[2:30 AM] It was intimate moments like these that you cherished the most when you were with Vernon. The times where the world was quiet and the silence was enough for the both of you. It was anything but awkward, it was safe, it was home.
Taking a seat behind you on your shared bed, he gently takes a towel and wraps it around your wet hair, squeezing as to wring out any liquid left. The two of you just got done sharing a bath together and he presented himself to dry your hair. He was proud of his hair dying skills too, boasting about how he was the one who always dried his sibling's hair when they were younger and how their hair always looked great when he did so. You agree and that's how you found yourself situated between his legs, your back to him as he pats your hair dry.
"Is this okay?" Vernon asks softly.
You nod and hummed in content, signaling him to continue. Others might think of the act as boring or mundane but to you it felt like home. It made you feel secure, the way the both of you were comfortable enough around each other to be doing everyday tasks like this.
The both of you were friends before you were lovers. Both firmly believing that love and attraction should come from a safe place and that you should fall for someone who would take care of you; and that he did. Your bones felt safe knowing it belonged to someone like Vernon.
While he wasn't fond of flowery words, he did his best in showing you he cared. It was ironic since he wrote songs for a living but when it came to you the words would mix and his tongue got tied. It was enough though, he was enough. You never needed anything extra when it came to him because you knew that he cared. The love between the two of you was enough to fill your hearts.
SEVENTEEN (performance unit) / accidentally using your insecurity against you
warning: angst & mention of insecurities (very general – oc is not feeling good enough)
requested by anonymous.
Junhui had thought of it as an off-handed comment. In fact, he’d said it and forgot about it, not realizing the impact his words would have on you, even days later. Which was why he was so confused to see how short your texts had gotten when the two of you talked on the phone.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked you a few nights later, unable to take it any longer. He hoped he’d imagined that something was wrong, but it seemed that you were colder to him than usual, and he was growing incessantly more worried. “Did I do something wrong?”
“What do you mean?” you responded, genuinely needing him to elaborate because you weren’t sure what qualified as ‘wrong’ in his book – he’d made an insensitive comment and proceeded to move on from it without any acknowledgement whatsoever, so, clearly, there wasn’t anything wrong with that in his eyes.
“Well, I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve been sort of distant lately,” he spoke, feeling awkward and uncomfortable to admit this.
You looked like you were going to disagree and feign indifference. And, honestly, you were, but sarcasm rarely solved arguments, so, instead, you exhaled loudly, prepared to explain, and then… ended up not saying anything at all.
Junhui found your silence alarming. It answered his question much better than any word or sentence could have – he had done something wrong. And, worse, he didn’t even realize what it was.
“Do you want to talk to me about it?” he asked, tentative. Then, before waiting for you to reply, he decided, “actually, no. It wouldn’t be fair to talk about something I am obviously struggling to remember. I’m sorry about that. Help me understand, though, please?”
You turned your head to look at him and were surprised by the intense worry in his eyes – and then, you felt surprised to find that surprising. Of course he worried about you. You’d been in a relationship for over a year.
“Can I put it very plainly?” you asked. He nodded. He wanted you to put it in any way you could – just as long as you told him what happened. “I don’t feel comfortable when my—when you use my insecurity as a reason why I shouldn’t do something.”
“Oh,” Junhui replied reflexively. Then, he finally realized, “oh.”
“Yeah,” you said. His prior awkwardness had transferred to you and, automatically, you attempted to defuse the situation, even despite knowing that this was a big deal. “I mean, you obviously weren’t trying to—”
“No, I wasn’t trying to be rude or hurtful,” he cut you off, scooching closer to you on the couch. He didn’t touch you because he wanted you to keep looking into his eyes. “But I was. Wasn’t I? I’m sorry. I didn’t—I just said that because…” he trailed off and the two of you sat in silence for a minute.
“I don’t know why I said it,” he admitted finally. “I can’t remember. But I wasn’t thinking when I said it. Obiously, you can do whatever you want, and I will always support you. I-I guess I was worried how you would feel about yourself. You and I both know that you don’t love yourself nearly as much as I love you.”
That was true. But, ultimately, you had felt sad not because he’d poked at your insecurity, but because you were insecure in the first place. You hated that. You wanted to get over it, fall in love with yourself. But, no matter how much you wanted that or how hard you tried, it just hadn’t happened.
“B-but maybe that’s okay for now?” Junhui added after seeing your hunched shoulders. You’d looked away to get yourself together, but felt your eyes return to his as soon as he started to speak. “I can love you enough for the both of us.”
Truthfully, he hadn’t even realized that his words had felt like a punch in the stomach to you. He had his back to you when he spoke – ranted, really – and he only noticed that something was wrong, when he finally turned around and inhaled, preparing for another tirade.
“Oh,” he stopped short at the sight of the tears in your eyes. Noticing his reaction, you turned away. You did not mean to cry, but it was hard to hold the tears back when someone else saw them. “W-what’s wrong? Did I say something—”
“Everything is fine,” you said and, however clueless Soonyoung might have been about your insecurities, he was smart enough to know that this was a red flag.
Clever enough not to demand an explanation, he tried to retrace his steps. But that was hard since he’d gotten fired up about something that was very abstract, he didn’t know which moment in particular could have upset you. The conversation itself had started when you—
It hit him then.
“Oh! Hey, hold on a minute, that is not what I was trying to say!” Soonyoung said, his words rushed and voice oddly high-pitched. He was panicking. “That is the absolute opposite of what I was trying—of what I should have said. You know that, right?”
“You don’t have to apologize for speaking the truth,” you said, your voice soft and quiet on purpose. So he wouldn’t hear how affected you were.
But he heard.
“That is not the truth. That’s just what you perceive to be the truth,” he said, walking around you until you were face-to-face again. You looked down immediately, avoiding his eyes. “Hey, no, please look at me.”
“I’m fine, I’m just—”
“I phrased myself wrong,” he said, in a surprisingly calm and collected way, given how wide his eyes were. “I was angry and—”
“Being angry doesn’t change what you think.”
“But that’s not what I think!” he protested. “That is not at all what I think. That is what you think. And I tried to say t-that you shouldn’t think that. I didn’t mean to say that I understand why you think that, I just—because, really, you have no reason, whatsoever, to feel insecure about anything. That’s what I meant—that’s what I wanted to say.”
He was incoherent and scared. He wasn’t sure if he should have kept talking because you didn’t reply. He was starting to feel the urge to pace in order to get rid of this anxiety – but if he started to pace, he would begin to rant again, and he didn’t want to open his mouth anymore.
“I’m sorry,” he dared to say. He thought he saw you nod – he wasn’t sure because you were still facing down.
An apology obviously wasn’t going to fix the things that you found wrong about yourself, but he felt guilty for bringing them up in such an insensitive way. As he couldn’t find anything else to add to make this better – because he had a feeling he could always make this worse – he took a step closer to you.
“Can I hug you?” he asked carefully. You had your face in your hands and he’d never wanted to see your eyes more because you didn’t respond, and he had to make the decision for you, “I’m going to hug you. And I will keep hugging you, okay? For a long time. So, just tell me when you want me to stop. And I’ll shut up, too. I’m better at hugging you than I am at talking.”
It came out wrong. It was a stupid argument that he wanted to end as quickly as possible, and all of his words came out completely wrong.
He realized it wouldn’t sound right as soon as he opened his mouth, but, by that point, it was already too late. He could imagine the look on your face in his mind, but the way you winced after hearing him say it, was significantly worse.
“I…” Minghao tried, but his mouth had dried up. “I-I did not mean that.”
“No?” a scoff passed your lips – it was meant to mask the build-up of emotions inside of your chest. You’d have rather come off as petty than start crying. “What did you mean, then?”
“I just want us to stop fighting about this so often.”
“Right, well,” you uncrossed your arms and slapped them against your thighs to signal that you were done with this conversation – just like he wanted. You turned around to leave the room. “We’re definitely not fighting about this anymore, so well done.”
“Wait, come on,” he grabbed your arm, only holding onto it long enough to stop you from walking; he let go as soon as you stopped, knowing that his grip on you would only escalate this. “Don’t just walk away like that. I’m sorry. Okay? You keep saying those things about yourself and it irritates me every time, because they’re not true, so I—”
“So, what, you decided it’d be better if you were the one who said ‘those things’ about me instead? Thanks, Minghao.”
“No, I—shit, that’s not what I’m trying to say,” he covered his face with his hands in frustration. “I just meant that it’s—well, look at this from my perspective; I think this is exactly the reaction you should have when you look at yourself, and you hate what you see. You should get angry and—”
“I can’t get angry at myself,” you cut in, exasperated. “Hating what I see when I look at myself – that’s the appropriate reaction to me. That’s how my mind works, I can’t—”
“That’s what I mean! You encourage yourself to feel this way. A-and if you keep saying those things, then it doesn’t seem like it’s just in your head. It feels like the objective truth. And it’s not!” he added quickly. Then, taking a breath, he tried to continue, “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to imply that you have a reason to be insecure. I just… I wanted to say that you should be learning how to say positive things about yourself, instead of giving in to the—”
“Look, it’s fine,” you cut him off. However much you appreciated that he cared about this enough to explain himself, this discussion was not making you feel any better. In fact, with each passing second, you were only starting to feel worse. “Just let me go, okay? I need a minute to myself. No offense.”
Minghao swallowed and nodded – even though he really didn’t want to.
