before with everything you've ever wanted.

But although you didn't say it, you felt it, deep within each one of your atoms. It spilled from you like infinite ink, rewriting your entire relationship with love, dismissing every wrong notion you've once established about it.

Love cannot hurt because you love Minho, and you'd hurt yourself before ever hurting him.

But maybe none of you would have to hurt. Maybe for once, you'd both be okay. That's what you'd like to believe as Minho's shoulders brush against yours. You are sitting at your usual table at Limbo, a gray cat sprawled on top of your laps. Finals ended three weeks ago. Summer break is here, the one time you've been dreading since you came to college. Because everyone is going back to their homes, but you don't have one to head back to.

"What will you do this summer?" Minho suddenly asks, putting down his iced americano. You scratch the cat's ears beside you gently- Lilia you've decided to name her. "I don't really have plans."

"Would you like to go camping?"

"With you?"

"I mean, unless you have another secret boyfriend, then yes, with me."

"Shut up," you giggle, swatting his arm playfully. "I'd really like that," you smile softly at him, to which he nods. "Oh, and we still need to celebrate your win this term."

"Mm. Let's just call it a date this time," he grins, taking a spoonful of the salted caramel cheesecake and bringing it to your mouth. "I need to go visit my family for a few days, and then we can go," he adds.

Sudden guilt floods your being. He had a family he could go to. It was selfish for you to want him to stay, to strip him from this privilege you weren't granted with.

"I don't want you to cut your time short with them for me," you mumble, eyes fixated on Lilia soundly dozing off on his lap. It still astonished you how all animals seemed at ease in Minho's presence. As if they could sense his gentle soul, carefully hidden behind his sarcastic retorts, and cheeky smiles- one you were lucky enough to have been touched with.

"I'm not. I just really wanna go camping," he says nonchalantly, but his hand raises to squeeze your shoulder lightly.

"You should go with them."

"I have a two-person tent in mind, it won't fit the three of us. And I want to come back to you."

His words painted a sweet picture- of him returning home after a long journey, and you were that haven he sought to rest. The idea that he'd discover such solace in you when you struggled to find it within yourself, seemed unfathomable to you.

So, you bite your lower lip slightly, before squeezing his knee in gratitude. "Okay. I'll be waiting."

✹✹✹

Blue and orange flames surge higher under the wind. You watch, mesmerized as their light dances upon Minho's skin, painting him with glistening, golden hues. Every feature of his face is chiseled to perfection, as if a sculptor spent hours perfecting his face, down to the tiniest detail. He looked in his element here, setting up your tent and grilling the meat and now looking up at the sky, a chilled lemonade in his hand. You should go camping more often.

Minho places his empty can of cola on the ground, before tapping his lap. "Come here," he smiles and you oblige, rising from your chair and settling on his thighs. You tuck your knees to your chest, curling yourself entirely in his hold. His arms encircle your body, making sure you don't slip down. You close your eyes, as Minho gazes up at the night sky before you. You are comfortable and safe. It is that safety that you've craved for so long. To be held and not fear the threat of a knife behind your back.

It still surprised you, how you came to crave Minho's presence. But it went beyond just being near him; you felt as if you needed to touch him, as if verifying his existence, ensuring he wasn't an ephemeral specter slipping through your fingers like grains of sand in an hourglass. Yet, even more surprising was Minho's own yearning for you. His hands were always drawn to you, subtly grazing your face, resting on your palm, skimming your shoulders. Each tentative touch filled an echoing void within you, slowly diminishing it until all that remained were faint whispers of it.

Minho has cared for you, long before he understood you. He saw snippets and fragments of you, and he cared for the patched-up version he made up in his mind. And when you unlocked your heart for him, he only cherished it even more, silently molding his behavior so he wouldn't cross any of your boundaries.

He was hesitant at first, in holding your hands and kissing your lips. He still asks for permission, in that gentle voice of his, to touch you, in case you’re uncomfortable. Which you aren’t, because his hands on you are infused with care, fingertips dripping with unguarded attention and softness, for you.

You sigh contently, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck as his arms tighten around you. Comfortable and safe.

"What's your favorite word?" he suddenly inquires and you giggle slightly. He often asks you these random questions, as though he wished to understand you in the most ordinary of ways and to care for you in each.

"I think it's the word soft. Whoever thought of the word really nailed it. Nothing else could have depicted softness like this one."

"The word does sound really pillowy, and gentle."

"See, I really love gentle too! Why is the word gentle so gentle? Does that make sense?" Laughter tings your question as he grins, his nose brushing lightly against yours.

"It does. They both remind me of you, actually."

"Really?"

"Mm. You're still so soft and gentle, despite it all... If they ever tell me there is one kind person left on this earth, I'd come looking for you."

Sudden tears flood your eyes as a shaky exhale leaves your lips. It felt rewarding, in a sense, to have someone acknowledge the strength it takes to be kind, in a world that had dealt you nothing but harshness.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Anything."

"Sometimes..." you pause, racking your brain for the best way to word this. "Sometimes it scares me how much I've come to care for you. How you make opening up not sound as daunting as before."

You grab his hand into yours, fidgeting with his fingers. The familiarity of their touch helps you calm down. "I'm not saying you'll hurt me. I just... I can't help this tiny voice in the back of my mind telling me to be cautious. It's gotten quieter, but it's still there."

"That's just your past selves trying to protect you," he smiles softly at you, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. "When I told you I'll be here, for as long as you'll have me, I meant it. Doubts and all."

"But I don't want to be closed off anymore," you admit. "It's very lonely that way."

"I know it is, love. But it's what you knew best back then, hm? You shouldn't feel bad about it, you did what you had to do to protect yourself. I'm just here to protect you too now."

"You think I can no longer do it myself?" you tease, your hand threading through his silky hair.

"Of course, you still can. But two shields are better than one. Also, this is exactly why I work out."

"Will your muscles protect me from my mind?" you giggle and he nods proudly. "Have you seen these?" he flexes his arms, before snorting, a bit shyly, eyes squinting closed. He's saying nonsense to make you laugh, and it's warming your heart beyond belief.

"I think these should just stay wrapped around me," you grin, guiding his arms around your back once again.

"No complaints," he smiles, as you settle against his chest. He places a soft kiss on the top of your head and you close your eyes. Safe and comfortable- Minho.

✹✹✹

Summer has been kind to you. Or maybe it was you who has been kind to summer, your laughter filling its air until it could do nothing but mirror your happiness.

Summer tasted like love with Minho by your side. In clementines he peeled for you, feeding you each slice with a soft smile on his face. In spontaneous bike rides at six am, to chase sunrises you've never witnessed before him. In numerous books he bought so you’d read them to him, his head on your lap, a tranquil expression coloring his face. And although the months have all been sweet, there are two days that you remember particularly.

You don't mark up the time with dates, but rather with the new feelings Minho bestowed upon you- the first time you wanted someone to stay, and they did.

"Baby?" Minho’s hand brushes against your shoulder and you startle, turning around to look at him. "Are you okay? You zoned out."

"I’m fine," the rehearsed lie slips from your mouth, long before you could think about it. A ping of guilt swarms your heart, you’ve promised yourself that you’d tell Minho about your true feelings, even if he couldn’t help you with them.

"Are you sure? You haven’t said a word since I came over..." He quickly glances at his watch, "Three hours ago."

"I’m sorry," you mumble, your thoughts swarming your head once again. You felt horrible for wasting his time. He had better things to do than sit with you in silence.

"I’m not asking you to apologize," he says cautiously as if he’s aware he’s threading along a dangerous line. You stay silent and he shuts his eyes closed, hand reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I just want you to be honest."

"I am."

"Are you, really?"

"What do you want from me?" you ask a bit breathlessly. You don’t know what you are saying, but you can sense your walls building up, higher than you could ever reach them.

"You’re clearly not fine and I-"

"I am trying, okay? I’m trying, please." You plead; you’re unsure for what exactly. For him to stop prodding, because you don’t have answers for him, not yet. Not when you haven’t understood it yourself.

"I'm going for a walk," he says, abruptly standing. You stay frozen in your place, as he quickly slips his shoes on, before leaving your apartment. You’re trying and it isn’t enough for him.

You don’t move from your place as time slowly trickles by. The seconds morph into minutes and suddenly it’s been an hour and a half since Minho left. There is a tantalizing fear making you stay put as if you ever dare to move a limb, then the stillness would be shattered and Minho wouldn’t come back.

It’s hard to reroute your brain entirely- old habits creep up on you swiftly, and suddenly you’re pulled back into the old you, woven into the web of horrible thoughts stitching all around you. Change feels sweet, with Minho, it feels like hope and the taste of a new beginning, but it is scary and different. And the familiarity of what you were before him calls your name from time to time. It was horrible and lonely, but there were no surprises in it. You knew what to expect at all times.

You could’ve told him that you weren’t feeling good, that you didn’t feel like talking and Minho would’ve understood. Because this isn’t the first time this happened, and it happens to him too sometimes. So, he understands, more than anyone you know. But instead, you lied and denied and Minho left. And you can’t blame it on anyone but yourself.

You grab your phone, its sudden light burning your eyes. You blink repeatedly, as you dial Minho’s number. It rings and it rings, then it goes to voicemail. You try again, through blurry vision. It doesn’t even ring this time- straight to voicemail.

Minho’s left. He’s had enough. You can’t blame him.

Three swift knocks resound loudly on your door. You don’t remember reaching the doorknob, your body’s moving on autopilot, but you pull it open. Minho. Your hold on the handle tightens until your knuckles turn white. You can’t look at him, you don’t want to see his face as he leaves you.

"Why are you crying?" he whispers, dainty fingers gently wiping away your tears.

"Don’t go. Not you too," you manage to utter, and you hear Minho suck in a deep breath, before pulling you tightly to his chest.

"What are you talking about?" he says, as he buries your head in the crook of his neck. The familiar scent of his cologne washes over you- you’ve memorized its earthy notes by heart now, easily recognizable between a thousand smells.

"You've been away for two hours and I called and you- you didn’t pick up. I thought you wouldn’t come back."

"My phone died while I was outside and I lost track of time, and- please don’t cry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry." He leans away, cupping your cheek delicately. "Im here, you see? Let’s go on a walk, hm?"

"You were just out," you mumble and he smiles at you. "I wanna go with you."

Minho takes off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. He leads you outside, still clad in the bunny slippers he randomly bought you a week ago. His hand is warm in yours. His hand wouldn’t be warm if he was leaving you.

You walk in silence to the park near your home, and Minho sits you down on an empty bench. Your tears are dried up by now, cheeks cold from the night breeze; and his hand is still in yours.

"Chan didn’t leave our dorm for three days." He starts, clearing his throat. "He’s overworking himself, doesn’t even eat the food I make him. And I tried to tell him to take a break today. But I couldn’t… I couldn’t convince him. He’s probably still working on his music right now," he chuckles, but there is no trace of humor in the sound. "And then I come to you and you’re not okay. And I want to help but suddenly I’m pressuring you. And you’re trying, so hard and you’re doing so well and I’m pressuring you instead of helping. And I failed at being there for you both. What good I am if I’m not there for the people I lo- care about?"

"Don’t say that, please. You are good enough. More than enough," you cup his cheek, pressing his forehead on yours. "You’re always here. Don’t ever doubt that. I’m sure Chan appreciates everything you do for him."

"And you?" he asks, tone coated in such raw vulnerability that it knocks the breath out of you. At that moment, Minho was a plain hill, devoid of hidden nooks and crannies- nowhere for him to guard his emotions from you.

"Do you remember that night, when I asked you how I can help you feel yellow?" you ask after a while, and he nods, repetitive blinks rythming his silence. "I used to think that happiness was yellow, that sudden joy that drowns out the world around you. And I wanted to always feel yellow, the highest of highs. But that could only lead to another low, another extreme. I’ve since learned that true happiness is feeling peace when you lay in bed at night… And for your heart to beat soundly from contentment."

"I remember feeling this way only once, a long time ago. I woke up to see the sunrise, but I was a bit late to it, so I missed the orange and the pink," you chuckle slightly, as the distant memory floods you. "But I saw the blue, this really soft blue, and as I looked at it a strange sense of serenity washed over me. As if, as long as I looked at that pastel blue, I’d be alright. And now…" You smile softly, your thumb delicately grazing his cheek, Now, I can just look at you. You are my blue."

Minho’s eyes glisten with unshed tears as he looks at you, mouth slightly hung agape. You giggle quietly, before patting his head gently. "Thank you for staying," you whisper, and a sudden smile breaks out on Minho’s face. It’s so radiant- as if every star in this galaxy was ground to fine dust and then sprinkled into it. You can’t admire it for long since Minho crashes his mouth on top of yours, drawing you in for a kiss that leaves you breathless afterward.

"You know I had a really nice dream yesterday," he finally whispers against your lips, a newfound lightness in his voice. "I think this is the first time where my reality is much sweeter."

✹✹✹

The first time you felt loved, truly.

It’s a couple of days into August when Chan tells you that he has signed up with a producing agency- it’s a huge step for him, one he’s been rambling about each time you met him for the past few months. So now you’re over at his and Minho’s dorm, attempting to bake a congratulatory cake for Chan. It was Minho’s idea, one he mumbled into your ear nonchalantly, as if he didn’t wake up really early to scout all the ingredients you might need.

"Why is baking so much harder than cooking?" Minho whines, burying his head dramatically in the crook of your neck. You giggle, patting his back in faux sympathy.

"So, you're admitting you're not good at everything?" you tease and he straightens up instantly, brows furrowed as he looks at you.

"I didn't say I'm not good at it. I said it's harder than cooking," he drawls out and you hum in reply, a teasing "sure, sure" escaping your mouth.

"Do you know how to crack an egg with one hand? That's the cue that you're a great baker."

"Why would I when I have two hands?" you chuckle and he smiles cheekily, raising his eyebrows at you. "Well, I can do it."

"Fine," you huff, grabbing an egg onto your hand. "Teach me?" you smile sweetly and he grins satisfied, "Of course."

"Here, you just need to crack the egg gently into the side of the bowl. And then lodge your finger inside, slowly pulling the shell apart. Like this," he demonstrates and you nod in understanding.

"Your turn," he smiles and you follow his instructions, tongue poking against your cheek in utmost concentration.

"Min look! I did it" You grin widely, turning around to show him the egg now dropped into the bowl.

"You did! I’m proud of you," he smiles, placing a tender kiss on your temple. You pause, the egg’s shell still tightly clutched in your hand. You didn’t drop it into the bowl, and someone’s proud of you for it.

It’s late into the night, and your stomach is aching from laughing for hours on end. Your plates of cake are on the ground, with only crumbs left on top of it. Minho invited two of Chan’s closest friends over- Felix and Han, so now you’re all playing rounds of Uno, and the poor freckled boy is losing each time.

"This isn’t fair," Felix whines, before stealing a bite of the leftover cake on the table. "This is really good by the way," he compliments and you giggle, turning around to point at Minho, only to find him already looking at you, a soft smile on his face.

"It’s all him," you say, and Chan gets his face impossibly close to your boyfriend’s, a teasing smile on his face. "You love me so much."

"I don’t. Get back," Minho pushes his face away, but you can tell he’s lying, from the fond smile threatening to spill over his mouth.

"Sure," Chan sing-songs, before turning to look at you. You wink at him and he ruffles your hair affectionately, as he always does when he wants to tease you. "Thank you for the cake, yn."

"You’re welcome," you grin as an unfamiliar warmth spread through your chest. Is this how it feels to have a family? People you care for and who care about you in return?

Minho notices the sudden bittersweet expression etched on your face, so he grabs your pinky in his hand, squeezing it slightly. You turn your palm around, before blindly intertwining your fingers with his- something you’ve gotten much better at lately.

"We’ll get going," Han announces when it’s nearly midnight, as he and Felix both get up from the floor. "Sure you don’t want to come to the party?" Chan asks, eyes trained on you and Minho.

"Yeah, we’ll stay the night."

You stand up as well, following Chan to the door and stopping him before he leaves. "You don’t mind me staying the night, right? It’s your dorm too, so I should ask."

"Of course not. You can come over whenever, even if Minho isn’t here. You don’t ever have to ask me, okay?"

"Okay, thank you, Chan," you beam at him, relief coursing through you at his words.

Soon enough, the dorm is silent, and it’s only you and Minho once again. You go to clean up but Minho pulls you by your hand, ushering you toward his bedroom. "Let's leave it to tomorrow," he says, and his voice sounds like warm candle wax dripping down on you. You can’t say no.

You find that he’s already prepared a pair of pajamas for you, spread out nicely on the bed- his grey shirt and a pair of shorts he has apparently overgrown.

"You'll find a box there, under the sink, it’s for you," he announces, as you walk into the bathroom to change. It’s filled with anything you might ever need, tissues and makeup removal and pads and medicine, and your cherry shampoo.

"When did you prepare this?" you ask as you open the door wide for him. He peeks his head inside, eyes softening when they take a glimpse at your figure - wearing his shirt, in his bathroom.

"A month ago, or so. Just in case you ever needed to stay the night." He's so thoughtful, you're starting to believe that the word was molded after him. "Is it enough? do you need something else?" he asks tentatively and you shake your head, squeezing his hand lightly. "It's perfect. Thank you."

"Of course. let's brush our teeth?" he smiles and you nod, grabbing the blue toothbrush he bought for you. He squeezes some toothpaste into it, and your eyes meet in the mirror. You can feel a blush creep up your face, to match the tip of his ears turning pink. It felt innocent to blush at the mere act of brushing your teeth together- at the domesticity of it, and the future hopes that lay within it.

Minho washes his face with his cleanser and you do the same. He suddenly hoists you up the bathroom counter, before standing between your legs. his arms cage your body, as his doe brown eyes look up at you. "Do my skincare for me," he pouts and you giggle, diligently taking the moisturizer and applying it to his face.

You take your time, massaging it into his skin, rubbing soothing circles on his cheeks and the tender skin under his eye. His eyes close at your touch, body leaning forward and pressing onto your legs. You grab his lip balm, applying it evenly to his puckered lips, and then you kiss him. Softly, tenderly, hands going up and down his arms. His own find your waist, encircling it, thumbs skimming your sides.

You lean away, a giddy smile on your face. "Thank you for the lip balm," you say, before kissing the tip of his nose.

Minho's room smells like clean laundry and vanilla, courtesy of the candle he lit up. You've been here before, but this is your first time sleeping on his bed. He goes in first, before beckoning you in. You lay down on his silky pillow, your hair fanning all around you. Some strands of it go into your mouth, and you giggle faintly as you pull them away.

"Here," he says, leaning over your body and opening the drawer next to you. He takes out a hair tie, and a faint memory dances around in your mind- you tying up his hair at the convenience store near Limbo.

"You kept it?" you question incredulously, voice coming out in a faint whisper.

"I did," he says simply as if it's ridiculous for you to expect otherwise. "Can I tie it up for you?" he asks and you nod.

His fingers gather your hair, making sure no strands of it are escaping. They're magical, relieving every tension you have in your body. You feel him twisting the tie around, securing your hair in a low ponytail.

"All done." his voice is quiet, and so is the kiss he presses onto your shoulder.

You both lay down, facing each other. It's silent but it no longer scares you. Not when your fingers are grazing Minho's palm, tentatively, the way one dips their toes into the water to test its temperature. Your hands are dancing around one another, not yet holding each other, as if engaged in a dance only your body understands. His eyes are locked on yours- a brown shade so mesmerizing you wish you could paint the entire universe with it.

His gaze is always soft when it comes to you, pupils slightly dilated, eyelashes fluttering with each blink. They're so quick you almost can't catch them, as if he unconsciously wants the time in which he looks at you to last longer.

Minho's hand reaches behind you, before pulling the slipping comforter over your body. He tucks it in your sides, and warmth surrounds you everywhere; from him mainly. He's been so attentive to you tonight- a silent care you only truly appreciate when you've experienced a lack of it. It's as if he's pouring years' worth of missed love back into your life, and in return all the love you've held within, never bestowed upon anyone else, has found its sole destination in the man by your side.

Your hand circles his once again, and you watch intently the way your fingers graze one another, delicately, as if skimming on the edge of holding one another. You give in first, intertwining your fingers with Minho’s and squeezing them gently. They fit his perfectly, this is where they're supposed to be.

"I don't know what you’re doing to me," he whispers, his eyes locking onto yours once more. There is a newfound emotion gleaming in his gaze- incredulity, at the depth of his feelings.

"What do you mean?" you question, nuzzling closer to him. Your head finds its rest on his arm and he responds instantly by patting your hair.

"I want to keep buying toothbrushes for you." His voice is hushed and yet it resounds loudly within your being, as if shouted from a sky-high rooftop.

You exhale softly, curling your hand around the back of his neck, and pulling him down gently to your face. You press your lips on top of his, and they move slowly, deliberately, like a painter's careful strokes. Each touch of his lips against yours is there to make you feel something- things that he can't bring himself to say, so he shows.

You finally break apart, dazed from the raw emotions barging into your heart. You then lift your head slightly, planting a tender kiss on his forehead. Minho closes his eyes, as your lips linger in there far longer than necessary. They remain closed even after you pull away, and it is the look on his face that pushes you over the edge. The serenity painted across his features, but particularly, the trust. As if you could mold him however you want and he'd be grateful you ever touched him to begin with.

"I love you," you confess so suddenly, and the words feel foreign yet familiar as they stumble out of your lips. You expect a shift in the universe, a disastrous change as you verbalize this sentiment that's long haunted you. And yet, all that happens is Minho's eyes shimmering as they look at you. And you realize that you aren’t scared he'd twist the words and stab you with them. You know he'd cherish them, even if he didn't feel the same.

"I love you," he says back, a radiant smile lighting up his face, coloring each of his features in unadulterated happiness. Hearing those three words from him made your heart leap in your chest. There is so much more of what you feel that you wish to express. You’ve told him, but you want to show, to press your body to his so the feeling would emit from your heart to his own.

Your hand trails across his chest, and you feel his muscles constrict under your touch. "Can I?" you ask, gazes flickering between his eyes and the hem of his shirt. It's always about permission to you both- permission to touch, to feel, to kiss and the answer is always yes. Yes, yes, yes.

"Please," he whispers, and you tug his shirt quickly over his head. You are a goner after that when his hands caress your skin like you're delicate porcelain. He’s hovering over you, the candle's shadow dancing across his body. Your fingers are tracing every inch of his skin graced by the flickering light, which meant your hands were everywhere, and every touch of yours was mirrored by him. Every kiss he returned ten times fold, every gasp he drank in hungrily, only eliciting a louder one in return.

"Tell me if you’d like to stop," he smiled tenderly down at you, his nose nuzzling against yours. You never felt the need to. And as the night marched forward, you gradually grasped what the poets meant by ‘making love’. You felt as if you were truly making love, as if your every move conjured love in its purest essence between the two of you. The ebb and flow of your bodies served as a spell, heightening your emotions into a raw fervor. It was love that orchestrated your moves, binding you both in a cacophony of sweet sounds, meant for you only to hear.

Minho's gaze remained fixed on yours, as he uncovered parts of you you've never dared to show anyone. It only cemented every feeling you harbored towards him. And the safety. The safety of being in his arms. To be as bare as one could possibly be, and yet to still feel blanketed by his soft eyes on you.

✹✹✹

Dainty snowflakes coat the outside world in a pristine white blanket. It’s a mesmerizing view, one you’ve grown to be grateful for these past few weeks since it signaled the return of winter, and with it, Minho’s birthday.

It's hard to resent snow when it welcomes the existence of the person you’ve fallen in love with.

The outside might be cold but you wouldn't know, not when you are nestled close to Minho, his legs thrown over your lap. You stare fondly at his figure, too engrossed in eating the birthday cake you’ve prepared for him- a vibrant green frosting and a picture of his three cats printed on top, just like he requested some time ago. You lean in a bit, wiping away a trace of whipped cream from the corner of his mouth. He smiles at you tenderly, angling his head to press a soft kiss on your thumb pad.

There is a growing lump in Minho's throat, but it doesn't suffocate him, since it's formed by your love for him- you remembered what he said about the birthday cake. He was joking, obviously. But the fact that you brought his ridiculous wish to reality warmed him beyond belief.

You rummage a bit in your place, hands tucked under the pillows, and then you take out a purple envelope. "Open it," you say as you place it on top of his lap. Minho puts his plate down, straightening out in his place before looking at you, a curious smile on his face.

"More surprises?" he asks, referring to the gift you’ve already given him- a pair of t-shirts, all with cats and silly scriptures imprinted on them.

"Mm," you hum, as Minho finally opens the envelope. He pauses, as his eyes rack furiously over the content of the letter. "What's this?" he asks dumbfounded, trying to fully grasp the meaning of what he's reading.

"Because of constellations, people often think that stars always live together in a cluster. But oftentimes, they are alone. Or... if they're lucky enough, they get to roam the universe with a partner. They call them a binary star. Like you and me." Emotion simmers beneath your words, and you continue, your voice a gentle undercurrent.

"It's comforting to know that other versions of us are going through this world side by side too. To know that long after we're gone, there would still be two stars discovering the universe together, orbiting around one another. A token of the love we lived." You lift your gaze to meet his, to find him staring in awe at you. You take a mental picture of this moment, adding it to the collection of the ones you already captured of him.

"Our love may not be revolutionary, we're only two humans out of billions that have adored before us. But our love is grand to me. I try..." you bite your lip, reaching out for his hand- it will guide you as you try to speak. "I always try to find the words to describe how much you mean to me, to tell you how much you do to me. I used to always hold my hand out, in the hopes that someone would grab it. But no one did, so I curled it into a tight fist. And I thought it'd stay this way, for the rest of my life. Until you came, and you unclenched my fingers gently, one at a time, and then you grabbed it into yours." Tears are trailing out of your eyes now, but you show no effort to wipe them. Happy tears shouldn't be swept away.

"Thank you for existing, my Minho," you smile softly at him, and he nods, tears brimming in his waterline, cheeks flushed pink at your words. "Thank you for kissing my finger pads and reminding me that there is still softness in this world, all embodied in you." You cradle his cheeks tenderly in your hands, trying your best to let your love seep through your fingertips into his soul.

"I think you've carved yourself into me, carved your name into my heart. Your roots intertwined with mine, and thanks to you, I managed to crack through the hard earth and bloom again. Thank you for making me feel the warm sun again. I was so so cold before you." You whisper the last part, like a sinner's confession, eager for it to be carried away, forgotten.

Minho brings your body to his, as he buries his face in your chest. You can feel slight tremors shaking his body, and you place soft kisses on his shoulder blade- soothing, calming. You are safe in my love for you, they spell out.

