#(my ass could never amount to that talent)

[oddinary4bts]

Emotions of the Soul | knj

☆summary: when Namjoon reappears in your life after thirteen years of absence, you find yourself unsure of what he means to you, and of what you mean to him. Anxiety reigns over you, but will it be enough to drag you away from Kim Namjoon?

☆pairing: Kim Namjoon x artist female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: childhood/teenage lovers to strangers to lovers, idol!au, smut, angst, fluff

☆warnings: alcohol, anxiety, a reference to the reader in Now We Reign if you guys can catch it, cursing, stupid teenage threats of m*rder, an appearance from the reader in Forever, pet names, paparazzi, imposter syndrome, an ugly teenage breakup flashback, explicit content: mentions of blindfolding, switch!Namjoon, big dick!Namjoon, switch!reader, oral sex (male and female receiving), jerking off, dirty talking?, balls fondling, face riding, breast play, fingering, protected sex, praise, hair pulling (ish), ass slapping, tummy bulge (? lmao), choking, cumshot, cum eating, unprotected sex, he calls OC a slut once or twice I think

☆word count: 36.3k

☆a/n: Oof I don't know why but writing this was so so hard?? I'm happy I finally managed to finish it tho! It delves into the subject of anxiety and its effects on people, so it's a little heavy, but I hope you'll still enjoy it <3 As always, thank you to @moonleeai​ for her incredible work as my beta reader! You’re the best <3

☆Read the other installments in the Life Goes On series here!

☆☆☆☆☆

The music in the gallery was loud. It probably fitted a club better than an art exhibit, the upbeat melody having more than one person dancing and nodding their head to it. The atmosphere was warm, stuffy, even though the front doors had been left open in the hopes of getting the fresh November air in. It failed majestically, and you were sweating in your too-tight dress by the refreshment table in a corner, watching over the crowd.

You had never seen so many people in your gallery before. Had never thought your art would attract that amount of people, but it seemed the art enthusiasts of Seoul had flocked to your gallery tonight, looking to experience the art of a new talent firsthand.

At least that was what the journalists were saying, even though you had been an artist since you were a middle schooler. Fingers always stained with ink, teachers scolding you for never paying attention…

Middle school had seen your love for art blossom the way azaleas blossom after a long winter. With bright petals, vivid with life, though your art had first been the colour of the darkest nights. It had taken you years before you had incorporated colours into it, and now you were proud to see the myriad of shades painted on your pieces.

You sighed, and you reckoned maybe the mask you were wearing was the reason why you felt so stuffy. But you weren’t going to risk being recognized – no, you liked enjoying your exhibits in the anonymity of an art enthusiast. Rare were those who knew who the artist actually was, and you felt like it was the best way to have actual feedback on your art.

No one coated their words with sugar when they spoke with just another art enthusiast. So tonight, you wore the mask of the artist, the one people knew you for. It preserved your identity but also allowed people to know who the artist was when they had to. Like tonight, considering that it was the opening of your newest exhibit, The Colours of Fall.

You ordered a glass of apple-flavoured soju mixed with beer, bowing your head in thanks at the employee behind the table when they offered it to you. When you turned back around, your eyes trailed to the wall of windows on one side of the room. Though some pieces were hung there, with spotlights behind the windows to create shadows into the pieces, you still were able to see the black Sedan that was parking outside.

Paparazzi outside started flashing their cameras as someone walked out, and all you could see from where you were was a mop of black hair. More than one celebrity was in attendance tonight, so you didn’t pay attention to the person arriving more than necessary, instead focusing on the exhibit once more.

It was going well. Far better than you had first imagined it would. You had already sold numerous pieces, and your brain was running a mile a minute with ideas of what you could replace them with.

Your mask only hid the top part of your face, so you easily took a sip of your drink, inadvertently bobbing your head to the music. It was good music, it really was, but you couldn’t wait for the actual playlist you had chosen to begin.

Which wasn’t going to be for a whole other hour, unfortunately. After you said your speech and the lights turned to red, orange, and the rich yellow of autumn leaves.

Your manager moved closer to you, and she offered you a wide smile. You nodded your head and watched as she ordered the same drink as you, before standing next to you.

“The celebrity scene is going crazy over your exhibit,” Na Sooah said. “Most of those invited showed up.”

“I still can’t believe you invited the whole celebrity scene,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “Most of them know nothing about art.”

Sooah laughed. “Not all of them! Kim Namjoon just arrived.”

Your throat went dry, and the hand clutching your glass tightened at the mention of Namjoon’s name. Kim Namjoon. Your childhood friend Kim Namjoon. Your first kiss, your first time… and a member of the most famous boy group in the world. More than that, Namjoon was a fellow art enthusiast.

Namjoon’s love for art started at the same time as yours. He had been enthralled by your drawings, believing that you had a gift that needed to be nurtured and protected. Like his love for music, though his comparisons most often made no sense. To you, that is.

Namjoon had been your first heartbreak, back when every emotion felt deeper than the ocean, when anger, pain, and sadness ran longer than eternity. Back when he hadn’t even joined Big Hit yet.

“Kim Namjoon,” you repeated, tasting his name in your mouth for the first time since that ugly October night when you had told him you hated him more than anything in this world, and he had left without even a single look back.

You had never spoken after that. You had never talked about him anymore either, not to your friends or family. And when you had begged your parents to change school, they had caved in, letting you attend the same school as your cousin Miyoung.

Miyoung had been your closest friend since then, until Sooah had come into your life to form a trio with you and your cousin when you had attended college in arts.

“Yeah, he’s created quite a commotion outside,” Sooah commented, and you remembered the mop of black hair.

Could that have been Namjoon?

“And when he RSVP’ed, he mentioned that he would like to have a talk with the artist, so I hope you’re ready,” Sooah added, teasingly.

You glared at her through your mask. “You couldn’t have told me before?”

“No.”

You rolled your eyes once more, not so playfully this time, taking another sip of your drink. “He’s Kim Namjoon, you could have let a girl prepare.”

At that, Sooah laughed out loud. “Got a little crush?”

“Quite the opposite,” you said through gritted teeth.

You hated Kim Namjoon.

You noticed him then. He was dressed simply, yet it was elegant, somehow. Or maybe it was the way he carried himself, with his large and tall frame, that made him elegant. Because you doubted a pair of jeans with a gray cardigan over a light blue polo was supposed to be this elegant. His long coat matched the colour of his cardigan almost to perfection, and he flashed dimples to the employee at the coat check as he took off the coat, revealing more of his large frame.

Needless to say, Kim Namjoon didn’t look like he could rip a log in two with his bare hands back when you had first known him. No, he had been a thin, gangly teen, with arms that seemed too long for his frame.

When he was rid of his coat, he moved to the side to let the man behind him give his coat away, and then the two of them started walking together.

You had no idea who the other man was, but from the looks of it, he was a friend, as Namjoon laughed along with him.

One of your hands moved to your face, gently grazing your mask to make sure it was still well-fitted. It was like one of those masks people wore at the Venice carnival. It matched the theme of your exhibit, with autumn leaves craftily molded into it. It was a piece of art in and of itself, like all the masks you wore as an artist.

He wouldn’t recognize you. You were positive he wasn’t going to be able to recognize you with just the lower part of your face on display, especially after so many years apart. Your voice had changed to – matured, aged, like your features, quite honestly.

After all, the last time Kim Namjoon had seen you, you had been a crying, yelling, angsty fifteen-year-old.

Sooah left you to a couple that was looking to buy one of the backlit art pieces, and you explained to them the process behind the creation of the art they had chosen, eyes once in a while flitting around to make sure Kim Namjoon wasn’t in your vicinity yet.

He wasn’t. He was perusing around the gallery, stopping to talk to other celebrities once in a while, and so far, you weren’t even sure he had looked your way. Which was a good thing, because that meant maybe you’d make it to your speech before he actually tried talking to you.

You could leave immediately after your speech, right?

“And what about the subject of autumn interested you so much?” the older man in front of you asked.

You blinked out of your reverie, offering him a practiced, easy smile. “If you had to choose, would you want to witness the beginning or the end?” you asked.

It was the catchphrase of your speech. Though people could argue that the year ended and began in the winter months, you had always seen a finality in the months of fall and had portrayed it in your art.

The man seemed taken aback by your question. He cocked his head to the side, before glancing at his wife. “The end carries weight,” the wife said pensively. “It carries age and wisdom.”

You offered her a polite nod. “Exactly. I find beauty in the end and chose to portray it with the months of autumn. When life seems to come to its end.”

“Fall is beautiful,” the man agreed. “But wouldn’t you argue the start holds more beauty? With all the possibilities that it carries.”

“A different kind of beauty. Which, maybe it’s going to inspire my next exhibit,” you teased, secretively, and the couple laughed.

You talked to them a little more, and it seemed life had salvation to offer you because Sooah was the one that came to you first, and not Kim Namjoon. You said goodbye to the couple, before following your manager to the spot where you were to say your speech. As usual, nerves wracked your whole body at the sight of the standing mic, and you had to resist not to bring your thumb to your mouth to nibble on the nail. It was a habit you had gotten rid of only recently, and you really didn’t want it to come back.

Especially not in front of a crowd such as this one, in which you knew Kim Namjoon was standing.

Sooah stopped in the crowd, pushing you forward gently, inciting you to walk the rest of the way yourself. Your heart beat out of your chest as if it was about to escape your ribcage, and you took a deep steadying breath before moving out of the crowd.

The music stopped, and the lights immediately dimmed, until all that was left was a single spotlight, which shone on you as you stopped next to the mic. Back turned to the crowd, eyes skimming over the biggest piece of your exhibit. Ilsan lay before you, draped in the colours of autumn.

You breathed in and out one last time, and then you turned, stepping in front of the mic.

“If you could choose,” you started, voice steadier than you expected it’d be. “Would you choose the end or the beginning?”

The couple you had been speaking to smiled wildly at your sentence, and you let the silence linger long enough for people to whisper their own answer. Music started with low traditional instruments replacing the upbeat melody from earlier.