“N-none taken,” he said. “I understand. I’ll be here when you come out. We don’t have to talk, just… I love you, yeah? I’ll wait here.”
His whole life flashed before his eyes as soon as the words left his mouth. There had been a line – a clear, bright line – and he’d leaped way over it. So far over it that, based on the expression on your face, there may not have been an easy way back.
“That sounded wrong,” he added quickly. But even he felt that this sounded more like damage control than anything else. “Can I explain myself?”
You lifted your eyebrows, but your eyes were set firmly on the ground as you asked, “do you think that’ll make it better?”
He didn’t know, but he still felt like he had to try.
“I just… I meant that maybe you should, uh, do something that would make you feel less self-conscious?” he spoke, feeling like he was on a mine field. He wanted to be honest, but it felt like this was the prime spot for saying the wrong thing and making an already bad situation so much worse. “I don’t think that you have any reason to be insecure – you know that – but I know that it’s something you’re not entirely comfortable with, so I just—”
“No, I got that,” you said, closing your eyes and exhaling quickly in an attempt to finish your sentence before the tears came. “I was just hoping you’d be the one person who supports me in this, since I can’t support myself.”
You’d never slapped him before, but this definitely felt like a well-deserved punch in the eye.
“Of course,” Chan said, desperate and in pain. “I’m sorry. Of course t-that should be what I do—and I do. Support you, I mean. I’m just trying to look out for you, too. I don’t care what you do—I mean, I do care, but I want you to be comfortable. When you do… whatever you want to do. Because I support you.”
He meant it. You knew he meant it. But you couldn’t help feeling like it would also be easier for him if you just stuck to doing things that left your insecurities buried deep within your mind. This way, he didn’t have to try hard to make you feel better – which he always felt obligated to do.
“Right. Thank you,” you said with a sad smile. “Sorry I—”
“No,” he stopped you before you could get the full apology out. “You were right. And being supportive isn’t a job for me. It’s not—not a task. Wanting you to feel good about yourself is something I genuinely feel.”
Surprised to hear him reply to your exact thoughts, you were only able to blink in response to him, no words whatsoever left on your tongue. Hence why Chan continued.
“That’s why I want you to feel comfortable in your surroundings,” he said. “Because, I don’t know, I guess it kills me a little when you don’t think you’re good enough. But if you feel ready to step out of your comfort zone, then please do! Okay? Because I’ll be here if you need me to remind you how great you are. Always.”
Su piso era todo un lujo. Pero claro, ¿Que no era un lujo para Marie?
Era un lugar acogedor y rústico, de todas formas aquello no le hacía perder la elegancia. Solo tenía una planta pero pasillos y habitaciones se divisaban en todas partes. No era una mansión, para nada, pero mucho más a lo que aspiraba ella en la vida.
Le hubiese gustado descubrir el enorme piso a su gusto pero una mano latiendo en su espalda baja le recordó porque estaba allí.
El profesor Jung, que a partir de ahora se iba obligar a pensar en él como YoonOh. A contraposición de lo que pensaba no la atacó en seguida, en vez de eso la dejó ir tranquilamente y caminó hacia una habitación sin puerta, cuando le siguió descubrió que era la cocina.
Se giró con actitud relajada. No parecía el mismo hombre que le impartía clases y era temido en toda la universidad. Allí se dió cuenta de cómo de joven parecía, su ceño fruncido y voz imperativa lo envejecían considerablemente.
-¿Quieres tomar algo?- Marie recorrió la cocina, pequeña a comparación de la sala, mientras pensaba en su respuesta. Era sumamente indecisa a la hora de elegir, sobretodo a la hora de comer, en especial ahora que normalmente no tenía para elegir.- ¿Un té o café quizás? Te ofrecería alcohol pero no tienes pinta de beber.
Se sorprendió por el tono humorístico que usó, se giró a mirarlo directamente con ojos abiertos. Su rostro sin expresión alguna de estar haciendo un chiste, así que pensó que debía estar burlándose de ella.
-¡Yo sí bebo! De echo seguramente me emborraché con menos edad que tú.- Saltó a la defensiva.
-¿Estarías orgullosa de eso?- Encaró una ceja.
Estuvo apunto de justificarse pero vió menos significativo para su orgullo seguir con su actitud infantil.
-Sip.- Y se cruzó de brazos. Él seguía con la ceja alzada, irónicamente.
-¿Entonces quieres alcohol?
-Nop.- Y miró al frente. Fue cuando su mirada topó con un cesta de mimbre con naranjas dentro, al lado una exprimidora.- ¿Zumo de naranja?
-¿Quieres?- Asintió y lo vió acercarse al lugar para prepararse lo.
Se puso de pie y se colocó a su lado con los antebrazos reposados en el mármol, aguantando el peso de su cuerpo echado hacia delante.
Cuando presionó la fruta en el instrumento de cocina y un pequeño chorro naranja salió ella se empapó del olor. Casi sonríe. Cuánto haría que no bebía un zumo de naranja. Desde que se había venido a Seoul ha estudiar seguramente.
Cuando llevaba la mitad del vaso exprimido, y a pesar de que secretamente estaba disfrutando de sus músculos trabajando, le pidió si podía acabarlo ella. Él le cedió el lugar, ahora fue su turno de observarla exprimir una tonta naranja con una aún más tonta sonrisa entre mejillas. Era bonita.
-¿Tanto te gusta el zumo de naranja que le sonríes?- Se sorprendió y ruborizó.
-Es que me trae recuerdos de antes de vivir aquí.- Su silencio y mirada atenta la invitaron a continuar.- Yo vivía con mi familia, a veces mi abuela compraba demasiada fruta y nos daba a nosotros la gran mayoría, cuando eso pasaba mi madre y yo desayunábamos zumo de naranja por días. Pero no me cansaba, es mi favorito.
El zumo estaba listo, cogió el vaso y se lo lleno casi hasta rebosar, bebió del borde con cuidado para no armar un desastre, cuando estuvo fuera de peligro con el nivel del líquido a un centímetro lejos del borde lo dejo en la mesa. YoonOh solo la observaba sentado desde un taburete. Con un poco más de confianza ella hizo lo mismo, delante de él.
-¿Puedo preguntarte por tu país?
-¿España?- Asintió. -Bueno yo soy de un pueblo cerca de Barcelona, amo mi ciudad, es muy bonita. Más que Seoul pero no puedo decir eso aquí.
-Acabas de decirlo.
-Ya, pero no pareces muy patriota.- No lo era.
-¿Tú lo eres?- Soltó el vaso corriendo y se apresuró a negar.
-No me gusta el patriotismo. Sólo digo que Barcelona es preciosa. De echo mi país favorito es Inglaterra.
-¿Inglaterra? Pensé que a los latinos os gustaba el sol y la playa.
-No a todos.- Se encogió de hombros.
-¿Entonces porque vino aquí a estudiar y no fue a Inglaterra?- Suspiró como si aquel hubiese sido su plan inicial y no le hubiese salido bien.
-Porque aquí hay muchas más posibilidades de triunfar escènicamente que en Europa. Además me gusta el K-pop.
Rodó los ojos ante la última parte de la respuesta. Debió haberse imaginado algo así. Ella sonrió ante su reacción de exasperación.
Entonces se levantó y se dirigió hacia Marie. Ella mirándole con ojos grandes curiosos e inocentes. Quizá porque su propia mirada debía encontrarse relajada.
-Ya no pareces tan nerviosa.- El color rojo regresó a sus mejillas. Se estaba haciendo un hábito. Se hizo nota mental de trabajar en ello porque era vergonzoso.
-Pensé que ibas a atacarme nada más llegar aquí.- Rió interiormente por la utilización del verbo atacar, por supuesto no reflejó nada al exterior.
Su mirada bajó por su cuello y visualizó una pequeña marca morada debajo del jersei, la había echo él.
-No me di cuenta de eso, perdón.- La señaló. Marie de repente muda solo negó dándole a entender que estaba bien.- Quiero atacarte ahora.
Sintió que el corazón le había subido hasta la garganta, lentamente se levantó del taburete cuando él le dió la mano y la guío atravesando la sala hasta la última habitación del pasillo.
Cuando estuvieron dentro ella solo pudo ver la grandiosa cama de matrimonio con colchas negras inmaculadas. La puerta fue cerrada con su espalda y dos manos a banda y banda de su cabeza colisionando contra esta.
La cabeza de Yoonoh se agachó buscando la boca de Marie, estampó sus labios en ella, húmedo y sucio. Los brazos de ella que hasta ahora colgaban a ambos lados de su cuerpo treparon por sus hombros hasta agarrar el cabello de quién la acorralaba, participando en el beso, haciéndolo lujurioso y necesitado.
Desde que se había subido al coche Marie se había estado imaginando la situación varias veces, anticipando i fantaseando, siendo arrojada a la cama con fuerza o ni si quiera llegando a la habitación, pero en todos los escenarios había fuerza y una hambre desgarradora.
En cambio una de las manos de Jung le acariciaba suavemente la mejilla y la otra puesta en su espalda baja la había echo pegarse al cuerpo masculino. No era cómo se lo había imaginado en absoluto.
Le gustará el sexo lento, pensó.
Dejo sus labios rojos, húmedos e hinchados y desplazo los besos a su mandíbula, empezó a bajar, primero acariciando con la nariz fría y luego lamiendo lentamente. No pudo evitar dejar salir un jadeo entrecortado.