"I can't believe you’ve named stars after us," he mumbles against you, and your fingers thread through his hair gently, flattening out stubborn strands of it. "It's nothing," you smile and he shakes his head vehemently. "It's not- it's not nothing to be loved by you. It's everything to me."

He leans away, bringing your head down to press his lips into yours. It tastes sweet from the cake and salty from his tears. It tastes like healing. You both kiss for mere seconds and yet it feels like an eternity to you. As if your mind stretches out time with Minho, knowing how valuable it becomes with him. He presses his lips onto yours one last time, before exhaling softly, melting completely in your hold.

"As long as you're with me, I don't ever need to look at the sky," he whispers. "There are enough stars in your eyes for me."

✹✹✹

It’s late December and the fragrant aroma of hot chocolate fills your apartment. You’re preparing two cups of the cozy drink in your kitchen, while Minho watches you fondly, leaning casually on the doorway.

"Are you just gonna stare at me?" you giggle, turning around to toss him a sly smile.

"Do you need my help making hot chocolate?" he raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes, I wouldn't say no to a bit of emotional support."

"Ah, my bad," he playfully bows, walking over to you. Minho gently wraps his arms around your waist, leaning his chin on your shoulder. His bangs tickle the side of your face, akin to the brush of a butterfly’s wing, and a soothing sense of contentment washes over you as he holds you close.

Minho places a soft kiss on your shoulder blade, and the touch sends shivers along your spine. "This is for warming up the milk," he mumbles, adding another kiss to your neck, "and this for mixing in the hot chocolate powder," and a final one to your temple, "and this is for pouring it in cups."

"Why thank you," you giggle, turning around to hand him his cup. "Do you remember what episode we stopped at?"

"37," he replies instantly.

"I think you love this anime more than me," you pout jokingly. "I plead the fifth," he answers solemnly and you chuckle as you both make your way to the couch.

Merely one episode in and you can already tell that Minho is no longer focusing on the show. He’s absently swirling the drink in his hand, his gaze lost within his cup.

"What did the poor hot chocolate do to you?" you smile, a beacon of curiosity piercing through his daze. His head snaps up at the sound of your voice, turning around to look at you sheepishly. "Just zoned out."

"I noticed. What's on your mind?" you ask, lowering the volume of the TV to fully focus on him.

"There is an upcoming dance competition. It's at a regional scale and I'm just... wondering if I should participate."

"You should!" you fervently reply, "You're such a talented dancer. You deserve recognition for your hard work."

"I'll become very busy, though. It's already hard enough to manage this degree," he speaks softly as if he's not fully convinced of this excuse himself.

"I've never seen you as happy as you are when you're dancing. You'll handle it, and I'll be there for you too."

"I should do it, right?" he asks, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You really should," you echo, your hand rubbing reassuringly across his arm.

"Okay. I will," he nods, and you beam at him, before pulling him in for a comforting hug.

"On second thought... Everyone will now see how talented my boyfriend is and they will fall in love with you," you playfully muse as you hold him close.

"But everyone's already in love with me," he says in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Mm, the heartthrob of campus."

"People throw themselves right and left at me, it's exhausting," he sighs, the giddy smile easily heard in his voice.

"Okay, now you're overdoing it," you giggle and he further buries his head in your neck, inhaling the scent of your perfume. "Don't worry," he mumbles quietly, "I'm only ever yours."

As weeks meld into months, your days become a whirlwind of preparation for the dance competition; where each participant is required to create a choreography from scratch, for a song of their choosing. You witness firsthand the immense effort Minho pours into this, just as he does with everything he undertakes. He spent hours upon hours in the university's dance studio, and you were often there with him. While he practiced, you sat in a corner, working on your laptop. He only paused to kiss the top of your head before diving back into his practice.

He chose a song you've never heard before, called Taste. It was mesmerizing to witness him become a vessel for the melody, like an instrument attuned perfectly to the emotions the song tried to convey. His body moved sensually, flowing like fluid water, perfectly controlled by him. Every beat in Taste was matched with a move of his, powerful enough to capture you, gentle enough not to overwhelm you, like the ebb and flow of the waves brushing against the shore.

The first two months slipped through the hourglass of time in a breeze. And although Minho grew busier, you still both managed to carve out time for quick dates. Strolls by the ocean and spontaneous trips to the cinema- outings that helped you recharge fully once again. But the third month coincided with your midterm exams, casting a heavier cloud over both of your lives.

Minho became overwhelmed, quickly, bearing the weight of his two worlds. He was smart, immensely so, he could handle his classes with ease, retaining knowledge faster than anyone you knew. But the day only had twenty-four hours in it, and he couldn't possibly do it all- finding time to practice, study and take care of himself. So, you tried to handle the last part, as best as you could anyways. Exam seasons always took a heavy toll on you- both physically and emotionally. It also didn't help that you went down with a strong flu for two weeks, making your energy levels plummet to zero.

It was only three days before the start of your exams when a soft knock resounded on your door. You opened it to find an exhausted Minho. He’s fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, beads of sweat glistening on his upper brow.

"I'm tired," he whispers, eyes looking absolutely devoid of emotion as they align with yours. You smile softly, grabbing his hand and pulling him inside, "I know."

You lead him to the bathroom and he follows silently. He's so compliant in your hands as if all the energy in his body was sucked out of him. "Bad day?" you ask, as you peel away his blue hoodie.

"Very." He says, voice barely above a whisper.

"It's okay. You're here now," you try to keep your voice just as quiet as you take off the rest of his clothes. You undress quickly as well, before pulling you both to the shower.

Minho rests his forehead on your back, as you check the water temperature. When it's warm enough to feel soothing on his skin, you pull him underneath the jet, and you both stand in there for a while. His head hung low, now buried in the crook of your neck; his breaths growing slower, more even.

"You did well, my Minho," you say, voice threatening to get lost in the sound of the water hitting the tiles, but Minho catches it. He tightens his hold on you in response.

Minho can feel you reaching over and grabbing something from the rack behind him. He recognizes the smell of your shampoo as you pour it in your hands, before lathering it gently on his hair. He almost starts crying right there and then, as your fingers skillfully massage his scalp. You are everywhere, pressed to his body and your hands in his hair, and your cherry scent that’s washing all over him. And the outside world suddenly seems so far away.

You rinse off the shampoo, before grabbing your conditioner and threading it through his hair, making sure that every strand is evenly covered. He shuts his eyes closed, as your hands move to his neck and start massaging it. He's so sore from all the dancing, tired from the studying he has to catch up on. But you’re making him feel okay now, as you unravel his nerves without uttering a word. How do you do it? He wants to ask; how do you always paint his world blue?

Your hands are trailing over his body now, not sensually, just easing the knots in his muscles. You're spreading body wash all over him, and his eyes are still closed, as he feels you place tender kisses on his soapy skin. ‘I love you', your voice reaches him like a faraway lullaby, 'you've been working so hard', 'I'm proud of you'; and your comforting words morph into hot tears lodged into his waterline, begging for an escape.

You finally turn the water off, before pulling him outside and wrapping a towel around his waist. He sits idly on the edge of the bed, as you quickly put on your clothes, before walking over to him. You help him wear his pajamas, the ones he's left in your apartment since he often stays the night. He can't move a limb, but you're doing it in his place- as if the life in you was blown into him, and he's only breathing thanks to you.

Once you’re both fully clothed, you sit behind Minho on the bed, legs on either side of his body. You grab a towel you warmed in advance and begin to gently dry his hair with it, patting each strand with care. As soon as you're done, Minho turns around, nestling his head against your stomach. You let him, hands rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"I already told you, but I'm very proud of you," you say, head lowered so he'd be able to hear you. "I'm so amazed by your strength and hard work. You inspire me a lot, Min. Just keep on going, and if you need a break, you can rest by my side, okay?" You place a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

"I love you," you add softly, and Minho tightens his hold on you. And then he crumbles. Completely.

He falls apart in your arms, painful sobs racking through his body. You panic, as the unfamiliar sounds knock your breath away. You've seen Minho cry before, single tears that managed to escape from his eyes, trailing on his cheeks. But you've never seen him so shattered, so consumed by his pain that he could no longer contain it. You’re caught in his storm, as uncharted waves of his hurt crash against your shores. Has he been hurting all along? Were you this oblivious to the pain brewing inside him?

Your body’s shaking as you press your chest to his back, your arms cocooning his curled-up figure. You try your best to shield him; you don't know from what exactly, but you know it has to go through you first to get to him again.

"I'm so- sorry you have to see me this way," he hiccups, his words digging their claws deeper into your chest.

"Don't say that, baby, please. It's okay, you can cry as much as you want. I'm here."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, voice quivering, and you can feel your heart slowly cracking, hurting in depths you haven't thought existed before.

"Minho, I don't- I don't only love you when you're happy. I love you when you're angry and frustrated and when you're sad. You deserve kindness and you deserve to be kind to yourself because you are still Minho. My Minho. No matter what emotion you're feeling."

"Please stay with me," he pleads softly, and you bite your lower lip, as traitorous tears escape your eyes and land on his shirt. "Where would I go, love? You're my home. I'm here."

✹✹✹

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.

The thought that's been reverberating within your mind, echoing since the moment Minho crumbled in your embrace.

Selfish.

Of course you are, since you remained oblivious to his own struggles as he slowly chipped away, until he shattered unexpectedly. Akin to a seemingly sturdy building, struck by a minor vibration and suddenly reduced to ruins.

Selfish.

Each time you sought solace in him, you failed to realize that he was stripping away his layers to shelter you. You took and took from him, each time you called, each time he came over to brush away your tears. Your endless bad days didn't leave room for his struggles, unperceived amidst your turmoil.

Selfish and horrible. You weren't made to be loved.

Minho is sleeping right next to you. He looks peaceful, endearing bunny-like teeth peeking through slightly parted lips. He's undisturbed, like a placid river, until someone selfishly decides to skip some stones in it- you.

His chest rises and falls, erasing all remnants of his previous breakdown, like a scripture on sand washed away by the waves. You could almost forget it ever happened if it wasn't for the persistent echoes of his sobs. Raw pain had seeped through him, yet it could have been different. If you had asked more, he might have unraveled slowly. He would have talked and he would've never had to explode.

Selfish and guilty. There's a bitter taste in your mouth. It doesn't go away when you hastily gulp down water.

You'll keep your problems to yourself. There is enough for him to bear already. By sharing your load, you aren't diminishing it, only adding more to his.

You can't let your mother be right. Not about this. Not when it comes to Minho. You can't ruin his life too.

✹✹✹

You are being distant.

Minho notices it straight away when you stop coming over to his dorm. When you find excuses to not come to Limbo anymore, accounting it for the exams you're both taking. But he knows it's just excuses. You are straying away from him. Your light that shone on him every day suddenly turned into a distant lighthouse beam.

And it's his fault.

He's embarrassed by his outburst. How he broke down right in front of you. How he clung to your arms, counting on your words and touch to stitch him back together. How he wasn't enough for himself, but you were.

Guilt floods his being, making you sadder when you're already dealing with so much. He recounts your tears dripping into his hair, as you hugged him tightly to your body. He made you cry; he shouldn't have broken down. That's why you're staying away. He can't blame you.

He misses you. He saw you this morning and yet he misses you. Because you weren't there with him, you were somewhere else, in a faraway place in your mind. What if he can't reach you anymore? He wasn't sure what to do with himself without you.

It's 11 pm, and he's knocking softly on your door. You open it and he smiles tightly. You smile back.

He hovers around the entrance of your apartment, hands tightly clasped behind his back. You unclasp them, interlocking your fingers with his and leading him to your couch. You are warm, he missed you. You are here and he misses you.

You both sit down, and you're looking at him curiously. His eyes fall to your lips, pillowy and rosy and he can't help pressing his mouth onto yours. It'll give him the courage to speak.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against your lips and you lean away, confusion clearly written across your features.

"For crying the other day," he clarifies. "I've made you uncomfortable and you feel like you have to be cautious around me, and I'm sorry, I won't do it again."

"What are you saying? You didn't- you never..." you suck in a deep breath, inching closer to him. "Minho, don't ever apologize for that. please. You should never apologize for being human."

"But you are being distant," he says in a small voice, avoiding your eyes.

"Minho, I..." you bring your hand to his cheek, locking your gaze with his. "It's not what you think. I promise."

"Then what is it?"

You bite your lip, sighing loudly before speaking again. "You sobbed. And I had no idea you were hurting that much inside. I am so reclined on myself that I didn't notice. And I tried to distance myself so I'd sort my thoughts out. So, I could be there for you, fully. You're always here for me, and I feel... As if I failed you."

It's now his turn to cup your cheek, his thumbs gently brushing against your skin.

"I felt so loved by you that day. That's why I cried. because I've never felt that way before," he's quick to explain. "Yes, I was stressed and overwhelmed but it's not your fault. You were there for me when I needed you most. You didn't fail me; how could you think that?"

"Because it should've never gotten that bad. If I had noticed before, then I would've helped you and it wouldn't have gotten that bad for you. You don't deserve to feel sad, not when you’re... You. Someone like you shouldn't feel sad."

"Didn't you say we're humans? Isn't that what humans do? They fall down and they get up, I can't always be fine. It's not your fault."

"Minho you don't understand... How much more of yourself can you give to me, without hurting yourself in return?" You're so sure of these words you're uttering, as if you've drilled them into your mind by now. You couldn't be more wrong.

Minho blinks repeatedly, trying to gather the words in his mind properly. You weren't distancing yourself from him, because he had hurt you. But rather, so you wouldn't hurt him anymore. So, you'd be there for him more. A sudden relief floods his being. He isn't losing you.

Minho can't help the chuckle that escapes his mouth. He shakes his head slightly as he brings you to his chest. You're so warm as you wrap your arms around his waist. He still misses you but you're here, you aren't going anywhere.

"You memorized my coffee order. And my favorite pudding. You always bring me one when you come over. When you find a new flavor, I haven't tried, you always buy it for me. You look at me so excitedly when I try it. As if me finding a new favorite pudding brings your personal joy," he's talking softly, slowly, in the hopes that you'd understand what he means.

"You love spicy food, but you always cook without it when I'm with you. Because I can't handle it as well as you. You put snacks and water in my bag when I have dance practice, and then you come to check on me, even when you're busy too. You bought me an umbrella, and you placed it near the entrance of my dorm, so I wouldn't forget it. You give me the opened chopsticks package first, and you blow on my food so it wouldn't burn my tongue. And you let me pick the movie, every time. You let me pick it," he places a soft kiss on your shoulder, tightening his hold on you.

"You brush my hair away from my eyes when you think I'm asleep. And you make sure the blanket covers my body entirely, even if it means it doesn't cover you. I've never had that. Never had someone care for me this gently. Even when I'm not awake and I can't give them anything in return."

He leans back, smiling softly at you. There is a new palpable emotion in the air- love, in its most unconditional form. It smells fragrant and sweet- like you and him.

"I notice everything you do for me, every way in which you love me. You're here for me in more ways than you can ever imagine. And I love you. Please don't stray away from me. Promise me," he pouts slightly, nudging his pinky toward your face. You giggle in defeat, before wrapping your pinky with his.

"Didn't you think pinky promises were silly?"

"Nothing you like is silly."

"Not even that cheesy drama I watch?"

"Okay. Maybe that one is. But it makes you laugh," he trails off. "If it makes you laugh then I like it too."

"You'll talk to me more, right? About whatever's bothering you? When you're not feeling black yet?"

"I will, I promise. You too, right?"

"Mm. I will too."

"Good," he smiles, pecking your cheek softly. "I've missed you. And I don't mind feeling all the colors of the rainbow, as long as you're near me."

✹✹✹

The voices of your friends singing you happy birthday reaches you like the distant chirping of birds, fading away in the back of your mind with each passing second. You know that Mina is smiling at you, her head resting on Jeongin’s shoulders. And that Chan, Han and Felix are all clapping excitedly, their voices blending together in a somewhat harmonious melody. But you can’t seem to focus on any of it. Your eyes are set on Minho, who’s walking over to you, a vibrant pink cake in his hand. The surface of it is covered in candy- marshmallows and macaroons, and a dozen of lit candles. Their light flickers on Minho’s face, casting an ethereal glow on him.

And as your widened eyes meet his, he knows that it all just clicked in place for you.

Four months ago.

"What did you like to do, when you were younger?"

You stay quiet for a few moments, mulling over Minho’s question. The waves crash softly at your feet, the sound of them and Minho’s arms around you serving as a perfect cover to thread through your childhood once again.

"I had a bunny plushie. My aunt gave it to me one day when her daughter didn't want it anymore. She was going to throw it out, but I took care of it. We took care of each other, in a way. I used to stay alone at home a lot, and Caramelo would keep me company."

"Caramelo?" he giggles and you pinch his arm playfully. "I was six when I named it, sue me."

"Mm, and where is Caramelo now?"

"I left it in the house. I packed in such a hurry and it didn't fit in my suitcase. But I really wanted to bring it," you smile sadly and Minho can sense a shift in your tone, so he trails his hands across your arms gently, pulling you even closer to his chest.

"What else did you like?" he asks, placing a kiss under the shell of your ear.

"Playing in the playground, there was one really near home. I'd sneak out and go play in the swing, but there was no one to push me higher there," you chuckle slightly, burying yourself further in Minho's embrace.

"Oh, but I met a girl there when I was eleven, Lydia, I think. She was our neighbor, and she invited me to my first ever birthday party. Her parents prepared this huge cake for her, it was all pink with so much candy on top. I kept dreaming about having a similar one for my birthday. We also painted each other's nails and put on facemasks, and then we watched a movie. It was really fun," you recall, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. You were really shy and didn't talk to the other girls present, staying away in a corner. But Lydia grabbed your hand and pulled you next to her. She didn't let go during the entire movie.

You hoped she was okay, wherever she might be now.

"And... my mom took me one day to a hill near our home. We sat on a bench there, overlooking the city's lights. We didn't talk but she braided my hair since it kept getting in my mouth. That's my favorite memory with her."

Your voice is carried away with the wind, drowned in the waves. You hoped that one day your childhood memories will come back to you, like the sea foam dissolving at your feet. Gentle, incapable of hurting you anymore.

"You know what I really want now? A big cake for my birthday too," Minho suddenly whines and you giggle, turning around to look at him.

"Want me to bake it for you?" you tease and he nods, cradling your face between his cold hands. They warm up once they rest on your cheeks.

"Yes. I want the cats’ pictures printed on it, and..." he trails off, looking up at the sky. "I want it to be green.”

"Green?" you chuckle. "Isn't that a bit weird for a cake?"

"Are you questioning my vision?" he wiggles his brows at you, his hands coming to your sides.

"I am," you laugh, as he starts to tickle you, unwaveringly. You fall to the sand, and he's on top of you, hands roaming your body as loud laughter erupts from you.

Minho’s eyes soften as he gazes at your laughing figure, but he doesn't stop, not until you tap his arm multiple times, happy tears trailing from your eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Green is perfect, you are a genius!"

"Why thank you," he smiles, before leaning down and kissing your tears away. You shiver slightly, from the cold and the feel of his soft lips on your skin. He notices.

"Come on," he outstretches his hand and you grab it, standing up and dusting your pants. Minho squats slightly in front of you, and you giggle before climbing on top of his back.

"Don't you ever wonder who was the person who invented tickling? They were just sitting down and then they touched someone and they started laughing,” he suddenly muses.

"Right! And then they decided this was something they should keep on doing, and it stuck around for centuries."

"I think it's really cute. It says I love the sound of your laugh so much that I will sit there and tickle you just to hear it."

"And you just tickled me," you trail out. "I know," he mumbles, the tips of his ears suddenly turning pink.

"I like your laugh too, Minho."

"Just like?" He teases, in a futile attempt to diffuse his shyness.

"I love it. I love it so much I could pay my entire life savings just to keep on hearing it again."

"Stop," he whines and you giggle, swinging your dangling feet in the air.

"Have you ever heard your laugh? No other melody can compare. At this point, musicians should just retire."

"You're insufferable," he finally laughs and you sigh, melting into his back.

"And you like me."

"And I love you."

Present time

The realization dawns on you like a floodgate- Minho is recreating your happiest childhood memories.

From the pink cake of your dreams. To the obnoxiously glittery nail polish he brought home three days ago, spontaneously, you foolishly assumed. He insisted on having a pampering night, where you both applied face masks to one another, bunny headbands tucking your hair out of your face. You giggled as he painted your nails with the utmost concentration, and then begged you to paint his in return. He didn't explain why he wanted pink nails suddenly, you should've known.

You should've known when he suddenly knocked on your door at midnight, taking your sleepy figure to the playground near your apartment. "Why are you here so late?" you questioned, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

"We are sneaking out," he whispered in your ear, and you didn't question his flawed logic- who were you sneaking out from exactly? But all was forgotten as he pushed you in the swing, fueled by your growing high-pitched giggles. "Higher?" he shouted and you laughed loudly, the sound of it echoing around the park. "Yes, higher!" Until you felt as if you were close enough to touching the stars.

You should've known.

Minho places the cake on the table, his warm hand finding your lower back. He rubs it soothingly, as you mouth a heartfelt "thank you" to him, hot tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. You couldn't speak, afraid of bursting into sobs in front of all your friends. He understands what you're referring to.

It's far later into the night when your friends finally leave Minho's dorm. You've all cleaned up the place, soft music emitting from the speakers. You didn't need songs to fill the silence, the conversations flowing easily between you all.

You gather all the gifts you've received and take them to Minho's room- a pair of shoes you've been raving about from Mina and Jeongin, and new headphones from Chan, Han, and Felix, since your old ones stopped working not too long ago.

"You're okay?" Minho asks, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

"Better than ever," you beam at him, cupping Minho's neck and meeting his lips in a tender kiss.

"I'm still not done," he smiles secretly, brushing his lips against yours once more, before pulling away. You watch, curious as he heads towards his closet and takes something out of it. Your eyes grow wide as they settle on the gift in his hands. You can feel your lip quivering as you walk hastily over to him.

"Is this...?" you ask incredulously and he nods, a happy smile on his face. "Your Caramelo."

"How... When?" you stammer, as happy tears blur your vision, "How did you do it?"

"I have my ways," he smiles assuredly at you. "Do you like it? I'm sorry if I overstepped by bringing it to you," he adds softly, a hint of vulnerability in his words.

"No, Minho, this is the sweetest, most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. I can't believe it- I... I don't even know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he smiles, his hand rubbing your arm affectionately. "I figured this plushie should be in a loving home, with you. It helped you back then and now you're strong enough to help it in return."

There are overwhelming emotions that we can't quite express with words- like sorrow, sadness, or in your case, happiness. That's why touch was invented, you believe. As you pull Minho for a bone-crushing hug, Caramelo snug between your chests, you hope that he can feel everything you failed to express through words. That your soul will speak to him in a way your mouth couldn’t.

"When you told me there is a friend of yours, who lived in my town. There was no friend, right?" you mumble into his neck.

"No, I just wanted to know your address," he whispers, arms tightening around your waist.

"Did you meet my mom?"

"Yes. She's the one who gave it to me."

"Did she tell you anything... about me?" you ask cautiously.

Minho remembers snippets of his conversation with your mother- the indifference she showed towards you, as if it wasn't her daughter, her flesh and blood that she discarded away so easily.

"Nothing of importance. I promise you."

"Thank you," you whisper, voice caught up in your throat, bound by the ropes of your overflowing emotions. "Thank you for healing me."

Sleep didn’t come easily to you that night, and as Minho snored quietly next to you, you untangled your limbs from his, before heading to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water.

You find that the lights are already on and that Chan is working on his laptop, eyebrows furrowed as he gazed at his screen.

"Hey," you greet softly, careful not to startle him.

"Our birthday girl," Chan grins and you chuckle quietly, before settling next to him on the couch.

"What are you working on?" you question, taking in the different settings displayed on his screen.

"Just a new song," he shrugs sheepishly, "I'm almost done with it."

"That's nice," you mumble, tucking your knees into your chest.

"I suppose Minho already gave you your gift," Chan speaks softly and you startle, turning around to look at him.

"He didn't tell me what it is, don't worry. But I assume he pretended as if it was no big deal, that he got it."

You nod silently, fearing that speaking would stop Chan from talking.

"I told him that he should just walk up to your house, present himself, and then ask your mom if he can take some of your stuff for you. But he said it’s too risky, and there is a chance she might say no. So, you know what he did?" Chan chuckles softly, and you feel the breath slowly escape your chest. "He spent weeks researching all the moving companies that work in your town. And then he bought us uniforms that looked like one of theirs. With the name tags and all. We rented a truck and we drove there, so we’d pretend as if we were moving the rest of your belongings. Your mom didn't question it thankfully, and I've never seen Minho as relieved as when he climbed back into the truck."

An overwhelming need to cry threatens to consume you, and you bite your lip harshly to stop it from taking over. Not in front of Chan.

"For him to go these lengths for you, means that he loves you a lot. But also, that he feels really loved by you. So, thank you, for loving Minho. I'm very happy you guys are together now." Chan smiles softly at you, before getting up and ruffling your hair slightly.

You quickly go back to Minho's room, before bringing his body tightly to yours. And as soon as you touch him, he mumbles your name in his sleep before throwing an arm over your waist.

"Thank you for loving me. I love you so much too," you whisper into his back, as your tears dampen his shirt. You wished that the words would reach him in his dreams, making them sweeter for him.

You didn't make a wish that day, as you blew the candles, foolishly believing that everything you've ever wanted was already around you. But you should've.

Maybe that would've stopped the anguish to come.

✹✹✹

There is a bad feeling nudged into the space between your ribs. You rub a soothing palm across your chest, in the hopes that it will calm your spiking anxiety. But you only feel your heart growing more erratic in your chest, and the sound of it only makes you panic ten times fold.

You’ve just woken up. You can hear the water running in the shower. Minho has stayed over since you both studied late into the night. You listen intently, a small breath of relief escaping your mouth when the water turns off. He’s okay.

You drag a hand tiredly across your face, before shaking your head left and right. You’ll have a good day, you’ll open the blinds and the golden sun will stream through your windows, and you’ll feel okay.

You don’t.

The dread lingers in your being throughout the day, making the simple act of walking weigh heavily on your bones. You try to distract yourself, by focusing on your classes and listening to Mina’s rants about her latest date with Jeongin. But to no prevail. So, you surrender to that feeling, today’s a bad day, but tomorrow doesn’t have to be. You’ll make sure of it.

It’s five pm when you finally walk up the stairs of your apartment. Minho went to grab you both something to eat since you’ll be studying again tonight. You wish he’d come home quickly, so you wouldn’t attach your anxiety to him. As long as you see him, then he’s okay.

You open the door, pausing by the front entrance. Something in you tells you to flee, to turn back, and never set foot inside. You don’t listen to it. If you paid attention to everything your mind tells you then you’d never truly live.