“There is a form of beauty in the end. In knowing you’ve seen it all, and that rest is at your door,” you continued. “There’s beauty in looking back, in wisdom, and in the Colours of Autumn.” You paused, looking over the crowd. You noticed Namjoon standing at the back, listening politely. “My exhibition carries this: the end of the year, of the cycle of nature. The beauty of fall, of leaves and October nights and November rains.” You wondered if people could tell that your hand was slightly trembling, where it held the mic. “When the wind catches and leaves blow, it is time to look back. So tonight, I want you all to take a step back, to look back on your lives and ask yourselves, ‘Have I found the wisdom of The Colours of Autumn?’”

The spotlight turned off, and you walked away from the mic to the crowd. When you turned back to look at the piece of Ilsan, a projector came to life and the story you had prepared started.

You tuned it out: you had seen the shadow and light projections so many times already they had lost all sense to you. It often happened – if you stared at your art for too long, it lost all its meaning. So you usually didn’t look back on a piece right away. You waited for the end, for the concretization that came with your exhibits, and only then did you look back.

Except the lights and shadows. You had watched those fifteen times yesterday only to make sure that everything was perfect. And you were quite the perfectionist, you knew that they were.

While everyone was watching, you slowly made your way to the back of the crowd. You surprisingly still had your drink in your hands, and you took a careful sip as you finally slipped out of the big of the crowd. The drink was flat now, and you tried to head towards the refreshment table in order to rid yourself of it.

It seemed your calculations had been wrong, because Kim Namjoon stood in front of you, in all his tall glory.

All his infuriating glory, as dimples graced his cheeks at the sight of you. They stopped you in your tracks, and you gazed up at him, eyes connecting even through the dim lighting. His friend was standing next to him, and your eyes flitted to him once before looking at Namjoon again.

Namjoon nodded his head, politely, before taking a sip of the beer he was holding. You nodded back, and then you resumed moving, thoughts spiraling like leaves in the fall wind. You made it all the way to the small door that led to the stairs to your studio before you were stopped by a large hand on your elbow.

You knew who it was without having to turn around, and you would have cursed him for not watching the show had applauds not sounded, indicating that it was over anyway.

“Hi,” Namjoon politely said when you were finally facing his way. His hand had long returned to the pocket of his jeans, and he looked infinitely nonchalant, standing there in front of you. “Sorry for the intrusion, but your manager told me to be quick to speak to you at the end if I didn’t want to miss you.”

Sooah could go to hell.

You offered a polite chuckle, though to you, it sounded like you were choking on air. Because frankly, you felt like you were. “I do usually slip away in the night,” you answered. You glanced at the door, hating that your salvation had been so close yet so far. “You caught me right before I was to leave.”

When you faced Namjoon again, you noticed the confused look on his features. His brows were furrowed over his eyes, his lips were slightly parted, and he had tilted his head to the side in confusion. His eyes, slightly narrowed, made him look like some sort of dragon, and God were you well placed to know Namjoon could breathe fire if he wanted.

At least when he was a teen, he could.

“I’ve been trying to get in contact with you,” Namjoon admitted. “Your manager said to come here if I wanted a chance to talk to you.”

You cocked an eyebrow, though the mask hid it from view. What the hell could Namjoon want to speak to you about?

“I’ve noticed you portray Ilsan in your art a lot, and since I come from there, I wanted to know if I could buy a piece,” he added to your stunned silence.

“You didn’t have to talk to me to ask for that,” you said, and you glanced around at the employees on the floor that were in charge of the actual selling.

“I wanted to have the artist’s insight on which piece she’d believe would fit best for me,” he continued, and he seemed to realize then that this was weird. He scratched the back of his neck, shrugging his shoulders a little. “Or maybe even have one made personally?”

Now, you remembered why you hated Kim Namjoon. “I do not take commissions,” you flatly replied. “If you wish to buy a piece, you can auction for one with one of my employees.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon quickly said. “I didn’t want to sound rude. Like at all. It’s just… there was this piece I really liked from your last exposition, Winds of the West? I couldn’t buy it in time.”

“I do not remake pieces.”

Silence followed your statement. Had he only then noticed how cold you were towards him?

“Right,” he eventually said. “How unfortunate. I think the person that bought it is here today. Might as well go talk to them.”

It was said like a joke, but you didn’t bite, remaining entirely stoic in front of him. Kim Namjoon didn’t seem to like it, as if he was used to people bending to his every wish, and he probably was.

“Might as well,” you agreed, hoping that it was going to make him leave.

It seemed it did the trick, because he looked over his shoulder, probably searching for the person in question. When his eyes settled back on you, he said, “Guess I’ll let you escape through the night.”

You pursed your lips, nodding once. And just because you wanted to preserve your artist image a little, even though you reckoned you had been rude to him, you said, “Good luck with getting the piece.”

At that, he lit up, and the dimples appeared.

You hated that after all these years, they still had an effect on you.

“Thank you, Maehwa,” he gently said.

Hearing him say your artist’s name had you freezing on the spot. You hoped he didn’t see the panic in your eyes, and the colours draining from the half of your face visible to people. He did furrow his eyebrows once more though, looking pensive, but you didn’t give him a chance to say anything else. Indeed, you quickly wished him good night, before turning around and stepping through the door.

Once you were in the cool darkness, back pressed against the door you’d just locked, you took another deep steadying breath, like the one you had taken before your speech.

Maehwa had been Namjoon’s nickname for you, all those years ago. Because back then, you had mostly been drawing flowers and had been attracted to the maehwas, the blooms of a plum. But maehwas were common and loved, and there was no way he could have connected the dots. He didn’t seem like he had, or else you were pretty sure he would have approached you in an entirely different fashion. Indeed, back then, he had told you he’d kill you if he ever saw you again, which, in your fifteen-year-old heart, had been quite the threat.

Once you were calmed, you walked down the stairs, breathing in a sigh of relief at the sight of your studio. Right now, it was pretty much empty, save for the painting you had started for Miyoung’s wedding next summer.

She wasn’t even engaged yet, but her boyfriend Doyoon had let you in on the secret since you were going to help with the proposal in a few weeks. You glanced at the painting, almost wishing to work on it a little just to get your mind off things. But it was late, and you’d rather be at home, with your cat Gabi.

Was it your fault if memories of Kim Namjoon swam in your head until late that night? You highly doubted so. And looking back, you couldn’t see any beauty in your ending. You, who preached that all endings held beauty. Had you just been too immature then? You thought perhaps you had been, but it didn’t really matter anymore though, did it? It couldn’t.

Why, then, were you unable to shake Kim Namjoon out of your thoughts, until troubled sleep found you in its embrace?

*****

                December was grand. With showers of fluffy snow that left a blanket on the world, and Miyoung’s engagement party. You painted, stained your fingers with blue and purple to match the colours of the winter landscape, and by the time January came, you had all but forgotten how Kim Namjoon had just reappeared one evening in late November.

Your studio was cool at this time of the year, and the windows at the top of the walls had iced with frost. You were wearing a thick sweater, with a pair of leggings you had long stained with paint, back when you were working on the fall Ilsan piece.

Indie music was playing in the background, a new artist that had been taking over Seoul and South Korea with her music. It was sad, but Miyoung had insisted that you listen to it, saying that the artist had been rookie of the year at MAMA last year. You had been supposed to accompany Miyoung to the singer’s stadium show too, but you had ended up being sick, and Sooah had gone in your stead.

The music was lonely, nostalgic, but the lyrics were powerful and inspiring. So you kept on painting, as the light of the rising sun slowly melted the frost on the window, though the corners clung to it like one clings to a lover just returned from war.

You hadn’t slept last night. Had stayed up working on your current piece, and exhaustion was slowly catching up to you, even though the inspiration hadn’t worn off yet. So you kept working, head tilting to the side whenever you finished a small part, waiting to know what the next step in the journey was.

You had a fist on your hip when Sooah and Miyoung both appeared at the top of the stairs leading to the basement, voices cheery and loud in the relative calmness of your studio.

“Please tell me you haven’t been up all night,” Miyoung scolded you, and your gaze slid to where she was walking down the stairs, hands holding up two coffees.

She handed one to you when she reached the basement floor. You took it gladly with the hand that was previously on your hip, shrugging your shoulders. “I was almost done.”

Both Sooah and Miyoung looked at the piece.

“Clearly,” Sooah sarcastically said.

Your eyes also slid back to your piece. You took a step back, and clearly, you were far from done. You had been working on the middle portion all night, but you still had only a vague drawing for the rest of the canvas. You sighed, putting down your brush.

“I meant I’m almost done with what I wanted to finish,” you specified.

Sooah nodded her head, before plopping down on the couch in one corner. Miyoung glanced once at her, before resuming her attention on you.

“Why did it take two months for me to know Kim Namjoon came to your exhibit?” she asked, with the most innocent voice.

Your mouth fell open. “What? It was all over the news.”

“You know I don’t watch the news!” Miyoung exclaimed. “Sooah mentioned it while we were getting coffee.”

“I-“

“And why did you never tell me you dated that guy when you were younger?” Sooah interjected, not letting you finish your sentence.

“Mimi!” you burst, and you jumped towards Miyoung, fully in the hopes of tackling her to the ground.

“The art!” Miyoung screamed as she escaped you. “Be careful with your art!”

You stopped in your tracks, electing to glare at her instead. “Why did you tell her? I was fifteen!”

“Still counts,” Miyoung replied, the innocent act still on.

But you wouldn’t be fooled. “It clearly doesn’t.” You turned your head towards Sooah, who watched with a giddy smile from where she sat. “Right? Who cares about a teenage ex?”

She laughed. “Clearly, you, if you get so worked up about it, what, thirteen years later?”

You frowned, shaking your head. Instead of replying, you took a long sip of your coffee, hoping it would give you something to reply to that.

“I don’t care,” you said when the sip was swallowed, and you couldn’t really wait anymore.

Sooah nodded, getting up from her spot on the couch to head in front of the painting you had been working on. You watched her go, an eyebrow cocked inquisitively.