Con sus dos grandes manos, una en su baja espalda y la otra en sus omóplatos, la invitó a caminar con él hasta el borde de la cama. Tironeo de su jersei y cuando ella levantó los brazos se lo quitó ansioso llevándose también la camiseta enganchada, él mismo se quitó el suyo propio y ambos quedaron olvidados en el suelo.
Marie no pudo evitar sentirse cohibida, el frío de la desnudez erizandole la piel.
YoonOh se sentó en la cama y la miró de arriba abajo, para él la imagen era maravillosa, pelo larguísimo y en cascada cayéndose encima de los hombros, mejillas sonrojadas, labios inflados y brillantes de saliva y su piel blanca de gallina. Marie nunca había sido desconfianza pero la inspección la puso insegura y casi sin darse cuenta sus brazos rodearon su cuerpo, buscando como taparse un poco.
Él frunció el ceño ante el gesto.
-No te tapes.- Era una orden pero había sonado suave, alentadora.- Ven aquí.- Y sin esperar respuesta tiró de sus piernas para colocarla de ahorcadas encima de él. Volvió a besarla, un dedo resiguiendo su columna vertebral haciendo arder donde tocaba hasta que se topó con el cierre del sujetador, con ayuda de su otra mano lo abrió. Marie jadeó ansiosa, volviéndose torpe en el beso.
El sujetador cayó deslizándose por sus hombros y aunque creía no ser capaz de moverse ayudó a desprenderlo del todo.
La recostó en la cama con la cabeza en la almohada y sus labios volvieron a tocarla, esta vez en su cuello. Desde ahí mordió, lamió y besó un camino por su clavícula, entre sus pechos y por todo su vientre.
-Levanta la cadera.- Cuando le hizo caso desabotonó su pantalón y los bajó acariciando la carne a su paso.
El camino de subida lo recorrió besando sus muslos.
Y si hasta ahora había controlado los gemidos aquello fue historia, empezó con pequeños ruiditos pero se fueron acentuándo y agudizando a medida que él se acercaba a su sexo. Justo cuando beso su ingle coloco ambas manos en los anchos hombros de él.
-Espera. -Tartamudeó. -Es injusto que solo yo este medio desnuda.
Sonrió de lado.
-Desnúdame entonces.- Se incorporó un poco, ella mirándole desde abajo y sin saber que hacer.
Cuando un par de segundos de silencio pasaron y la calor que desprendía ambos cuerpos empezó a irse simplemente se deshizo de la vergüenza y se incorporó con él, sentándose como un indio, su pelo tapándole los pechos. YoonOh no tardó en tener la camiseta fuera y Marie se peleó con el cinturón, más que decidida o lujuriosa parecía enfurruñada. Eso pareció darle mucha gracia a él porque sonrió levemente y le ayudó a quitarse la prenda que quedaba para estar igualados.
-¿Mejor?- Asintió tragando fuerte ante la imagen del hombre semi desnudo, su piel era nívea y no se veía ningún músculo extremadamente marcado, pero quedaba constancia de que era un cuerpo trabajado.
Volviéndose a recostar encima de ella una de sus manos acarició empezando por la rodilla, atravesando por su muslo interior. Marie jadeó cuando notó los dedos largos de YoonOh encima de sus bragas. Hizo un poco de presión y un gemido se quedó atorado en su garganta.
Él pasó la lengua por su cuello, notando el pulso acelerado, siguió hasta su oreja, mordiendo el lóbulo a la vez que su mano entraba dentro de la ropa interior. Notó a Marie arquearse levemente cuando sus dígitos acariciaron la piel caliente de su zona más íntima. Un quejido sonó al lado de su oreja.
Empezó a masturbarla lentamente. Se llevó una mano a la boca para frenar los pequeños gemidos y jadeos, tiró la cabeza hacia atrás y cerró los ojos disfrutando del tacto, hacía mucho que no mantenía relaciones sexuales y se sentía especialmente sensible.
Intensificó los movimientos, el cuerpo de Marie empezando a revolverse debajo del caliente de él, los ruidos cada vez más difíciles de contener.
-Simplemente déjalo ir. Quiero escucharte.- Besó su mejilla.
Pero ella no necesitó cubrirse la boca más porque paró de tocarla, en vez de eso un dedo se deslizó dentro de ella, no dándole tanto placer como para gemir alto pero aún siendo excitante.
Al aceptar el primero sin problema introdujo un segundo. Buscó su boca de nuevo, más que un beso fueron choques de labios desordenados y húmedos para hacer la situación más íntima. Eventualmente pudo añadir un tercero cuando el segundo dejo de ser una molestia, simplemente los dejo quietos esperando a que se acostumbrara a la intromisión de estos. Luego los movió de nuevo, preparándola con cuidado, cuando escuchó gemir otra vez se separó un poco para mirarla, se veía relajada sin rastro de incomodidad o dolor así que sacó sus dedos de ella.
Marie lo observó empezar a bajarse los calzoncillos y se le secó la garganta, por pudor ni si quiera miró su miembro, clavó sus ojos en los suyos mientras él retiró su última pieza de ropa.
Bajó a besarla haciendo que chocaran piel con piel, se estremeció al notar su erección rozando su muslo. Volvió a incorporarse para alcanzar el cajón de la mesita de noche, de ahí sacó un preservativo y se lo colocó con facilidad. Marie sabiendo que hacer abrió bien las piernas y él se alineó entre medio, encajándose en su entrada.
Entró lentamente, deleitándose de la sensación y el largo gemido que salió de la boca de ella, él mismo también gruñó. Siguió penetrándola a una velocidad torturosamente lenta, sintiéndose en su plenitud. Marie no tardó en exigir más con voz ronca. Por primera vez fue YoonOh quién obedeció.
La agarró de su cintura arqueada hacia arriba para impulsarse un poco y ser más duro en la estocada. Miró embobado el espectáculo que tenía abajo. Marie tenía los ojos entrecerrados y cristalizados, pelo totalmente desordenado, mofletes rojos y labios hinchados y rosados haciendo forma de o, temblaba debajo suyo, todo aquello le daba un parecer adorable y lujurioso que le volvió loco.
-Tan bonita.- Murmuró casi imperceptible.- Y tan estrecha.
Su mano se deslizó de nuevo a su sexo para masturbarla otra vez.
-Joder.- Exclamó ella. YoonOh no la entendió porque habló en su idioma pero supo que no se estaba quejando.
Unos minutos a un ritmo acompasado e intenso fueron suficientes para que ambos se sintieran cerca del orgasmo.
Bajó el cuerpo, pegándolo al contrario todo lo posible, Marie le rodeó las caderas con sus piernas atrapando la mano, que no dejó de estimularla, entre medio. Sus estocadas desacompasadas fueron el detonante al éxtasis y llegó a el con un gemido grave, ella por su lado tardó unos momentos más y a contraposición se corrió extremadamente agudo y apretándose en el cuerpo del hombre.
Se desplomaron cansados, él apoyándose en un brazo con cuidado de no aplastarla. Salió y se acomodó a su lado. Respiraciónes erráticas era lo único que se escuchaba en la habitación.
-¿Estas bien?- Preguntó YoonOh.
-Muy bien.- Lo observó ponerse de pie.
- Iré a darme una ducha, si quieres puedes darte tú una luego.- Marie asintió acurrucandose en la cama cuando él salió de la habitación.
Las suaves colchas la acunaron deliciosamente, el sueño de las noches sin dormir y el cansancio del maravilloso sexo que acababa de tener pasaron factura, empezó a sentir los ojos pesados y poco a poco fue rindiéndose, quedó dormida antes de poder sentir el frío en su desnudez.
Okaaaaay. That was hard. Recuerdo que me costó mucho escribir este capítulo y me quedé estancada durante unos días porque quería que fuese una buena escena sexual, erótica y demás pero a la vez realista, porque me dan MUCHA rabia las fics con escenas sexuales sacadas del porno. So fake. Anygays espero que lo hayáis disfrutado muahaha.
I binged squid game last night and now all I can think about is squid game, but I want to write really bad. So I'm just going to do bts participating in squid game tonight and maybe post tomorrow or monday?
#writing update maybe? #im just here for kpop x squid game content at this point in time so
you loved the way his smile beamed through every room. you loved how pretty he looked no matter what- even after working out. you loved how soft he was when you cuddled. you loved the way his hands fit your hips so perfectly, almost as if that was the place they were meant to rest.
you loved the way he always- always- managed to leave something in your apartment after his occasional visit. and you loved the way that, when you chased after him to give him the thing he left- whether it be a hoodie or a small thing such as a pencil- he’d only shake his head and say, “just a reason to come back.”
you found those words crazy, considering how he always kept true to that phrase. after awhile, it became more of a promise. but now, after two years of no contact, you wondered if those words meant anything anymore. with his single earbud clutched tightly in your hand, you couldn’t help but question his honesty.
— a little something ive written at 11:30 at night while on a trip. dont have my laptop with me so i cant exactly put this into proper format (ill do it when i get home if i remember) but i was wondering if i should write it? thoughts? send me a message or reply if you want me to write it!