You quickly change out of your clothes, before turning on the TV. You mindlessly scroll through the show suggestions, and settle on one you haven’t seen before. You turn up the volume, making sure that the voices of the characters would drown the ones in your mind.

But then, your phone rings. It vibrates from the coffee table, the name of your aunt illuminating your screen. She calls you from time to time, but why is she doing it today? You don’t want to answer, not when there is a bulge in your throat suffocating you.

You watch numbly as the phone call seizes. You breathe out a shaky exhale. You’ll call her tomorrow.

The phone rings again.

You bite your lip harshly, hands shaking as you bring the device to your ear. You’re overreacting, you tell yourself. Nothing’s wrong. Minho will be home soon.

"What’s going on?" you ask immediately, the question slipping out of your mouth before you even thought about it.

Your aunt sighs softly, and then her voice floods your being. It sounds hoarse like she’s been crying. "Look, I…" another sigh, and you imagine her fidgeting with the hem of her dress. She always wore dresses. All seasons mingled. With pretty flowers sewed into them and sometimes even-

"Your mother died in a car accident."

Silence. You can't hear anything after those words are uttered. You know that your TV is still playing in the background and that your aunt is still talking on the phone. But it's completely silent. For five seconds. Where the world stills, as if to allow you a brief moment to process what you just heard.

Your mom. Gone.

But then, sounds crash upon you like a relentless wave. The shatter of the characters in the background, the ticking of your clock, the dull buzz of the refrigerator. And your aunt, she's still talking, telling you about the funeral and when it will be held and you can't believe what you are hearing.

It's all too overwhelming, everything surrounding you is too much to bear so you simply hang up.

You put your phone down on the table. And then you turn it off. That's one sound dealt with.

You turn the TV off and dismantle the clock from your wall so it wouldn't tick anymore. You then unplug your refrigerator. Has its buzzing always been this loud? You wonder. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Now it’s silent. It's what you crave.

Minho will come home soon. You should make him something to eat. You think to yourself. A fruit salad. It's warm outside and the fruits are refreshing.

So, you grab a knife from your drawer, and then you start peeling an orange. Then an apple. It's rugged, and half the fruit is wasted with the peel. You've never really known how to peel the skin properly. So, you put the knife down. The blade is slightly red, you notice. There is blood oozing from your finger. You cut yourself. But it doesn't hurt, so you leave it be.

Light floods your apartment, a stark contrast to the shadows within you. But you want it to be dark, and silent. You already took care of that last part. So, you pull down all the blinds and turn off the lights one by one. Now it's pitch black. Now it's quiet.

You sit on the floor, running your hand across the tiles. You count them, one, two, three. When is Minho coming home?

The floor is cold underneath you, the sensation heightened since your every other sense is muffled. You can't see, you can't hear, but you can still touch. You wished you couldn't anymore. The smallest sensation overstimulates you.

The front door unlocks, but you don't hear someone coming in. You imagine Minho standing by the door, looking around in the dark. It's okay, he'll find you. He always does.

"Honey?" he calls out and you reply from the living room, "I’m here."

You don't have to yell, it's quiet enough for your voice to be carried around your home with ease.

Minho has his flashlight on, you notice. He's looking for you and he finally spots you on the ground. You move a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you feel something warm smear across your cheek. You forgot about your cut- a reminder of the pain lurking beneath the surface, waiting patiently to consume you.

"Baby?" His tone is soft and careful, and you can see the worry brewing in his brown eyes. Why was he worried? You're okay. Nothing happened.

"I made you a fruit salad. It's in the kitchen. Can you please turn off the light?"

"Okay." His voice is calm, and you don't mind him talking. You could bear it. He was different after all, to you.

He’s pulled into the abyss with you, as he sits down next to your rigid figure. His hand rests on top of your pinkie, but you recoil from it. Not because you hate it, but his hand is warm and the floor beneath you is cold. That's a contrasting sensation. You don't want that. You just want a stillness, to feel like a straight line. Straight lines are always sure of themselves, of where they're going. You were tired of feeling like a bent one at the hands of the universe.

"What happened, baby?"

"Nothing."

"Okay. What did you do when I left, hm?"

"Nothing much. I was watching this new show, I think you’ll like it. And then my aunt called. She told me my mom died in a car accident. And then I went to the kitchen and I cut up some fruits. But I didn't know how to peel them. Can you believe it?" you giggle, your voice suddenly high-pitched. "I mean who- who doesn’t know how to peel the skin of an apple? Isn't that such a basic skill?" You're laughing now, you don't know what's funny, but you're laughing.

"And I cut my finger, but I didn't feel anything, Minho. I don't- I don't feel anything," you're still giggling, hot tears trailing down your cheeks rapidly. "My mother died and I don't feel anything. Why- why can't I feel anything? Minho, I can't- I can't-" You're hyperventilating, words straining to come out of your mouth. The breath is knocked out of you and white spots cloud your vision, like the stars that dance around Minho’s eyes. They seem kind enough so you don't fight them. You want to welcome them in the hopes that they'd take this unbearable weight off of you.

"Yn, yn, breathe for me, baby. Listen to my voice," Minho calls out and it's as if you're pulled in two opposing directions. He sounds scared, so you try to do as he says. You don’t want him to worry about you.

"You're doing so well, breathe with me, okay? Breathe in... Breathe out... Perfect, let's do it again," he instructs and you try your best to follow suit. You can feel yourself shaking, your hands moving as if they have a mind of their own. You are cold, too cold, and you can't help but wonder if it's how your mother is feeling right now too.

The thought seems to drive you over the edge and you let out a guttural sob. It racks from within you, reverberating from the depths of your splitting soul. It's a pain unlike any you've ever felt. You try to find something to compare it to, a sensation you imagine must hurt the same. But you can't find any. You can't find a metaphor to make the pain more bearable.

So instead, you let out a heart-wrenching scream, slicing through the silence you tried desperately to maintain. Your throat aches from the strain on your vocal cords but you pay it no mind, not when there is a pain bursting open every seam of yours, undoing every thread you so carefully stitched back into your soul.

Amidst your pitch-black apartment, you see yourself quivering in the corner, head buried in your hands. And then it’s thirteen years old you sitting there, the one who wished for something so horrible to happen on the birthday she spent alone, yet again. Your wish came true, you want to tell her. You tried to take it back, but it came true.

Minho gathers you in his arms, and you clung to him. You know he's trying to wrap you up the best he can, his arms around your back and his legs pressed on you. He's trying his best to stop you from falling apart. From breaking beyond the point of no return. And you think to yourself that you've passed it. You've passed it and he's clinging helplessly into your remains now.

✹✹✹

The funeral went by in a blur, its details elusive in your memory. At times it felt like a fever dream, a mirage conjured by your mind. And sometimes you tried to believe it, to lull yourself into a comfortable thought. Where you don't talk with your mom and she doesn't know how you are doing, but she's still alive. On the other side of the country. She's still breathing.

But this fleeting comfort is quickly shattered. The thought barely lingers, like a whisper in the wind, never staying long enough for you to finally draw in a full breath. Because the grief clings onto your skin, and you carry it with you everywhere, like a stench that won’t quite leave you. You wonder if other people can smell it on you too.

Minho hasn't left your side, once. He's always next to you. His hands are resting on your back or brushing your cheek tenderly. They are always near. And you hold them tightly. You practically memorized the lines etched on his palm. It's all you stared at during the funeral.

It felt wrong and unjust to be somewhere where everybody knew your mother, except for you. You felt as if you were left out, robbed of happy memories to mourn as well. So, you remained silent, gaze fixed intently on Minho's palm. And he didn't mind; he never does when it comes to you.

He's gentle with you, he's always been, but he's particularly gentle with you these weeks. The countless times he's cared for you blur together- his soapy hands skimming your body, massaging the shampoo into your hair when your limbs felt too heavy to move; the meals he cooked for you, making sure that each bite was cool enough before feeding it to you. How he always told you he was proud of you, at random times throughout your days. ‘What for?’ you wanted to scream, ‘I'm barely alive as it is’. "For breathing," he'd add as if he heard the thoughts swirling in your mind. "For being here. For waking up today."

He did your laundry and he folded your clothes. Sometimes he even picked your outfits and dressed you in the morning. Leaving pecks all over your face after each worn clothing. You wanted to smile, to tell him how much you loved him. How his love felt like a sun ray peeking through the cell hole of a prisoner. But you couldn't speak. So, you hoped he knew.

He unburdened you of all these mundane tasks, so you'd focus on other ones. Like attending classes and taking notes and writing essays. Because as much as you wished for it, the world did not pause for your sorrow. In the grand tapestry of existence, where did you stand exactly? You were nothing but a mere speck of light. Your emotions, as profound as they were to you, did not hold the power to halt the world's march, to compel universal mourning.

But Minho made your world stop, just like he promised, almost a year and a half ago. When you finally found your voice, he'd listen to you talk, your head on his lap, his fingers weaving through your hair gently.

"I feel like I’m mourning two people. The person I knew and the person she could have been," you told him one night and he hummed, listening intently to you.

"The what-ifs are killing me Minho. It feels like I’m suffocating each time I think of what could have been. She left so suddenly. But she should've stayed. Maybe our relationship would've gotten better."

"Maybe… or maybe not, you can never truly know. And it’s not your job to find the answers to the questions she left behind. Maybe she didn’t even have them herself."

You appreciated how his hand never left yours, as you journeyed through seas of uncharted emotions. The anger- that came with her leaving so abruptly, leaving you behind with a heavy baggage to dissect. The sadness- from losing the woman who will always be part of you. Because we don't kill our hopeful past selves, we simply bury them and they remain just under the surface of our souls, a testament to everything we've been through.

The nostalgia- that creeps in from time to time, conjuring rose-tinted memories in your head. Maybe her voice was softer here. She did ask about your day one time. Wasn't that her sitting on the benches in your musical play? But it wasn't, it was just your brain trying to soften the harshness of losing her.

It is how our minds cope with grief, your therapist says. Minho convinced you to go see one. Because love doesn't mend everything. And he needed you to be okay again, for yourself.

He's always waiting for you after your sessions end. With coffee and a fresh pastry. You didn't eat them at first, because they tasted bland and you'd rather not waste them. But one time you bit into the strawberry muffin and it tasted sweet and citrusy. And you smiled at Minho.

He stared at you in awe that day, and then he kissed you softly, pressing his pillowy lips against yours. His eyes mirrored galaxies, tears tracing constellations down his cheeks. "You look so pretty when you smile," he whispered tenderly and you felt emotion bubbling within you, stuck in your throat. But you didn’t want to cry. So, you only smiled more brightly at his words, and you kept his compliment stored safely within you, right beside every sweet gesture of his since that day.

Minho didn’t have the answers to all your questions. He didn’t always know what to say to make it feel right. But he stayed there, he tried his best, to heal parts of you that you never knew could be bruised.

You tried one day, to go through the day normally. You woke up, opened the blinds, and then you made Minho breakfast. You ate lunch with Mina, making some jokes here and there. And when you saw Chan in the line of the coffee shop, you went up to him to talk.

And then you got home and showered, put on makeup, and waited for Minho to come to you. As soon as he opened the door, you were on him, hands busy unbuttoning his shirt, your lips pressed wildly on top of his. You missed him, missed the way he made you forget as he touched you, everywhere. As he showed you how much he loved you.

"I want you, please," you whispered, your lips grazing the shell of his ear, your hands roaming across his chest. Your tone was begging and Minho could feel the urgency in it, so he nodded, he could never say no to you. He watched as you guided him to the couch, as you straddled his lap. You kissed his neck and he tilted it back to give you more of an opening. His hands were on your thighs, cautious. Your lips on him felt heavenly but he couldn’t allow himself to get lost in the pleasure, he had to keep an eye on you.

You were urgent, with the way you sucked the tender skin above his collarbones, how you grinded your hips into his. As if you were on borrowed time and you had to make him reach his high as fast as possible.

"Tell me you’re mine," you muttered, between the kisses you imprinted onto his chest. He could see the lipstick stains you left behind as if you needed to mark him up for everyone to see.

"I'm yours," he says, his hand smoothing the top of your hair. He could sense that something was wrong now, because your eyes were glazed over, and your kisses were getting sloppy, as if your mind was somewhere else. So, he grabs your hips to pause you. "I'm yours, angel. You hear me?"

"Tell me you won’t leave, tell me you’re staying," you take his hands away from your sides, clasping them in a tight hold. You capture his lips in a desperate kiss, and Minho can feel the tears streaming down your face. "Tell me you’ll stay, please, I can’t- can’t lose you too."

"Hey, hey, love. It’s okay, calm down," Minho easily frees his hand from your grasp, bringing you closer to his chest. It’s all it takes for you to start sobbing. "Who said anything about losing me? I’m still here, I won’t ever leave you," he shushes, his voice sounding like honey to your ears. It manages to muffle the sound of your erratic heartbeat.

"I'm so so tired Minho, so tired," you sob, burying your head in his chest. You felt as if there was pain igniting the end of each of your nerves. You couldn't run away from it because the pain became you. "I try to be strong, but I can't. It hurts to wake up and- and to try to go on as if nothing happened. The thoughts in my head don't ever stop and I can't- I can't do this anymore. Please make it stop. Make it stop hurting," you press your palm onto your chest, a useless attempt to soothe the burn within.

Why did it feel as if in your attempts to put out the fire raging within you, you only ended up fueling it even more?

"I would- I would if I could but I can't do that, I wish I could-" his tone is desperate, raw pain dripping from it.

"What if I'm not strong enough to do it myself?" you cut him off, finally asking the question that's been haunting you. "What if I can't fill this hole within me and it keeps on growing until it swallows me whole?"

Minho tightens his hold on you, rocking you gently in place, trying to lull your heart to sleep, so it'd stop hurting, even for a moment, even for a second. You know it's selfish to expect him to have all the answers, but he's all you have. He's the only voice you can bear listening to.

"I can't promise you that you'll ever fill the void left by her absence. It will keep on bleeding and throbbing, begging for a temporary patch-up. But one day it'll stop, it can't bleed forever. And around that hole flowers will bloom, like a sanctuary, watered by your overflowing love. Because it is your love that's hurting you, not your anger. Do not kill your heart to stop feeling, please. It will do that on its own, it won't hurt more than it can bear."

"It will take time. And if you run out of your time, I'll give you mine too. You aren't alone in this, we are a binary star, right?" he smiles softly and you nod slightly against his chest. "I read that to the invisible eye, they look like a singular star. I hope that to the universe we'd look like one person too, so they'd pass some of your pain to me."

✹✹✹

It’s been a few months since your mother died. You didn’t like the term passing away, because it entails that it was gentle, in passing, as if you were expecting it. But her death was sudden and it made your entire world flip upside down.

"Would you like to talk to her?" Minho suggested one night, his knuckles brushing against your cheek softly.

"Will you come with me?" you ask quietly.

"Of course. If you want me to, that is."

"I can try."

Minho drove you to the graveyard the following weekend. It felt weird to see her name etched on the grave, a reminder that this was all real and not a figment of your imagination.

"I'm not a daughter anymore." You speak after a while, tone coated in sadness, and acceptance. "But I think I’ve never truly been one, since you were never a mother to me."

"Is it weird, that I miss you? I don't even know what I miss exactly since you were never there. But I miss you. I miss having a mother. And I'm sorry, that you were so angry at the world you couldn't find it in you to love me." You pause, blindly reaching out to hold Minho's hand. He grabs it instantly. "But I won't carry your anger anymore. I don't want to be mad at you, for leaving so suddenly. I want to be happy. I deserve to be happy. And I hope that you are too, wherever you are now."

You turn around, a small smile gracing your lips, and Minho wastes no time in wrapping you in his arms, your cheek resting against his shoulder. He's proud of you, the emotion shines clear as day in his eyes.

"I wanna take you somewhere," he tells you and you nod, wrapping your arm securely around his waist.

The drive is short and you recognize the place fairly easily. It's the hill you told him about a long time ago, the one that held your happiest memory with your mother.

You both sit on the bench, your head finding solace on his shoulder. The view unfolding in front of you is still as breathtaking, and with each passing moment, the tightness in your chest seems to ease. Memories of your mother and this serene spot intertwine like delicate vines, bringing you a bittersweet sense of comfort. Because mourning someone isn't straightforward, not when humans are this complex, never strictly good or bad.

"Cold?" Minho asks and you shake your head no. "You're a human heater."

"Only near you," he smirks and you giggle slightly.

"I remember your hands used to be so cold."

"So, I could find an excuse to hold yours."

"Are you flirting with me?" you chuckle and he nods, a proud smile on his face. "Is it working?"

"I haven't run away yet, so I suppose it is." There is a newfound lightness in your voice, one you’ve been achingly missing for the past months.

"Come here," he taps his lap with his hands and you promptly lay your head on it.

"Look at the sky," he instructs and you do as he says, squinting your eyes. "What am I supposed to see?" you giggle, but then you feel it, the faintest snowflake falling on your nose tip.

"Go away, I don't want to watch the first snow with you," you tilt your head towards Minho, who's watching you, a soft smile on his face.

You giggle at the distant memory, when you both left Limbo, two years ago. The first time Minho rewrote your memories.

"As if I could ever love you, that'd just be signing a death warrant," you repeat your words from that night, a knowing smile on your face.

"How's that death warrant going?"

"Horrible, so so horrible," you say as you intertwine his hand with yours, squeezing it lightly.

"Mm. I suppose we can't be the exception to the superstition."

"How unfortunate," you smile as he leans down to press a kiss on your forehead, before looking back at the sky again.

He looks perfect from your view. You can clearly see the mole on his nose, the pucker of his rosy lips, and his long eyelashes framing his eyes. You are overcome by a feeling of love for the man beside you, and you stand up from your place to pull him in for a deep kiss.

"What was that for?" he smiles once you lean away, his fingers gently grazing your lips.

"Thank you, for today and for every day since I've met you."

"Of course, my love. You took a big step today, what color are you feeling right now?"

"Whatever color loving you is."

✹✹✹

Hills covered in verdant hues, rows of flowers bursting with vibrant colors, stretching before your eyes. The birds are chirping somewhere near, intermingling with the faint melody of the wind brushing against your skin.

"Here," Minho comes from behind, placing his knit jacket on top of your shoulders. Its warmth seeps through you, and you lean your back against his chest, melting into his embrace. His arms encircle your chest, resting comfortably on top of your heart as if guarding it from harm.

You feel your breathing slow down as you both look out the window. You are somewhere far from the city and its buzzing lights, a small white cottage surrounded by nature, where only you and Minho exist.

Minho nuzzles his chin on your shoulder, placing a chaste kiss under your ear. A light giggle escapes your mouth, as goosebumps rise upon your skin. Your body still reacts as sweetly to Minho, proofs of his love imprinted all over you. His touch is familiar to you but still as soothing, never losing its effect on you. You believe it never will, even when you're both withering down; his touch will still be the only thing making you bloom.

"This is nice," he whispers, sighing softly and you nod against him, raising your hand to settle on top of his. His fingers instinctively find your wedding ring, playing with it as they've done for the past two years.

"It's always nice with you," you say and he smiles softly, squeezing your hand lightly. You remember how it felt when he held it for the first time. How he hasn't let go since. It was only ever his to hold.

"We did well, don't you think? For our first time being alive."

His words make a gentle warmth stir within you. It is your first life, and you're lucky enough to spend it with him.

"We did," you turn around, to find him already looking down at your figure, a fond smile on his face. "To think we probably wouldn't be together if it wasn't for our law classes."

"No," he shakes his head, hands gently cupping your cheeks. "I would've found you. On a random evening when you'd stumble onto Limbo. In the supermarket where you'd buy your cherry shampoo. In the park you used to play in as a kid. I would've found you."

You've once read that when humans are about to pass away, a film of their happiest memories plays in front of their eyes. You know that many years down the road when you're on the brink of going away, you'll remember this moment clearly in your head. You'll remember the cicadas chirping far away, and the zesty smell of the lemon muffins you made earlier today. You'll remember the cold breeze ruffling your hair, and Minho’s warm hands on you. And you'll sigh contently, from having lived a life filled with love.

"My soul is dipped in yours. It will always find you too."

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lila-lou · 4 months

Text

✨Nothing he couldn't handle Pt. 1/3✨

Summary: You finally tell Ben why you won't let him in your panties.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, touching and teasing, anxious Reader

Word Count: 2206

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

“Damn it!”, you muttered as you searched the fridge for something to eat. You should have been asleep by now, but you were still full of adrenaline after the last mission you completed just 4 hours ago. Everyone else had been in their rooms for about two hours while you tiptoed around the kitchen in your pajama shirt, desperately looking for a little snack.

You've been a member of the Butchers team for 6 months now. Well, more or less a member. You didn't fight, that wasn't your thing at all, but you had a lot of skill when it came to profiling Supes and figuring out what made them tick, when they lied and what they planned to do next. You worked for Vought, for a 4 year training, until the Tower crashed. In just 2 years, you had learned more about Supes and their profiling than other people did in ten years. You were by far the best in the field, but most importantly, you couldn't be bought and had a strong dislike for Homelander, which was why Butcher showed up on your doorstep six months ago and had Hughie begging you to join the team. The Supes and everything that came with them stopped scaring you a long time ago. You were already too jaded. Well, except for one small aspect.

After agreeing, you stayed in your apartment for a few more weeks, but you quickly realized that wasn't an option at all when you narrowly avoided being split lengthways by Homelander.

Since then you have lived with the other boys, Annie and Kimiko. After the incident between Homelander and Soldier Boy, Annie also made the decision to move in with Hughie to stay with the boys and protect him.

"If you bend over a bit more, I swear to you, I'll rip those damn thin panties off your little ass", Soldier Boy muttered as he leaned against the kitchen island with his arms crossed. "Shit! Stop scaring me!", you squealed a little too loudly, standing back up and clutching your yogurt tightly in both hands. "And by the way… eww! Everything that comes out of your mouth is fucking disgusting”.

Soldier Boy just rolled his eyes and leaned back a little more. Your gaze wandered over his bare torso as you unconsciously bit your bottom lip.

Soldier Boy had been after you since you moved into the apartment you shared. You were the new nice toy he couldn't have. And that very fact made him want you even more.

Of course you couldn't deny damn fine Soldier Boy was, to be honest you actually developed feelings for him over the last few weeks but after the countless accidents and even deaths that occurred when Supes and humans had sex you were just too afraid to let him get to you. As long as Ben was a few healthy inches away from you, your mouth was huge and your attitude even bigger, but as soon as he came closer and touched you, you flinched. Maybe Vought simply shouldn't have assigned a young girl in training to the department that dealt with the most egregious deaths, caused by supes. You hadn't even lasted five months there when you begged Stan Edgar himself to let you join the profiler team.

"You're horny, aren't you?", he grinned knowingly. “Your heart is beating almost as fast as it did, when I kissed you for the first time”. Just the thought of it made your knees weak. You let Ben get close to you twice, but both times you stopped when his hands slid over your hips to your ass.

“No, I’m not”, you grumble and start eating your yogurt, your back leaning against the kitchen counter, facing him.

“C´mon, Sweetheart. I promise you’ll fucking love it”, Ben pushed himself off the kitchen counter and took two steps towards you. You immediately tensed up and pushed yourself back even more.

“Ben…”, you whispered as he stood right in front of you. When his big hand cupped your cheek, you thought your heart would explode. “What do you have to lose?”, he murmured, tilting his head down until his lips touched your neck. As your heartbeat picked up again, he stayed in his position, waiting for some kind of reaction from you.

“My life”, you breathed.

Ben immediately pulled his head back and looked at you, confused, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you think I’ll get you pregnant? You´re fucking stupid? Yeah, I kinda like you, but a child would be too much, don't you think?". Ben had absolutely no idea what you were talking about.

Since you were no longer surrounded by him, you had found your voice again. It was like your brain finally had oxygen again.

"What? No! I did not mean that! Of course having a child would ruin my life, at least for now, but that’s not what I meant!”.

Now Ben just looked more confused. His eyes were on you as he tried to understand you. He couldn't understand why you put him off for weeks. He was nice to you, talked to you and even started watching that stupid show about demons and other supernatural crap. And yet you didn't let him get close to you. He was allowed to kiss you twice, that was it. You were a damn tease and he was starting to lose his nerve.

“Then tell me what you fucking mean, Tom Hardy”.

Slightly overwhelmed, you groaned and let your head fall back before you answered. You knew Ben wouldn't let go, if you didn't finally tell him why you were so reserved.

“I’m scared, okay?”, you confessed, still not able to look at him. However, you could hear the surprise in his voice.

"Wait, what? I know you’re not a fucking virgin anymore, so why should you be afraid?”.

It took a few minutes and admonitions from ben, before you finally told him why.

When you finally made it, you looked intently and expectantly at the Supe in front of you. His face slowly relaxed, but his gaze still remained unreadable to you. However, when a slight grin crept onto his lips, you shook your head in annoyance, grumbled "I definitely don't have to let you laugh at me" and started to walk out of the kitchen, but Ben grabbed your wrist. "Fucking Relax, dollface. I’m not laughing at you", he chuckled, but immediately let go of you as your heart beat faster again. With his lips pursed to hide his grin, he raised both hands apologetically.

Slightly offended, you crossed your arms over your chest and looked at him without saying a word. Ben took a deep breath before speaking.

“Do you really think I would hurt you?”, he asked, still smiling slightly.

“You’re not exactly known for your self-control, Soldier Boy”, you replied sharply, narrowing your eyes.

“Oh Sweetheart, believe me. It takes more than a nice tight pussy to make the first fucking super explode". That started the next discussion. It was back and forth, like the last few weeks.

“Okay, how about you sleep in my bed tonight. Just sleep. And if you're still alive tomorrow, you'll have your proof", Ben suggested at one point.

The thought of sleeping with Ben in his bed was both exciting and frightening, but you knew there weren't many options left before he would eventually give up on you. You tapped your folded forearm thoughtfully.

"Only sleeping?", you asked cautiously after a while.

"Ugh… promise?", he replied annoyed.

A few more moments passed before you forced yourself to say it and finally nodded.

"Okay. Maybe that’s not such a bad idea”, you murmured.

Ben rolled his eyes and shook his head, but couldn't help and let a small, genuine smile appear on his lips. When he started walking but you still stopped, he whistled to you, which finally broke you out of your trance. With a few quick steps you caught up with him and walked nervously next to him. When you got to his bedroom door, Ben roughly pushed the door open as usual and waved his arm for you to move on. In fact, it was the first time you were in his room. Your eyes scanned everything as Ben watched you expectantly. You were pretty sure you wouldn't sleep a wink.