“Well then,” she said once she was standing there, with her back turned to you. She smacked her lips once, the only way you knew she was up to no good. “You won’t care if I tell you he asked to film something in the gallery, and I said yes.”

You loved your friends. You really did. But sometimes you hated them too. Like right now, as your brain immediately started planning their murder.

“What the fuck?”

Sooah finally turned towards you, acting as if she didn’t just announce the worst news of your life to you. “Yeah. The pay is going to be worth it, and it’s going to give a lot of worldwide visibility to your art. It really is worth it.”

“But Kim Namjoon?” you complained. “Couldn’t you have chosen… I don’t know, some cool indie artist?”

“He’s a cool artist,” Sooah stated, shrugging her shoulders.

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “Is he really?”

“His music is good,” Miyoung cut in innocently.

Your head snapped towards her. “You listen to his music?”

“Yeah, the album he released in December is good.”

And that was how you found yourself sleep-deprived, listening to a music album made by your teenage ex, as your manager explained to you the deeds of the project Namjoon was going to film in the gallery. Even though Sooah was one of your closest friends, you couldn’t really say no when she asked you to do job things. You trusted her entirely on her choices, had always did, but today you regretted it just a little bit.

Luckily enough for her, your exhaustion won over your will to fire her – or worse, to murder her – and you headed home when you finished listening to the album, repeating time and time again to you didn’t think Namjoon’s music was good.

It had led to Miyoung innocently mentioning that your breakup had been ugly, and really you had to get out of there before you committed the irreparable. It was only a few hours later, after a well-deserved nap, that you realized something.

Kim Namjoon shooting a video in your gallery didn’t mean you had to be present, right?

*****

Kim Namjoon shooting a video in your gallery actually meant that you were going to have to be present.

You had been too tired, that day with Sooah. Had entirely not assimilated that the project he was filming was a series of short episodes where he met up with various local artists, presenting their craft to the world. He had chosen you for the painting episode, even though you were quite convinced there were way better artists out there that he could have chosen from. You didn’t really have a say in this – what Sooah wanted, Sooah got.

Still, you were given a reprieve – the date chosen for shooting was still in a week, and so you took to arranging your gallery the way you believed would work best. And though you were pretty sure it was ready, some late Thursday afternoon you found yourself moving around some paintings, deciding to change the location of the Ilsan piece that had been the vehicle of the shadow and light projection you had shown at your exhibit in November.

You watched as two employees moved the piece where you had asked them to, fists on your hips, when bells rang, indicating that someone had walked in. You didn’t dare look behind you, instead giving directions to the employees as one of them carefully climbed the two first steps of a stepladder to hang the painting where it needed to be.

You surveyed them until the painting was safely hung, almost forgetting that someone had walked in. You only remembered when you felt a heavy gaze on your profile, and a silhouette appeared. You glanced their way then, and almost let out a startled scream that would have clearly made the windows explode.

Kim Namjoon offered you a tight-lipped smile.

“Are you Maehwa?” he asked.

You put a hand over your chest, trying to keep your heart from going into arrest. “You can’t just sneak on people like this,” you grumbled.

Then, the weirdest thing happened. He started smiling, wide, flashing his insufferable dimples, and his eyes lit up from within.

“It really is you.”

You gulped. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” You wanted to scold yourself for saying that, as if you wouldn’t know who Kim Namjoon was, even if he wasn’t your ex from so many years ago.

“Y/n, don’t play this game with me,” Namjoon said, teasingly. “I was pretty sure it was you in November, and now I have the proof.”

You scoffed. “What do you want?”

This time, his smile only allowed one dimple to appear, and you hated it even more. “Your manager told me that I could come over today to prepare for shooting. She said you were setting up the gallery.”

You would really need to fire Na Sooah, wouldn’t you?

You looked around, though it was pretty much ready. The filming crew was supposed to come at the beginning of next week to set up the spotlights and everything else they might need, as filming was only supposed to be Wednesday next week.

“Yeah,” you replied flatly. “What do you need to prepare?”

He tilted his head to the side. “We haven’t seen each other in years, and that’s how you speak to me? I remembered you to be a lot warmer.”

The nerves on this man…

“It’s been over ten years, I’ve changed.” You clenched your jaw once, before taking a deep, steadying breath. There were employees around, after all. “What do you need to prepare?”

He just smiled, mysteriously, before glancing around once. “Do you have an office somewhere around here?”

You looked up to the ceiling, rolling your eyes so far back you thought they were going to stick to the back of your head. “I have my studio downstairs,” you grumbled. “Follow me.”

He nodded, dimples flashing, and followed you as you made your way to the door through which you had escaped from him in November. Only this time, there was no escaping.

Namjoon’s heavy footsteps followed you down the stairs, and you braced yourself for the inevitable comments he was going to make about your studio. To your surprise, he remained silent, and you realized that he, too, had changed through the years.

No one remained quite like their fifteen-year-old self, didn’t they?

You moved towards the sitting area, vaguely motioning to an armchair. “Have a seat.”

You glanced over your shoulder, only to see Namjoon was looking at your current work-in-progress. It made you feel insecure, somehow, and you cleared your throat.

Namjoon’s gaze trailed to you. “Sorry.”

He walked towards you, and you felt small as he stopped right in front of you, still with that same infuriating, warm smile on his lips. “Your art has improved a lot through the years.”

You fled his gaze, motioning to the armchair again. “Do you want coffee? Or a tea?”

“Just water would be fine,” he replied, his smile falling for the first time since he had appeared in the gallery upstairs.

You nodded curtly, and as you headed towards the kitchen area of your studio, Namjoon got comfortable in the armchair. You brought back two glasses of water, mostly because you knew you were going to need something to hold to keep your nerves at bay. Namjoon accepted his with a slight bow of his head, and then you sat on the couch.

You exchanged a look, as you waited expectantly for him to say something. He remained silent, a pensive look on his features. It threw you off, as he had been the type to talk a lot back then.

“You’ve changed,” he stated out of the blue, and it made you cock an eyebrow.

“Obviously,” you drawled. “I would expect someone to change after thirteen years.”

Those stupid dimples appeared for half a heartbeat. “Yet you haven’t changed at all.” At your obstinate silence, Namjoon specified, “You’re still just as petty as I remember you to be.”

Your eyes widened. “Are you here to insult me or to prepare for shooting your show?”

He chuckled, a deep sound that had you busying yourself with a sip of water. He mirrored you, before saying, “I don’t mean to insult you at all”.

Should you call him out for his bullshit? Back then you would have, but you had grown up. So you remained silent once more, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s just weird to see you again,” he said, and he motioned towards you with the hand holding the glass. “You look… good.”

Not at all what you were expecting. It made you gulp, and you hated that your cheeks were burning. “It is weird, right?”

He nodded once, eyes trailing away from you to look down at his glass. “I’m happy your dreams worked out.”

Now, the pang in your heart was unwelcome. Kim Namjoon shouldn’t have the power to make you feel like this, not after all the years.

“I worked hard,” you replied carefully. “As you have, I presume.”

At that, he chuckled, tilting his head to the side. “I sure have.”

Another awkward silence and you glanced at him as he took a sip of water.

“So, what did you want to prepare?” you asked once you couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

“Oh,” he let out. He sat back in the armchair, looking way too at ease with his thighs slightly spread. “I wanted to give you the list of questions that I’m going to ask so that way you can prepare in advance,” he told you, offering you another one of those disarming, dimple-flashing smiles.

You cocked an eyebrow. “You couldn’t have shared them by email?”

Another chuckle of his had you looking away, focusing on your project.

“I could have. But I wanted to see if my inkling was right at the same time,” he explained. “Before the day of shooting, that is.”

You sighed, before looking back at him. His eyes were already on you, and it made you gulp once more.

Namjoon had gotten really intimidating, after all these years.

“Well, now you know,” you said. “Was there anything else you needed?”

He seemed surprised at the dismissal in your tone. “Not… really.” He wet his lips, watching you carefully. “I just thought it’d be great to catch up.” His gaze moved to your surroundings, before settling back on you. “To get to know how you managed to get such a nice studio and all that. I haven’t heard about you since we broke up.”

“Because I wanted it to be this way,” you replied. “And why do you have to say it like you didn’t believe I’d make it?”

“Wait, no,” he quickly said. “That’s not what I meant.”

You couldn’t help the roll of your eyes. “Of course not.”

He laughed. “Really? After all these years, you’re still mad at me?”

“You did tell me you wanted to kill me,” you reminded him in a grumble.

He seemed surprised. He frowned, and his head once again tilted to the side. “Did I?”

“You don’t remember?”

At that, you were the one to be surprised. It had been such a pivotal piece of your existence, back then, that you expected it to be marked into his brain the same way that it was in yours.

He shrugged. “Not particularly. I got super busy with being a trainee, and I just… I guess I forgot.”

“Oh,” you let out. The silence that followed was heavy, awkward, and you hoped it was enough for Namjoon to get the cue and leave.

Maybe he was still just as dumb and clueless as he had been then, because he said, “I was intense, wasn’t I?”

You pursed your lips. “Yeah.”

You held his eyes for a few seconds until your gaze dropped to your glass. You hated how you couldn’t look at him anymore, but gosh, he looked a lot better than he did then, and you had already found him attractive all those years ago.

“I…” he trailed off, nibbling at his bottom lip. “I was wondering if I could have your phone number, to send you the list of questions.”

“Uh…” You scratched the back of your neck, shrugging your shoulders. “You can send it to my manager, she’ll have it sent to me.”

If he was disappointed, he didn’t let it show. “I guess I’ll see you next week, then?”

You nodded once, before clenching your jaw. Because why did some stupid part of you not want him to leave right away?

“Did you eat? I was about to order fried chicken.”

He looked almost startled by your invitation. “I… have eaten, actually,” he replied truthfully, never one to lie. “But if you want company while you eat, I can always stay.”

You shook your head. “Nah, all good. I was just asking to be polite.”

He didn’t call you out on your bullshit, instead offering you a tight-lipped smile. “Then I guess I’ll see you next week.”