Guys, words can't describe my love and appreciation for the Kpop community. It's like family automatically. One of my favorite things is exchanging writings with my friends. It's such an amazing feeling getting something written for you and then writing something specifically for someone else as a gift ❤️❤️
#i just love you guys #and so many of you are so talented #im like 'okay ill write for you but it wont be as amazing as what you write for me' #but the love and appreciation and friendship is so worth it #that being said #lemme know if you ever want anything written for you ! #kpop#nct#skz#stray kids
genre: professional dancer au, enemies to friends to lovers
word count: 6.5k+
warnings: cursing, alcohol, angst, suggestive sexual content, cheesiness (sue me idgaf)
summary: after attending a multi-genre dance showcase, you become begrudgingly entraptured with yugyeom, the captain of a rival dance company.
author’s note: i'm back and almost better than ever. thank you for your support <3 i also wrote this when i was really sad lol
[library] [got7 library] [relevé series]
You’re just friends.
Just friends. Just friends. Just friends.
It’s like you’re repeating it as a chant; a mantra, just to remain sane because you’re hungover as fuck and you don’t want to admit how much of an effect that a couple of words have on you.
You and me. Dinner tomorrow.
Gonna cash in your promise.
But the words are from Yugyeom. And once again, he makes you do things and feel things that you would have never imagined that you would do or feel.
Slamming your phone into the cushion of your bed screen down, you use your forearm to shield your eyes from the glaring sunlight that manages to stream through your blinds.
You should say no. You’re really busy.
But you promised.
Turning your weakened, lethargic body in the direction of your nightstand, you spot a glass of water and a bottle of Advil on it. Just as you reach for it, your door swings open to reveal an oddly chipper Lisa, hands full with a plate of toast and a mug filled with fresh coffee, not looking hungover at all (a crime, in your opinion, jealous that she isn’t experiencing your throbbing headache).
“Mornin’ girl,” she greets, giggling when you respond with an exhausted grunt, the sound partially muffled by the fact that half of your face is smashed into your pillow.
“Can you close my blinds?” you request, only opening your eyes when you sense that the sunlight has been successfully blocked from your vision.
With as much effort as you can possibly muster in your hungover state, you push yourself upright, grabbing the glass of water and the Advil.
“Thanks for this,” you say, lifting both items up before consuming them as quick as you can.
“I didn’t do anything,” you hear Lisa reply, setting down the plate of food and the cup of coffee on your nightstand before sitting on your bed.
This confuses you initially, as no one else lives in the apartment except for yourself and Lisa. Frowning, you try to reconstruct the events of last night in your mind, collecting the brief memories that manage to flash into your consciousness.
You were drunk. Very drunk. You remember laughing a lot. You remember dancing a lot. And then there was a taxi. And then…
“Yugyeom,” you whisper to yourself, unknowingly catching Lisa’s ear. Waking up in your bed, tucked into your covers with a glass of water and the Advil on your nightstand, was all him.
It’s the simplest gesture. A pure act of kindness that could be so minute that it might go unnoticed by anyone else.
But for you, as lethargic and hungover as you are, makes your heart pound and chest blossom with a level of affection and yearning that is so unfamiliar, it catches you off guard. You’re suddenly overtaken with emotion, covering your eyes as you clutch your knees towards your chest, a heavy gasp escaping your lips when the memories of the night before finally come back with full force.
It wasn’t just a taxi. It was Yugyeom carrying you into the taxi; carrying you into your apartment; lending you his jacket. It wasn’t just dancing. It was dancing with him; your body pressed against his, his arms wrapped around you; his bright smile that you’ve grown to adore; his eyes staring into yours in such a way that made you feel like he’s the only person that could make you feel this cared for.
“You good?” Lisa asks, concern growing when she watches you shake your head, words muffled.
“Fine,” you hum, tucking your head into your arms.
“So, dinner after? I was think- Ow, what the fuck…”
His question is interrupted by a push of his back, your hands pressing downwards as his legs are spread in the straddle position.
“Shh… Just take a deep breath,” you instruct softly, completely ignoring his question (on purpose, but you’re not willing to admit that), “And exhale,” you continue, pressing his back down further, using your feet in front of his thighs to maintain his alignment, deepening the stretch. Yugyeom lets out a litany of curses and you giggle at his whining, urging his legs wider open. This time around, you notice that his stomach is closer to the ground than before.
“Hm. Your flexibility is getting better, Gyeomie,” you acknowledge, laughing when you hear Yugyeom mutter, “Well thank fuck for that.”
“Ok, I’m going to press a little harder and we’re going to hold for one minute,” you inform, your hands moving once you see him nod his head. Stretching further, Yugyeom squeezes his eyes shut, breathing becoming hitched and uneven as he attempts to cope with the pain. After the minute finishes, you ease off of his back and he lets out a heavy exhale of relief.
“I don’t know how you do that after all of our practices,” he says as he leans backward, lifting his arms upward to rest the back of his head on his palms. Resting his back on the floor of his studio, he tilts his head to the side to look at you in front of the stereo, unplugging your laptop from the aux cord with a quick tug. Turns out, the force is a little too much, causing you to stumble back slightly. Unfortunately for you, your shin splints started to act up again. Yugyeom’s concern grows when he sees you wince, forehead creasing, brows furrowing, and shoulders tensing slightly.
“Are you ok?” he inquires as he lifts up from the floor, worried. Slouching onto the floor carefully, you reach for your bag to take out some lotion to massage your tense muscle.
“Yeah, it’s just that my shin splints are acting up,” you say as you pump some lotion out on your hand, applying a thick layer to your shin before taking your thumb and pressing the muscle downward. The pain causes you to recoil. Concerned, Yugyeom decides to grab some muscle tape from his bag, shuffling over to you.
“You,” Yugyeom begins, placing his large palm over your hand that’s in the process of massaging your muscle, “Are not ok,” he finishes, gently removing your hand and stopping its movements.
“Stop saying that you’re fine when you’re not. Showcase is next month, and I don’t want to see you get hurt,” he adds, your eyes softening at the affectionate undertone of his words.
Unfurling the muscle tape, Yugyeom tells you to shift the position of your legs in order to tape up your injury. You nod, allowing him to press the tape into your skin to alleviate a bit of your pain. Working from the bottom of your shin to your knee, the expanse of his palm applies even pressure across your skin, ending with his long fingers splayed just above your knee.
His motion causes your breath to hitch, your legs widening slightly out of instinct. Just by chance, Yugyeom’s thumb brushes the skin slightly above the inside of your knee, making your toes curl in your socks. Unwittingly, your eyelids flutter at the sensation, abusing your bottom lip with your teeth.
Thoughts becoming increasingly indecent, you attempt to distract yourself by taking the chance to examine the tattoos exposed by the short sleeve t-shirt that he’s wearing today. The truth tattoo that he shares with Mark, the bull that he shares with another friend, and the pretty dandelion that he has on his forearm; your personal favorite. Reaching out with a free hand, you absentmindedly trace it as he tapes your shin up, paying special attention to each petal, each character.
“This is pretty,” you admit, suddenly breaking the comfortable silence that took over in the studio space.
“Thanks,” Yugyeom says before the warmth of his touch leaves your leg, unwittingly disappointing you.
“So, dinner tomorrow. Are you free?” he asks, the question causing you to freeze in the middle of packing your bag. Biting your lip, you pause to assess your options.
Is he asking you out? Or is it just food with friends? You don’t know.
“Uhm… Can I take a rain check on that? I just… Since showcase is coming up so soon, I’m getting really busy with my other pieces and my solo too… And you’re probably busy right?” you answer, wanting to play it on the safe side. Ignoring the immediate regret that you’re beginning to experience, you hastily put your jacket on, preparing to take your leave.
“Yeah, I’m pretty busy too,” Yugyeom responds with a smile, but voice softer than usual.
“I guess that I’ll see you soon?” you say with a smile, opening the door to make your leave once you see him nod.
Yugyeom waits for a couple of seconds before slumping onto the floor, pressing the heel of his palms against his forehead, the forced smile from before disappearing rapidly from his expression.
The drive over to Yugyeom’s place is more exciting than it should be, considering that driving is a pretty mundane task. That, and it’s eight in the morning, way too early for anyone to be up and about on a Saturday. But you’re willing to sacrifice a little bit of your sleep because Yugyeom specifically requested a cleaning sesh, and you only had Saturday morning free.
You’ve also been avoiding him.
Nothing against Yugyeom at all, it’s just that you’ve been trying to control the feelings that start to bubble over when you see him…
You also miss dancing. With him. Specifically.
Successfully caffeinated, almost fully awake, and alert, you text Yugyeom to inform him of your arrival.
I’m here in front of the main door.
Unfortunately for your patience, it wears thin once ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty minutes pass by with no sign of Yugyeom.
Peering through your car windows, you dart your head around to see if you might have missed him coming up behind another car or leaving from a different exit. There’s still no sight of Yugyeom though; you’re beginning to think that he might have slept in.
Before getting too irritated, you tell yourself to calm down, reciting the fact that everyone has the capability to sleep in, so you should cut him some slack. After waiting for another ten minutes, you spot someone walking towards the entrance of the Yugyeom’s building, recognizing the bright hair, flashy clothing, lanky frame, and tinted sunglasses immediately.
As fast as you possibly can, you open your car door and yell out BamBam’s name, hopefully catching his attention before he enters the building. Your voice echoes in the street, obviously terrifying him, causing his body to jump up as his hand presses against his chest. BamBam squints in the direction of your car, causing dread and embarrassment to wash over you. Does he not remember who you are?