As expected, his room smelled of alcohol, weed and a hint of his perfume. Ben walked past you and gently ran his palm over your back, but only for a split second. He sank onto his bed, pulled his legs up and leaned his back against the headboard of the bed. His hand reached for the joint he had started on the nightstand.

"You should take a hit, it would help you relax", Ben lit his joint before taking a deep drag.

“Yeah, I’d rather not", you snorted, continuing to look around the room. Your gaze stopped at the top shelf next to the bed. As you stretched, your shirt riding up and Ben getting a perfect view of your perfect ass, he felt his cock twiching in his sweatpants. Maybe he shouldn't have been abstinent for three weeks when he really had no other choice. He couldn't get you out of his head for days. He had tried having fun with other women several times, but even with his cock deep in a slut's throat and the idea of the bitch being you, it just wasn't working.

“Ewww Ben, are youfor real?”, you pulled out an erotic magazine from 1971. “Gosh, there’s more hair than skin”, you grimaced as you flipped through the pages.

“Well, different times, doll". His gaze traveled from your face, down your body and back to your eyes. “I bet your pussy is perfectly shaved and fucking smooth", he licked his lips, keeping eye contact with you. Your cheeks immediately turned bright red because Ben hit the mark.

“C'mere”, Ben said in his deep voice, putting an arm around your waist and expertly pulling you onto the bed. Landing on your butt, you let out a short squeak of surprise. Ben focused on your heartbeat and breathing as he continued to hold you. Your back was pressed against his bare chest as he still leaned against the headboard.

"How does that feel?", he whispered against your ear, one arm wrapped around you as his free hand slowly stroked down your side to your thigh.

“I… I don’t know”, you whispered shakingly after a few seconds.

Ben scoffed before pressing a light kiss to your pulse point. “Relax, doll. Focus on my touch, not your fucking thoughts”, he breathed against your neck, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t calm your nerves. “Ben…please…You promised”, you tried to push Ben’s arm away from your waist.

“Fiiiiinee”, he groaned annoyed, releasing you from his grasp.

Ben slid further down so he was lying and reached for his phone. He went through the news as if nothing had happened while you still sat rooted to the spot.

“You want to sleep sitting fucking up?”, he murmured, not watching from his phone.

Grumbling, you lay on your side, your back to Ben, and pulled the blanket up to your neck. “Goodnight”, you said quietly, closing your eyes. Ben glanced over at you for a moment before putting his phone away and raising an arm to wrap it around you, but then quickly let go. Ben watched you for a few minutes before lifting the blanket and laying under it too.

When you still hadn't fallen asleep after about 30 minutes of Ben just listening to your heartbeat, you opened your eyes again. “Ben?”, you breathed, barely audible.

"Hmm?".

“Can I try something?”.

“Whatever you fucking want”, he grumbled tiredly.

You took a deep breath before turning to him and looking at his face. Your hand slowly moved to his upper arm and lingered there for a moment before pressing yourself closer to him.

"Can you hold me?", you whispered.

Ben was definitely not the soft type and by now he would have kicked any other woman out of his bed, but like he had been doing for the last 6 months, he made an exception for you.

"Women. Just can't fucking decide", he grumbled, his eyes still closed. His hand reached under your ass and pulled you as tight as he could with a firm tug, knocking the air out of your lungs. Your face was on his chest, next to your hand, while your right leg lay directly over his lap.

"That's okay?".

“I think so”, you answered him as his hand went under your shirt to your lower back and he held you tight. “Feels kinda nice”, you admitted sheepishly, breathing in his distinctive scent.

"Good. Now shut your mouth and sleep. I’m fucking tired”, he grumbled, starting to rub small circles over your soft skin with his thumb.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 Would you like a second part? Been thinking about giving Ben what he wanted from (y/n) for months.😏

Part 2

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys #spn

566 notes · View notes

shawnxstyles · 1 year

Text

naked

DATE: JANUARY 8, 2023

summary: nathan drake was a tease to say the least. you couldn’t focus on work or chores with his constant sex appeal surrounding you. but a completely naked and nonchalant nathan drake, was an even bigger one.

request: please read the request as an additional summary!

words: 3.2k

warnings: SMUT (implied consent, praise kink, playful spanking and exhibitionism if you squint, dirty talk [slight degradation kink], kind of breeding kink, and unprotected sex) language, and very fluffy at the end :)

note: first nathan fic… this was supposed to be just smut, but i made the ending really fluffy and cute 😌 (the amount of times i’ve watched this gif is unholy)

—

Nathan Drake would be the death of you.

He was charming, with a hint of cockiness to always keep you on your toes. His smile lit up every room he waltzed in, which you hated to admit made your heart flutter.

During the many dangerous attempts at trying to find the forbidden gold, you two really connected. For the first few missions, you were always on high-alert as your trust balanced on a fine line. He could’ve ditched you at any minute and left you stranded to fend for yourself. But Nathan wasn’t like that. He stuck by your side and saved your life more than you could ever thank him enough for.

Yes, he’s lied and undergone deception, but it was all for the greater good. You were his greater good. If he never finds the gold, he knows that he hit the jackpot with you. Even if you didn’t know it.

Taking that next step in your relationship was the best idea you both have ever had. You loved Nathan for all that he was— except for one thing; a teaser. Nathan Drake was the biggest teaser ever.

A shirtless Nate strides around arrogantly nearly every day, making you swallow thickly when you gaze at his body a little too long. Sometimes, he’ll flex on purpose while you’re trying to focus on work. Or he’ll be handsy while doing day-to-day chores.

Nate loved that he had such a grasp on you. Today, he used that to his advantage.

He steps out of the steaming shower, barely dried with a towel around his waist. He doesn’t try to secure it as he walks out into the lounge area where you’re reading on the couch with a mug in hand.

You take a glimpse at him when he comes into frame and nearly choke on your coffee. You’ve seen his body countless times, but the sight will never fail to amaze you. Water droplets drip over his chiseled abs, sinking down his V-line and absorbing in his towel. He licks his bottom lip in amusement at your stare, waltzing past you and into the kitchen.

You roll your eyes and resume back to your reading that was nowhere near as interesting as Nathan’s body. You bet you could study an entire course about his structure, and you would excel with an A+. But that would be cheating because you knew his body like the back of your hand.

You knew that he loved to have his back scratched, nails digging into his skin until crescent moon marks appeared. He loved when you moaned his name, specifically screaming it. And Nathan loved when you fawned over his body. His body full of muscle was a temple you worshiped when he had his way with you. You loved praising him because everything you said was true.

Your mind flashes back to last night and all the previous nights where he fucked you into oblivion. You wished it was always that easy to have sex with him, but he always had to make it difficult to get what you wanted.

Typical Nathan.

Once your coffee jolts your system awake, you decide to do a bit of cleaning to get your mind out of the gutter. You call Nathan over to help you with the dishwasher, hoping he’s clothed. When he comes back into the kitchen, however, he’s still not dressed, even though it’s been hours since he took a shower. Actually, he’s less dressed than earlier. He’s wearing nothing but his birthday suit when he smiles at you softly, charm and fake-innocence floating around him.

Bastard.

You try not to avert your eyes down to his prominent member, knowing it will inflate his already massive ego if you stutter your words.

“I need you to help me with the dishes,” You state curtly, jaw slacking while you glare directly into his brown orbs. They’re filled with mischief and lust, positive he’s at least semi-hard. “You wash.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Nathan’s cheeks crinkle into a toothy smile, walking over to you. His hands cradle your face before he gives you a tender kiss on your forehead. Your clit throbs in time with the rapid beating of your heart. Arousal drips subtly from your cunt and into your panties.

He knows how much you love forehead kisses. God damn him.

He gets started on the dishes, handing you the cleaned items quickly. You bend down to slot them into their places in the washer, falling behind his quick pace. Once he finishes, he smirks at your position; bent over and vulnerable in a thin pair of cotton shorts. His cock pulsates at the view of your curves as you focus on the task in front of you. It was almost too easy.

“Need help, baby?” Nathan’s hands slide over your waist as his body hovers behind you. You inhale sharply at the feeling of him so close to you, causing you to freeze in place. He drags his palms to your hips, caressing the clothed skin teasingly. His thumbs are rubbing the top of your ass, wishing he would spread you open already. You bit your tongue before deciding that you can play this game too.

“I’m good,” After slotting a plate, you raise up and grab another. You purposely lean back into him, causing your ass to grind against his bare cock. Nathan is thick and solid, at his full size now that he’s fully hard. You try not to be affected by the tiny touch. He quietly hisses under his breath and you smirk as you move yourself in triumph. His fingers never leave your hips.

“You’re paying for that,” He squeezes your supple curves warningly and then lightly slaps your ass before waltzing away. You gasp, nearly dropping the plate. The dishes are disorganized and dislocated when you finish, too distracted by the Greek God strolling around the house.

—

Nathan didn’t stop there. He continued to help with house chores while being completely naked. He got handsy and he teased you to the brim. If you tried to reach for something up high, he would lift you by your hips and then slide his hands up your body when bringing you down. His minimal actions made you weak, but left you wanting more every time he walked away.

You took a deep breath before joining your zoom meeting. Even when Nathan was intervening in your thoughts, you still had work to do.

Nathan glances at your crinkled eyebrows as you concentrate on your computer screen. A monotone voice gives instructions while you nod along to his words. Nate loved watching you work. Your hard working ethic, determination, and intelligence were some of his favorite qualities about you. The head of his cock ticks when you bite your lip subconsciously in solid focus.

It was also one of his turn-ons.

He strides over to you as you type swiftly on your keyboard. When you notice him, you roll your eyes at his nude appearance, continuing to type away. He sits beside you, glaring.

“What do you want, Nate?” You ask through clenched teeth. You can’t help but peer down at his struggling member, rosy head with dabbles of pre-cum leaking from it. If he wasn’t such a tease, you would get on your knees and suck him dry.

“Nothing. You know, I love watching you work. You look so sophisticated and smart,” Nathan compliments as his hand wanders toward your thighs. He massages them, your breath getting caught in your throat. Nate knew you loved being complimented, but especially when it had to do with your intelligence. He is ticking every box today.

He slides his fingers up until they’re touching your aching, clothed cunt. Your clit pulses sporadically, legs tensing when his fingers brush over it.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Nathan taunts with a devilish smile. Nate’s thumb pets your clit through your shorts, making you moan softly. You disregard your zoom meeting, your camera and microphone already off. Spreading your legs wider, he doesn’t speed up or stop, continuing to torture you by giving you little to nothing. “Are you all wet?”

You answer in a shuddery moan, focusing on the small touch. You’ve been so horny all day, even this is getting you off. Fists balling on the keyboard, his fingers brush the folds of your cunt, still covered by your shorts and panties. You gasp when he presses two fingers where your hole is as you clench around nothing but your own walls. Sliding your shorts down, he reveals your soaked panties, tsking at the sight. He yanks them down and off your legs. Being the dirty man he is, Nathan spits into his hand and wraps the fabric around his cock, stroking deliberately. Your own hand shoots straight to your clit and fondles it, desperate to be touched by him.

“Y/N, are you there? The meeting is over,” Your boss informs with a clipped tone. Your eyes drift to the forgotten screen, widening when you remember you’re still in the call.

“Don’t stop,” Nate demands through gritted teeth, powerful eyes piercing yours. Trembling, you continue to rub your clit as you unmute yourself.

“Y-yeah. Sorry, goodbye now,” You sputter out before slamming the laptop closed. Nathan groans while stroking his cock with your wet panties, making you clench around nothing.

“Rubbing yourself while working. Naughty girl,” Nathan tsks, dropping the underwear and lifting you up with a smirk. You both stand face to face with each other, aroused and desperate, yet neither will beg for it.

Caressing your face with his rough hands, Nathan pulls you in for a kiss. His tongue roams your mouth and his lips ignite a fire through your body. Your hands lock on his hips and squeeze his ass teasingly. He growls in your mouth, almost biting your tongue. Your fingers crawl up the nape of his neck, tugging at the short hair. Grunting, he slaps your ass playfully in return before breaking the kiss. You lift up your tank top and toss it across the room, abandoning it. He spins you around and bends you over so your rear is right against his front. You catch yourself with your hands planted on the ground, feet steadying you.

His bare length slots between your cheeks, soaked in your arousal. Nathan rocks back and forth without sliding in, so you push back against him in a silent plea.

“Fucking drenched,” He hisses, grabbing a handful of your soft skin until he’s holding your hips sturdy. “Didn’t know you were such a whore.”

“You’ve been—fuck— teasing me all day,” You moan as he ruts his cock against your fluttering folds. “Walking around naked? Who does that?”

“That’s not a nice way to talk to the person who’s determining if you’re coming tonight,” Nathan slaps your ass a little harsher this time, making you yelp and grind against him harder.

“Nate, please just fuck me already,” You plead as the blood begins to rush to your head.

“That’s more like it,” He spreads your cheeks and slams into you. Your arms almost collapse under the pressure, too weak for his brutal thrusts. His balls slap against your ass while he pounds mercilessly deeper and harder.

Rough, calloused hands grip your hips, forcing you to take all of his length. You can feel the ridges of his cock in your cunt as he hits new angles you’ve never experienced before. Wails and moans echo throughout the house as your limbs tremble with pleasure. Your vision becomes starry and your head starts to pound from being practically upside down. When the weakness of your arms causes you to crumble beneath your weight, Nathan sweeps you up before you could fall.

The blood rush melts away as his face comes into clear view. With ease, he rests you on the dining table near your forgotten laptop. His muscles bulk and flex with intensity as sweat begins to form on his skin. His chiseled core contracts with each impel, making you wetter and wetter. He thrusts back into you without warning, causing you to shriek.

“God, you’re so hot,” You whimper while squeezing his thick biceps, nails stabbing his flesh. Gutturally moaning, he seizes more brutal ruts into you, making your eyes roll back. He leans down to mark up your neck in tattooed kisses.

“What about me is so hot?” Nathan huffs mockingly into your neck, his warm and gravelly voice melting you entirely. He loved being praised, and seeing him so affected only spurred you to do it more.

“Y-your muscles. You’re so strong,” Pathetic moans pepper out of your throat, dry and squeaky from screaming. He growls, plunging savagely rough into your cunt at the compliment. Arousal surrounds his cock when you clench snuggly around him, milking him deliciously.

“Such a dirty girl. My dirty girl,” Nathan grunts while your breathing heaves. “Come now.”

Your pussy tightens around his length, unable to control the rapid bliss that hits you hard the second he permits. Your jaw drops in ecstasy, eyes screwed shut in undeniable pleasure.

“Look at me. Wanna see your gorgeous face.”

You attempt to open your eyes as your orgasm releases from you in silent cries. Core contracting and nails scratching, your back aches into his torso while he nibbles into your neck. White liquid pours out, legs shaking as you fall from the high. His pace slows as you feel the twitch of his cock inside your walls.

“Come in me. Please, baby,” Your croaked voice pleads him to the finish line.

“Mm, need me to fill you up? Need to be nice and full of my cum?” His hands spread your legs wider, rutting deep and slow into you when you moan in affirmation. His shaft spasms and his balls tense before he releases ropes of cum into your cunt. You whimper at the sensation, closing your eyes in euphoria. He pulls in and out, pushing all of his sperm far inside to make sure it’s all tucked in.

Nathan stares up at you as your hands slide up to his neck. A weary, blissed-out smile reflects on both of your faces as you lean in for a kiss. Your teeth clink from uncontrollable, cheeky smiles and your fingers intertwine in his chestnut hair.

“You were a bit of a tease today,” You bit your lip, pulling away, but keeping him close enough where you can feel his warm, heaving breath on your skin.

“You love it though,” An inviting smirk danced on his lips while a tinge of pink decorated his cheeks. He lowers his forehead to rest on yours, noses brushing cutely.

“Sadly, I do, Nathan Drake,” You hold back a goofy grin. “Sadly, I do.”

“Well, I hope you don’t say it like that at the wedding,” He chuckles and you gasp, swatting his chest playfully. You don’t want to act so surprised, but your eyes are shot wide.

“Do not mention wedding stuff! It’s only been… seven months!” With a pointed finger to his buff chest, he laughs it off with his hands raised defensively.

“But you’ve known me for ten!”

You were one hundred percent serious when you said you loved Nathan, you really did. But you never thought about a commitment until him. Not a serious one, that is. Although you two had a rocky start, he changed how you viewed the concept of relationships entirely. Your guard was constantly up, a barrier you created over the course of your life after being disappointed again and again. Nathan and you traveled various distances and battled challenges most people in their life will never face.

But he showed you that it was okay to live and to love because the risk of the fall doesn’t always end badly.

It wasn’t even directed toward you, just typical Nate inspiration, but that was a key quote you will forever remember. It was from your second (failed) mission together, when you were ‘stranded’ and waiting for Sully to ‘rescue’ you both (he just needed to bring the boat around). He opened up to you, like it was second nature to him. You envied how easy it seemed to pour your heart into a stranger who could possibly abandon you. But Nathan always had faith. And maybe his faith in you was right.

Maybe Nathan was the one who you’d say I do to.

You didn’t doubt him. You doubted you.

“I wouldn’t say it like that,” You whisper against his swollen lips, face blank with a million thoughts soaring behind your eyes.

“What?” His forehead crinkles in mild confusion while his hand caresses your jaw delicately. Curiosity and a hint of hope float within his irises, but it could just be your imagination.

“I would… be happy to say I do. I wouldn’t hesitate to say it. Well, I might, but only because I’d be nervous,” You heart thudded against your ribs and your palms began to feel clammy. You laugh awkwardly, anxiety infecting your body. “Why am I nervous now? I’m just imagining it— and now I’m rambling about nothing—”

“It’s not nothing, Y/N. I’ve imagined it, too,” Nate reassures with soft touches on your cheek, smoothing your hair over. “I pictured you in a long, white dress with an open back. Long, laced sleeves because I know you’d find that classic and elegant. You wouldn’t have a long train because you wouldn’t want to trip over it. I imagined that day to feel greater than any gold.”

Water glossed over your eyes as you fought back tears until you were swallowing thickly. You hadn’t expected him to have it all planned out. But again, Nathan always plans ahead. He’s always two steps in front of the average person. Another thing you loved about him.

You envisioned his description, finding only near-perfection in the way he thinks.

“Are you joking? Because I will find some creative ways to kill you—”

“I’ve never been more serious. Y/N, I knew from the first day we met that we had something. Whether we were partners, best friends, or dating, we were meant to be together. Don’t you think?” Both of his thumbs rub gentle circles across your supple cheeks, warm from the immense love circulated around you.

“I didn’t at first. Not like you did,” You smiled, remembering the awkward first encounter when Sully introduced you both. You were young and mischievous, and Nathan was also young, but also very trusting, which challenged your judgment. You didn’t even know of his existence a year ago, but ten months later and you feel like you’ve known him a lifetime. That’s got to count for something, right? “but now I understand that you’re right. We were destined to meet— Did you hear what I just said? Your sappy shit is influencing me!”

His beautiful, hearty laughter breaks the tension and pulls at your heartstrings when his skin crinkles to adjust to his expression.

“But you love me and my sappy shit, right?” He pecks your forehead, making you melt into a puddle right in the palm of his hand.

“Sadly, I do, Nathan Drake. Sadly, I do.”

—

hot??? cute??? hopefully :D

#shawnxstyles #tom holland smut #nathan drake smut #tom holland #nathan drake #uncharted #tom holland fics #tom holland fan fics #nathan drake fic #nathan drake fan fics #nathan drake x you #nathan drake x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader

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bumblebeesfromvenus · 17 days

Text

Simon Riley NSFW hcs ♡

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Two lovely people asked for my NSFW Simon headcannons and I'm happy to provide!!

Just a disclaimer, these are my headcannons. If you have ones that are totally different, that's okay!

He's fictional and can be whatever you want him to be <3 (except a rapist. We don't do that here.)

If you have any COD thoughts or requests, my inbox is open!!

~ Fi 🐝

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I'm a soft!Simon truther until death.

There's not a single reality in which I can see him ever being too rough with you, let alone hurting you.

First of all, he has no fucking clue what he's doing. He's maybe had sex 2-3 times in his life and I don't think any of them were memorable or good.

I'd wager that all of them were hookups, encouraged by other soldiers to "let off steam". But Simon just can't do it, it feels so wrong. To give himself so fully to someone he doesn't even know.

There needs to be an emotional connection in order for him to feel comfortable and good. He needs to trust and love this person before he can do anything with them.

It's gonna take a while for him to open up, but once he does everything is smooth sailing.

(I also don't think he masturbated excessively. He probably jerked off, everyone gets horny, but especially if we say he's on antidepressants, his sex drive is pretty low. He's either too tired or just doesn't care)

Your first time together was fueled by a, not so uncommon, make-out session on his couch. It'd usually end with you grinding on his thigh or rubbing yourself over his clothed cock until you both reached a satisfactory end.

Simon thinks he could live an entire relationship with only sticking to dry humping, but in reality he's just terrified of the intimacy of real sex.

It's not too romantic, none of that rose petals lit candle stuff. It's not that Simon hates all of that, but I just think it'd be too much for the first time.

He's already so nervous (so are you probably if we're honest) and all that extra stuff would overwhelm the fuck out of him.

(He will spoil you with rose petals and candles another night, even if it just ends you with you falling asleep in eachother's arms <3)

Eventhough it's soft and sweet, you're both still very horny and basically rip the clothes off of the other.

Foreplay is important!!! (For all my girlies who don't drip down their thighs)

Not only for you but for him too. Even if he's rock hard already, he wants to enjoy himself, maybe be a tease. He will always make sure that you're okay and ready (and so will you bc he deserves it).

Would literally eat you out to calm himself down. He probably has fallen asleep while licking your pussy, it's his personal meditation.

Your taste, the way you feel on his tongue and the fact that he was two perfectly good pillows wrapped around his head made it easy for him to nod off.

Also, he prefers it hairy. (Fight me.) (pls don't)

I know it's cliche but he's like 2 seconds away from just coming inside of you the second he pushes in. Not only does he feel good but when he looks down he sees you and he could cry from how happy he is. He just loves you so much.

Can we please put the "You only take half of him" bullshit to rest??? Thank you. We all know Simon as BDE but let's keep it on the real side okay. He couldn't give less of a shit if you can take him to the hilt or not.

(Some gals physically can't bc if your vaginal canal is too short, then it's impossible. You don't want a bruised cervix, so don't be stupid) I do think when he's more comfortable about it and a little more desperate and rough, he'll play into the size kink.

He probably has a huge size kink anyway but he would never make you feel bad if you couldn't take all of him. (Especially if you're giving him head bc let's be real that thing is not going down no one's throat okay)

He has the prettiest moans. I JUST KNOW IT. they're more throaty and deep but they sound good. I honestly don't think this man is capable of whimpering (like physically. Not with that smoker lung) sorry babes.

Simon isn't too loud, but just enough to make you that much hotter. He will try to pull more moans out of you, like a little challenge for himself.

NONE OF THAT "10 rounds Riley" SHIT. (Have any of y'all ever had an orgasm before like?? Who the fuck is going ten rounds??? Not me that's for sure lmao) it really all depends on your guys' mood and neediness on that day.

I do think he can and wants to go a couple of rounds but it's probably more on the rare side and never more than 4.

He knocks out immediately. He's always tired anyways.

I think his favorite positions are missionary, prone bone, and cow girl. He likes the closeness, wants to feel every part of you and kiss it like his life depends on it.

The further you are into your relationship, the more new stuff you can try out. He's always gonna be hesitant at first but if it's not too out there he'll try it.

Simon will tell you if something is a hard no for him and he expects you to respect, just as he would for you.

Would 100% make you ride his face. Wants to he smothered in it okay. (Simon said sit, so sit.)

Simon would be down to tying you up (one condition; you're never tied to anything. In case of emergencies)

You won't get him to be tied up though, that's a real hard no.

I think the closest you'd get to a submissive Simon is if you order him around.

He's sitting on his knees before you and you tell him exactly what you want him to do (one thing Simon Riley can do is follow orders) and he'll pretend to let you be in control and maybe you are for a while, but deep down he's always in control (not necessarily sexual or possessively, he just needs the security)

He loves to get head (not as much as giving it tho) but he will never ever force his cock down your throat, even if you begged him.

He can't do it, won't do it. Has he had the urge and fantasies?? Sure, but it goes against everything he promised when you got into a relationship.

Sweetly suck on his tip and stroke the rest of his length and he's happy as a clam <3

His absolutely favorite thing is when you ride him in the morning. Just lazy and sloppy circles of your hips while you sit on top of him. He loves the sight.

Simon'll gently hold onto your hips and guide you if need be. It's even better if you're laying flush against his chest and the both of you are snuggled under the blanket.

Bonus; he loves to make-out with you. It's an unhealthy obsession that has led to too much lipgloss/lipstick ingested just bc the fucker couldn't wait 2 minutes for you to take it off.

Kissing you is his number 1 way to show you how much he loves you since words aren't his strong suit.

Needless to say, he's head over heels for you, and the sex is great. <3

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I hope you lovelies enjoyed it!

More of my works --> 💫

#bumblebeesfromvenus #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #ghost cod #ghost call of duty

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moonlight-prose · 8 months

Note

If you’re taking those as prompts, ❛ don’t you know what you’re doing to me? ❜ with Din perhaps?

LOVE IS A FIRE THAT BURNS UNSEEN

a/n: so i took forever on this, because i kind of fell out of writing for din for...well....awhile. i can tell you this sat in my wips folder half finished for months. honestly i was wondering if it would even get finished. but i was re-watching mando last night and decided why the fuck not. i can't remember which prompt list this was from because it's been so long, but that's okay. this is not beta read or edited, but we live and die by the pen.

summary: on your list of things that could possibly happen while bounty hunting with din, dying from hypothermia wasn't included. nor was finally admitting the truth to yourself about your feelings.

word count: 3.1k+

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, near death experience, angst, feelings being admitted sort of, p in v sex, a hint of choking, they're so in love it's sickening.

It’s fucking cold in the Razor Crest as you sit in the cockpit waiting for his return. You’re bundled in a jacket that has seen better days, but even with the extra layers you swear you’ll freeze to death before he comes back. Tempted to turn the ship back on in order to get some heat—you do the most to distract yourself from the frost currently eating away at the skin of your face. Din’s instructions were clear. Keep the ship hidden until he comes back with the bounty, which would be simple enough.

That is if the bounty he was currently hunting resided on a planet with a temperature that wouldn’t kill you from exposure. Everything had been fine two hours ago. You were working on repairing an old comlink as he tracked the bounty through space, having caught their signal on the outer edges of the galaxy. Except then…they were attacked. Neither of you could see who caused it or even why, but suddenly a lone ship was heading into the atmosphere on the one planet you always said you’d rather die than visit.