You walked him back upstairs, teeth nibbling at the inside of your lip as you tried to ignore the weight of the awkwardness between you. He wished you a good day, flashing those dimples of his, and he left, without once looking back.

You watched him as he climbed in a company car, and your gaze dropped to the ground as the car drove away, quickly disappearing from view.

What the hell had just happened?

*****

                Namjoon’s list of questions was good. Mostly, it was centered around what you used as an inspiration, which other artists did you look up to, and what kind of music you listened to while practicing your art, if you listened to any at all. There was also stuff about where you grew up, and how it might have affected your art.

Nothing too personal, yet the fact that the questions were from Namjoon felt incredibly personal, and your hands were clammy, heart beating out of your chest, by the time the day of shooting came. It didn’t help that there was some problem with the cameras, which was only solved a few hours after the shooting was first supposed to start.

This meant you spent the most awkward, long hours of your life in Namjoon’s company, barely even talking because, frankly, you had nothing to tell him. He seemed fine with the silence, or maybe he just sucked at small talk just as much as you, and he didn’t say anything, just sat there scrolling on his phone until the director came to get the two of you.

And when filming started, Namjoon started asking you his questions, and you tried not to be a blushing mess as you answered. Tried and succeeded, you liked to tell yourself, because you were used to being interviewed.

The fact that you were starting to be renowned in Seoul’s painting scene helped, clearly, because you made it through the introduction and first few questions without stuttering.

They were the easiest ones, after all.

“At what age did you start painting?” Namjoon asked as you sat on the little balcony outside of your gallery, looking over the Han River.

Your breath turned into a cloud as you exhaled, and you followed it with your eyes as it moved up towards the sky. “I started when I was seven. But at first, I only drew, and then started painting when I tried it for the first time in middle school and fell in love with the craft.”

Namjoon was there that day. Had ruined your painting when he had fallen next to it, feet getting tangled in the pots of paint. You had been furious, but you had also been two laughing messes by the time class had finished.

You had started dating half a year later, making the decision right outside of the art class, where it had all begun if you were honest.

“What do you like so much about painting?”

You met his gaze, not really knowing how to answer that question. You had been searching for what to reply for hours the day before, and all you had been able to come up with was, “It allows me to create, to evacuate emotions and to make something that is worth looking back at.”

You weren’t sure it was the answer he was looking for, but you still said it. He offered you a secretive smile, as if it made all the sense in the world to him.

You hoped the camera didn’t catch your eyes flicking to his lips, before getting stuck in the dimple on his cheek.

“I think that’s understandable,” he replied truthfully. “Creating music feels a little like that, at least for me.”

You pursed your lips, not really knowing what you could say to add to the conversation. Namjoon took it in stride, following with his next question.

And it went like that for the whole interview. At some point, you moved inside, with the aim of talking about certain art pieces of your choosing. Namjoon asked questions about your latest exposition, about what it was like compared to your first one, and frankly, you didn’t see the time go until the director cut the tape for the last time, telling Namjoon that it was closing time.

To your surprise, Namjoon had one last question for you.

“As we bring this interview to an end,” Namjoon said, eyes finding yours, “I have one last question for our artist.” He waited a few seconds, as if to give emphasis to his words, before adding, “Why did you choose the name Maehwa?”

You stared at him, he stared at you. You were pretty sure he could read the answer in your eyes, and you were pretty sure you didn’t want to say it out loud. It felt awkward, and this time you doubted the makeup they had put on your skin before filming could hide the blush on your cheeks.

“Uh,” you let out, coughing a little. “When I was younger, a friend of mine used to call me that. I liked the nickname, and I guess it stuck around?”

‘A friend of mine translated’ to him, to Namjoon, and you hoped he couldn’t tell just how much you were spiraling, like a leaf caught in the whirlpool of a leaking sink. Because you were caught in the current, feeling like you were stupid, to have held onto a stupid nickname that meant nothing, that never should have meant anything.

“It’s a pretty name,” Namjoon reflected.

His eyes were heavy on you because, of course, he knew that it was him. Of course, he remembered the days of youth where you had learned about love, by his side.

He had been there after all.

“Thank you,” you replied, a little breathlessly.

After that, Namjoon closed the interview, and when the cameras turned off, you let out a long, wavering sigh. It made him chuckle, as people buzzed around you to put everything away.

“Everything okay?”

You offered him a no-bullshit look. “You didn’t tell me about that last question.”

It sounded accusing, and frankly, you were accusing him. He recoiled, just a little, losing the small smile that was gracing his lips.

“I honestly thought it up during the interview,” he admitted. “I should have warned you.”

You clenched your jaw for a few seconds, before releasing yet another sigh. “It’s whatever. Why did you even want to know that?”

“Because I gave you that nickname…” he said, looking suddenly ashamed.

As if he was a child getting scolded for making a mistake. You didn’t like that look on him, even though he entirely deserved it, so you softened your expression before saying, “You did.”

He held your gaze, and the space between you filled with memories, with his laughter and the rain that early June night when you had kissed for the first time. It made you long for the warmth of his honey-toned skin, taking you by surprise.

Yes, you had once loved Kim Namjoon, but that had been thirteen years ago, when you were too young to actually know what love was.

“Do you…” you started, not knowing where you were headed.

Yet it was like he knew. “Do you want to get dinner with me sometime this week?” he asked, finishing your sentence.

You smiled, looking down as if that would hide the blush on your cheeks. “Only if you take me somewhere nice.”

“You deserve the best,” he said, nodding once. “I know just the place.”

You met his gaze again, and the smile grew like flowers under the sun. “Then yes, I’d like to grab dinner with you.”

At that, he offered you an award-winning smile, with the infuriating dimples creating indents in his cheeks. “For a moment, I was convinced you were going to refuse.”

The blush on your cheeks deepened as you asked, “Why?”

“You haven’t been…” he trailed off, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention to the both of you, but most people were busy putting away the lights and mics from the set. “You haven’t been very warm,” he finished as his eyes settled back on you.

You nibbled at your lower lip, nodding curtly. “Right.” You held his gaze for a few seconds, and then you found you were too much of a coward, fleeing his dragon eyes to look at the tiles of the floor instead. “We didn’t part on exactly good terms, you know?”

“Yeah.” He took a step towards you, extending his hand in front of him as if expecting you to shake it. When he added, “I’m Kim Namjoon, it’s nice to meet you”, you understood that he was, in fact, waiting for you to shake it.

“What are you doing?” you asked, ignoring the hand.

He stubbornly kept it there. “Pretending that this is my first time meeting you,” he explained, even though it made little to no sense. When he saw the confused look on your face, he clarified, “So that way, we can pretend that the past never happened, and we can start again on better grounds.”

It made you giggle, a shy little sound that had you finally cave in, your small hand closing around his large one. “I already agreed to grab dinner with you, but…” you trailed off, finally meeting his gaze again. “Nice to meet you, Kim Namjoon. I’m Y/n.”

He held your hand for a second longer than necessary, before letting it go. Your fingers twitched as if wishing he had held on longer, and you hid it by hiding your arm behind your back.

“You come here often?” he asked, adding your name at the end. “I’ve never seen you around.”

You cocked an eyebrow, and you both burst out laughing at the same time.

“You’re bad at this,” you teased him. “We’re in my studio, of course, I come here often.”

He nodded. “Ah, I apologize. It’s my first time around, after all.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him in the shoulder. It just made him laugh again, and there was something so familiar, so warm in his laugh that you turned wistful. He immediately noticed the shift in you, and his smile slowly died down to be replaced by a serious look.

“I’m serious,” he told you. “It’d be great to start on new grounds.”

“I know. I fully agree,” you said. “It’s just… who would have thought I’d accept to grab dinner with the first boy that broke my heart.”

He didn’t reply. Just turned a little apologetic, though you reckoned you had broken his heart too. You both had been young and dumb, there was no way to deny it. And it was strange indeed, that thirteen years later, you had met again. Both of you having changed, having grown until you weren’t sure you really recognized him.

Except for the dimples. The dimples were the same, a never-changing feature that you didn't doubt had stolen the heart of a million of his fans. It had stolen your heart back then after all.

“So,” he said after his manager told him that they were ready to leave, breaking the bubble of the little dimension you both had fallen in. “This time, I assume you’ll allow me to write down your number?”

You snorted, holding out your hand between the two of you, a little like he had done earlier though you were waiting for him to give you his phone. “Sure, I’ll put it in your phone.”

He pouted, looking like the child you had known all those years ago. “I lost my phone.”

“What?”

He repeated sheepishly. “I think I left it in the company car that dropped me off here.”

That was such a Namjoon thing to do you found your heart growing warm once again. “Okay then, I’ll write my number on a paper, and you text me when you find your phone. That works?”

The bright smile returned, and he nodded his head. “That works for me.”

You held his gaze for a few more seconds, before moving away to go get paper in your studio downstairs. When you came back up, he was still waiting, though this time his manager was next to him, looking somehow a little pressed. You felt bad, assuming that he was upset because you were making him wait, so you jogged to Namjoon.

“There you go,” you said, handing him over the paper. Your eyes glided to the manager, before returning to Namjoon. “Text me when you can.”

“I will,” he said.

It sounded like a promise, just as much as it sounded like a beginning.

*****

                “You are shitting me,” Miyoung said, eyes wide like flying saucers.

Cheeks burning, you avoided her insistent gaze. “No…”

“You’re grabbing dinner with Kim Namjoon?” she repeated, and the words sounded so foreign in her mouth that you winced a little.

“Huh,” you let out. “Yeah, seems like I am.”

She shook her head in disbelief, before chuckling lightly. “I can’t believe him. You’re supposed to hate him. You didn’t even want to listen to his music, and now you’re going out with him?” She paused to laugh again. “Sooah won’t believe this.”

“Come on,” you whined. “It’s nothing.”

“Shut up,” Miyoung said as she grabbed her phone. “I’m texting Sooah right now to let her know.”

You tried to steal your friend’s phone from her hands, but she darted away, out of your reach, long enough for the message to be sent. You were pretty sure your cheeks had gone purple now, and all you could do was fold your arms on your chest as you glared at Miyoung.