Luckily, his eyebrows raise, recognizing your face once he takes a couple steps toward your car. He greets you with a wave and a smile, asking why you’re here at such an early hour. You explain that you’re here to pick up Yugyeom for a scheduled practice that he requested.
“He’s really late though. I think that he slept in,” you say, tone displaying that you’re obviously annoyed by his tardiness. BamBam hums in acknowledgment, stating that Yugyeom went out with him and some other friends the night before, likely sleeping in due to staying out late. Upon hearing of this information, your mild annoyance from before morphs into genuine irritation at his irresponsible action. Yugyeom is the one who asked for this practice session, not you. He knew that you two were supposed to be working on your piece this morning, so how could he stay out so late knowing that he has a responsibility with you?
Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you attempt to calm your emotions before getting too mad. If anything, Yugyeom could have a good reason for being late. As if BamBam can read your mind, he asks if you would like to come up with him to their shared apartment to wake him up. Nodding in agreeance, you exit your car, walking towards the entrance with him as you lock your car with a press of a button. Once you hear the characteristic click of your car, BamBam opens the door for you to step through it, thanking him in the process.
At first, it’s quiet, neither one of you speaking a word to each other. But luckily for you, BamBam decides to break the awkward silence with an apology.
“I’m sorry for how we acted during showcase,” BamBam starts, pausing his sentence to press the floor number in the elevator, “We should have been more considerate, and I should’ve said sorry when we first met.”
“Are you just apologizing because Yugyeom told you guys to?” you poke back, wanting to tease him a little. This makes BamBam immediately disagree, voice stuttering as he attempts to assure that he’s apologizing out of his own accord.
“I’m kidding. Relax,” you assure him, giggling at how fast he’s shaking his head and how panicked he sounds, “Thank you for apologizing, BamBam. I was really mad because that one guy said something that pissed me off, but that doesn’t excuse how snappy I got. I’m sorry too.”
“It’s ok. That guy is a dickhead,” BamBam quips, making you laugh at how candid he’s being.
“Isn’t he on your team?” you ask after agreeing with him, a bit surprised that he’s shit-talking his own crew member.
“Not anymore. Mr. Captain kicked him off once showcase ended. The guy was super mad about it; he made a whole fuckin’ scene. It’s been months and he hasn’t even cleared his locker yet,” BamBam shrugs before extending his hand, gesturing for a handshake, “Also, just call me Bam,” he continues with a smile, shaking your hand once your palm meets his.
A shy grin spreads across your face at the news. It looks like Yugyeom kept his promise.
“Speaking of Mr. Captain…” BamBam trails off when you both make it to the front of their apartment door, BamBam shuffling through his pockets to look for the keys. Once he finds them, he unlocks the door with a satisfying click, pushing the door open swiftly.
Once you step inside, you reach down to remove your sneakers as BamBam walks further into the apartment, yelling for Yugyeom to wake up. You giggle at the things that BamBam decides to say; ‘wake the fuck up’ and ‘never keep a lady waiting’ are among your favourites.
In the midst of his yelling, your eyes spot a pair of glittery silver heels and black dress shoes haphazardly thrown on the floor, missing the doormat entirely. At first, you’re moderately confused. Perhaps, they’re BamBam’s or Yugyeom’s; you’re not here to judge. So, you pick each shoe up from opposite sides of the foyer, placing them on the shoe rack neatly before exiting the foyer.
However, you’re perplexed when BamBam stops you, his body partially blocking your view of the rest of the apartment. Just by glancing at his face, you can tell that something is amiss.
“Is everything ok?” you frown, alarmed by his panicked expression. You poke your head around, looking over BamBam’s shoulder before he steps into your line of sight again, blocking your vision.
“Mhm. Yup. Everything’s good. Peachy. He’s just coming out, so you should go back to your car and wait for him there,” BamBam rambles, leaving you unconvinced with the way he pauses awkwardly between each phrase. Doing your best to maintain eye contact with BamBam, your eyes narrow in defiance and suspicion. Successfully dodging BamBam’s body, you swivel around him with a swift and agile motion, walking into the living room of their shared apartment.
“Gyeom-ah, hurry up! I don’t wanna have to pay for late cancella-” you cut yourself off when you reach his open bedroom door, ears catching the sound of the shower running as you spot a figure underneath his comforter, “-tion.”
Long hair is sprawled over his pillows, bare back exposed to the air, face unfamiliar. It takes you a second, but you eventually widen your eyes in realization. When BamBam said ‘go out’ he meant to go out to get laid.
Yugyeom needed something. Anything, absolutely anything, to distract himself from you.
He hadn’t seen you in weeks, but it seemed that every practice and every meeting, his attraction to you increased tenfold. He had to hide the way that he stared at you during practice, teased by your figure in those tight bodysuits and skirts, the skin he saw when you chose to wear something showing off your back or a sliver of midriff.
At first, he thought that his source of attraction was due to the form-fitting clothing, but he still wants you in the exact same way in baggy sweatpants and a sweatshirt. By now he’s had a lot of practices with you, but Yugyeom didn’t even seem to remember if those were even necessary for work, or just because he wanted to see you.
He doesn’t know why he’s like this. Just to be a glutton for punishment, he’s also asked for more time with you tomorrow under the guise of cleaning up the choreography, on a Saturday, no less. He felt guilty for taking up your time on a weekend, just after you rejected his request for dinner. Contrary to what he believed, you agreed to his last-minute request, booking a studio space in your building as well as offering to pick him up without question.
For someone that branded herself as a ‘primo bitch’, he’s discovered that you’re actually very nice. That is, if the person in question is on your good side. It made him laugh, the way that your serious, blunt, and no-nonsense demeanor contrasted with how you actually are; overwhelmingly kind.
He wasn’t sure that he could even categorize his feelings as pure attraction anymore; it has progressed to the point where his heart burns and his eyes soften when you do the most mundane things in front of him. You could be putting on pointe shoes, writing down corrections in your notebook, or fastening your hair into a bun; he becomes overwhelmed with a level of affection and fondness that left him weak.
But you didn’t seem like you’re interested in any of that, always responding to his advances with a blank stare.
That brings Yugyeom in the middle of a rowdy club that the boys dragged him to, for reasons that included cheering up his mopey ass.
Yugyeom shouldn’t even be here, though. He knows that he has a practice session with you tomorrow morning, but he’s here, drunk and sulking at the overcrowded bar on his nth shot. BamBam left 15 minutes ago with a mystery person to do God knows what at their place, and he doesn’t know where the hell his four other friends went, but at least one, Jinyoung, seems to stick around with him.
“Why are you over here moping?” Jinyoung asks, clearly seeing the drop in Yugyeom’s mood the minute that they walked into the building. He nudges at Yugyeom’s shoulder with his hand, eyebrows raising in question as he sips out of his beer.
At first, Yugyeom doesn’t speak a single word, fiddling with an empty shot glass instead. But he can see the way that Jinyoung’s brow furrows and forehead creases, clearly worried. Yugyeom sighs, not wanting to bring down Jinyoung’s mood. Getting together with his friends is a rarity these days, especially since they’re all so busy. Guilt washes over him when his wasted brain realizes that Jinyoung is taking care of his sad ass instead of having fun like they’re supposed to.
“No reason,” Yugyeom responds groggily, dodging Jinyoung’s question. He doesn’t want to worry him, so Yugyeom downs another shot before making his way towards the dance floor. He leaves behind an unconvinced Jinyoung at the bar, looking for something, anything, that will make the feeling of overwhelming disappointment and heartache go away.
Yugyeom decides that ‘anything’ is going to become ‘someone’ when he spots a pretty girl in a tight dress make eyes at him from across the dance floor. He saunters over to the stranger, drunkenly requesting a dance. Yugyeom assesses that she’s pretty wasted too, just based on the fact that her words indicating acceptance slur together. She grabs his hand and presses her body against his, whispering in his ear as he drags her through the thick of people.
The mystery girl turns around and grinds her ass into his lap messily, simultaneously swaying her hips with his to the beat of the song blasting through the speakers. She doesn’t stop talking, he observes, alcohol-fueled brain still able to make out her voice over the loud music. Yugyeom is absolutely plastered at this point, grabbing at her waist, pressing against her ass harder, and squeezing his eyes shut to block out her voice and the flashing neon lights. Even in his hazy, drunken mind, he knows that the entire situation feels wrong.
She doesn’t move the way that you do. She doesn’t dance the way that you do. She doesn’t make him feel the way that you make him feel. She just isn’t you. Attempting to cover up how shitty he’s feeling, he flips her around to press his lips against her neck, laving at the skin there before making it up to her ear. With alcohol pumping through his body, he rasps slowly into her ear, asking her to come back to his place with him.
Once Yugyeom sees her agree, he drags her in the direction of the exit. Jinyoung makes eye contact with him from the bar as he pushes through the rowdy crowd, too inebriated to see the rest of his friends stare at him in concern. After he drunkenly requests for an Uber on his phone, he crawls into the backseat of the car with her, immediately crashing his lips against hers clumsily. He feels even more terrible than he was before, knowing that he’s just using this girl to make him feel better.
But Yugyeom is going to prioritize his feelings over his morals; just for tonight.