Hoth—a frozen pit that once housed the Rebellion of all places.

So, there you were. Shivering to gain some warmth as you scanned the area for Din’s signal. If the ship was right, he still remained alive. You only wished you could say the same for yourself by the time he came back.

The cold had begun to seep into your layers, hitting your chest directly and causing you to cough harshly. If he didn’t return within the hour he would find you dead due to hypothermia. Except that’s not what scared you. It was the fact that he would be the one to find you—a man who showed absolutely no interest in you whatsoever.

You weren’t sure when the crush started or even why, but you do know the realization hit you harder than a speeder-bike going at full speed one day while you were sitting beside him in the cockpit. He laughed at something you said, the chuckle low and slightly clipped due to his modulator and that’s what did it. What had you sitting there in shock—eyes wide—as it suddenly dawned on you that…you liked him. A lot more than you would have ever thought before.

“Maker fucking above,” you muttered, your teeth chattering with the words. “Hurry up, bucket head.”

Vaguely you recalled some survival tips from your time as a teenager on Bracca working as a scrapper. Never touch live wires, always look out for yourself, and when stuck in freezing temperatures—layers become your best friend. So, you stumbled out of the cockpit chair and towards the ladder that would lead you to the rest of his ship. Slow small steps were all you could manage as your body went into overdrive to try and keep you warm. Except the ship acted as an icebox rather than a heater.

You could lock yourself in his small cot, burrowing under the blankets he’d bought because of you complaining there wasn’t enough on the ship. But you’d first have to get there. It was a struggle to even climb down the ladder—your breath coming in gasps as your lungs fought against the freezing air. How long had you been sitting up there? You held no answer to the question, because the results were clear to you now; you were up there long enough to lead you right to death’s doorstep.

Dragging yourself along the side of the ship wall, you flinched as the cold metal touched your cheek. You should have gone against his orders and simply turned the ship back on. It would keep you from this—currently fighting against hypothermia as Din took his sweet time coming back.

The sound of the airlock on the door releasing when it opened brought a small flicker of hope to life, burning bright in your chest. But it faded just as quickly as it came. You caught sight of him dragging a half dead bounty up the ramp—his helmet turned towards you—before you collapsed to the ground. Your body shivering in a final attempt to generate enough body heat in order to keep you alive.

His voice calling your name echoed in the back of your mind as you drifted off—the concept of sleep far more enticing than it should be.

Steady breaths against your bare back was what you woke up—your mind drifting slowly back to reality. Or at least what you thought to be reality. The last thing you could recall was seeing Din’s helmet as your body did what it could to survive. How you ended up in the darkness of his cot, pressed against someone you assumed to be him…naked, was a mystery to you. Perhaps you were still dreaming. This must be how your mind envisioned some form of peace to ease your soul into an afterlife.

“You’re awake.” His voice caught you off guard—the breath in your throat catching.

“How…”

The shift of his body created a low burn of heat to appear at the bottom of your stomach as his arm tightened around your waist—drawing you closer. “You almost stopped breathing when I got back. Your body went into shock from the cold.”

“I was dying,” you said softly, the realization far less jarring than waking beside him in the nude.

He hummed, the low pitch a vibration you felt along your back. “I had to get you warm.”

“So you took off my clothes?” you asked, the smile prominent in your tone.

“Generating enough body heat only works when—”

“Both of us are naked.”

His fingers gripped onto the soft skin of your belly. “Yes,” he replied—voice slightly strained.

Somehow it never registered that he was actually sans armor and clothing until you felt his hand glide further up. The soft skin of his palm turned the spark into a fully formed flame that traveled its way through your body. He was laying beside you…naked. If you concentrated hard enough, you could feel the rise and fall of his stomach against your lower back—his skin soft there too.

Any other time your brain would have short circuited, but the sluggishness from sleep had yet to wear off. It made you rather docile—something you felt oddly grateful for. You were entirely aware, fully conscious of your words and decisions, but the tranquility in your body seemingly spurred you forward. No other time would you be this centered—this sure of yourself—and maybe that’s where you made the mistake, because this was dangerous. Revealing the feelings you’d harbored for months was like poison to your heart…positively lethal.

“Din,” you murmured, the soft heat coming from his body now spreading into yours.

If you knew you’d end up like this after one visit to Hoth, you would have come here a lot sooner.

“Yes?” Even his breath was warm as it brushed across the bare skin of your shoulder. Maker you were close in his bed that was barely big enough for him, let alone you beside him.

“I—” The words caught in the base of your throat, lodging themselves there like a stone you couldn’t swallow. You wanted to say it. Get everything out into the open and be done with it, but your mind seemed to be slowly coming to its senses.

“What is it?”

Closing your eyes, you let out a shuddered breath in the hopes that it would push down the erratic nerves which jumped under your skin. If you chickened out now, you’d never say the words. They’d be your secret—forever trapped in the cage of your heart until it was far too late to confess them. What’s funny is that they seemed like such easy things to say. How hard was it really to say I love you? How much effort did it take? Only you now realized it took a lot more than you expected.

It was far easier to die than to admit your feelings.

“I have to tell you something and I just—” Inhaling, you curled your hand around the blanket beneath you. “I don’t want you to look at me differently if things don’t turn out the way I hope.”

His thumb rubbed a soothing circle against your hip. “I won’t.”

You scoffed. “You probably will.”

The subtle shift of his body against yours caused flutters to go through your heart—rendering you speechless for a moment. He was so close it was maddening. If you had the courage you’d turn around, press yourself to him, and whisper the words against his lips. But you were practically stone, unable to even turn your head slightly to feel the press of his lips against your neck.

“For a while now I’ve felt…well…my feelings towards you have changed.” You blurted them out, hoping it was like ripping off a bandaid. Except the silence of his response hurt more than you expected.

Until—

“I know,” he said, his hand pressing a bit harder on your hip.

Nothing could have prepared you for the shockwave that went through your body. “You know?” you exclaimed.

“I’ve known since our trip to Coruscant.”

You paused, trying to form something to say, but all you could come up with was: “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Why had he let you think he held no feelings towards you? That you were alone in this. You felt him stiffen behind you, his hand pulling away slightly and your heart sank in your chest. Perhaps you had asked the wrong question. Or even touched on a part of this he didn’t want you to see. But you had to know the truth. You knew why you waited—why you couldn’t get the words out for the life of you—but why had he?

That is until he wrapped his arm around your waist tightly, jolting you back towards his body. A soft yelp left you as you tried to refocus yourself in the pitch black space. Except then you felt it. Pressing hard and insistent against your lower back—a part of Din you had only ever imagined, but never seen.

He grunted, his hand splaying across your stomach as you shifted against him. “Don’t you know what you’re doing to me?”

You gasped. “Din—”

“What you’ve been doing?

His hips canted downwards, grinding against you and sending heat sparking up your spine. Enough to combat the cold that still remained in you, but you wanted more. You craved it. Moaning softly, you pushed back against him, pressing your thighs together to hopefully appease the growing ache that formed. Except he was one step ahead of you. Shoving his bare thigh between your legs, he pressed it upwards, grinning at the way your head fell back against his chest—a guttural moan leaving your lips.

“Every day is fucking torture,” he rasped, his hand sliding even lower until his fingers were hovering right above where you needed him most. “Because I can’t touch you.” His lips pressed against the curve of your jaw. “Because I can’t kiss you…”

“Maker,” you gasped, reaching down to wrap your hand around his wrist. “I-I want you to touch me. Want you to kiss me.”

His fingers dipped down even lower, finally parting your folds. A ragged groan was pressed to your jaw, his teeth scraping down against the skin when he found you wet and dripping for him. You could feel his heartbeat against your back. How it was erratic and almost as quick as yours. He was just as nervous as you were—if not more so, because of his creed.

He wanted you to be his, to love him as he was with his creed, but he was scared that this wasn’t permanent. You wanted to show him the inner workings of your mind, the makeup of your heart—how he was seared into it. He was ingrained so deep into your soul that you couldn’t even fathom the thought of being parted from him.

“Are you always this wet for me?” he asked, disbelief clear in his tone.

Nodding, you felt another moan begin to form, only for it to die as he pulled his fingers away. “No—”

“Shh,” he breathed, cupping your jaw as he moved even closer. “I’ll take care of you.”

Heat flooded your stomach, a whine forming in your throat as he pulled you back, the head of his cock now nudging against your entrance. You dug your nails into his forearm, your lips parting to form around his name. A ragged moan echoing in his small quarters, and he began to push forward. Sliding into you slowly as you fought to keep yourself quiet.

“So fucking tight,” he hissed, wrapping his arm around your torso and thrusting into you completely, his hips pressing against your ass. “Won’t last—”

You keened when his hand fell to your clit, circling it with enough pressure to send jolts up your spine. For a moment he simply held himself there. Encompassed in your heat as he worked you over, building your release steadily until you were pressing into him. Your hips rolling against his fingers—fucking yourself on his cock. Soft moans were pressed to your skin, the stubble on his jaw scratching along your shoulder, and that only heightened everything.

For the first time…he was entirely yours. Bare and open as he indulged in something both of you had held back from doing for so long.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you turned your head and caught the corner of his lips in a kiss. Something so tender yet so powerful. It nearly sent you over the edge and you felt Din’s surprise at the action. How his body jolted, his hips nudging forward and fingers stuttering in their motions. Even though he had proudly claimed he wanted to kiss you, to finally feel your lips against his. He had never expected it to come true.

“Cyar'ika,” he breathed.

“I want…” You gasped, hips rolling against his fingers in quick movements as that blinding feeling continued to overtake you. “Kiss me Din. Please, please—”

His mouth found yours in the darkness of his cabin, and you felt your heart scream out. Felt your entire body give into him, his name, his signet forever carved into your heart. He was your future and he knew it. Which is why he kissed you with a fervor that you believed only existed in your dreams—a passion that you felt right down to your toes. His tongue slid along yours, tasting the shitty caf you had earlier—the desperation on your tastebuds.

“Ah…” You tried to form the words on your tongue. The feelings that were trapped in your heart, but they refused to be let loose.

“I know you want to cum,” he breathed, fingers speeding up as your walls began to flutter around his cock. His other hand shifted, wrapping gently around your throat to keep your face close to his. Pressing down lightly as you gasped. “Let me feel it.”

A keening broken moan of his name ripped from you, hands scrabbling to grasp for something, settling for his arm that kept you pressed against him. White flashed behind your closed eyes, his lips swallowing every sound you made as you writhed against him. Gushing around his cock.

You didn’t hear the hoarse shout that he pressed into your mouth, his hips thrusting into you quickly as he followed you off the edge. Filling you with a warmth that you swore you felt in your chest. Biting down on his bottom lip you sucked into your mouth, moaning when he canted his hips forward, prolonging the sparks that ran up your spine. He was a panting mess and you tried to picture what he looked like.

Was his hair a mess? Were his cheeks stained red? Were his lips swollen?

The urge to simply open your eyes nearly overtook you, but you understood what came with that action. What would have to happen afterwards. Din had explained enough for you to grasp the basic details of what being a Mandalorian meant. So you kept them closed and opted to simply feel. You memorized how his lips against yours felt, what being full of him felt like.

You kept what you could nestled against your heart, remaining here for as long as possible. Din’s cock softened in you, twitching every now and then when your walls fluttered. But you solely had him to blame. Because he was running his hand along your body, grazing your nipples lightly before pulling away—the familiar feelings in your stomach stirring once more. If he wasn’t careful neither of you would be leaving this bed for quite some time.

Which didn’t bode well for you seeing as how you hated the planet you currently resided on.

“Din,” you breathed, pulling away to catch your breath before he dived down again—ready for round two of the hottest makeout session you’d partaken in.

“You want to leave,” he panted. There was something scary about how he could see your thoughts so clearly. You’d have to ask him about it later.

“No…” Your head fell back against his shoulder. “I want to stay here, but Hoth.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “We can stay here for as long as you want.”

Half expecting him to pull out and place his helmet back in its rightful place, you were a bit surprised when he remained put. Curling himself around you closer until his body perfectly molded yours. The cold still remained in the ship—the heaters unable to counteract the snowy planet—yet you found that you were perfectly content to remain right where you were. Wrapped in his arms—the certainty of your future now nestled in his heart. Mimicking yours in every way.

“Din,” you breathed in the darkness, feeling him trace something along your waist.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say…” You took in a breath, trying to calm the racing of your heart. “I feel like you should hear me say it.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his fingers pressing down. “I know cyar'ika. I feel the same way.”

“You do?” you asked softly.

“I do.”

You settled into the bed, allowing your muscles to relax and your body to once more give into the temptation of sleep. With Din right there, you felt as if you were able to finally relax. To give in and allow yourself to float.

“You know…” You yawned, feeling his chin settle against your shoulder. “Maybe Hoth isn’t so bad.”

He smiled, his lips brushing along your skin as you drifted off, mind succumbing to the sweet snare of unconsciousness. “No,” he breathed, continuing to trace the shape of his signet on your skin, because whether you wore it or not…you were a part of his clan. His life. “It’s not.”

#din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #my writing

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lisired · 4 months

Text

ex marks the spot

pairing: ex!mark x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, a pinch of angst, mystery, exes to lovers, (mentions of) characters death, graphic descriptions of violence and murder, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, oral (m/f)

summary: Two months ago, you and Mark called it quits and haven’t spoken to each other since. As per tradition, your respective friend groups gather each Christmas eve to keep the peace, but this year somebody has a different plan. And the new chick on Mark’s arm isn’t the worst thing to happen.

wc: 19.9k

author’s note: (this is a repost!) nothing like a christmas mystery lol. partly inspired by honey lavender by ieuan. as always, feedback is appreciated!

Distractions, you chanted to yourself, desperate to think about literally anything other than your many problems.

A tall window overlooked the entire city, as far as you were concerned. Nightfall had taken over and the bustling streets were caked in thick clunks of snow. Pressing your fingertips against the glass, you could feel relentless winter.

None of it did anything to soothe the white hot envy scorching its way down your throat. Across the room, there was a blonde girl on Mark’s arm, snuggling against his chest and sucking up all of his warmth.

That should’ve been you, but you would never admit to yourself (or anyone) that you were jealous of her. You had way too much pride for a silly thing like that. Of course, Mark had never brought a girl to one of these events before, and you had an inkling it was solely to make you jealous. You couldn’t let him win.

“This is my friend Jodie,” Mark had introduced the girl hanging on his every word like a lovestruck teenager, but noting how close they kept to each other amongst many other things, it was safe to assume they were more than friends.

Less than lovers, probably, but undeniably more than friends.

Johnny, the man of the hour, came floating your way with the grace of a butterfly and said, “Damn. You could just tell me if you’re hating the party.”

Your eyes flickered. “What?”

“You’re mad. It’s written all over your body language.” Then, he craned his head and whispered in your ear, “Have a drink and relax a little. Don’t let him know he’s getting to you.”

“He’s not getting to me,” you grumbled under your breath, but you knew that it was an obvious lie.

“If he’s not, then Jodie sure is. That’s what he wants. The whole reason he’s sucking her face off by the hearth is because he wants you to see.”

You knew that. Mark always wanted to be seen, to be acknowledged. His whole life was based on making people look at him, to which you were no exception. Your relationship consisted of him doing anything and everything necessary to grab your attention, but in all honesty, it didn’t take a whole lot.

You could never keep your eyes off Mark and he knew it. Wherever he went, he was the most radiant person in the room. He was a Leo to his fucking core.

Getting back in character, you straightened up your stance and threw Johnny a beaming smile. “It’s a wonderful party.”

Johnny grinned. “There she goes,” he said in his regular speaking voice, pleased at your new demeanor.

He was the master of all things body language and human psychology. He had been friends with you long enough to be confident that you’d never want your ex thinking for a second that he had one up on you. At least you knew somebody would always have your back. With Mark and his friends, you couldn’t help but watch it.

“Thanks,” you replied quietly, grateful he’d come get you together. And quickly at that.

“You’re my friend.”

“Mark’s your friend.”

“Yeah, but Mark’s a dickhead.”

You snickered. “Amen to that.”

Johnny was the middleman between you and Mark’s individual friend groups. After an incident dating back all the way to your senior year in high school, your former friend group of nine was split in two. You, Jeno, and Jaehyun on one side, with Mark, Chungha, Haechan, and Yuta on the other.

Johnny, the god of friendly relations that he was, managed to drift between both sides. Matter of fact, these parties of his were the whole reason you even saw the other side of the group every year. If it weren’t for Johnny wanting to maintain the peace, most of you would never be in the same room again for any purpose.

You took a glimpse around the party. It was being held in Johnny’s sumptuous two-floor penthouse this year after the outdoor disaster that was last year's Christmas eve reunion. To say the least, hypothermia had never seemed scarier.

Unsurprisingly, Mark still had his hands and mouth all over Jodie as they stood near the hearth, the fireplace decorated in limestone. Chungha was marveling at Johnny's case of precious stones and cabochon gems. Off to your right, Haechan had his face set in a scowl.

“Haechan looks happy to be here,” you quipped with total sarcasm.

Johnny didn’t even spare Haechan a glance, like he already knew what he’d see if he looked, and chuckled. “Yeah, we got into a tiny argument a few minutes back. He’ll be fine.”

That piqued your curiosity, but you didn’t press. Haechan always went looking for trouble and Johnny stopped it before it could even happen. Of course Haechan disliked that.

The elevator dinged, revealing a fashionably late Jeno. Johnny noticed and glanced at you, saying, “I’ve got to greet our favorite guest. Thanks for coming, by the way.”

You shot him an amused grin. “I came for you, but I’m staying for the margaritas.”

Johnny shook his head and laughed. After asking him to tell Jeno that you said hello, the two of you went your own separate ways.

For a little bit, you went to mingle, but you realized quickly that there weren’t a lot of people you were keen on having a conversation with. Jeno, your best friend, was with Johnny. That left Jaehyun, Johnny’s stepbrother, but you knew he preferred to be left alone.

Mark obviously wasn’t an option. Even if he knew you better than anyone in the room.

In spite of knowing you wouldn’t be there long, you made small talk with Jaehyun for a couple of minutes before he got an apparently urgent text message on his phone and excused himself apologetically.

To where, you had no fucking clue. This was your first time in Johnny’s penthouse regardless of how close you were. You spent very little time in the city and even less at your own home. It was a blessing you hadn’t missed one of these parties yet.

Maybe a curse. To be frank, you didn’t want to be here, but that had almost everything to do with Mark. Bringing Jodie along to an annual reunion for friends was low, even for him. But you kind of wished you had somebody to keep you company like he did.

You exhaled your feelings and pretended that they didn’t bother you. Your mother told you a long time ago that the only person you’d ever be able to depend on was yourself and though she had her own set of parenting complications, it was the best advice she’d ever given you.

Speaking of advice, Johnny’s was starting to appear way too appetizing and you made a beeline for the kitchen, slipping past Yuta who was apparently on the phone. Those infamous mango margaritas were calling your name.

When you entered the hallway, turning around the corner from the dining room, you almost immediately retreated. You almost told Johnny that you couldn’t be here for another minute. But Mark noticed you and it was too late. He would immediately know what was going on and take it as a surrender.

“Look who decided to come,” Mark said sharply, a greeting of his own in some twisted way. “I bet you were hoping to see a fruity cocktail.”

“Yes, and you’re standing in my way,” you spat, gesturing to the cabinets behind you.

Mark furrowed a brow. “You aren’t going to take one that’s already there?”

You looked at him like he had fifteen heads. Those could’ve easily been spiked with any substance. “Mark, half the people in this house hate each other. I love margaritas, but I love my life way more. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Mark scooted out of your way, though only because he knew the bounds of your survival. It was all that you knew.

You reached around, grabbing ingredients from various places. All the while, Mark stood there, hating how unbothered you were. He was desperate to get a reaction out of you and would go to great lengths to get what he was searching for.

His eyes were fixed to your frame and the green sequin gown hugging it tightly. There was a long slit running down the side that Mark clocked before you turned to face the counter, offering a delicious view of one of your perfect legs. When his eyes lifted from your beautiful curves, he noticed the dress was backless.

Fuck, you were still gorgeous. Worst of all, you were still exactly everything he imagined and wanted. The girl of his dreams.

“I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you,” Mark admitted, staring daggers into your back.

You rooted in place with shock at the blurted confession, hands on a bottle of tequila, wondering if he had any liquor in his system making him a little more blunt than he should’ve been.

Until Mark finished, “Because if anyone’s going to kill you, it’s going to be me.”

The flutter in your chest immediately settled back into exasperation. Mark wasn’t afraid of having an altercation with you and he knew he could get away with it without suspicion. Given the bad blood between your respective friend groups, occasional animosity was to be expected.

Plus it wasn’t like it was still some grave-bound secret. It also wasn’t as if you never saw the glares Haechan threw your way.

You recovered with a roll of your eyes, turning to him and snapping, “How long are you going to hate me?”

“As long as it takes,” Mark growled, parading out of the kitchen before you could get another word in. He wasn’t prepared to argue yet, but he refused to let you have the last word.

You shook your head in contempt. Mark wasn’t just your former lover, but the other half of you, regardless of how corny it sounded. You knew he could hold a grudge until the day he was six feet under. As long as it takes. For what, you had no clue.

Finishing up the cocktail, you cleaned up behind yourself and prepared to head back out to the party, though made a last-minute decision to linger in the kitchen. You were irritated and you weren’t in the mood to socialize or see Mark again until your system had a little liquor.

A few moments afterwards, Jeno bounced into the kitchen eagerly, grinning from ear to ear like he knew that he’d find you here. As if to sell your suspicions, he greeted, “Found you. And it only took eight seconds.”

You chuckled, sipping from your glass. Though you already knew the answer, you humored him, asking, “How’d you find me?”

“Easy. I just followed the tequila.”

“Me and tequila do go way back,” you replied, smiling at the memories. Some good, some… unspeakable. You gestured to your glass. “Want one?”

Jeno shook his head. “No thanks. I’m good.”

You gasped dramatically and joked, “What, are you pregnant?”

“No way. I’m a complete virgin.”

You burst out laughing. “You’re a complete fucking lie.”

Jeno looked like he couldn’t even take himself seriously. Then, he shifted the topic, mentioning, “I saw Mark storm out of here. That also was a hint as to your whereabouts.”

You fought a grimace, deciding nonchalance was key. “We talked for the first time in two months. Since the breakup.”

“How did that go?”

“Take a wild fucking guess,” you mumbled, the memory making you wince and take another generous sip.

Jeno grimaced. “Yeah, he didn’t look too happy. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you assured him, though you weren’t certain. Your heart still raced a little when Mark was close enough. But a familiar pain always followed in its wake.

Jeno gave you a knowing look, but said nothing. Both of you were distracted by the sound of footsteps, noticing Johnny and Jodie cruising down the hallways. From the looks of it, he was giving her a tour. She was giving Johnny heart eyes.

You arched a brow in curiosity, while Jeno appeared amused. To the average outsider, Johnny looked content as ever, but you and Jeno recognized him with dwindling patience.

“This party’s getting interesting,” Jeno commented, eyes darting down the hall with interest.

You nodded in agreement. “It’s already a step up from last year.”

There were painful flashbacks flickering behind Jeno’s eyes. “Damn right. As soon as I stepped into the lobby, all I could feel was warm air.”

You snickered. “Johnny doesn’t repeat mistakes. He hates it.”

“You really know Johnny.”

You noticed that Jeno’s eyes were already on you when you glanced up to look at him. “We dated. You know that.”

“For your mother’s sake,” Jeno replied.

That was true. She was practically begging you to bring a guy home. Not because she was eager to have grandchildren (though the time would come where she’d start pressing you for an heir), but because having an affluent partner would make you look better, which would thus make the company look better.

It was before Mark. The bad blood aside, he wasn’t exactly the type of person your mother approved of you being seen with. Mark was a rapper. Johnny, on the other hand, came from a lineage of prominent wealthy businessmen.

In a weird way, it kind of made sense how the group separated. There was you, whose father was the chairman of an oil company, Jeno, whose father was the chief executive of a private equity investor, and Johnny and Jaehyun, whose mother was an entrepreneur, but Johnny was chosen to take over the business while Jaehyun was stuck with real estate.

Then there were Mark’s friends. Chungha, who was a successful model and influencer. Yuta, a popular soccer player. And Haechan was the product of two fierce attorneys, but he obviously had no intention of following in his parents’ footsteps.

Johnny was everything your mother wanted you to be with and to appease her, you dated him for a few months. And you were grateful. He helped you learn new things about yourself and how you navigated relationships. You were never in love with him, but you’d always love Johnny.

Your heart still wanted Mark. You didn’t know what love was until you fell for Mark.

“Yes. It was strictly business,” you confirmed, thinking nothing of it. This wasn’t news. Jeno knew you well enough.

Jeno nodded in approval. “I’m gonna go take a look around the house. This is my first time coming over.”

At least you weren’t the only one. “Have fun. I’m gonna find some food. I’m hungry.”

Jeno told you that he’d see you later, then dipped. Meanwhile, you went around the corner to the dining room, finding plenty of food and wanting to dig in. You didn’t trust half of the guests here enough to eat unsupervised dishes, but unlike the previous years, you didn’t manage to sneak in a meal beforehand.

Yuta and Haechan ironically didn’t seem to be as wary. They were sitting beside each other, chatting over their food. Out of his friends, Mark was closest with Yuta and Haechan. Their friendship was unwavering and one of the few to stand the test of time. In a way, they were like a trio of brothers.

You subtly took glances at them. Haechan looked more buoyant and cheerful than earlier. Definitely not in the mood to poison anyone’s food. And Yuta, though you weren’t necessarily close anymore, still seemed like the Yuta you used to know. Before the incident ruined you for the worse.

Haechan couldn’t be any more different. He was the same spoiled little brat, you supposed, but he wasn’t shy about his disdain towards you. And the rest of your friends. If it weren’t for the fact that Johnny was just so goddamn likable, you were certain Haechan wouldn’t come.

At least you weren’t on their radar for now. Neither of them seemed to be fazed by your presence. Thank god, you thought to yourself, glimpsing across the dining room. There were mistletoes hanging from here to there. You could hear typical holiday music from down the hall.

It was a good sign at the very least. You were just paranoid and not having Mark to discreetly meet in a bathroom for a quickie forced you to confront the dark essence of these parties. With Mark, the feeling was still there, but at least you could convert it into tension of a sexual nature.

You still remembered what it was like. Betting kisses on how many minutes of alone time you had before the others noticed you were coincidentally both missing. Those sweet nothings you’d whisper in his ear to coax him towards climax quicker.