“It’s just dinner,” you pointed out. “Nothing to freak out about.”

Miyoung narrowed her gaze, eyeing you suspiciously. “Why are you even grabbing dinner with him? What are you hoping to achieve?” Her gaze widened before you could even speak. “Are you only going because he’s RM of BTS?”

You rolled your eyes, looking at the ceiling of your studio. Miyoung had come over when you had texted her about the dinner earlier, claiming that she needed to see for herself if you were just playing with her.

“No?” you said. “I don’t care that he’s RM. I accepted the offer because… I don’t know, at the end of the day, he’s a childhood friend.”

“A childhood friend? He was your first everything.”

Touché. Today, you felt weird whenever you remembered that he had taken your virginity, when you both were so young you shouldn’t even have been thinking about that. You had regretted it for years after – mostly because you had started hating him so bad, but also just because you had been so young. It felt wrong somehow.

“Whatever,” you mumbled. “I only told you because I don’t know how to date. I never really go on dates.”

She laughed, hiding her mouth behind her hand. “Oh my God, it is a date, right?”

You felt yourself flush red, furiously, and your gaze fell to the floor. “I mean, I think so? Don’t you?”

“I thought it was just dinner with a childhood friend,” she mused, hands going behind her back as she rocked on her feet. She was teasing you, and you glared at her. “Alright, alright,” she let out after a few seconds of holding your gaze with a shit-eating smirk on her lips. “First, we’ll need to figure out what you need to wear.”

You nodded, nibbling at your lips. “He mentioned dinner at a restaurant.”

He had. Namjoon had texted you the night after the shoot, claiming that he had indeed forgotten his phone in the car. He had also sent you the link to a famous restaurant in Gangnam, one that you were pretty sure was way over your budget even though you were relatively well-off financially. He had told you he knew the owner, and that the restaurant had private rooms where you could eat without fearing for fans or paparazzi seeing you.

“So then you want to dress nicely,” Miyoung said, nodding once. “A nice pair of dress pants with a cute blouse would do. Or maybe that long black skirt you have that ends right over the knee? You could pair it with…”

“Y/n!” Sooah yelled from the top of the stairs, startling both you and Miyoung. “How dare you not tell me you’re getting dinner with a celebrity?”

Your gaze widened in fear as you watched your manager walking down the stairs, purpose filling her every move.

You were pretty sure the purpose was to murder you.

She pointed a finger at you in affront, her cheeks a little red from the anger. “This is manager business. You can’t just decide…”

“Cut it,” Miyoung interrupted. “You literally bet with me last week that it would happen.”

Sooah dropped the act, face cutting into a bright smile. “I sure did, and I won.” She held out a hand towards Miyoung, who begrudgingly took ten thousand won out of her wallet to put it in Miyoung’s hand. “Thank you,” your manager said. “Now, what’s the plan?”

“They’re getting dinner at a restaurant,” Miyoung declared before you could speak. “What’s the name again?”

You didn’t remember, so you grabbed your phone to look at your text conversation with Namjoon. “Huh…” you trailed off, scrolling up to when he had sent the menu. “Seasons of Seoul.”

Sooah’s mouth fell open. “The Seasons of Seoul? That’s one fancy-ass restaurant.”

You startled at the sound of the curse in Sooah’s voice, before bursting out laughing in time with your friends. “It is,” you said, voice lilting into a whine. “It’s definitely above my budget.”

“Namjoon seems like a gentleman,” Miyoung pointed out “I’m pretty sure he’ll pay.”

“For sure,” Sooah agreed. “When’s the date?”

You blushed, shrugging your shoulders. “We haven’t decided on a day yet.”

“Just tell me when and I’ll clear your schedule,” Sooah said. “I don’t care about any interviews when you can be going on a date with Kim Namjoon.”

You rolled your eyes, though a playful smiled teased the corners of your mouth. “You’ll be the first to know.”

“Yah, I believe I should be the first to know since I was helping you plan what to wear!” Miyoung interjected, which led to your two friends bickering, and then to them helping you out with what to wear. It was a little hard since you weren’t at home and couldn’t rummage through your walk-in closet. Since it was already running late, Sooah suggested heading over to yours, and that was how you found yourself sitting cross-legged on the floor of your living room, back against the couch, as you ate fried chicken and drank soju with your friends.

You were definitely a little buzzed by the time you finished eating, washing your hands at the kitchen sink before you aimed for your closet, where you started pulling out outfit after outfit.

You said no to all of your friends’ suggestions, mostly because it didn’t feel right. Sooah, growing annoyed, suggested to go shopping on the morrow, which made Miyoung jump in excitement, which in turn scared your cat Gabi away.

“Yes, please, please, please!” Miyoung exclaimed. “We haven’t gone in forever. It’ll be like when we were in college procrastinating studying.”

You laughed, brain swimming with alcohol. “As long as you don’t bring me to those fancy stores,” you said. “I hate when people talk to me while I’m shopping for clothes.”

Both your friends threw you no-bullshit looks.

“Come on,” Sooah let out. “Maybe we can even get you another nice outfit for the launch of your next exhibit.”

“I’ve barely even started working on it, it’s not going to be for another full year, at least,” you pointed out. “No need to shop for an outfit now.”

“Pleaseeee,” Miyoung begged. “It’s going to be fun. We can even go to that Samoyed café you like so much.”

The perspective of seeing the Samoyed puppies suddenly made a shopping trip all the more interesting. “Mmh,” you hummed. “I’ll consider it.”

“Bitch!” Miyoung burst, punching you in the shoulder hard enough to hurt. “We’re going tomorrow, just accept your destiny.”

You rolled your eyes as you massaged the spot she had hit, before finally nodding. “Alright, we’ll go. As long as you don’t make me spend my entire paycheck on clothes.”

“Your entire paycheck is like five times what I make so, shut it,” Miyoung pointed out.

“You did sell a piece for over 50 million won last week,” Sooah reminded you.

They had allied against you, hadn’t they?

“Right,” you let out.

“So you have nothing to say for your defense,” Miyoung said sternly, fists resting on her hips in mock authority. “We’re going tomorrow, and you’re coming with us. And,” she added, nodding forcefully, “And you will enjoy yourself.”

You laughed at how dumb she looked. “I’ll try. But I can’t guarantee anything.”

To your surprise, you actually enjoyed yourself the next day. Miyoung and Sooah were great company, had always been, and it really had been a long time since you had spent time together like this. The whole day was spent laughing and gossiping and just enjoying yourselves, and you did end up buying a lot more outfits than you probably needed. Which would be a problem when it came to what to choose for the date, but you didn’t really care.

It was late in the afternoon when your phone buzzed on the table of the Samoyed café, and you picked it up as Miyoung cooed at the fluffy dog she was playing with.

It was Namjoon, asking you if you would be willing to go out with him this Friday.

“Oh my God,” you let out, and you felt your cheeks burning as your outburst had attracted the attention of other clients of the café. “He texted me,” you whispered then for only your friends to hear.

Sooah yelped, clapping her hands. She looked so far from the fierce manager you knew her to be you burst out laughing, slightly shaking your head.

“What did he say?” she asked.

You didn’t answer for a time, letting suspense hang in the air between you and your friends. When Miyoung got up, clearly aiming to grab your phone out of your hands and read the text herself, you finally spoke. “Looks like you’re going to have to clear my schedule this Friday night.”

Sooah shrieked as Miyoung grinned wildly.

“Consider it done!”

*****

                You were anxious. Had been anxious all week, and it had shown up in the painting you were working on. It had turned into a hectic mess of colours, inching closer to a dark cloud than to anything else. It represented your mental state well, even though you tried to keep reminding yourself that it was just Namjoon. If there was such a thing as just Namjoon.

Gosh.

You sighed, looking at yourself in your standing mirror. You were wearing one of the designer outfits you had bought earlier this week, and the skirt hugged your frame well, enhancing your curves. You had curves, you were aware of it, but you weren’t sure they were supposed to look this good. Paired with the white blouse and black blazer, you looked like you were going on a date with a CEO, and not Kim Namjoon.

Though, nowadays it felt almost as if one was a synonym for the other.

You liked the fit, you really did, you were just afraid Namjoon would think you were overdoing yourself. But somehow, you felt really comfortable, ready to conquer the world if need be. Maybe just not Kim Namjoon.

But it was too late to back out of the date. Indeed, the doorbell rang, indicating that he was here, and you met your gaze in the mirror one last time before going to open the door.

Namjoon looked … incredible. With a pair of dark dress pants along with a pale cardigan over a yellow polo. Over that, he was wearing a long coat that looked way too expensive, yet still fit the look. It was more of an artist look than yours, and yet it suited him perfectly.

He was an artist, too, after all.

Most of all, he was holding a bouquet of pale flowers – rose and white and lilac – and he handed it to you as he took in the sight of you.

“You’re beautiful,” he complimented, and he flashed you a corner smile that had just one of his dimples appear.

Your cheeks burned as you nodded once. “You as well,” you said, grabbing the flowers. You hesitantly inhaled them, satisfied with the sweet floral scent that took over your nostrils. You glanced over your shoulder, before opening the door wider for him to come in. “You can come in, I’ll just go put these in water.”

He nodded, stepping in as you retreated into your home, searching for an appropriate vase for the bouquet. Once it was safely tucked in a vase with room temperature water, you moved back to where Namjoon was still waiting, right next to the door. You smiled, a little awkwardly, before putting on the high heels you had chosen for the date.

Namjoon patiently waited for you, and once you straightened, you put on your winter coat, grabbing your purse where you had left it on the table near the door.

“Ready?” Namjoon asked when your gaze finally met his.

You nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yes. Let’s go.”

He smiled his dimple smile, and he opened the door for you. You walked outside, waiting until he had shut it behind him so you could lock it. The cold air hit you right in the face, and you hid your face in the flaps of your coat. To your luck, Namjoon had picked you up in a company car, considering he didn’t drive, and you climbed in first, quickly followed by him.