Your gut drops at the sight, mouth falling open as the feeling of crushing heartbreak blooms in your chest, devastating you. The rational part of your brain is telling you that you shouldn’t be affected by this; you shouldn’t be upset, because it isn’t like you and Yugyeom are romantically involved in any way. He’s free to do whatever he wants, and you know this. But the thing is, you are upset by seeing another woman in the bed of a man that you’re not even in a relationship with.
It’s like you have actual feelings for him.
A couple of seconds pass by at your recognition of the situation, but you’re not even able to fully process that your self-proclaimed, shallow crush has morphed into something else entirely. However, it hits you once your eyes follow the various articles of clothing scattered all over the hardwood floor and the side table, finally comprehending that the silver heels that you found in the foyer are hers.
The realization renders you unable to keep your emotions at bay, your hands at your sides clenching into tense fists to stop the tears from welling up in the corner of your eyes. Unwittingly, your broken heart causes you to revert to a bad habit that you’ve always had; fueling anger with hurt.
He planned to meet you. He asked you. But he decided to be completely irresponsible and disrespectful of the time that you set aside for him, disregarding his arrangements and plans to get his dick wet instead. At this point, your heartbreak transforms into pure animosity, digging your nails into your palms. You don’t even notice that BamBam caught up, standing behind you as his eyes dart between you and the mystery girl passed out on his bed.
At least she was, now stirring due to the commotion that you and BamBam caused. This must suck for her, waking up with a probable hangover, greeting strangers with no clothes on.
Staying silent, you remain speechless when you hear the sound of running water stop, the door of the bathroom opening into the bedroom with a loud squeak.
Just as you predicted, Yugyeom waltzes into the bedroom in baggy shorts and no shirt, ruffling his wet hair with a towel. You aren’t even able to appreciate how good he looks because of how pissed and upset and unbelievably heartbroken you are at the moment. Once he turns the corner, his eyes immediately lock with yours, the deafening silence in the bedroom remaining. You open your mouth to speak first, fueled by anger, but you’re interrupted by a shuffling sound coming from the bed.
The second that the mystery girl spots you at the bedroom door, she sits up on his bed with a jolt. Her eyes dart awkwardly between you and the man she spent the night with, fishing around for her clothes as she attempts to cover herself up with his sheets.
You’re not sure if your next action is out of mercy or obligation, but you hand her the clothing that’s strewn around the room, ushering her bedsheet-covered body into the hallway without a word. You don’t even notice BamBam squeezing himself through the gap in the door before you close it, leaving you and Yugyeom in the room. What she’s doing on the other side of the wall is unclear, but you can tell by the shuffling sound that she’s probably leaving as quickly as she can. It’s clear that she obviously doesn’t want to be around for the conversation that you and Yugyeom will inevitably have.
Out of sheer spite, you utterly refuse to speak first. You’re angry; or at least, you’re trying to convince yourself that you are. Crossing your arms across your chest, you sink your weight into your left hip, waiting for Yugyeom to explain himself. That decision proves to be a mistake once he walks closer, your eyes catching the red and purple marks littered over his neck, likely placed there by the woman that you found in his bed.
You’re leaving before he has a chance to continue.
You can’t do this. You can’t just stand there and be surrounded by this reality; Yugyeom doesn’t have feelings for you, and he would rather get his dick wet than go to practice with you.
And you know what? That’s fine, you think to yourself, delusionally repeating, it’s fine. Everything is fine. Why would it not be fine? He can do whatever he wants. You two aren’t dating. It’s fine it’s fine everything is perfectly fucking fine-
Everything isn’t fine though, because your hands are shaking uncontrollably, grip weak as you struggle to twist the doorknob fast enough. The corner of your eyes is getting wet and you’re panicking at this point, heartbeat racing when you jostle the handle forcefully. Exhaling in relief when it finally clicks open, you step out of the room.
You have to leave. Now. Because if you look at the clothes and the messy bed and him for any longer, your unfeigned façade is going to crack; peeled and fractured away until there’s nothing left but your feelings for him, and you can’t have that.
You’re practically speed walking out of the apartment, so preoccupied with your own thoughts and emotions that you fail to notice Yugyeom chasing after you, yelling, “Wait, please!” passing Bambam and the girl that he slept with (fully clothed, thank God). Once you reach the front door, you slide your sneakers half on. You don’t even bother with lacing them up; the only thing on your mind is getting out of here because you can’t have Yugyeom see you like this; distraught and hurt over him-
All motion stops when you hear him yell your name in the hallway, his wrist yanking you back to face him. Yugyeom sees you squeeze your eyes shut to brace yourself, causing him to internally scold himself for being so rough with you. He didn’t intend to be so forceful, but he doesn’t want to lose you without explaining himself. Yugyeom is beginning to think that you’re upset with him enough to not look him in the eye, but he’s glad to see you open them, just enough to meet his gaze.
You’re upset, yes. Not necessarily because of him, though. You were initially angry at him for blowing you off, but now, you’re just mad. At yourself. How could you allow yourself to indulge these feelings for him like you have?
The flirty texts; treating him to his favourite foods; booking more practices with him, not because you needed them but because you simply wanted to be with him; you should’ve never done any of those things in the first place. It should’ve been purely business, and you chastise yourself for making it more than that. And because you’re focusing on holding it together, you don’t notice that Yugyeom is equally as hurt and distraught. But Yugyeom takes note of you; he’s always been good at that.
You’re on the verge of sobbing and breaking apart in front of him, eyes glassy with tears beginning to well up in the corner of your eyes. Blinking the tears away, you bite your bottom lip, trying your best to suppress how much you’re shaking at the moment, overwrought with woefulness.
He manages to notice that you’re incredibly distressed, so he attempts to wrap his arms around you for a hug.
No, you think to yourself, pushing his advances away with a shake of your head. Yugyeom’s heart drops at your rejection, “Y/N, I-”
“It’s fine,” you cut him off sharply, faking a smile as you wrap your fingers around his wrist, tugging his grip away. You take a step back from him, reassuring, “We can reschedule practice. It’s clean already so you don’t need to worry about the piece.”
Yugyeom frowns at that, stomach sinking at what he’s hearing from you. It isn’t just fine. He isn’t ok and neither are you. If anything, his heart breaks at the fact that you’re mentioning work in a situation like this.
Fuck work, fuck dance, he repeats in his head; he doesn’t give a shit about that. It isn’t about work or dance for him when it comes to you. Not anymore. But maybe it never was.
All he’s ever wanted since the day that he met you was just…
And because he cares for you; loves you; deeply; affectionately; irrevocably; to the point where losing you terrifies him to his core; his very being, he lets you go, watching your back retreat further and further from his sight.
The second that Lisa’s question reaches your ears, you break apart in front of her with a shake of your head, bottom lip trembling as salty tears begin streaming down your cheeks, wrapping your arms around for a tight hug. You’re clutching onto her for any semblance of comfort, tucking your head into the crook of her neck as you sob, letting out little sounds of sniffling and wheezing.
Immediately, concern washes over her. She’s taken aback by your uncharacteristic sudden burst of sadness, reaching out to lock the door before guiding you into your shared apartment. You crumple onto the couch to hug at the throw pillow, Lisa wiping your tears with the sleeve of her hoodie.
She doesn’t ask any more questions; she doesn’t push further.
Instead, she waits until the tears subside, making a cup of coffee for you in the kitchen before joining you again.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” she asks softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, allowing you to cuddle against her in solace.
You sigh out before chewing at your bottom lip, attempting to disguise how shaky and hoarse your voice is from crying, “He blew off practice.”
At first, Lisa frowns at this, confused by the inconsistency in the degree of reaction in comparison. That is, until you continue, adding on, “Showed up to his place with a girl in his bed.”
Lisa’s jaw drops at the news. She doesn’t have to push you to tell her who it’s concerning; she already understands that you’re talking about Yugyeom.
“I know that I shouldn’t be sad,” you start, pausing with a sniffle, “He can do whatever he wants. We aren’t together but it just…” you trail off, squeezing your eyes shut, not wanting to cry even more than you already have.
“Hurts. Because he doesn’t…” you stop, not wanting to say it out loud because it would make it real, “I think that I might-”
You cut yourself off.
Love him, you want to admit badly, desperately, but you won’t allow it. You can’t allow it. He literally just slept with someone who isn’t you, and there’s no way that he returns your feelings in your mind. You thought that he might’ve, based on how much he’s grown to enjoy your company; the times that he’s given advice during your worst cases of choreo block; the times that he’s paid for your tea and snacks; that time he got you home safely after a party; that time he taped your injury up with the gentlest, most tender touch.
Just thinking about it makes your cheeks warm.
But clearly, it looks like he’s gotten over it.
And that fact makes your heart crumble under the weight of sheer regret; you should’ve told him how you felt on the day that you met with him in that little café, smiling and laughing while talking about your shared love; dance.
“And God,” you pause, pressing your palms against your eyelids with a trembling exhale, “Showcase is soon. How the fuck am I supposed to see him and… Rehearse with him? Dance with him? Our piece represents our teams! I don’t wanna fuck anything up for him… What am I supposed to do?”
Lisa grabs at your shoulders and shakes them back and forth, as if she’s shocking you back to life. She gets right in your face and tells you something that you desperately needed to hear, “You’re amazing. And not having him there isn’t anything new. Wipe off those damn tears, get on that stage, and do what you do best.”
In all of their years of friendship, Bambam has never seen his best friend this distraught. This upset.
“I fucked up,” Yugyeom mumbles with his hands on his forehead, laying on the couch as he repeats, “I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up.”