And they would work. Every fucking time. There was nothing like watching his face immediately tense with pleasure at those words and watching his orgasm consequently wreck through his utter being like a freight train.

You chuckled at the thought. It was too fucking easy, but boy, Mark could fuck.

Your thoughts wondered again. To Mark, and to Jodie. Did he fuck her, or was he merely using her as a pawn in this little game of his?

You wouldn’t be surprised. On top of his exigency for attention and demand for total adoration, Mark was fucking spiteful. He was the pettiest dude you’d ever met and would go to the ends of the earth and back simply to make a point.

A few more glances around the dining area and you decided that there was nothing for you there, returning to the solace of Johnny’s marble kitchen. Thinking about your stupid ex made you lose your appetite.

If you made it back home for Christmas tomorrow, there would be a full-course dinner with your relatives anyways. You used to hope that you’d be able to bring Mark to one of those holiday banquets, though you’d be delusional to think it’d be anything other than a complete fiasco.

Hell, the only lover of yours to survive meeting your mother was Johnny, and that was because you didn’t know a single person who could possibly dislike him at all.

To your surprise, a spine-chilling gunshot rang out somewhere down the hallway, jolting you out of your brief abstraction.

“Fuck!” cried Johnny’s voice, startled. You knew immediately that something was wrong. Johnny, at least on the outside, was never afraid.

Not since that night.

You marched straight for the living room and the echoes of several pairs of hurried footsteps said that everybody was on the same page. Though you could’ve swore the gunshot came from here, when you got to the living room, everyone was there except for Johnny.

No, Jodie wasn’t there either. You would know, because she’d be clinging to Mark’s arm right about now, like a child to their mother’s bosom in a grocery store.

Johnny stumbled out of the lounge with no apparent injuries, but an inscrutable look on his handsome face.

Jaehyun was the first to ask, “What happened?”

“Jodie,” Johnny said emotionlessly, pointing to the lounge. “She’s dead.”

Nobody moved. You instinctively glanced to Mark, wondering what his reaction would be, but his face didn’t move a fucking inch.

“Is that what that gunshot was for?” Yuta pressed.

Johnny shook his head and replied, “No, the gunshot was for me. Somebody tried to shoot me from the overlook upstairs, but missed by an inch. I ran into the lounge for shelter, but found Jodie there instead.”

The bullet in the wall by a lamp was enough proof that Johnny wasn’t lying. One of his guests standing before him now tried to take him out.

There was a familiar unsettling sensation burning through your gut like a gunshot wound to the abdomen. The room devolved into its own breed of silent chaos, but you could tell from everybody’s faces and guarded postures that the same thought was flickering behind your eyelids.

Mark finally expressed a pinch of anger in his tone, stating in confusion, “I only heard one gunshot.”

“That’s because she wasn’t shot,” Johnny replied coolly, running a hand through his hair. “She was butchered.”

Well, that sure didn’t paint a pretty picture. Just the thought of what you’d see if you walked into the lounge made you stiffen. You jotted down a mental note not to go in there unless absolutely necessary.

You glanced up towards the overlook. It was tall and offered the perfect angle of Johnny from where you assumed he was standing, plus there was enough space between the metal bars for a bullet to fly.

To its sides were two different hallways, both functioning as possible escape routes, but everybody got here fairly quickly. Wouldn’t anyone have noticed if someone fired a shot merely seconds before gathering here?

Your arms were folded across your chest and your face was fixed in a line to hide your fear. There was no room for it with this crowd of people. “You didn’t see anyone?”

“I looked up and they were only a sliver.”

Chungha didn’t look too happy. “Shouldn’t we call the police?”

“As if it’s ever that easy with us,” Jeno retorted.

Johnny quickly shot the idea down. “Nobody’s coming in or out of my house until I know who did this. If you want to try me, be my guest.”

You weren’t keen on being cooped up in this house for only god knows how long with people who were as good as strangers (especially now that bodies were dropping), but you didn’t plan on disobeying either, even if Johnny’s threat did little to intimidate you.

Johnny knew you. He knew you deep down. If Mark weren’t there, standing only a couple of feet shy of you, you would confidently say that he knew you better than anyone else in this room. But it was Mark who had seen all your ugly.

Haechan irritably groaned. “Then, what’s the plan, tough guy?”

“Well, we can start with placing you all outside of the scene. What’s your alibi?” Johnny asked.

Haechan didn’t take kindly to being accused, as evident in his tone when he hissed, “I was in the dining area with Yuta, eating. Our plates are still on the table.”

Johnny glanced at Yuta, who subsequently nodded to confirm that it was true. Plus you could still hear their chatter from around the corner when you were in the kitchen. Their alibi was rock-solid.

“I was coming out of the downstairs bathroom when I heard the gunshot,” Jaehyun said, glimpsing around.

Nobody countered him, and Johnny seemed to trust him, all things considered. They may not have shared blood, but they were brothers.

You rubbed your temple. “I was in the kitchen.”

“I was in the den,” Mark claimed, holding his arm. You could see the slightest shift in his carefully constructed demeanor. “I saw Chungha coming from the back of the hall, so it wasn’t her.”

Chungha said nothing. She was warily glaring holes through the skin of everyone around her. Chungha was a sweetheart and never thought badly of you after the split-up, but she refused to let others get too close, and you honestly respected it.

You were the same way. Skeptical of everybody that crossed your path and kept a tight-knit circle of buddies. After what’d you seen and done, there was no such thing as being too safe.

Jeno huffed, “I was just walking around. I would’ve asked Johnny for a tour, but he was a little… preoccupied.”

Jeno didn’t elaborate and nobody asked him to, but you knew exactly what he meant, and you telepathically exchanged the same thought when you made eye contact for the briefest of seconds. It was odd that only seconds prior, Johnny and Jodie were walking together. Now Jodie was dead and somebody tried to shoot Johnny?

“Let’s not waste precious time. It’s obviously Jeno,” Haechan snapped, glare cutting through his enemy like a blade.

Jeno frowned, offended. “Why me?”

Haechan’s face was tense with frustration. “You know why.”

“Stop,” Johnny told them sternly, stopping the action before it could accelerate too quickly to be controlled. “We’re all adults here and we’re going to handle this like adults. If you have proof, by all means, share. If you don’t know for certain, then keep it to yourself.”

Unsatisfied, Jaehyun crossed his arms and asked, “So what now? We just continue on as if there isn’t a killer on the loose?”

“Yep.”

Jaehyun sighed in distress, but he didn’t go against Johnny.

The eight of you separated quickly, scattering about Johnny’s large house. He seemed to be aware that nothing would happen if you all remained together.

Getting everybody alone upped the stakes. The perpetrator would be more tempted to act. And you needed them to make a mistake.

At least for now, you decided to remain on the first floor where you were already familiar with your surroundings. In spite of being the obvious attack zone of the killer, you were comfortable here.

On your way out of the living room, you noticed some of the group assembling into pairs. Unsurprisingly, Johnny and Jaehyun were together. As were Haechan and Chungha. It was a powerful method, but you preferred to be alone. That way there were less distractions.

You also had no reason to view yourself as a target, though that made you ask yourself the glaring question. Why the hell would somebody want to kill Johnny?

Ironically, the purpose of these parties was to maintain the peace. Jodie’s killer obviously had to know that killing Johnny too would’ve been quite the statement to make.

That there was no peace when it came to the eight of you. You were composed only of death and destruction.

You were so deep in your thoughts that you barely noticed Mark walking in front of you until you nearly crashed into him, stumbling and being caught in his open arms. “Whoa there, baby,” Mark said, holding onto you tightly. “You should really be more aware of what’s going on.”

You wrested yourself out of his hold, but in the middle of doing your damnedest to free yourself from him, your fingers accidentally traced a familiar shape in his coat pocket and you stilled in surprise. “You have a gun?”

Mark didn’t try to deny it. “Why would I go anywhere without one, baby?”

“I’m not your ‘baby,’” you hissed, stepping a comfortable distance away from him.

Mark only hummed. His attention was on the long slit in your emerald green dress. For a second, you couldn’t believe he was blatantly checking you out, then he angled himself towards you and drew his hand to your exposed leg.

Your eyes flitted to Mark and when his met yours, a sly little grin spread across his lips. You’d be lying if you said that his hand on your legs didn’t instinctively reactivate carnal feelings inside of you, but you dared not reveal it on your face.

Finally, after a few seconds of scooting up your thigh, Mark found what he was looking for and purred, “Smart girl.” His hand was at your obviously occupied thigh holster, pointing out the fact that you were also armed and dangerous. “I guess this makes us even, huh?”

You didn’t realize you’d sucked in a breath. It was maddening how perfectly he knew your habits, how predictable you were. You threw his hand off and hissed, “Did you try to kill Johnny?”

“No. Did you?”

“No.”

Mark hummed, apparently believing you. Many things could be said about you depending on who you asked, but at least everybody could agree that you weren’t a killer.

You removed his hand from your thigh and straightened your posture. If the two of you had weapons, it was safe to assume that you weren’t the only ones. The gun strapped to your thigh was the only reason you weren’t totally frightened of being alone.

Your eyes were fixed to Mark, studying him. You weren’t fond of the fact that you were met with the same level of attention, as if he was trying to make you falter under his stare. It wouldn’t be that easy.

Breaking the silence, you told him, “I’m sorry about your piece.”

Mark didn’t look too bummed. “Didn’t care about her like that anyway.”

Yeah, that checks out. You rolled your eyes. “You never cared about anything or anyone, except for yourself.”

That response seemed to genuinely surprise Mark. “Is that what you think of me?”

You weren’t prepared to discuss your emotions with Mark and the sober part of you made the executive decision to walk away instead. The liquor had you feeling a little too honest.

Mark, on the other hand, wasn’t done with this conversation. He grabbed your arm and demanded, “Answer me. Is that what you think of me?”

You wrested your arm out of his hold and snapped, “Just walk away, Mark. It’s what you’re good at.”

That’s rich, Mark thought, but rather than argue with you about it, he stormed off. You were unbelievable. After all he did for you, after how deeply he loved you, you seriously thought that he didn’t love you? That hurt more than he cared to admit.

You watched him walk away, bristling. It didn’t matter that he was only doing what you told him to do. He never fought for your love. He always chose himself over you. Why am I surprised?

Irritated, you made a dramatic exit of your own, wanting nothing more to do with Mark for as long as you lived. He just had to be so fucking difficult. If there wasn’t a slaughter party ongoing right now, you’d be tempted to scout for more alcohol.

At least you knew that you were right not to trust anyone. The food wasn’t spiked apparently, but your point still stood. This crowd was unpredictable and you were never truly safe together. There would always be that lingering tension in the air.

You just wish you knew what their intent in killing Jodie and attempting to kill Johnny was. By now, you were so surrounded by death that you hardly blinked, but Jodie didn’t deserve to die. A puppet in Mark’s silly little games or not.

As if you weren’t already totally pissed, Haechan made his way towards you and hissed, “Admit it. You’re behind all this.”

You resisted a groan and replied blandly, “I thought you said Jeno was the killer?”

“The two of you are besties. It’s not far-fetched to say that you’re in this together, all things considered.”

Rather than be offended, you were purely annoyed. You crossed your arms. “Even if that were true, that’s ridiculous. Why would I want to take out Johnny?”

“No, no, no. Johnny was Jeno’s idea. You had your eye on Jodie,” Haechan said like he had it all figured out. “I saw her corpse. The overkill? It was insane. I bet you took one look at her sucking the breath out of Mark and lost your goddamn mind.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. You’re pulling shit out of your ass, Haechan.”

Like it was all he knew how to do, Haechan kept pushing. “Two different modus operandis usually indicate two different killers.”

“Oh, yeah? Did Daddy teach you that?” you snarled, feeling your blood pressure soaring.

Haechan shot you a venomous glare and replied back very belligerently, “It’s not rocket science. You’re jealous. Plus you already sided with a murderer once. Why wouldn’t you do it again?”

“God, it’s been years,” you groaned, bringing your palm to your forehead. This man was a walking headache. “If you don’t like us, then fine. But that blood is on all of our hands. Pointing blood-stained fingers won’t change that.”

Haechan was practically fuming. Obviously, he didn’t like that.

You had already started to leave, traveling a fair distance away from Haechan, but spun on your heels to give one final retort, “And for the record, Mark having Jodie tag along to make me jealous was a weak move. Tell him to try harder.”

Then, you left. You left and you didn’t look back. It was hit after hit for you, and you just couldn’t seem to catch a fucking break. Haechan literally had no reason to bother you other than to be a nuisance. His parents were lawyers. He was certain that if push came to shove, he’d have nothing to worry about. And neither would the people he cared for.

There was no telling if you would survive the night at this point. If a bullet didn’t take your life, then stress and frustration was a sure-fire way to finish you off.

The important question was who would be anticipating your death?

You wanted to think that you had never been more on edge, though that would’ve been a bold-faced lie. And an insult to your body’s self-preservation effectiveness. You were far from weak and if you were intent on survival, there was nothing or nobody that would stand in your way.

In an attempt to abate the tension, you made a beeline for the in-door elevator. Hopefully before any other unwelcome visitors could try to snake their way into your path.

When the elevator dinged, you were surprised to see Jeno. “Where are you headed?” you asked.

Jeno retorted, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

You snickered and slipped beside him. Finally somebody whose company didn’t piss you off. “Second floor. Obviously.”

Jeno stepped out of the elevator, but extended his hand to keep the door from closing, scanning the bottom floor for other people. Apparently, there weren’t any, because he finally said, “There’s something weird going on.”

You snorted. “Other than the death and murder? Yeah, probably. Haechan accused us of being killers.”

“No, I mean…,” Jeno trailed, taking a peak across the hallway again. “What if he’s faking it?”

“Who?”

“Johnny.”

You made a face. That wasn’t something you’d even considered and you weren’t exactly convinced now that you had. “Why would he do that?”

Jeno shrugged. “Why do people kill? He was the first one to discover Jodie. And he’s the guy that hosts these parties.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a pretty solid reason to assume he’s not the killer. He’s literally a victim. No offense, but I don’t buy that he killed Jodie then somehow had enough time to make it look like somebody fired a shot at him,” you replied.

“I guess,” Jeno mumbled, quietening. You were about to ask why, but you clocked Jaehyun casually strolling by.

Which meant he wasn’t with Johnny.

Jeno cocked you one final glance and said, “People always look at the guy with his hands dirty. No one ever suspects the guy with his hands behind his back.”

Then, he recouped his hand and disappeared behind the elevator doors. In a time that it took you to blink, he was gone so quickly you could’ve imagined his presence.

And now you were thinking. If Johnny were alone, who knew what he was up to, but in the same vein, that could’ve just made him more vulnerable.

You immediately brushed the thought aside. Johnny? Vulnerable? Pfft. This guy taught you everything you knew about how to survive and it was only thanks to his valor and self-preservation skills that you were even breathing.

The elevator dinged again and this time the doors made a little narrow opening for you to walk through. It was your first time on the second floor of Johnny’s luxurious penthouse and the very first thing you did was monitor the new environment.

Few people apparently. Everything just seemed so normal and there was hardly anything out of place. You could faintly hear the Christmas songs still blasting from the speakers downstairs.

You crept just down the hall, pausing at the overlook. The place where the gunshot was fired. You gripped the rails, scanning the ground below. In the corner of your eye, you noticed Chungha sneaking about, but she was gone just as quickly.

The killer had to have been lithe. These little metal bars were thin and did little to conceal your frame. For Johnny to have barely seen them, you could only liken them to a thief in the night.

The problem was that literally everybody fit that description. There was no person that you could rule out, because you each had the capacity. If not the motive, then the means.

That was why you couldn’t wrap your head around it. Your lone brain couldn’t fathom the devastation plaguing this group and you decided that you wouldn’t even try. With a little breath, you turned and searched for the fitness center.

It wasn’t difficult to find. All you had to do was narrow down your options, taking peeks through windows and quickly discerning that they weren’t your final destination. After some trial and error, you found your way to the massive gym area.

According to the sign, and a conversation you’d overheard earlier during the party (before all hell broke loose), just around the corner was a soccer simulator.

Somebody was already inside when you pushed the door open to enter. You bashfully waved your hand. “Thought I’d find you here.”

Yuta looked surprised to see you, but he only wore it on his face for a split second. “Stalker, much?”

“Nah. I just thought, ‘if I was a famous soccer player, where would I go?’ And this was the first place that came to mind.”

Yuta snickered. “Predictable. That’s a character flaw, I guess.”

A tiny laugh escaped your lips. Honestly, you were just glad that you even felt comfortable enough to joke around with Yuta, even if it was meaningless. Haechan was praying for your downfall and Chungha didn’t socialize with outsiders, but Yuta was thankfully normal.

He didn’t seem to mind your presence either. The large screen glaring at you in a violently blue hue was definitely on, but Yuta’s eyes appeared elsewhere. He finally said, “This gang and parties don’t mix too well, huh?”

“I think not,” you retorted, crossing your arms in amusement. Staying detached from the darkness was the only way you could stay sane. “Somebody always ends up dying at one of them.”

Yuta took a seat in a nearby chair and kicked his feet up on another one beside him pensively. “Sworn enemies with an axe to grind in the same room under the guise of ceasing rivalry one day out of the entire year. I could’ve told you guys how that was gonna end.”

I could’ve, too, you said to yourself, a billion thoughts like a downpour in your head. It was why you never left your house unarmed and hesitated to eat food you didn’t make.

Because you were protecting yourself. Just like everybody else in this house.

“Well, it’s not a shock,” you replied in agreement. “We do enough damage on our own, but together? It’s all we’re capable of.”

Yuta fought a frown. “I feel bad for that Jodie girl. I’m sure you’re aware Mark was definitely using her, but she didn’t deserve to be dragged into our sick hell.”

Those pictures of her slaughtered body were flickering in your head again. It haunted you, and you hadn’t even seen her corpse. “Everybody that comes near us gets burned.”

Yuta’s demeanor shifted noticeably, brooding. “I feel guilty. Yet when Johnny told us she died, all I could think was ‘at least it’s not my fault this time.’ Is that wrong?”

His sudden vulnerability surprised you, considering Yuta wasn’t the type to randomly express his feelings, much less to you. You immediately put your hand on his shoulder in comfort and said, “Doyoung’s death wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know.”

Yuta shrugged. “If I had listened to my parents, if I hadn’t invited you all there, that night wouldn’t have happened. Doyoung wouldn’t be dead. And this friend group might’ve stayed in one piece.”

“Yuta, you should blame that creepy psychopathic weirdo. Not yourself.”

Yuta grimaced, as if the sole mention of that guy flung him back to a place he’d already buried.

And you didn’t blame him. You didn’t even know the guy’s name, but you could describe him vividly. How could you not? The same pale guy in blood-stained overalls appeared in your dreams a little too often.

This little party turned bloodbath wasn’t you and your friends’ first rodeo. Matter of fact, you’d argue that the first round was a tad scarier. You still got flashbacks, so terrified for your life and everybody around you that adrenaline numbed you to the crisp, nipping autumn air.

For his birthday prelude, Yuta invited all of you to his parents’ expensive farmhouse, sitting just on your hometown’s outskirts. It was quiet, remote. No neighbors, which seemed fun in the first half, but as the night progressed, it became a nightmare not having anyone nearby.

A birthday celebration quickly became a fight for survival, and Doyoung lost. He was one of you, still a part of you, locked away inside your heart but never forgotten.

Jeno had accidentally stabbed him with a gardening tool, thinking that he was the killer. Doyoung had come to his hiding spot desperately seeking shelter, but Jeno panickedly made a mistake that cost him his friend’s life and the trust of his others.

That was how the friend group divided. There was the side that would never forgive him for Doyoung’s death, blaming him wholeheartedly. And then there was the side that showed him some grace. You were all frightened out of your minds that night.

Though what Jeno did didn’t matter. You were all complicit in Doyoung’s demise, whether they wanted to admit it or not. The killer made you all finish him off, made you all bury his wounded corpse while it was still fresh.

Your hands were still stained with dirt and blood, burning hotter every time you thought of him.

“I blame Jeno,” Yuta seethed under his breath.

You frowned.

Yuta stood to his feet, unable to stay still. There was too much emotion in him now, pulling him every which way. “Every year I get whiplash from having to mourn my friend’s death anniversary then celebrate my birthday back to back. That’s unforgivable.”

Though you liked Yuta, you weren’t going to let anyone slander your best friend silently. “I understand, but it’s not just Jeno’s fault.”

Yuta chuckled. “If only you knew.”

Your brows furrowed. “What don’t I know?”

“That Jeno’s fucking obsessed with you. Always has been. We don’t hate him because he killed Doyoung. We hate him because we think he killed Doyoung for you.”

Your lips parted soundlessly, flabbergasted.

Yuta read the confusion on your face plain as day and continued, “Think about it, sugar. Doyoung had a crush on you. That was everybody’s business. And it’s Doyoung who Jeno accidentally stabs out of all people?”

You couldn’t say anything. It wasn’t like you hadn’t turned down Jeno’s advances once before, but he was so fucking chill. You could’ve forgotten that it even happened. There wasn’t a single thing in your friendship that felt out of place.

Plus he knew firsthand that you were head over heels for Mark only, even if you didn’t want to be anymore. It was pathetic. Yuta had just told you another guy was willing to go to lethal lengths to keep you away, and yet one of your first thoughts was how painstakingly you loved Mark.

But Mark hated you.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you said, the lines between fiction and reality beginning to blur.

Yuta relaxed. He could tell there was a lot going on in your head, because he recognized the conflict akin to the one warring within himself. “It’s dead.”

You appreciated that. Fuck’s sake, Mark and his friends usually liked to push until there was nowhere else to go. And then some. Your thoughts wandered there and you opened your mouth, asking, “Why are you nice to me?”

“I’m not nice to you,” Yuta replied, making you blink. “I just treat you like a regular human being. There’s a difference.”

“Why?”

“Because you haven’t done anything for me not to.”

You shook your head. “Mark wouldn’t agree,” you muttered, rubbing your arms.

Yuta glanced at you. You were letting your guard down around him, something he was certain you probably hadn’t even done with Mark tonight. “Fuck Mark. He’s been lying to himself. And to be frank, I think he’s deluded himself.”

Your eyes were cold when you looked into Yuta’s. “Elaborate.”

“I mean, he wants to convince us and the whole world that he hates you and he’s moved on, but he hasn’t even convinced himself. You were his everything, man. Mark hasn’t been the same since the breakup. I want my friend back.”

I want my lover back. But Mark used to be your friend, too. A healthy blend of friendship and romance that made your love for each other feel depthless.

If only you knew back then that your love would be tested. Would you have still sacrificed every piece of yourself to make him happy if you knew that it still wouldn’t be enough?

“I hope you have a wonderful Christmas tomorrow,” you told Yuta after a long pause, a telltale sign that you were leaving and had no more room for conversation.

“If I make it to tomorrow,” Yuta retorted playfully. “Likewise. Merry Christmas.”

You smiled at him on your way out in a final goodbye. You only wanted one thing for Christmas, and that was to have Mark back in your arms. Where he belonged.

For a good minute, you meandered about the hallways, cautiously monitoring your surroundings to make sure no one was trailing you. You considered heading to the den for refuge, but Mark obviously liked it there, and you’d had enough run-ins for one night.

Instead, you opted for the in-door pool, where obviously nobody was. In front of you stood a long line of water with a set of hot tubs off to the side. It was the perfect place to clear your head without having to constantly check if there was someone out to get you.

Before you could slightly relax, you scanned the room and clocked two exits. If you couldn’t get out of the main exit for whatever reason, there was always the option of the backup door. With that pressure off your shoulders, you took off your heels and sank your feet in the pool.

Dangling your feet in the water, your mind began to race, hopping from one thought to another at a pace too painful for you to keep up with. You hated being this way. Always having to keep an eye out, never fully trusting anybody. Mark was the only person that you could turn your back to and confidently believe you’d be fine.

Once upon a time, he was your safe haven, and now you weren’t sure if you could even trust him anymore. For all you knew, he could’ve been behind all this.

It hurt to think of what you should’ve been, of the happy, oblivious couple you were only months earlier. The couple that didn’t go to bed angry or sleep in different rooms, too stubborn to spend the night beside each other. There was no problem the two of you couldn’t sort out back then.

You started to wonder if Yuta was right about everything he said. First of all, Jeno didn’t kill Doyoung. It wasn’t that quick. He attacked him first, but you all had Doyoung’s blood on your hands. Literally.

You only wished you could’ve seen Yuta’s point of view. Jeno was admittedly happy when you and Mark finally broke up, though you figured it was because he didn’t want to see you suffer, not because he wanted you to be with him instead.

Worst of all, Yuta told you that Mark still wasn’t over you. And you hated it. If you wanted Mark and Mark wanted you, then why weren’t you together?

Then, you remembered. The lack of compatibility that burned your happy home together down to a crisp. Things failed because Mark wanted to conquer. You refused to be taken. What made him feel ignored made you feel free. What made you feel inhibited made him feel secure. When he started to feel unwanted, he pushed you away.

Your love was a slow burn till the end. All of those years of pining for each other turned into you pining away from heartbreak, eating your heart out for a boy you were destined to never have at all.

You hated knowing that you and Mark would’ve never worked out whether you dated or not. Maybe because you knew that if you didn’t have Mark, then you had no one. It simply wasn’t written in the stars.

Mark was the only one who knew your biggest fears. Your motivations. He knew firsthand the irreversible impact Doyoung’s death had on the rest of your life, because you confided only in him about the shame. You weren’t scared of being naked with Mark. He saw the ugliest bits of you and it wasn’t what sent him running.

It was hard to explain to anybody that wasn’t there, but nothing was the same after Doyoung died. Thanks to your parents’ status, you were already used to being careful, but it was nothing like the girl you were after fighting for survival. It was your first time fighting for anything.

Every inch of you was alive and awake, perpetually on fight mode. Mark wasn’t just the sole place where you could exist peacefully; he understood your trauma and loved you with every fiber of his being in spite of it.

That was why you couldn’t be with any other guy. How could you explain those nights when you woke up screaming in terror? Mark didn’t ask questions. He just held you and told you that you were safe in his arms.

If you couldn’t have Mark, then you knew you were meant to die alone.

The sound of a door pushing open made you immediately stand up, preparing to take off without your heels. They would only slow you down anyways. You saw Mark enter and, rather than cool down, your stiff muscles were overloaded with apprehension.

“I have an idea and I’m prepared to argue with you about it,” were the first words to come out of Mark’s mouth, speaking before you could dare to, as if he knew you’d have something to say.

You played it cool, though your heartbeat was harshly thudding in your ears. “What do you want now?”

Mark took your tone in stride. “We should travel in pairs. As they say, safety in numbers.”