You sighed at the warmth in the car, and watched as Namjoon leaned forward to tell the driver the address, before sitting back comfortably next to you.

Conversation was somehow awkward at first, mostly because you struggled holding Namjoon’s gaze. In all truth, you reckoned the awkwardness stuck around until you got to the restaurant, and even still as you were led to the private room Namjoon had rented for you both.

He helped you out of your coat, ever so the gentleman, hanging it before taking off his own and putting it beside yours. You just stood for a time, not knowing what to do as you took in the elegance of the restaurant and the dim, private atmosphere that reigned.

You felt like you had stepped right into a palace and, frankly, you weren’t sure you belonged in such a place.

“Sit!” Namjoon quickly said as he noticed you were still standing. And then he rushed to pull the chair for you, making you chuckle embarrassingly.

“You don’t…” you trailed off as you caught a whiff of his cologne.

A dark, masculine smell that made your head a little dizzy. You couldn’t tell why you hadn’t smelled it before – maybe it was because of the coat. All that you knew was that the oaky smell wrapped around you comfortably, refusing to let you go.

“What?” he asked as he sat in front of you, offering you an encouraging smile.

You took a deep breath, chest moving up and down as you tried to regain your composure. When you felt like you could speak without embarrassing yourself further, you said, “Since when are you such a gentleman?”

That made him laugh, full of dimples again, and he slightly shook his head. “Wasn’t I a gentleman when we were dating all those years ago?”

Not at all. He had been an awkward teenager, and you both knew it. As such, you cocked an eyebrow, a teasing smile growing on your lips.

“Were you?”

He winced, chuckling again. “Not at all. But I grew out of it.”

He sure had. He barely held any resemblance to the boy you had once known, except for those damned dimples that were making it hard for you to focus. And now the cologne? You were done for.

“Bangtan changed you, didn’t it?”

He nodded pensively. “I think that, having to be the leader of all these kids? Yeah, it really made me mature faster than I thought possible.”

You furrowed your brows in question. “I don’t know a lot about Bangtan but… isn’t Seokjin older than you?”

Before he could answer, a pretty waitress walked in, pulling a cart with different wine bottles on it. She greeted you two, stopping next to the table before asking you what you wanted to drink. You glanced at Namjoon, who offered you an encouraging smile, as if saying, ‘I’ll have whatever you have’.

“This Cabernet is actually my favourite. So we’ll take this one, please,” you asked, and the waitress offered you a bright smile as she picked up the bottle.

You watched as she put it on the table, eyes trailing to Namjoon longingly. A fan – she was clearly a fan. Namjoon offered her a professional, practiced smile, and she flushed red as she grabbed a wine opener to uncork the bottle. She carefully opened it, before pouring you two a glass.

It was awkward, somehow. And it was only then that you noticed there was jazz music playing in the background. It felt odd that you hadn’t noticed it before – had the beats of your heart been too loud for you to hear it?

When the waitress finally left, offering Namjoon one last look over her shoulder, you cocked an eyebrow, trying not to laugh.

“What?” he asked.

“Does this happen often?”

He chuckled, fingers playing with his glass as he evaded your gaze. “More than you can imagine.” He met your gaze then, and you watched his features as they softened. “But you don’t have to worry about us being here getting out in the media. The owner of the restaurant is an old friend, and she assured that all of her staff can be trusted.”

It hadn’t even crossed your mind, but you weren’t surprised that he had thought of it.

“That’s more of a relief for you than it is for me,” you pointed out.

He nodded, a warm smile on his lips. “You have a reputation too! You’re an artist, just like me.”

That made you snort as you shook your head, eyes falling to your untouched glass of wine. “I don’t think I am in the same category as you, Kim Namjoon. I’m just a painter.”

“You’re much more than just a painter, Maehwa.”

Your throat went dry at the way he said the words, as if they held so much meaning they were heavier than the world. And you wouldn’t be surprised if they did – Kim Namjoon had always been a poet, after all.

“I’m not a member of the most popular K-pop band in the world, though,” you reminded him, and dimples answered you as he humbly smiled.

“Evidently not.”

A comfortable silence moved between you – the first of the evening, you reckoned – and your eyes once more fell to your wine glass. You picked up, spinning the wine to bring out the aromas of it.

“Want to taste?” you asked him, motioning to his own glass.

He picked it up, nodding his head. “Please. I’m surprised to know you have a favourite wine.”

“Trust me, it’s worth it.”

He chuckled, and you clinked your glasses together before taking a sip. You let the rich taste roll on your tongue, appreciating every milliliter of it until you swallowed, and even the aftertaste was good.

A really good wine, indeed. Way too expensive, in your opinion, but you had always liked expensive things. As your designer clothes could tell, and as your date across the table could tell, too.

Not that you were a snobby artist – you were far from it. But you had learned how to appreciate the good things in life long ago when you had first discovered art.

“I like it,” Namjoon commented as he put down the glass. “Nice choice.”

You smiled, relieved that he indeed liked your choice.

As wine flowed between the two of you, you found conversation with Kim Namjoon was a lot easier than you had initially expected. He put you at ease, like he did when you were younger. Together, you reminisced about middle school and high school, about that time he had spilled hot chocolate on his uniform and you had helped him clean up, which had brought you guys closer.

Until he had kissed you as you were doodling maehwas on his arm, and the rest was history.

“No, but,” he insisted, his cheeks turning a pale shade of pink as he closed his eyes in embarrassment. His dimples winked at you, and you looked at him as he collected his thoughts. “To be fair, I never planned to break it. It wasn’t even my fault.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “You were the one holding it,” you reminded him.

You were referencing a fragile plate your mom had offered Namjoon, from her collection of nice plates she usually only displayed during fancy events. Namjoon had broken it a whole hour after he had been gifted it, and to this day, you still couldn’t understand how he had broken it.

“You tickled me!” he burst out, narrowing his eyes at you. “It was entirely your fault.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, before chuckling lightly. “I barely even touched you.”

He glared at you, though it didn’t last, melting into a soft smile that had you looking down at the table.

Right at the same time, a lean girl walked in, clad in a chef’s outfit, holding up the food you and Namjoon had ordered earlier. She offered you a polite smile, and it turned nostalgic as she looked towards Namjoon.

Namjoon said her name, before turning to look at you. “This is the friend I told you about.”

She was beautiful, in an easy, elegant kind of way. Her shoulder-length hair swayed nicely when she walked, and you had half a thought that she probably should be wearing something to make sure no hair could get in the food. Then you figured she probably had taken it off to come here, and you only realized that she had spoken to you when both she and Namjoon settled their gaze on you.

“Nice to meet you too,” you replied, because you were 75% convinced that that was what she had said.

You were relieved when she smiled knowingly, eyes trailing back to Namjoon. They talked a little more, and it took you a moment before you understood that she was one of Namjoon’s friends’ ex. They continued speaking after that, as you listened politely, nodding whenever she looked your way to encourage her to continue.

She looked sad. Nostalgic. Whoever her ex was, you had the intuition that she still loved him.

“Have a good evening,” she told the two of you about a minute later, bowing.

You bowed your head back, as Namjoon wished her good evening, and then you watched her walk out of the room, hair prettily moving around her head.

“She’s Seokjin’s ex,” Namjoon let out pensively once she was out of earshot.

Your eyes widened, and you looked back towards him. “Your bandmate?”

He nodded. “They broke up a few years ago, during the pandemic,” he explained. “They were engaged.”

You weren’t sure Namjoon was supposed to tell you any of that. It sounded personal, and he seemed to get the cue as you remained silent, eyes falling to the steaming plate in front of you.

“Anyway,” he said, chuckling awkwardly. “Shall we eat?”

“Yes,” you immediately replied, a little too quickly.

It had both of you laugh, and the awkwardness lifted to be replaced by that same familiarity the evening had held until Seokjin’s ex had come in. It had you fall back in your nostalgic memories, as you ate the delicious food on your plate.

When you were done eating, Namjoon suggested dessert, and not really wanting the evening to end yet, you accepted. It led to you both drinking a little more, your inhibitions slurring as alcohol rushed through your bloodstream, making you feel young and alive.

The feeling lingered with your lively chatter, with the exchanged laughs and long looks. Sometimes, Namjoon’s eyes burned on you, and you found you were too afraid to hold his gaze, too afraid to let it mean anything. Whenever it happened, you looked down at your glass, and the tenth time that it happened, you found the glass to be empty.

No salvation for you there. Especially considering that dessert was eaten and long gone, and all that had been left was the bottle of wine.

“So,” Namjoon said as he, too, took in the sight of the empty glasses and bottle. “I…” He chuckled, ears turning pink as his dimples flashed on his cheeks. “Thank you for tonight.”

You couldn’t help your own blush as you replied, “I’m glad I said yes.”

He met your gaze, eyes darting to your lips once. When they settled back on your own gaze, you swallowed a sudden lump in your throat.

“We should…” he started, falling silent as he scraped his throat. “We should do this again.”

The lump dissolved into nothingness as you smiled, softly. “I would love to.”

“What about on Sunday? There’s this exhibit I’ve been meaning to visit, thought you might want to join?”

“You want to bring an artist to another artist’s exhibit?”

He seemed surprised at your question, as if it hadn’t even crossed his mind. And truth be told, you liked visiting your fellow artists. There was just something about a shared passion that made you feel calm, understood. As if, no matter the sorrows your life could hold, there would always be someone out there who understood. Someone who could share the burden, who’d offer you a helping hand in the form of art whenever you needed it.

So you quickly added, before Namjoon could say anything, “I’m kidding, yes, I’d love to accompany you.”

He looked so relieved something warm blossomed in your chest, and your cheeks burned.

“Well then,” he said, smiling that dimpled smile. “I should get you home, it’s getting late.”

The perspective of the date ending made your heart squeeze in your chest, for a reason you couldn’t quite understand. “Right,” you agreed.

It was all you said before you both got up, moving to retrieve your coats by the door. After that, you walked towards the outside world, and when Namjoon’s hand accidentally grazed yours – or perhaps it was on purpose – you hooked a finger around his pinky.