In Bambam like fashion, he dims the lighting and closes the curtains to fit the mood of the conversation. Yugyeom becomes frustrated with this, nearly yelling with tears threatening to stream down his face, “I’m being serious!”
“I am being serious, you idiot!” Bambam yells back, fed up, “My best friend is hurting and you think that I’m not being serious?”
Yugyeom recoils at this; Bambam never raises his voice like that.
“Sorry,” Yugyeom apologizes, shaking his head in his hands, “I just… I can’t believe that I did that to her. What was I thinking?”
Yugyeom is huffing at this point, panting for breath, heartbeat quickening. Bambam recognizes this as him wanting to vent, so he remains quiet, sitting down on the couch wordlessly.
“Dance is so important to her and I just… Blew her off! And for what? Mediocre sex?” he rants to himself as if Bambam isn’t even there, arms waving around in the space as he argues with himself. What makes him so angry is that he managed to make you think that he doesn’t value you or your time. If Yugyeom knows anything, it’s the fact that dance is more than just work for you; it’s your life, your everything.
“Idiot!” he calls himself, slapping his forehead before running his fingers through his hair in distress. And at that, Bambam huffs, moving close enough for him to wrap an arm around Yugyeom’s shoulders.
“You’re right. You are an idiot,” Bambam deadpans, making Yugyeom pressing his face into his palms again, bending over to rest his elbows on his thighs.
“Ugh. Way to make me feel better, asshole,” Yugyeom snipes, voice hoarse and muffled by his hands. He drags his palms down his cheeks to wipe away the tears collecting at the corner of his eyes, just to glare at Bambam.
“Look, man. The girl that you slept with? On the dot,” Bambam says, causing Yugyeom to trace his left cheek, reminiscing the slap that she placed on it an hour ago.
He remembers that she had hit him, hair messy and nostrils flared, muttering angrily, “That’s for sleeping with me when you have a girlfriend, asshole.”
Yugyeom frowns at the recollection, dumbfounded, “What do you mean? Y/N isn’t my girlfriend, if you’re referring to what she said-”
Bambam interrupts him when he exhales in effort, fed up with how dense his best friend is being. Pinching his nose bridge and squeezing his eyes shut in frustration, he utters, “She seems to think differently.”
Yugyeom’s face remains blank, mouth agape. Even when Dalkyum wanders into his lap for comfort, his expression fails to change. Bambam sees this, and transitions from frustrated to absolutely exasperated.
“Y/N likes you, dumbass.”
Oh, Yugyeom’s eyes widen at the mere notion, but almost instantaneously dismisses it.
“No. She’s mad because I blew her off,” Yugyeom counters, mumbling the same phrase to himself right after he said it audibly. It’s as if he’s attempting to cement it in his mind, to tell himself; to convince himself that such a reality would be unattainable. No, he thinks again, he shouldn’t entertain the idea of dating you; being with you; sleeping with you-
“All those practices? Buying you food? Showing up to Pulse just to see you? Clinging to you when she’s drunk? Hello?”
“Come on, man. Have you seen the way that she looks at you when you dance? It’s kinda disgusting, to be honest.”
Yugyeom slaps the side of his face with both hands before dragging them down, jaw dropping. He doesn’t know what to do; scream, yell, cry, or what, so he ends up grabbing at the throw pillow in Bambam’s lap. In all his pent-up frustrations and sadness and sheer anger with himself and how completely fuckin’ stupid he is, he screams into the cushion.
The action spooks the hell out of his dog, Dalkyum yelping in protest at Yugyeom’s sudden outburst.
Yugyeom doesn’t notice though, so Bambam collects Dalkyum from his lap, placing him in his own with a pat of his head.
“God. Then I really fucked up, huh?” he sighs in defeat, the volume of the sentence tamped down by the plushness of the cushion. At long last, Bambam gives a silent, triumphant cheer of his hands as he mouths out; fucking finally, right before telling his best friend, “Have fun trying to fix this.”
Every time! Every 👏🏾 single 👏🏾 time! Jake should not be using AAVE! No nonblack person should be using it! “My g” is AAVE and certainly does not mean ghetto. MIND YOUR BUSINESS CUZ YOU SOUND STUPID!!!!
i am sam, a twenty year old undergrad student with a flair of being poetically dramatic. i am a capricorn sun, scorpio moon, and gemini rising. i like marvel, kpop, and true crime. my guilty pleasure? binge watching the same 30 minute video about space. i like starting books and then starting another one.
i write for kpop groups, and want to start writing for marvel, so, yea! ʚ(╹.╹)ɞ
i am currently participating in preptober — the month long novel prep before NaNoWriMo in November.
I’m looking for a fanfiction writing community, mostly on discord but open to other places, where a bunch of people from various fandoms can get together and chat, ask for writing advice, share prompts, etc. I’m looking for a chill place that’s not too strict but still has rules in place to stop people from arguing/bullying. I prefer smaller but still active groups because I don’t do well in large groups.
If you know of a community like this, please let me know, I’d really appreciate it!
I mostly write anime, but I also dabble in Kpop, some live action, video games - whatever catches my attention. I love challenges and I only write reader insert fics. Ship fics and character x character are just really hard for me to write and I don’t like them. I am 18+ but most of my content is SFW and those that aren’t are labeled as such. On rare occasions, I write original fiction, as well.
My circle of writer friends is quite small so I’d like to expand my circle and make some new friends to talk about writing and fics with =D
“Is it just me or is it really stuffy in here?” Minhyuk asked.
“I’m actually kinda cold.” IM said from the back checking the mirror to see Minhyuk dabbing at his sweaty forehead. “You feeling Alright Hyung? We all did eat a lot before we left.”
“I’ll be ok.” Minhyuk sighed. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I can tell Manager Hyung to pull over and let you switch places with me.” Kihyun added from the passenger seat.
“No No. I’ll be fine, I’m a terrible navigator.” Minhyuk said flashing a fake smile. “Plus I’m really tired.”
That answer raised a red flag to Kihyun and probably Shownu too considering the concerned glance he gave Minhyuk. Tired Minhyuk typically talked nonstop, not quietly sitting still and staring out the window.
“Changkyun, you want to share my blanket?” There’s enough for both of us. We’ve still got a few hours to go.” Hyungwon said from beside Changkyun.
“Yeah, thanks Hyung.” Changkyun mumbled.
“I’m going to take a nap. I’d rather not be disturbed so I’m putting my headphones on.” Hyungwon said.
“I should nap too.” Minhyuk said yawning.
Shownu guided the Sunshine’s head to his shoulder, running a hand through his sweaty hair to check for a fever. He left an arm wrapped around the second oldest and continued to read his webtoon.
After about half an hour Shownu looked over at Minhyuk who had taken on a sickly pale appearance and had his eyes squeezed shut, one hand hand tightly clasped into a fist while the other was beneath his shirt. He sighed as he knew they were in the middle of a traffic jam and couldn’t just pull over.
“Minhyuk? You feeling alright?” Shownu asked, feeling around for a plastic bag in his backpack.
Minhyuk shook his head no before staring at the floor of car like it was the most interesting thing he’d seen all day.
Shownu found one in the front pocket but didn’t take it out, instead pulling out some lip balm to attempt to cover up what he was doing.
“This Traffic is awful Hyung, don’t feel bad if you are going to get sick, just give us a warning.” Jooheon added from the other side of him.
“I’ll be ok.” Minhyuk said softly, right before their manager slammed on the breaks.
“I’m sorry. I’m trying my best to drive safely but apparently I’m the only who thinks about that around here.” Their manager apologized, glaring at the car in front of them.
“It’s not you. It’s just…” Minhyuk stopped and pressed a fist over his mouth, feeling something splash at the back of his throat.
“anyone have a bag?” Changkyun asked from the back row, glancing at Hyungwon who’s weak stomach has gotten him sympathy sick a few times, but he was fast asleep, he reached over and turned on the noise canceling feature on his headphones.
Shownu started to unfold a plastic bag from the front pocket of his bag.
“Their should be a few airsickness bags in the seat pockets in front of Jooheon and Hyunwoo.” Their manager said.
“Hyungwon is asleep with his headphones on. So don’t worry about him, he’s as responsive as a corpse to noise like that. ” Kihyun said from the front, reaching around to pat his leg.
Minhyuk waived him off, it wouldn’t have mattered where he sat. He felt vomit splash in the back of his throat and immediately swallowed it down. He really didn’t want to be sick.
“Hyung. It’s better to just get it over with. There is no way we could pull over right now. There was a bad accident a few kilometers ahead and it’s too populated to just puke on the side on the Road.” Chankyun said.
“The maknae is right, I can see you struggling.” Shownu said, shaking out the bag and handing it to him.
“Should I try to pull over?” Their Manager asked.
“Just try to get us home.” Minhyuk responded queasiness evident in his voice.
“It will be ok, Hyung.” Jooheon said, rubbing the back of his neck as he hesitantly lifted the bag to his face.
Minhyuk shoved his head into the bag as he bent forward with a gag. Shownu helped him hold the bag steady while Jooheon had a hand on his back.
Shownu winced as he heard liquid hit the bottom of the bag. He felt so bad for Minhyuk, getting carsick was never fun and they’ve all had their moments with it as they were in the car a lot.
“You’re okay.” Shownu soothed, trying to anything in his power to help his miserable member.