Your face tensed in disgust. “And why in the hell would I want to travel with you?”

Mark didn’t skip a beat. “Because if I’m the killer, you’re the only one that stands a chance against me.”

You folded your arms. Mark almost grinned looking at you, but resisted. It was like your favorite pose ever. “I thought you said you didn’t kill Jodie?”

“Technically, I said that I didn’t try to kill Johnny,” Mark answered, a sly smile on his lips. “Do you trust me?”

“I don’t trust anyone anymore,” you replied coolly. Not after you broke it. And me.

“Good. You don’t trust me and I don’t trust you. We don’t have reasons to. But let’s at least be forward with our intentions here,” Mark said, stepping closer. “I intend to survive. And you?”

“I intend to survive as well,” you asserted.

Mark added forthrightly, “And we’ll do anything to live, even if it means killing someone else for our own sake. We’re not strangers to sacrificing other people for our benefit.”

You heaved a breath and groaned impatiently, “So what? This is some truce or something?”

“Or something,” Mark replied with enough uncertainty to make you overwhelmingly suspicious. “We’d just be working together. Who says that you have to trust me?”

You hated that you were seriously considering it, but he was making a pretty decent point. It was stupid to be by yourself. You had to admit it, even as somebody that valued her independence like it was your lifeline.

Mark recognized you in conflict with yourself, even as you tried your hardest to appear neutral. After all those years spent by each other’s side, he guessed it was simply natural. Your bottom lip stuck out, though only slightly. You were giving it your best shot at keeping composed.

You weighed the pros and cons in your head. If you didn’t pair with Mark, you would be more vulnerable, but if you did, it would be increasingly difficult to ignore having to confront the whirlwind of feelings he left you to soak in.

You didn’t want that, but it wasn’t like you wanted to die either. Finally, after a moment of contemplation, you relented. “Fine.”

Satisfied, Mark grinned victoriously. “Two heads are better than one.”

That was what you used to think. It used to be enough to simply look into Mark’s eyes, knowing that he was there. Now you couldn’t stand to be beside him. “Not when they’re bumping into each other,” you grumbled.

Mark cocked a brow. “Then, let’s not make this about us. Let’s focus on survival. That’s our common interest here.”

Obviously, that was easier said than done, but you didn’t argue or complain. This was a rare moment of Mark willing to set your differences aside for a better purpose. At least for now, you intended to behave.

Plus you wanted to see how long the two of you could go before Mark started barking. He looked sweet, but if anybody thought Mark was all sugar and rainbows, they clearly hadn’t met him. This boy was all fire.

And you were air; gentle as a featherlight, ocean breeze, but capable of roaring like a tornado if provoked. Forceful enough to spread his flames out further, but not to blow them out. Mark was untameable. You had that in common.

It sounded corny, but it was the truth. You bettered one another in some ways, but enabled one another in others. Your similarities seemed to work against you, neither of you wanting to set your pride aside.

That was the problem. If you pushed, Mark pushed back harder. If Mark screamed, you screamed back louder. It was like a fucking seesaw that you couldn’t get off of.

Rationally, an important question kept prodding at your ribcage. “How did you even find me?” you asked.

“I had to look everywhere,” Mark said, slight exasperation in his tone. “I knew you wouldn’t be out in the open, so it was just a matter of finding out where you were hiding.”

You nodded. That would have to be a satisfactory response. You weren’t going to press him about it. “Okay, but if we’re going to be a team, we need to try and figure out who’s killing and what’s going on.”

Mark bobbed his head. “Yeah, I know. Have you been seeing anything suspicious lately? I noticed Jaehyun creeping out like he’s got something to hide.”

Your brows furrowed. “Seriously? I did too. When I was talking to Jeno in the elevator. Chungha looked a little suspicious, too.”

Mark obviously didn’t expect that. “You’re kidding. You know how Jaehyun said that he was downstairs when the gun went off?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I saw Jaehyun coming from down the hall, where I also noticed Chungha come from. She came after him, but it looked timed. Kinda like how we used to leave at different times so nobody would think we were together.”

The mention of those times sent you back, perfectly calculating the ideal time to exit the same room without raising suspicions amongst your friends and foes.

Bidding the thoughts to go away, you quickly recovered, mentioning, “That’s odd. I don’t know if it’s connected, but earlier when I was talking to Jaehyun, he excused himself to go upstairs.”

“Before the gun went off?” Mark asked, skeptical.

You leaned down to fix the strap of your heel, which you’d slipped back on after you realized the intruder was only Mark, discerning that he was no threat. “Yeah, somebody texted him. From the face he was making, it looked urgent. I just assumed one of his relatives messaged him and he went to god knows where upstairs to take a call.”

Mark shook his head in disapproval. Disappointment, maybe. “They’re in cahoots, that’s for sure.”

You pressed, “But why in the hell would Jaehyun and Chungha be working together? They’re not even on the same side.”

“Motives to kill,” Mark sighed, face twisted cutely in thought. It was so stressful pretending that you weren’t attracted to every little thing he did. His eyes widened a little and he said, “Wait.”

“Hm?”

“It’s common knowledge that when Johnny’s mom died, she left him to take over the family business, while Jaehyun got stuck with real estate…,” Mark trailed.

You quickly noticed where this was going and added, “Jaehyun always wanted to be the chief executive. Ever since we were teenagers, it was all he talked about.”

Mark tapped his chin. “I still remember what it was like. I couldn’t tell if he was more depressed about his stepmother dying, or not inheriting her multimillion dollar business.”

“You think he’s still holding that grudge?”

Mark shrugged. “Who knows?”

You subconsciously scratched your forearm. You didn’t realize, but Mark did. It was something you often did when you were anxious, which was basically all of the time. “Chungha’s been paying an awful lot of attention to Johnny’s jewelry case.”

“She likes anything bright and shiny,” Mark responded, thinking nothing of it. “Why? You think she stole something?”

You shrugged your shoulders and replied, “I think anything’s possible, but I don’t think it’s worth killing over. I mean, she’s not just rich. She’s wealthy. She can afford her own diamonds.”

Trying to figure those two out was like attempting to unravel the identity of Jack the Ripper. Jaehyun was composed and Chungha was vigilant. Their guarded natures combined made them both mysterious and lethal.

Mark couldn’t wrap his head around it, either. But he was certain that those two were up to no good. “Well, we’ve got their motives. Let’s try to think of the others.”

“Johnny told me he and Haechan got into an argument before the party. He looked pretty pissed earlier,” you recalled.

“Yeah, I picked up on that, too,” Mark said. When a guy who sent earthquakes wherever he went was agitated, it was impossible for the whole world not to notice.

“Speaking of holding grudges,” you started, gathering any pieces you could find and linking them with each other. “Johnny left Yuta at that shack and because of it he got an injury that almost cost him soccer.”

Mark didn’t seem convinced. “Yeah, but Yuta’s been playing soccer just fine for years now. Plus he told Johnny to leave to find that weapon.”

“The reasoning doesn’t have to make sense to anybody but the killer.”

Mark was silent for a long time, cautiously contemplating. “What about Jeno?”

You were irked at the mention of your best friend, but knew that nobody was totally off the table. Not even yourself. You played innocent. “What about him?”

Mark exhaled a breath, but laughed. “You know, I can’t tell if you’re playing dumb, or if you’ve truly never noticed how much Jeno’s into you. You can’t seriously think him attacking Doyoung was an accident.”

Yuta had already brought you up to speed on the whole jealousy killer Jeno theory between Mark and his pals, which you were none too convinced about. “If Jeno’s the killer, I don’t understand what he’d get out of killing Johnny or Jodie. By your logic, that means you should be dead. Not your girlfriend.”

“Maybe Johnny likes you.”

“Ignoring the ridiculousness of that statement…”

Mark interjected before you could continue, “Is it so ridiculous? You and Johnny dated, and it was your decision to break things off. You were never in love with him, but have you ever considered that maybe Johnny loved you?”

You hadn’t really considered it, you always assumed Johnny knew he was doing you a favor and it was nothing more or less, but that didn’t stop you from snapping, “Jeno knows where I stand with Johnny. That I was never in love with him. Why would he kill a man that isn’t a threat?”

“Did you like Doyoung back?”

“No,” you hissed.

Mark shot, “And you don’t see him walking around here, do you? You said it yourself: the reasoning doesn’t have to make sense to anybody but the killer.”

“I think that says more about the faultiness of your theory than mine.”

Mark opened his mouth to speak, but you didn’t let him get a word in.

You sneered, “And are you seriously going to ignore the fact that Jodie was killed? Carved out like a pumpkin. That sounds like something only somebody with a lot of rage for her would do.”

Mark was losing patience, you could tell from the look on his face. “Are you implying that I killed her?”

“I’m not implying a damn thing. But you were pretty nonchalant over the fact that you got an innocent girl killed,” you replied, definitely insinuating that he was responsible. “Outside of being tainted by your touch, that is.”

“Maybe you did it,” Mark snapped.

You rolled your eyes. This was the second time you’d gotten this accusation today and you weren’t keen on hearing it again, but Mark was already yapping before you could tell him not to bother.

“You couldn’t stand to see me with a girl that wasn’t you,” he said, a turmoil of wildfire dancing in his pupils. “So you got rid of her.”

You threw your head back and grunted, “Oh, fuck’s sake. Get over yourself.”

“Get over me,” Mark hissed. “We’ve been over for months. It was never gonna work, you know? Everything’s sunshine and rainbows during the honeymoon phase.”

“Fuck you,” you seethed, turning away and heading for the door. You didn’t know why you thought he was capable of having a civil conversation with you. So much for not making this about us.

Mark grabbed your arm, glaring at you in disapproval. “I’m sorry, was this too much pressure for you? You couldn’t handle the heat and now you’re walking away again?”

You screamed, “You pushed me away!”

“Because you pushed me first,” Mark yelled, matching your energy. Matter of fact, what you gave, he doubled it and handed it back tenfold. And vice versa.

Running your hands down your face, you wanted to scratch your skin off with your nails. “Dude. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about all those times you made me feel like you didn’t want me. All those times you left me alone without a reason why. You got so distant on me, baby. Really had me wondering if there was somebody else.”

Somebody else? You couldn’t believe he was serious. Your heart would never want anybody that wasn’t Mark, because she knew he was the only one that could satisfy her.

Your face softened for a fraction of a second. “All I wanted was you.”

“You sure had a funny way of showing it,” Mark grumbled under his breath.

Guilt flickered in your eyes, stinging them to crystals, but you didn’t let them fall. “I needed space. I liked being with you, but not at the expense of losing touch with my soul. I needed room to breathe.”

Mark frowned. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

You asked just as quickly, “Why didn’t you just ask?”

“It felt like a waste of time. I thought you already decided that you didn’t want me. That you were just another girl who underestimated how much attention I need.”

“Wow,” you mumbled quietly. Amused, but angry. “You fight, but for all the wrong reasons.”

Mark’s eyes flitted towards yours. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you wouldn’t fight for us to stay together, but you’ll shout in my face at literally any other given opportunity.”

Mark reined in his head, running his hands through his hair. “Listen, I’m no good at this relationship stuff.”

“I know.”

That made Mark bristle. It wasn’t just his fault, but you refused to hold yourself accountable. “You’re no expert, either.”

“I know,” you sighed, lips curled into a frown.

Mark’s eyes flickered.

It appeared you were finally realizing how egregiously the two of you had mutually fucked up. “We didn’t talk. And that was okay. Our problems were small enough that after we climbed into bed with each other they were long forgotten. But then they got bigger and we didn’t know what to do, other than what we’d always done.”

Mark scratched the back of his head. “But it didn’t work. The problem was still there.”

Part of the reason why you two never worked through the issue was because you failed to specifically identify the problem. Mark didn’t just want to be loved, he demanded it. And he did it by completely seizing power over your mind, body, and soul.

Your mind in life. Your body in bed. Your soul in everything in between.

You didn’t like to feel dominated in that way. It made you dig into your heels. Letting Mark exercise this assertive power over you, letting him have control over the tiniest piece of you that was left, it felt like a betrayal. To yourself, and to the dead.

Because you were still clinging to that girl. That girl whose hands were clear of blood and didn’t spend hours scrubbing under her nails away a stain that wasn’t really there. The girl who didn’t take that final blow to her friend’s chest and watch the light in his eyes dim until he was gone.

It was cruel and unforgivable, but even with the hurt on Doyoung’s face, there was an understanding twinkle in his eyes. You’d seen it, for a tiny fraction of a second. Or maybe you imagined it so that it would be simpler to live with the crippling guilt.

You were the girl he loved and the last thing he saw. Every anniversary, you swore one of the stars in the sky twinkled brighter.

I didn’t have a choice; it was him, or all of us. What was my other option? Plus he was going to die either way. The police didn’t arrive on scene until dawn. He would have bled to his death if we didn’t finish him off.

Mark knew he was high-maintenance and he knew the toll Doyoung’s death had on you, but he somehow never exactly pieced together how it would impact your relationship. That there would be days where you didn’t want hugs or kisses. You just wanted to be left alone.

Plus Mark was so sympathetic about everything you went through and all of your feelings to the point you assumed he would just know you needed space. Somehow you had mistaken his understandingness for being a mind reader.

And Mark, somewhere along the line, sensed you drifting away, so he discarded you first. Mark didn’t get abandoned. It wasn’t in his nature to stick around when he knew he was on the brink of being cast aside, left high and dry.

He wanted to be loved, but he wanted to love himself. And he was not against hurting himself, because the pain was easier to cope with than if he let somebody else hurt him.

At least he thought it would be.

“We couldn’t just fuck and make up anymore, so we started to argue over petty things, and we never got to the core of the matter,” you said, picturing yourself back in that living room, shouting.

Mark remembered, because it was all he’d been thinking about for months, asking himself what was the final blow in spite of being aware that he was the one who chose to break up. “Pillowtalk was the only time we really discussed our emotions. Remember?”

God, how could you not? This boy would fuck the shit out of you then snuggle you to sleep immediately after, chatting about anything under the sun (or moon) until your eyelids got too heavy and started to flutter closed.

You simply nodded your head, unable to open your mouth. Though you both were being vulnerable, you were afraid of what you might’ve said.

Mark chuckled. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I always had these doubts about you, to be honest. You were too good to be true. Most girls get tired of me after a minute so I never stay too long, but you’ve been in my life since we were kids.”

Your eyes were sad when you glanced into his. “So why did you leave me? Why didn’t you fight?”

Mark’s eyes twinkled with regret as he whispered, “I was scared of being abandoned by the girl I loved. So I dipped. I ran before you could tell me that it was over. It gave me some kind of agency over my heartbreak.”

You laughed in disbelief. This breakup was so dramatic, and for what? “In hindsight, we’re just a pair of fucking idiots,” you said, shaking your head in disapproval. “Imagine if we just talked about this months ago. It could’ve all been so simple.”

Mark hung his head in shame, resting his hand at his nape. It would’ve spared him some pain. And so many tears.

“I’ve spent months thinking that I don’t deserve love because of what I did that night. Because if I can’t have you, Mark, then there’s nobody else out there for me,” you told him, releasing the words you’d been holding back for eons.

Mark blinked, processing. Then, deciding he was short of words, he said, “I’m done talking,” and smashed his lips against yours. You were surprised, but immediately molded your lips into his, feeling his hands instinctively get a hold of your hips.

It had been a lifetime since you’d last felt his touch on your skin and to say you missed it would be an understatement. Your body felt like it was being reawakened, dormant sensations coming back to life again.

Two star-crossed lovers, discreetly meeting each other for one final rendezvous before your individual lives inevitably drove a wedge between your passionate sparks. That, or death. For now, you were content to be in each other’s hold, kissing like it was the last time.

As your bodies swung in each other’s embrace, you noticed Mark’s feet dancing dangerously close to the edge of the pool. “Careful,” you warned, shuffling him out of the way. “Don’t want your flames to get doused.”

Mark snickered. “Please, baby. I have enough fire for the both of us.”

“I know you do. That’s what I love about you.”

Mark’s ears perked up at that. You loved him? You didn’t know how long he had been waiting to hear you say that. And it made him remember what you told him only moments ago before his brain went blank. “I love you. Don’t ever think that you don’t deserve to be loved.”

Your chest filled with warmth, but you purred, “Or else what?”

Leaning into you, Mark nibbled at your ear a little before whispering, “Or else I’ll have to show you how much you mean to me.”

It was difficult to play nonchalant. Your heart was skipping beats now. You wanted Mark desperately and it drove you to the brink of insanity. “Oh, no. I’m so afraid.”

Mark grinned, dragged you away to a padded chaise.

You sat there, your entire body excited, but your brain (at least for now) was still capable of thinking rationally and you asked, “Are we seriously about to fuck in a pool chair?”

“We’ve fucked in worse places and done even worse things,” Mark replied offhandedly, thinking about nothing but getting his hands on those pretty thighs of yours.

You pressed your lips together, aware that you had little to zero grounds for argument. Bathrooms weren’t even anywhere close to the most outlandish location you and Mark had decided would be an apt backdrop for sexual intercourse. Those places were unspeakable.

Mark took your silence as a victory and whispered silkily, “Sit back and relax, baby.”

You giggled. Mark had never left you unsatisfied. A time with this boy’s head between your legs was guaranteed to be a sacrilegiously fulfilling experience.

Mark grabbed your left leg, draping it over the side of the chair so that he wouldn’t have to literally bend over backwards to go down on you, and when he noticed the gun poking out of your thigh holster, he laughed. “With your permission, I wanna take your gun. If it makes you feel better, I’ll set mine aside, too.”

You let him take your gun and disarm the weapon before setting it on a poolside table wedged between the chaise you were currently occupying and another. If this was some ruse to get you unarmed, Mark was simply stupid. He would’ve had way better opportunities moments prior.

But it wasn’t. Mark was tugging your panties down your ankles, something you were certain he wouldn’t bother to do if he had murder on his mind. You usually felt naked when you were bare of a weapon, but something about Mark naturally made you relax.

Your dress rode up above your hips, giving him complete access to your dripping pussy. Just thinking about what he was about to do to you, you swore, breathing became the most difficult chore.

Mark took one fucking glimpse at your glistening pussy and almost howled like a goddamn wolf. Instead, the sound that emerged from the back of his throat was identical, animalistic and ravenous as if he couldn’t wait to dig into a full course.

The comparison wasn’t far off, because as soon as he stopped staring hungrily at you in a way that made you shift, slightly self-conscious, his calloused palms were clasping your thighs tightly and his mouth was flush against your throbbing core.

“Jesus. Fuck,” you moaned, thighs tensing already. And he just started. To be fair, it had been a couple of months since anybody’s hands - or mouth - had touched you there. You had been unable to give yourself to anybody that wasn’t Mark, which you felt like a total fool for when you saw him boo’d up with Jodie.

And yet here you were, still letting him have his way with you, giving him the power to break you down and build you back up as he pleased. Your breaths were quick, your lips parting in a shaky exhale at every pass of his tongue against your glistening folds.

It reminded him of the past couple of years, sneaking around to fuck in the most isolated location you could possibly find. All of those times he mounted you on a fancy bathroom counter to get his head between your thighs, or fucked you there so hard the mirrors clouded.

All Mark knew was sex and destruction, and half of the time, those things came hand in hand. For a minute, he was more than that with you. Until you were gone and he knew he was at least partly to blame. He wanted to prove to you that he was more than your reckless lover.

Though that would have to be put on hold. As of right now, his intentions consisted only of wrecking you.

“God, I missed the way you taste,” Mark grumbled with a mouthful of pussy.

His voice was deep and handsome, and so sexy that you likely could’ve nutted then and there, too aroused to keep a rein on yourself. Mark had that effect on you and the worst part was that he knew it. Sex used to be a game of seduction, teasing each other for hours to see who would break first.

Of course, you folded the better half of the time. Mark had fucking cheat codes. This boy knew your every weakness and used them to his advantage. The hell were you supposed to do when he made you watch recordings of the previous times he’d pleasured you? Not kiss the very ground that he walked on?

Pfft. Yeah, right. Though you never went down without stating in defense, “You cheated!”

Oh, fuck Mark. He just had to be so good with his hands. And a pleaser.

You always got your lick back, though. Mark may have won in the first half, but you knew exactly how to take him down. First, you had to make him think that he’d already won. Then, you had to return the favor, making him swear he saw stars. That was how you kept the balance.

Mark’s tongue was expertly navigating your clit and you wanted to be mad at it, but all you could bring yourself to do was writhe in the gray chaise. Had not his hands been locking your thighs in place, you would’ve snapped them closed in sensitivity. Mark was not to be underestimated. This boy was way stronger than he seemed.

You resigned yourself to the fact that your only option was to lie there and take it all. There was nowhere for you to escape. When it felt too good, it was a telltale warning that Mark would seize control of your whole body, and you were torn between fleeing and letting him have it.

“Don’t try to run away from it, baby,” he whispered knowingly, though he knew you couldn’t resist the temptation of the satisfaction you were promised. “I’ve got you.”

You rolled your hips into his face in a hurried pursuit for relief, desperately wishing you had something to anchor yourself with and lower you back down to earth, but Mark had brought you to a constantly ascending high.

Mark chuckled, because he knew he had your body down to a science. If you thought it couldn’t get anymore dangerously intense than this, you were wrong as hell and had another thing coming. Mark released one of your thighs, gathering your arousal on his sticky fingers, and fucked it right back into you.

You gawked. You almost couldn’t believe he was making a mess out of you like this, but then you remembered that he was Mark fucking Lee. Taking your breath was what he did best. His mouth was still on you, sucking and licking, because you were the closest thing to heaven he would ever know and he couldn’t get enough.

All the while, he thumbed your clit, making a tremble roar through your utter being and your toes clench, tucking into themselves.

“I’m so close,” you whimpered in the tiniest voice.

“I know,” Mark replied, pulling back. “What did you think I was doing all the extra shit for?”

You winced your eyes closed and heaved the thickest breath, attempting to regain control over your body, but to absolutely no avail. That was when you came to terms with your fate. Mark was going to finish you off.

“You know what I want. Let go for me,” Mark whispered darkly. “Do it on my fingers.”

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” you chanted, feeling something tense in your belly. The pleasure blending with the yearning created a sensation unlike any other. Your whole figure was engulfed in flames, scorching you from head to doe.

It was closing in. You could feel sin’s darkly cloaked hand reeling you in, pulling you closer and closer, and closer to the jagged edge. There was no point in struggling; you were in nature’s grasp now and whatever happened was entirely up to her.

As someone who prided himself on his ability to please, Mark took great delight in pleasuring you and it was no shock that he knew exactly how to coax you towards climax. “Yeah, that’s it, baby. Let it all go. I’ve got you.”

Finally, you started to cum, ecstasy shooting through your body every which way in the form of uncontrollable warmth, making your head feel light and your toes curl. Mark’s encouraging words became static to your ears, your senses totally overpowered, the life leaving your body for all but a split second.

Mark was sporting the slyest of grins, watching you wind back down as if he was marveling at his own handiwork. You should’ve been singing his praises, applauding him for his grand efforts. “There you go. Good fucking girl.”

Sex was one of the most powerful weapons in Mark’s arsenal. He sucked at relationships, but he could only walk away after claiming the best nut of your life.

After a moment or two out of the atmosphere, you came back to the ground, having just stopped tightening around Mark’s digits and shuddering involuntarily. You raised your eyes to meet his own, chest undulating. Gripping the arms of the chair for dear life. “Fuck you. You are the devil.”

Mark snickered, reluctantly recouping his fingers from between your legs. “Oh, yeah, baby. Fuck. I always loved that dirty mouth of yours.”

You rolled your eyes. He must’ve forgotten how good you were at taking back everything he stole from you and giving him damage tenfold in retaliation. Those sets of expletives would be escaping his pretty pink lips any minute now. This was only the beginning of the end.

Throwing your leg back down, you climbed out of the chaise, standing to your feet with a little stumble.

“Whoa there, baby. Be careful,” Mark said, grabbing a hold of your wobbling frame and holding you flush against his chest. “I’d hate it if something bad happened to you.”

God, you were weak in the fucking knees for this man. Literally.

You grabbed Mark by his suit tie and pushed him back first onto the chaise. His eyes went wide in surprise, but he quickly recovered and grinned. “Damn, babe. I like where this is going.”

You chuckled, crawling on top of him and pulling his face into yours. Mark’s hands were below your ribs, holding you in his arms while the two of you made out for what felt like an eternity. In the best way ever.

Mark grunted none too quietly when you felt his tight bulge pressed sharply to your core and mischievously got the clever idea to grind against it. The sound had you throbbing again, desperate to mount his cock then and there, but you were bent on teasing him at your own expense.

The wet smack of your lips meeting only enhanced your arousal further and while you did a significantly better job at keeping composed, Mark was losing his mind by the minute.

His hands dropped from your skin to his pants in an attempt to free his aching cock, but you were quicker, gathering his wrists in your palms and pinning them over his head. “Mm-mm. My turn, baby. Just… sit back and relax,” you mimicked, refusing to let him take the wheel.

Mark let you have your way with him. Frankly, he would let you do whatever you pleased.

You did the honor of unfastening Mark’s pants, pulling them and his underwear down his thighs just enough for his stiff cock to spring to attention. You licked your lips, salivating. The tension in your core got even tighter.

Mark groaned when you pressed your lips to the head of his cock, kissing it tenderly. That understanding, patient guy was nowhere to be found when his dick was involved. Or at least when he wasn’t the giver. Instead, Mark was less than human, a voracious beast that longed to feed.

Your tender kisses became delicate licks, neither of which provided Mark very much relief and you were aware. “Fuck. Baby,” he called out to you, hopeful that you’d quit the games soon. “Do something.”

“Something like… this?” you asked, gripping his hard cock and pumping him in your fist. Then, seconds later, you sucked him into your mouth, making all of the air flee Mark’s lungs.

Mark immediately cursed loudly. His cock hadn’t known this amount of relief since he left you and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Little did you know, Mark hadn’t fucked anyone else since you, either. It would’ve felt like cheating, like a betrayal, even though he knew that you were over.

Probably why Jodie had been throwing herself onto Johnny, hoping to get some dick, because the boy that brought her there only wanted to kiss her when you were there.

“Fuck,” Mark groaned like it was the only word he knew. It probably was, all things considered. It wasn’t uncommon for his mind to go blank when your lips were airtight around his cock. His whole body shuddered in sensitivity, having been aroused since he started eating you out.

And you were just sitting there, straddling him like a little devil, doing things to his cock that had him rethinking his whole life. Nobody had ever riled him up like this. Nobody instinctively knew how to get him off this quickly. Nobody, but you.

Mark was looking at you with a certain darkness when he somehow summoned enough willpower to ask, “Don’t finish me yet. Please.”