Looking up to him, you caught him looking down at you already. From so close, he towered over you, though there was nothing threatening with his height. It felt comforting, safe, as if you were under his protection.

By the warmth in his eyes, you knew you truly were.

You waited in the lobby for the car to come pick you up, Namjoon with his back turned to the people. Though no one looked your way, no one acknowledged your presence, and for a second, you wondered if you really were with a worldwide famous singer or if Namjoon was just a normal person.

Someone like you, someone who could revel in anonymity wherever he went.

“The car is here,” Namjoon told you as you were looking behind him, observing the patrons slowly exiting, laughing about a joke only they knew.

You smiled up at him, before letting him grab your hand properly this time as he led you outside. His large palm engulfed your small one, warmed it up, and your fingers were tingling by the time you reached the car door that Namjoon opened for you.

He really wasn’t a gentleman when you were younger. There was something oddly relieving to see him act in such a way now, showing you that he had grown since you were sixteen and too dumb to actually know what love was.

You settled in the car, reveling in the warm vehicle as Namjoon sat in the seat right next to you. And when the car jostled forward, you became all too aware of the place where Namjoon’s thigh rested against yours, and of where his arm pressed against yours.

You turned your head to look at him, admiring the soft glow on his features induced by the neon lights outside. He met your gaze, offered you a smile, and you felt yourself leaning forward. As if there was a pull between you, something that was inevitable. You had never been good at resisting, so you let yourself be pulled, let yourself find him.

He met you halfway, lips infinitely and surprisingly soft even with the cold January night out there. He sighed against you, shifting slightly so he could angle his head better, deepening the kiss.

And kiss you he did, with memories and yearning and nostalgia that had you part your lips when his tongue swiped at your bottom lip, only to meet it with yours. You remembered days of early art, of words whispered in the dead of night when nothing seemed like it could bring you apart, when you believed it was you and him against the rest of the world.

Your breakup flashed in your thoughts as he rested a hand on your thigh, carefully, but you pushed it away, refusing to let the memory stain this moment with him.

As much as the kiss was unexpected, bubbling out of neon lights on Namjoon’s soft features, it was also expected. As if fifteen-year-old you had expected to find him again, somewhere, even though you had fled to an entire other high school.

As if the story had just been put on hold then, to resume once the time was right. And as much as you usually were wary in your relationships, tonight felt right. It felt right in all the ways that mattered, in his arm on your thigh and the soft smile he offered you when he pulled away, reminding you that you weren’t alone in the car.

You chuckled, blushing deeply, and your hand landed on top of his on your thigh.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, and he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

You leaned into his touch, sighing dreamily. “I don’t know if it’s the wine,” you said, low enough to make sure only his ears could perceive your words, “but I really want to kiss you more.”

That made him laugh, and his hand fell away from your cheek. “Not here,” he said, head motioning to the driver. “You’ll have to wait until Sunday.”

You pursed your lips, thought about it for half a second before you said, “Do you want to sleep over tonight?”

His grip on your thigh slightly tightened, the only indication that your words had had an effect on him. “You’d like that?”

You parted your lips, tongue darting to wet them. “Yes.”

It was no wonder Namjoon ended up pinning you against your closed door as soon as you walked in, locking you between his strong arms as his lips ravished a hungry kiss on your mouth. You grabbed at the lapels of his coat, trying to pull him closer, right as he slipped one of his large hands to arch your back, pressing your front against him.

The second he left your lips to press open-mouthed kisses on your jaw, you fought against his coat to rid him of the clothing. He sucked on your jaw as he helped you, and soon enough, the coat was abandoned on the floor, right as he pulled you in.

You kicked off your shoes, lips meeting again in a kiss that had your head spin, right as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He groaned when you bit on his bottom lip, and then picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He put you down on the decorative table near the door, and in an attempt to rid him of his shirt, you pushed a vase.

The sound that it made when it shattered on the floor startled both of you, and Namjoon looked down, eyes wide.

“Oh no,” he let out.

You caught his startled gaze, breathing raggedly. “Don’t worry, it was just a cheap vase.”

He looked down at the mess, nodding once. “I’ll buy you another one.”

And then he was finding your mouth again, sucking on your lower lip as he started to fight against your coat, trying to get you out of it. He shortly had to pull away, brows knitting together in concentration because, as much as he tried, the zipper of your coat wasn’t budging.

“Hold on,” you said, putting your hands above his.

Much gentler than him, you managed to unzip the coat, and he helped you slip out of it, throwing it towards his. His eyes dropped to your thighs, where your skirt had ridden up to reveal more skin, though you were wearing pantyhose. He ran his hand along your thighs, head hanging low. You watched him do so, watched his jet-black hair falling in his eyes until you couldn’t resist anymore, reaching between you to push it back.

The strands fell right back in front of his eyes, but it attracted his gaze. He looked at you through his hair, dragon eyes burning a hole through you, and you grabbed his cheeks to pull him into yet another heated kiss.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips, and he subconsciously grinded against you, though the skirt and the fabric of his own pants kept you from feeling anything.

“You think we can make it to my room,” you whispered as he moved to your neck, kissing a hot kiss just below your ear.

“You’ll have to show me the way.”

You chuckled, gently pushing on his chest until he finally disconnected from your neck and took a step back. It allowed you to plop down from the table on which he had sat you, and you grabbed his hand, right as he dipped his head to kiss you again.

You kissed him back, moaning softly when his large hand cupped your ass, grabbing at the meat hard but not enough to hurt. It had even more heat pool at your core, liquid lava that was slowly making you unravel, and you needed more.

You pulled away from the kiss begrudgingly, mostly because you wanted to stay here, to be consumed with the passion Namjoon’s lips were carving against you.

You had to make it to your room before you went insane. So you pulled him behind you, not once looking back, or else you wouldn’t get there at all. Luckily enough, you held on strong, but the moment you crossed the threshold to your room, Namjoon pulled you against him, large hand resting on the base of your neck to keep you from moving away.

It took all of three seconds before your brain zeroed in on the spot where his hard dick was pressing against your back.

“Can you feel how much I want you?” he asked, voice low and husky, sending shivers all over your body.

You nodded, tilting your head to the side to give him access when he lowered his head. Too tall, he didn’t quite reach your neck, but his breath skimming over your skin made goosebumps erupt on you.

“I want you too,” you replied breathily.

You could hear a dangerous smirk in his voice when he said, “Take that skirt off”.

Something settled deep inside of you, making you into a puppet he could control. Stepping away from him, your hands went behind your back to unzip the skirt, and you let it fall to the floor. It pooled around your ankle, but when he stepped closer again, one hand squeezing the flesh of your ass, you found yourself unable to do anything.

“You should take off the pantyhose, too, before I rip them”, he added.

You didn’t doubt that Namjoon often miscalculated his strength. Even when he was just a gangly teenager, he already struggled with clumsiness. So you pulled the pantyhose down your legs, and you stepped out of the pile of clothing, waiting for him as he moved closer again.

This time, his hands slipped to your front, and he looked over your shoulder as he started undoing the buttons of your blouse, not even caring that you were still wearing the blazer. His breath skimmed on the side of your face as he did so, and your eyes fluttered closed as you focused on every brush of fabric against you while he worked his way down your blouse.

He pushed both the blouse and blazer off your shoulders when he was done, and they fell on the floor behind you. He didn’t seem to care as he wrapped his arm to your front, moving up until he grabbed your breasts through your bra, squeezing slightly.

“Get on the bed,” he commanded then, and still the good puppet you did, walking to the mattress and sitting down, eyes finally finding him again.

He didn’t say anything as he slowly undressed, pulling his cardigan off. It fell somewhere next to the pile of your clothing, and then he attacked the polo, taking it off in one swift motion that revealed the expanse of his wide chest.

His honey skin seemed to prettily gleam in the moonlight, where it was pulled taught over the big muscles of his chest. He looked sculpted in marble, big and buff, and you closed your thighs in reflex at the thought of his weight over you.

Needless to say, he didn’t look like that when he was a teenager at all. Adulthood looked good on him.

He unbuckled his belt next, taking his time as you just surveyed him. Even in the dim light from the full moon outside, you could see the bulge in his pants, and you salivated at the thought of wrapping your lips around him, of tasting him and making him feel good.

The belt fell with a thud to the ground, and your lips parted as he palmed himself, enhancing the size of his bulge. Your eyes widened slightly – he looked far bigger than you had initially thought he’d be, though you weren’t all that surprised with his large frame.

“Take off your bra,” he said next. “I want to see your breasts.”

You nodded, hands going to your back as you unclasped the bra. You slowly took it off, nipples perking when cold air hit them. You shivered once again as his eyes roamed over you, and even more so when he said, “Beautiful” as if you were a piece of art made for him to admire.

And with the way he was looking at you, you thought maybe, maybe you were.

He took a few steps towards you, and your eyes darted towards the lamp on your bedside table. Namjoon caught your motion, and he tutted lightly. “Not tonight,” he told you. “Tonight is about feeling, not about seeing.”

For some reason, you had expected him to be a lights-on kind of partner, but you weren’t mad about his will to stay in the dark. Because you knew all too well how much pleasure could course through your blood when your sense of sight was taken from you. As an artist, you relied on it far more than a lot of people – the loss of it made you weak, in a burning kind of way.

If you were honest, you enjoyed being blindfolded a lot, but you didn’t see yourself asking Namjoon to do it today. Lights off seemed the closest thing to it, so you didn’t argue with him as he used a knee to part your legs in an attempt to get closer to you.

He grabbed your chin, making you tilt your head back so he could catch your gaze. His eyes were dark, even in the silvery moonlight, and you gulped as he gently patted your cheek.

“You’re going to feel good for me, mmh?”

You nodded, entirely unable to use words right now. Mostly because you were but a puppet, and he the puppeteer. He smirked, satisfied, before unbuttoning his pants. Your eyes dropped, and you watched him do it expectantly, teeth gently digging into your bottom lip in apprehension.

The good kind, the one that made you burst into an explosion of flames.