Minhyuk bent foreward again and Shownu could feel the bag grow heavier with each heave. Minhyuk let out a whimper before pitching foreward again.
“You’ll feel better once you get it out of your system.” Kihyun said from the front, wanting to crawl back there and do anything he could to make his Hyung feel better.
Minhyuk took a few deep breaths after moving his head out of the opening.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that.” Minhyuk said softly.
“Don’t worry about us Hyung. Kihyun said, patting his leg again.
“Hey it’s ok. Are you done?” Shownu asked
“I’m not sure.” Minhyuk admitted.
“Let me give you a fresh bag.” Shownu said, grabbing and opening a new bag.
Shownu placed it in Minhyuks hand, taking the used one and closing it, trying not to grimace at the foul liquid. He placed it in the grocery bag he kept in his backpack and stuck it on the floor.
“Can you open the windows a bit to get some airflow?” Shownu asked their manager who proceeded to roll the windows down a bit.
“Why don’t you get some rest. I can tell you are beyond exhausted.” Jooheon said.
Minhyuk rested his head on Shownu’s shoulder again, slowly falling asleep. He woke up a half hour later, barely having enough time to get the bag over his mouth before he was sick again. He felt so overwhelmed and only noticed that he started to cry once Jooheon mentioned it.
“Oh Minhyuk, don’t cry.” Joohoney said softly, watching as his member pitched forward with a heave.
“He’s crying?” Changkyun asked, checking the mirror.
“Don’t cry, it will make me wanna cry.” Kihyun said softly.
“Crying? Who’s crying?” Hyungwon asked.
“Hyung I thought you were asleep. Go back to sleep please.” Changkyun said, confused at the sudden outburst.
“Why? what’s going on? Hyungwon asked.
“Minhyuk is really carsick.” Shownu said. “I’d recommend putting your headphones back on and occupying yourself for a few minutes.”
“Oh. Ohhh. Sounds Good.” Hyungwon said, his face draining of color as he realized what was happening in front of him.
Changkyun latched onto his Hyung to console him as Minhyuk threw up again. A few minutes later, Minhyuk put the bag down and in a small voice mumbled. “I’m done.”
Shownu took the bag from him and tied it up, sticking it in the grocery bag with the other sick bag. Kihyun passed around some hand sanitizer and they all used it to cover up the smell before Changkyun removed Hyungwons headphones.
“I’m sorry guys.” Minhyuk said sadly.
“Hey hey. None of that. You couldn’t help it.” Hyungwon said, reaching over to ruffle his hair.
“We need you to feel better soon. We want our Sunshine back.” Jooheon said, wiping his tears.
“You did good, bud. I hate seeing you guys like this.” Shownu said, pulling Minhyuk to his side, well as much as he could with the seatbelt holding him hostage.
“We’re almost home. And I’ve got some good news!” Their manager said. “Your Interviews tomorrow have been canceled and you have the day off! You were supposed to have dance practice but I’ll cancel it once I’m not driving, I think you all, especially Minhyuk need the break.”
“Thank you so much.” Kihyun said, “also we are half an hour away from home.”
“I’m glad my suffering allowed us to have a day off, but it didn’t mean it was worth it.” Minhyuk mumbled causing everyone to laugh.
“Oh here is a mint. It will help with the taste in your mouth. and a ginger thingy, it may help any residual queasiness.” Hyungwon said, handing him a peppermint and a ginger candy.
“That would have been helpful beforehand,” Jooheon responded.
“It’s not my fault no one woke me up.” Hyungwon argued, jokingly.
“Thanks Hyungwon.” Minhyuk said, glancing back at the lanky vocalist, immediately regretting it as it caused a major dizzy spell.
Minhyuk leaned his head against Shownus shoulder willing the dizziness to go away.
“Are you going to be sick again?” Shownu asked, hearing the vocalist inhale sharply.
“Don’t think so. Just got really dizzy.” Minhyuk mumbled into his shoulder.
“Don’t move too much it will make it worse.” Shownu responded, feeling his forehead for a fever.
“I’m just carsick.” Minhyuk responded as Shownu shrugged, not finding a fever.
“The ginger should help. I’m still surprised that Mr. never-carries-a-bag, managed to have something actually helpful in his bag.” Jooheon responded. “Wait! Make sure it’s not expired!”
“I bought it last week.”Hyungwon said, rolling his eyes “FYI I was going to give some to Kihyun and Changkyun but Minhyuk wouldn’t let me stick my blanket in his bag and Hwungwoo wouldn’t let me carry it.”
“Thank you for being prepared, for once.” Kihyun joked.
Hyungwon huffed and crossed his arms.
“Is he pouting?” Minhyuk asked.
“Yes. Yes he is.” Jooheon responded.
Minhyuk couldn’t help but crack a smile at Hyungwon’s fake annoyance. He still didn’t feel good but at least he has his members.
Hwang Hyunjin x gn!reader, fluff, friends to lovers.
Synopsis: just a inconvenient crush?
author's note: Guys let me tell you, this one was a wild ride, I wrote at least five versions of it until I got one that I didn't hate (turns out I am still extremely judgmental of my writing even after all this time) and then I deleted the whole thing by accident without saving, (r.i.p to the 1st version of this, gone too soon my love, you will never be forgotten 😔) then after I was finished having a mental breakdown I managed to put myself together and rewrite the whole thing. Fml I guess right. Anyway, I hope you guys like, please like and reblog to help me heal from the stress I just went through 🤚🥲
You had been friends with Hyunjin since you met him at school and even after graduation and, you know, becoming a k-pop star, both of you still managed to stay in touch. He was always so sweet and had a way to make you laugh after a hard day. You were basically best friends. Having never put much thought into your feelings about him, you always thought that you just really enjoyed his company. That was until your friend pointed out how they always could tell you were texting him because of how red your face would turn, that was when you started to wonder if you felt anything for him other than just friendship, and at that exact moment, you wanted to hit your friend.
"what?? why would you say that??" you whined, jokingly punching your friend's arm.
"But it's the truth!" They answered, laughing at your reaction.
Terrible timing, to say the least, since you guys had agreed to meet up later that week after days of not seeing each other. The days before seeing him were absolutely torturous, you really wanted it to be just a stupid inconvenient crush but every time he texted you, you wanted to throw your phone away, and your stomach? Butterflies... butterflies all the time, just thinking about him would make your face burn and it didn't help that he was always the sweetest and funniest (dreamiest too) guy ever.
The two of you had agreed to meet up for a walk at the park after work. The whole time you were acting kinda weird and he definitely noticed. He greeted you with coffee, he bought your favourite, of course, and the two of you took off, he was talking about his projects and what he has been up to, you stayed silent most of the time, barely even hearing what he said, concentrating all your being into keeping yourself together.
"Are you okay?" He asked after some time.
"Sorry, what? I mean.. of course!" You answered, trying to not give away what was going on inside your head.
"Are you sure? You are not typically this quiet" he asked, still sceptical.
"What are you talking about? I am not that talkative!" You whined.
"Hm.. sure..." he said, teasing you.
He had just left dance practice and his hair was still wet from the shower, you remember thinking you absolutely adored the smell of his shampoo. Uh oh, bad choice of thought to have, you felt your face burn and you definitely looked like a chilli pepper right now. Luckily the sun got you covered, the sunshine had everything around you, including Hyunjin himself, painted in a shade of reddish-orange.
"Are you sure there is nothing going on? You know you can tell me anything, right?" He said, trying at all costs to make you talk, you could tell by the tone of his voice that he was a bit concerned.
"There is nothing going on, I promise" you tried to sound as convincing as possible.
"Is it your friends? Are they being mean to you? Cause if they are, I may be obliged to intervene"
"What?? No!! My friends are great!" You answered quickly, taking a sip of coffee and walking towards the benches to sit.
"Good," he said, sitting by your side, a smirk forming on his lips. " cause nobody messes with my girl."
"Dammit, Hyunjin!" You thought to yourself. Sitting there you could not stop wondering what would happen if you told him about the feelings you had for him. Would it make him leave and never speak to you again? Does he have feelings for you too? No!! Of course not! What are you even thinking about! Would your friendship remain the same if he rejected you? But most importantly, would you be able to live with these feelings if you don't say anything?
You have been so deep in your thoughts that you didn't realise that neither of you had said a word in at least ten minutes. You looked at him, sitting by your side, sipping on his coffee looking annoyingly handsome, you wanted to punch him, and kiss him. "Why do you have to be so good to me?" You pondered to yourself. After a second, you finally spoke.
"I can tell you anything, right?" You said. Before even realising what you were doing.
"Of course!" He answered, facing you and making the butterflies in your stomach go absolutely insane.
"Well..." you started, taking a deep breath to gather the little courage that was left on you. "I think I'm in love with you"
For a moment he didn't say anything, you started panicking, what have you just done?? But then:
"That was about time," he said, and you were absolutely sure that his words had just killed you.
"What?" That was the only word you could formulate. You really did not see that coming.
"I have been in love with you since we met at school, but I didn't say anything because I never thought you would want anything to do with me other than just friendship," he confessed, looking down at his hands.
"Are you serious?" you were still unable to process what you had just heard.
"One hundred per cent," he said, he looked at you and gently touched your cheek with his hand. He looked into your eyes as if to ask for permission, his head moving closer to yours, you nodded a yes to him, and he gave you a smile before finally kissing you.