You came up for air, but obeyed his request. You were well aware that you could finish him both ways, but there was no way of knowing how much time you had left before something inevitably demanded your attention, and you wanted to ride him so badly it made your head spin.

Mark could finally breathe, but he should’ve known that it would’ve been short-lived. You didn’t waste a second to grab his cock and mount him, slowly but certainly sinking down to take it all.

Your wet walls were quick to clamp down on his thick cock, drawing a deep, low swear out of Mark’s lips. Your nails gripped his shoulders for purchase, eyes winced closed, taking a minute to relish in the feeling of being full again contentedly.

“Mark,” you whimpered, feeling yourself throb and tighten. You could’ve cried at the relief, so thrilled to be as close to Mark as your bodies could physically be again, and selfishly still aching for more.

Mark blinked through the haze in his mind that you had single-handedly constructed, thrown back into the mist the second he heard you call out his name. His eyes closed, mind flickering with images of you, recalling all of those times you rode the soul out of his dick.

You were an ethereal seductress, Mark was convinced, deceptively leading him to peril, rendering him helpless at the mercy of your enchanting charms. Your body did unspeakable things to him. With how tight you were around his cock, Mark would follow you to his demise.

Was it fucked up to have sex while people were dying all around you? Yes. But that’s what you and Mark were. Two fucked up kids who never got healing.

You felt healed when you were with each other, stripped to your truest forms, without fear of judgment. Mark taught you how to let go. You taught Mark how to let himself be loved.

At least you made up before you fucked. In your opinion? That was progress.

“Fuck, you ride me so good. I swear, you’re the best I’ve ever had,” Mark said, obsessed with your every motion as you rocked your hips down onto his cock, resuscitating all of those carnal sensations you woke up inside his soul.

The best I’ve ever had. Your mind was spiraling, faint from the heat burning your bodies up a thousand degrees hotter. Your body was built to take him, or at least it felt that way. Like the satisfaction you got from each other could only exist between the two of you.

Again, you grabbed Mark by his tie, pulling him in for another heart-stopping kiss. There was no hesitation. He kissed you back devilishly, getting a hold of your waist tightly, sucking on your tongue without bothering to be clean or slow about it.

You could kiss Mark until the day you died. You never wanted to forget how he tasted in your mouth. How he felt pressed flush against your semi-naked skin, your soft lips. How he looked at you like you were the only woman he’d ever loved, ruined for any other girl.

Mark wanted to complain when you parted from his lips, but suddenly they were on his neck and he sensed a shiver run down his spine, shock and pleasure taking the sound before it dared to leave his mouth. Your teeth grazed his collarbone, finding his pulse and sucking at it.

You watched Mark melt on the spot and giggled. Your friends and his friends were definitely going to clock the bright red marks on his throat, but neither of you could bring yourselves to care. If you wanted to suck and nibble at his neck, then by all means, Mark would let you do whatever you wanted.

Mark’s guttural groans were your greatest vice, making you noticeably throb around him, which thus only yanked a mouth-watering hiss out of his lips. He was looking at you through fluttering eyes, the corners of his vision dark and reeling, watching you ruin him from below.

To be fair, you already ruined him. All those days Mark spent waiting for you, waiting to hold you, were days of complete and total annihilation. Not only the ones after the breakup, but before it. Those days where he only watched you from afar, dwelling on you. Pining for you.

You separated from his neck to say, “God fucking damn. I love your dick. I love the way you feel inside me.”

As if Mark wasn’t already fighting off his looking orgasm. “Yeah?”

“No one will ever feel as good as you. I just wanna keep you close to me like this, Mark. Forever. I don’t want anything to come between us ever again and I won’t let it.”

“Me, too,” Mark wheezed, his breaths barely enough to keep him alive, though he didn’t mind it because he had you. You were on top of him, killing him softly and giving him life all at the same time, and it was more than he could handle.

You could tell from his tone of voice that he was dangling over the edge and was attempting to stave off his impending orgasm, holding himself at bay. Mark didn’t want this to end so soon. You just came back into his life and he wasn’t keen on letting go of those endorphins.

It wasn’t like you were far from release yourself. You couldn’t resist it, not when Mark kept making those sexy fucking sounds and your bodies were exchanging warmth. You couldn’t wait to take him to bed properly, bones tensing with the very desire to do things to him that you sadly couldn’t do here.

Mark felt the same way. He wished your clothes were completely off, but this would have to suffice for now and that was fine. This was enough to kill any man. Your soft sighs as you rolled your perfect hips, your bodies skin to skin, directly absorbing everything you did to each other.

You were too good to be true, as Mark said. He oftentimes thought he was dreaming. It was unbelievable that a girl of your caliber could love him through each of his many flaws and proudly stake her claim to him, and in a way, that was what you were doing now. Telling the whole universe that you were Mark’s and you didn’t give a fuck who saw.

Mark’s eyes tightened closed. You were making short work of him and he was minutes away from coming undone. Maybe seconds.

Taking one look at you Mark was both relieved and shattered out of his goddamn mind. For one, you were obviously also standing at the very threshold of climax, though he could’ve pieced that together from how vigorously you were riding him. To say the least.

But for two, you looked bewitching as hell with your face tensed in pleasure, and it was making the blood rush to Mark’s cock.

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck,” Mark cursed, because they were the only words that would come to his head, other than the occasional, “Jesus Christ.” It was safe to say that you had him right where you wanted him; so far over the edge that there was no returning. No going back.

You moaned his name, preparing to take him there. Mark was already gone. He blew his long blond hair out of his face so that he could take a better look at you, going to town like no other before you.

Mark hoped that you wouldn’t finish him earlier than he needed, that you wouldn’t pull out all of your priceless tricks, but he would’ve been naive to truly believe that you would let him off that easily. No, you wanted to wreck him thoroughly. The same way that he had wrecked you.

At long last it was time to reap what he’d sowed. And you absolutely did not intend to show him any mercy. You wanted to see him at his worst.

Finally, you leaned into Mark’s ear like he feared that you would, whispering in the velvetest voice you could, “Come on, baby. I know that you’re close. Don’t you wanna finish inside me?”

You hit the jackpot. Mark’s brain faltered at the thought of releasing his load inches deep inside of you, imagining the sated noise that you would make when you sensed him empty his balls inside of you. “Fuck.” The temptation burned hotter than before, sending tingles through his limbs.

“I’m gonna cum,” you told Mark in a shockingly level voice, though he could still hear a slight tremble in your tone. “And I want you to cum with me. Please?”

Mark bobbed his head. You were so deep in his head that he would do whatever you wanted, no matter how insane the request. Plus that sweet tone you were using on him was getting under his skin, making his face strain.

You quickened your pace, pulling out all of the stops to get him to finish, knowing he was weak and defenseless against your methods. Mark started to shudder and it became obvious that his fight was over. It was a telltale hint. You were going to get him off.

And then it hit him. It sped into him like a semi-truck on the interstate, a head-on collision that burst into an uncontrollable path of fire, setting him off. Mark cursed in the lowest tone he could make as he finally orgasmed, a steadfast grip on your hips.

His hips bucked up into yours as he rode out his high, releasing every drop of semen into your hot vice-like pussy. You moaned like he knew you would at the sensation, trembling with your second release, nails digging into his shoulders that were (thank fuck) safeguarded by his suit.

After all was said and done, you collapsed onto his chest, panting for breath. Mark took a few blinks to try and clear the misty look out of his eyes. They were dark and soulless, thanks to you. For half a minute, he swore he couldn’t barely see a damn thing.

Neither of you wanted to move for the longest time. You desperately wanted to remain there in Mark’s arms and he was content with just holding you there. Though in favor of looking presentable lest somebody caught you, you forced yourself to come up off his softening cock, grabbing a pool towel to clean up your mess.

Mark stubbornly fixed his clothes, though with the look on his face, all you could liken him to was a heartbroken puppy that nobody wanted to play with. “Dude. It’s already over.”

You checked your phone and chuckled, “Mark, it’s been like an hour.”

Right as you were about to set your phone back down on the poolside table, it vibrated in your hand, your screen flashing brightly. You glanced at it again, noticing a message from Johnny. Living room. Now.

You noticed Mark’s phone had also pinged when you flitted your gaze to him. “Johnny?”

“Yup,” Mark replied, suspicious. “What do you think? Set up?”

You huffed, “A hell of a smart one. Even if it is, we’ve got to go check it out.”

“Yeah, but I just wanna go home with you,” Mark grumbled under his breath.

You frowned, patting his back. This night would be over eventually, whether the daylight came first or Johnny ceasing it brought it on.

Mark stepped back, letting you tug your dress back down. You were wearing your thinking face again so it came to him as no shock when you asked, “Who do you think did it?”

“I don’t know. We’re all capable of the unspeakable.”

“That’s what scares me,” you whispered.

Mark’s lips made a line.

The two of you grabbed your weapons, tucking them back into their hiding spots. After making sure you looked presentable, you and Mark emerged from the pool area, not bothering to look like you weren’t together or you still loathed each other.

You loved Mark and Mark loved you. Why should you hide?

To your misfortune, you and Mark were the last to arrive, which inevitably gathered unwanted attention. Your attention, however, was on the gash on Jeno’s arm, and you came up to him to ask fretfully, “What the hell happened?”

“While you and Mark were obviously busy making babies, somebody attacked Jeno. At least we know it wasn’t you two,” Haechan said, the perfect balance of sweetness and venom in his tone.

Johnny glared, but continued, “That, and I noticed something from my case was missing. My mother’s necklace was stolen.”

You and Mark knowingly glanced at each other. It was you that said, “Well, I’m not saying she did it, but Chungha’s been paying very close attention to your case lately.”

Jeno hissed, “Is that what you’re worried about right now? I need a doctor! Johnny, you can’t possibly think we’re staying here all fucking night so that you can play Benoit Blanc.”

“First of all, I didn’t steal anything. If I wanted something, I would just ask. But your mother’s necklace? Johnny, I’m your friend,” Chungha replied as if it was the most absurd accusation ever.

Johnny hadn’t smiled in so long it was starting to become terrifying. And you honestly couldn’t blame him. First somebody tried to kill him, and now his dead mother’s necklace was stolen? You’d go ballistic, but Johnny was relatively level when he said, “I consider you all my friends. And yet one of you tried to shoot me dead.”

Chunga said nothing. Her lips were in a frown.

“So we’re just going to ignore me?” Jeno asked bitterly.

“It’s a light gash, not a bullet wound. If you don’t get an infection, you will be fine,” Jaehyun told him coolly.

Jeno grumbled something under his breath incoherently.

You patted his back compassionately. There was a lot going on and it was hard to divide your attention between Jeno’s cut and Johnny’s stolen items. “I don’t understand the purpose of this meeting. Awareness? What are we doing to figure out who’s behind all this bullshit?”

Jeno hummed in agreement.

“I don’t understand the purpose of these parties,” Haechan huffed exasperatedly. “Nevermind. Yes, I do. I know exactly why we come together every fucking year. We don’t see each other to ‘keep the peace’ or ‘remember Doyoung.’ We do it to forget. Forget what happened.”

Johnny opened his mouth to say something, but Haechan didn’t let him. And for once, you weren’t complaining.

Haechan glanced at Johnny’s glaring face and said, “Don’t look at me like that, man. We’ve all been thinking it. I’m just the only one with enough courage to admit it. We all committed a sin. Now that we have our fancy public lives, we wanna make sure the truth stays dead and buried.”

You glanced to your feet as Haechan went on this little tangent of his. It was supposed to make you uncomfortable. How could you live comfortably with what you’d done?

"Each of you come here to save your own fucking asses, because if the media finds out that you're killers, it makes Mom and Dad look bad. That's it. That's the purpose," he ranted, ending his tirade bluntly.

Well, he sure didn't beat around the bush. But that was the Haechan that you'd always known, confident and outspoken. To his right, Yuta was standing there, nodding along at everything he said in approval.

Jeno clapped his hands together. "You know what? I can't stand this guy, but round of applause. He's right."

You couldn’t argue even if you’d wanted to. After graduation, the group was indefinitely separated into pieces, but the eight of you agreed to never speak of what happened again. Of course, all of you went on to have successful careers, mostly because of who your parents were.

Mark was the only exception. Your relationship wasn’t only private to your friends, but to the whole world. And for a weird reason. In spite of his affluence, your mother would have a heart attack if she knew you were dating somebody that wasn’t born into his wealth.

Once upon a time, Mark Lee was a regular boy from Toronto. Somebody you vouched for and let into your circle, assuring him your friends weren’t just stuck-up rich kids. And he happened to make a killing doing something he loved.

You wished you could say the same.

Johnny said nothing for a long time, standing there with his hands posed behind his frame, which made you question him. It made you recall what Jeno had told you in that elevator a couple of hours earlier. People always look at the guy with his hands dirty. No one ever suspects the guy with his hands behind his back.

You glanced at the boy you were holding. Jeno noticed, peering back at you, but there was something different about his stare. Like there was something paining him. Then again, he did take a knife to one of his arms.

Your gaze flitted back to Johnny. But how could he be guilty? It would’ve taken an insane amount of self-assurance to think that he’d pull a stunt like this off. And Johnny had plenty, but it wasn’t in his nature. Instinctively, he was a protector. It was this man’s natural instinct to defend what he loved with his life.

Johnny leaving Yuta in that shack to search for a weapon wasn’t the whole tale. He left him there, but the weapon he found was the same one he used to kill your tormentor. This man risked his own life to put an end to the most traumatic night of your lives. Like that, the fight was over.

You narrowed your eyes. Somebody here was guilty. But it wasn’t Johnny.

“You’re all dismissed,” Johnny said after a long pause.

There was something recognizably off in Johnny’s tone, but you didn’t get the chance to ask questions, because Mark tugged you away from Jeno and led you down the hallway for all to see.

“Dude, what the hell?” you screeched.

Mark put his finger on his lips and said, “Somebody sliced up Jeno and I think that same person is framing Chungha.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” you huffed, rubbing your head. “I hope it wasn’t Haechan. He’s such a cancer.”

“Actually, he’s a Gemini.”

“That’s not…,” you trailed. “Nevermind. I love you, Mark.”

Mark still wasn’t used to hearing those words leaving your mouth again and instinctively he drew you into him, kissing you against the closest fucking wall with all of the affection within his very bones.

You were so happy that you forgot you were even there. That danger and death were sputtering and crepitating all around you, because none of it seemed to matter when you were with Mark.

“You didn’t tell me you two were back together.”

Jeno’s voice startled you back into brutal reality. You would recognize it anywhere, but the ferocity in it was foreign. And you quickly noticed the gun in his hand.

Mark tensed, but hid you behind him. He went to draw his own weapon, but Jeno threatened, “Any sudden moves and I’ll shoot.”

Your heart was racing. Fear coursed through your veins, but it was washed over by unadulterated anger. You broke out of Mark’s grasp, hissing, “What is this?”

“Baby, don’t,” Mark told you. There was worry in his eyes, but none for himself. All of it was for you.

Jeno laughed, but you could tell that deep down he was bristling. “No, let her. She just doesn’t fucking listen, does she? I told her that you were bad luck, and here she is with her tongue down your throat. You can’t save somebody that doesn’t want to be saved, Mark.”

Mark was irritated, but said nothing. Not with a gun pointed squarely at your chest.

It was overwhelmingly obvious now that Mark and his friends had been right about Jeno, but you hadn’t realized until now, when it was far too late. “You’ve been jealous this whole time?”

“Everybody else noticed that I was in love with you,” Jeno said with total vitriol. “Never you. You’re too busy sulking over Mark to pay me a lick of fucking attention.”

If it weren’t for the weapon glaring you down, you would’ve been tempted to give him a piece of your goddamn mind. The sting of the betrayal sitting in your gut numbed you to most of your fear, but not all of it.

An irrational, heartbroken man that felt entitled to your affection holding a gun? There was no telling what he would decide to do.

Jeno was spiraling and it was obvious. He was at the end of his tether which made him all the more dangerous, because that meant anything was fair game. “You know, I thought I took care of us. I thought that having Doyoung out of the picture would give you no choice but to look at me, but I was wrong. First it was Johnny. Then, it was Mark. It's like I wasn't even an option.”

Fighting back the incoming threat of tears, you shook your head and tried to keep your voice level, “You killed Doyoung so that you could have me?”

Jeno answered smartly, “Nah. That was all you, babe. But I would’ve done it. I would’ve done anything for us.”

Mark wanted to pull you out of harm’s way, but Jeno cocking his gun at him made him still. Never in his life had he felt so helpless. His heart was thudding so violently, twisting in his chest, because the girl he loved was in danger and he couldn’t do a damn thing to help her.

You couldn’t tell if he was addressing you or Mark when he said, “Love is a weakness. You want to, but you don’t want to. Your brain’s telling you this, but your heart’s telling you that. Who do you listen to? What’s good and what’s bad?”

Your head was spinning. Your muscles were tensing with the overpowering urge to attack, as were Mark’s, but you knew Jeno was a threat. You coaxed sweetly, “Jeno, put the gun down. You and I, we’re friends. We can talk this out like we always have.”

That only made Jeno’s rage worse and he snapped, “That right there is your fucking problem. You think I’m stupid. Don’t you know I can tell when you’re lying to me?”

You heaved a breath. If it weren’t for Mark’s body still pressed so closely to yours, you probably would’ve panicked.

Jeno was mercurial in his feelings, switching from resentful to indifferent, to petulant like a newborn child. His voice was wounded as he confessed, “I’ve spent so long wishing that I could have you there with me. And every time it feels like I get close, there’s another guy. I’m back where I started. It’s always one step forward and three steps back with you.”

You shook your head, slipping your fingers through Mark’s. “What’s your endgame then, Jeno? You know I’ll never be yours.”

“I know,” Jeno said, glaring as his eyes dropped to your intertwined hands. “And that’s why if I can’t have you, nobody will.”

There was a loud crackling in the air, so loud your ears started to ring, but you thought it was out of shock.

It was over before it even started. Mark shoved you out of the way, sending you barreling to the ground just in time for the gunshot to miss you, but pierce him through the shoulder.

Jeno wasn’t none too pleased about the bullet missing his ultimate target, but because he’d already gotten started, there was no way that he was stopping anytime soon. The second he raised his hand to fire another bullet, a second shot echoed out behind his frame.

You gasped when Jeno collapsed, a pool of blood peeking out from under him, but you crawled over to the body crouched beside him and shrieked, “Mark!”

Mark was leaning against the wall, taking inhale after exhale. You tried to reserve panic for later, taking off Mark’s coat and applying pressure to the wound. His eyes winced closed and he hissed, “Fuck! That hurts.”

“I know, baby. I know. But we’ve gotta stop the bleeding,” you replied, vision blurring from tears. You hoped to god the bullet missed his nerves.

Jaehyun came rushing over as Johnny looked over Jeno’s body, making certain that he was no longer a threat. He took his gun and said to Jaehyun, “Call emergency services.”

Jaehyun bobbed his head, pulling his phone out of his pocket immediately and calling a number he had on speed dial.

“Keep the pressure on him. I know it doesn’t look that serious in the movies, but a shoulder wound can kill him,” Johnny told you, intent on sitting there until an ambulance arrived.

In the corner of your eye, you noticed him pull a chain from Jeno’s coat and mumble something under his breath.

You briefly lifted one hand off Mark’s shoulder to wipe a tear away. Being with Mark again blinded you, tricking you into thinking that you’d finally be happy solely because you had Mark back, but this burst your bubble. It’d never be over. Days of living in unbroken fear would never stop. The internal warring would never end. It was a constant.

“I hate that sound,” you mumbled under your breath.

Mark’s voice was quiet, but he pressed his other hand to your forearm to let you know he was still there. “What sound?”

An invisible icy breeze crept over your shoulders, making you shudder as you replied, “Gunshots.”

“Then, we’ll go somewhere we’ll never have to hear them again. It’ll be just you and me. Maybe a family, if you want one.”

“I’d like that,” you whispered.

Mark smiled as wide as he could, squeezing your forearm.

“And then what happened?” Maxine asked.

Mark, holding your six-year-old daughter in his lap, answered, “I went to the hospital. Your mommy rode with me in the back of an ambulance.”

Turning the corner to your bedroom with cups of hot cocoa in your hands, you threw your husband a look and asked, “Is it a good idea to be telling our children about this, Mark?”

August swiftly begged, “Wait no. We want to hear the rest of the story about how Dad got his scar. Right, Maxi?”

Maxine bobbed her head. “Mommy, please?”

Mark’s bottom lip protruded, mimicking the cute pouts and puppy eyes of your shared children. “Please, Mama?”

You playfully rolled your eyes at your husband’s behavior, but he and your kids were too damn irresistible. “Oh, what the heck. Okay. Fine. Go on.”

Maxine stood on her father’s thighs, dancing excitedly in celebration. Mark watched her fondly, but kept a close eye to make sure she didn’t fall. August, on the other hand, simply smiled. He’d always been curious about you and his father’s life endeavors.

You passed cups of hot cocoa to your two kids, both of whom gave you a sweet, “Thank you.”

August took a sip and asked, “So, what happened at the hospital?”

“I had to get a surgery on my shoulder,” Mark explained. “When I woke up and I could keep my eyes open for longer than a few minutes at a time, it wasn’t Christmas eve anymore. It was New Years.”

You bobbed your head. “I spent Christmas with your father in that hospital. I was supposed to go home to have dinner with my parents and a bunch of shareholders, but I couldn’t leave his side. Especially not without knowing if he was okay.”

The only time you left was when you literally had no other option. Bathroom breaks or the doctors kindly asking for you to leave. The others occasionally came to give him a visit as well, but as long as Mark was there, that hospital was your new home.

Their company meant a lot back then. It helped not to be too lonely there from time to time. You half expected a huge, ‘I told you so’ or something from all of Mark’s friends, but they were surprisingly sympathetic.

Imagine Mark’s surprise when he woke up for good and you told him that Haechan had even hugged you.

Maxine’s eyes winced closed. “Ow! That’s hot,” she exclaimed, setting her mug on the nightstand.

“Careful, sweetie. You’ll burn yourself,” Mark said, eyes flickering with care.

Your lips curled into a grin. You liked watching Mark sometimes, like you weren’t even there. Here and there, you would peek around the corner after coming home, listening to the sounds of your husband fathering your kids. He was so attentive and patient with them. It meant everything to know your babies were in good hands.

Mark showed Maxine how to blow her hot cocoa and she mimicked his actions with cautious sips, demanding politely in between, “Keep talking. I wanna hear the rest of the story. Please?”

You chuckled. This little girl would follow up the most aggressive demand with a sweet-sounding ‘please?’

“Your mommy had to enlighten me on what happened after I went to the hospital, because I was too out of it to see the mystery unfold in real time,” Mark replied.

You nodded your head. You still remembered sitting there beside that hospital bed, ceaseless beeping fading into background noise after enough hours spent basically alone. You’d told Mark, “He tried to kill Johnny to throw off whatever investigation succeeded the shooting.”

Mark had blinked, processing. Thinking took entirely too much strength hooked to whatever equipment was keeping him alive in that damn hospital. “What about Jodie?”

“Jodie was collateral damage, maybe a surrogate. I was obviously the actual object of his rage. His endgame. It gives me chills, thinking about how he smiled in my face when he knew he wasn’t gonna leave that party till he or I was dead.”

The little flashback made you fight a sigh. People had betrayed you before, but none like that. You banished the thoughts away and kept entertaining your kids. Jeno was gone. In hell somewhere, hopefully.

As you snuggled under the blankets beside your son, he questioned curiously, “Who stabbed Jeno?”

“The medical examiner looked at him. She said the wound was obviously self-inflicted to a trained eye,” you replied with a snicker. At first, you were outraged. Nowadays, all you could do was laugh.

You weren’t even slightly worried about your kids comprehension skills as you regaled them on that ever so wonderful time in your life. Your kids were brilliant. Maybe it was all those books they liked to read, but you could have the most advanced back-and-forth conversation with those two and they would understand every single word. Sometimes it was frightening.

“And to think, he had such a fit over an injury he made himself,” Mark added, shaking his head in astonishment.

The thought made you want to roll your eyes, but another one made you want to burst into laughter. “God, do you remember his face when Jaehyun told him that he’d be fine? I think he and Johnny suspected Jeno was the killer.”

Maxine was beaming from ear to ear. “Uncle Johnny is so cool. Is he still coming over next weekend?”

You bobbed your head. “Yup. He said he has a surprise for you. And before you ask, I’m not telling.”

Maxine pouted. “Please?”

“Nope. Your cute tricks won’t work on me this time. I fortunately value my life and Uncle Johnny will kill me if I tell you,” you replied, crossing your arms.

Maxine sighed sadly. You hated it when she did that. It made you want to give her the entire universe.

Fortunately, Maxine forgot rather quickly, because she whipped around and asked her father, “Daddy, how long did it take you to heal?”

“I was all better the next day,” Mark lied through his teeth.

You deadpanned, “He’s lying. He was in the hospital for a week and it took three months before he was even slightly normal again.”

Then, you moved here. Jaehyun and Chungha came over to help you with interior design. Imagine your shock when you found out the reason they were suspiciously walking around Johnny’s penthouse was because they were sneaking around to kiss and hook up. Apparently, they were taking a page out of your book.

You glanced at the alarm clock on your nightstand. Noticing that it read eleven o’clock, you said enthusiastically, “Alright, kids. Who’s ready to open up their Christmas presents?”

There was a loud chorus of, “Me!” Your kids started to jump up and down on your bed in excitement, nearly crushing your legs, exactly as they had done when they woke you and your husband up a couple of hours ago.

Mark chimed in, “First one there gets to open up their biggest present first.”

Immediately, Maxine and August hopped off your bed, racing each other to the living room as quickly as possible before the other could get there.

You couldn’t help but giggle. Never in a billion years did you imagine having this future with Mark, but you were endlessly grateful. “Merry Christmas, love of my life.”

Mark leaned in to kiss your cheek. “Merry Christmas, baby. I’ve got a little surprise gift for you later.”

“Oh?”

Mark snickered at the mischief on your face. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“Because you get that little look on your face,” Mark replied with a sly grin.

You shook your head, but you were still smiling. “Okay. If it’s not that, then what is it?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“Okay, fine. Have it your way. I don’t care,” you groaned.

Mark was sporting the biggest smile ever. For what, you had absolutely no clue, until he pulled you for another kiss and confessed, “I’m so glad we made up that one Christmas.”

Your skin came alive against his. Your whole body was filled with bliss and wonder. You laid your head on his chest, feeling his heart race. “Me too, baby.”

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #mark lee smut #mark smut #nct dream smut #mark lee x reader #nct imagines #nct x reader #nct scenarios

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