“You think you can wrap your pretty lips around my dick?” he asked.

For a reason unknown, all you were able to mutter back was, “Namjoon.”

“Yes, baby?”

You gulped, and you looked up at him again. You didn’t watch as he took his pants and underwear off in the same motion, didn’t budge your gaze as you heard the slap of his hard dick on his abdomen. From the way his arm moved, large bicep popping slightly, you knew he was jerking off, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look down. Couldn’t bring yourself to gaze away from his eyes as they burned on you, searing their mark right on your soul.

“What is it?” he asked again, with a barely concealed warning in his voice.

He wasn’t one to have to repeat, was he? No, you were pretty sure Namjoon was used to being obeyed, with being the leader of a boyband like BTS. Pretty sure he expected to be obeyed, and somehow that turned you from puppet to puppeteer, as your hands rested on his thick, muscular thighs.

“You want me to suck your dick?” you asked, voice sultry as you moved your hands up, never touching him where he so visibly wanted.

His lips parted, though he remained surprisingly silent. He clearly didn’t expect you to take control of the situation, but from the way his features darkened even more, you knew he liked it.

“Want me to suck you dry?” you added. “Want to come down my throat?”

“Fuck,” he cursed, and he grabbed the base of his dick to gently tap it against the corner of your mouth. “Better get to work, baby. You’re a lot of talk for someone that hasn’t touched me yet.”

“Say please,” you teased, and you let one of your hands move between his legs so you could cup his balls. They sat heavy in your palm, seemingly ready to explode.

“Fuck,” he repeated, adding your name at the end. “Who would have thought you had this in you?”

 Emboldened by his words, you licked at his tip, collecting the precum on his slit. “That wasn’t please.”

He clenched his jaw, eyes shutting in frustration before he finally said, “Please, baby. Please suck my dick.”

You sucked on his tip once, tongue swirling around it, before pulling away. “Good boy.”

That was Namjoon’s undoing. He let go of his dick, grabbed your head, aligning his dick with your mouth as he repeatedly cursed under his breath. You liked him like this, liked the power you had over him. So you resisted, just to piss him off further, but it only seemed to turn him into a whiny mess as begging mixed with cursing.

                Only then did you finally start sucking him off, jaw straining from how big he was. It hurt, and your eyes watered as he reached the back of your throat with not even half of him in your mouth. All you could think of was that he was going to be quite a stretch down there, too, as you looked up at his features, casted in the soft silvery glow of the moon outside.

                You pulled almost all the way out, but the hand on the back of your head held you in place, forcing you to keep him in your mouth. You played with the head of his cock with your tongue, swirling it around it, teasing the slit as the salty taste of precum filled your mouth. You moaned, softly, and Namjoon cursed once more, before falling entirely silent as he watched you take as much of him as you could again.

Once he hit the back of your throat, you swallowed, eyes watering again as you tried to hold in your gag reflex. It didn’t really work, and when you choked, Namjoon pulled out of your mouth.

“You okay?” he asked.

“You’re so big,” you praised, and you grabbed his dick with a loose grip, jerking him off slowly. Mostly, you spread your saliva on his length, wanting to make sure he was well-lubricated for what was to come.

“Why don’t you sit?” you told him, letting go of his dick.

He looked conflicted for about a second before he did. You readjusted yourself so you were kneeling between his powerful thighs, and the new position allowed you to bite at the hard muscles of his abdomen. He hissed, hand going to the back of your head as he guided you towards his dick once more.

“Suck me, baby,” he said, still sounding just as whiny.

Feeling like a brat, you replied, “What do I get in exchange?”

His forehead creased as he furrowed his eyebrows, searching for something to reply. Though Namjoon was not a man of many words, always choosing his words carefully, right now, it seemed he was entirely silenced.

“I’ll fuck you good,” he finally answered, voice low. He bent a little, grabbing your face, and his thumbs stroked your cheeks. “I’ll fuck you good until your legs shake and you can’t walk anymore. Is that a good deal?”

You bit your lip as he let go of you, once again grabbing his dick so he could hold it up for you. Not moving towards it, you rested your head on his thigh, before reaching between his legs to cup his balls. They were heavy in your palm, and you gently massaged them, earning you a soft grunt from him.

“Careful with the balls,” he warned you.

You pouted before leaning between his legs. You avoided his waiting cock, instead aiming for the base of his dick, right between his two balls. You then licked a long stripe towards the top, and Namjoon cursed as you swirled your tongue on his frenulum.

“My bad,” you then apologized, letting go of his balls as you made a mental note that they probably were too sensitive for him to enjoy. “Let me make it up to you.”

He cocked an eyebrow in question, but the second your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock and you sucked hard, he threw his head back, cursing out loud. It finally convinced you to get to work, and you replaced his hand on his dick so you could jerk him off in time with the bobbing of your head.

As big as he was, you found you couldn’t keep going for much longer. So instead of taking all of him in – or as much of him as you could – you focused on his tip, jerking him off faster after having spit in your hand. Looking up at him, you noticed his teeth digging into his lower lip, a clear indication that he was enjoying himself, and then you closed your eyes, focusing on the job at hand.

Focusing on pleasuring Kim Namjoon.

You sucked him off for a while, long enough for his dick to turn rock hard under your ministrations. Long enough for him to be a panting and cursing mess, long enough for your jaw to hurt so bad you almost thought it was going to dislocate. When the pain grew too intense, you sat back on your heels, and stroked his dick, twisting your wrist as you reached the tip.

“So big I can’t even suck you properly,” you commented.

“I’ll stretch you wide open, baby,” he said, and he leaned back on his hands as he looked down at you. “I’ll stretch you so wide you’ll cry my name.”

It was so crass your hand slowed on his dick as you clenched your thighs. “Fuck, Namjoon.”

He smirked, dimples dangerously decorating his cheeks, but an expert motion of your hand had him close his eyes, mouth falling open on a low moan.

“Should I ride you?” you asked him. “I want to feel you inside of me.”

“You’ll need me to get you ready,” he answered once he was able to look at you again. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You almost wanted to tell him that you were going to be okay, but he wasn’t wrong. Fucking yourself on him without having been previously fingered would definitely hurt like a bitch.

“Ride my face?” he suggested as you debated what to do.

You wet your lips, desire pumping through your blood before you told him, “Lie down.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, and you quickly climbed on top of him, straddling his face. His large hands cupped your ass, squeezing and parting your cheeks as he licked a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. He flicked his tongue against the bundle of nerves, and you hissed, fingers getting lost in his hair as you pushed it out of his eyes.

You maintained eye contact as you lowered yourself on him until you were properly seated on his pretty features. His tongue parted your folds, dipping in your entrance, and you instinctively grinded. He pushed the wet muscle deep inside of you, as deep as he could before arching it, searching for your sweet spot.

When you let out a soft moan, he flicked at the same spot again, and you grinded into his face once more.

“Fuck,” you told him. “Right there.”

He understood right away, and he started fucking you with his tongue, hitting that same spot again and again, making the corners of your vision blurry. All you could focus on were his eyes between your legs, and you moaned his name as his fingers dug into the skin of your ass. It hurt a little, and you wondered for a time if he was unaware of his strength.

You wouldn’t be surprised – he was a lot stronger than you had imagined he was.

As Namjoon kept working on you, eating you out and lapping your juices, you palmed your breast, rolling the sensitive nipple between your thumb and index. The added sensation had more of your vision turning blurry, making it hard for you to focus on Namjoon. So you closed your eyes, focusing on the pleasure moving through you, and soon enough, a knot started tightening in your core.

Instinctively, you started grinding into his face, following the rhythm of his tongue inside of you, and the knot tightened and tightened, almost painfully so. When Namjoon landed a surprising slap on your ass, you lost it, knot snapping as your orgasm hit you.

You came hard, walls pulsating around Namjoon’s tongue, and he milked all of your orgasm out of you, lapping your juices as you dripped on him. When you started getting oversensitive, you moved to sit next to him instead. Namjoon didn’t move right away, catching his breath, but when he did move, it was to wipe his chin with the back of his hand. He sat up after that, catching your lips in a quick kiss that left you breathless, mind spinning with the taste of yourself.

“Now I’m going to fuck you,” Namjoon promised.

All you could do was moan as one of his large hands moved between your legs. He pushed two fingers in, and they slid right in with all the lubrication your orgasm had just brought out of you. He fingered you for a few seconds as he littered small kisses on your shoulder and up your neck, and he nibbled at your ear once he reached it.

“You’re going to take all of me, mmh?” he asked right in your ear, voice so low and husky your walls clenched around his fingers.

“Yes,” you answered.

He pulled away, smirking in satisfaction before saying, “Get on all fours. I want to look at your ass while I’m fucking you.”

“You’d like that?” you teased him. “You want to see my ass bounce while you pound into me?”

Your two sentences were enough to silence him once more, and all he managed to do in reply was nod. It made you chuckle, and before you got into position, you crawled to your bedside table, fishing a condom out of the half-empty box you owned from a previous relationship.

“Put this on,” you told Namjoon as you handed him the condom.

He looked down at your hand. “What size is that?”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Regular.”

He laughed before shaking his head at you. You were about to argue when he got up, moving to his discarded pants so he could grab his wallet. “I need bigger than that, baby,” he told you as an explanation, and you rolled your eyes playfully as you put the condom back in your bottom drawer.

Namjoon fished an appropriately-sized condom from his wallet, and he was quick to get it out of the wrapper and put it on his hard length. He hissed a little as he rolled it down his dick, but once it was in place he moved back to the bed, kneeling behind you as you propped your ass up, keeping your face down.

“Gosh, you’re so sexy like this,” he praised you. “Ever since he saw you again, I’ve been wanting to see you like this.”

A drop of warning clouded your senses for a few seconds, but when he rubbed his dick between your folds, pushing it against your clit, lust took over once more. You grabbed at the sheets as he teased the sensitive bundle of nerves again and again, and when you had enough, you cursed.

“Fuck me,” you told him. “Fuck me before I change my mind.”

He slapped your ass. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

Before you could reply, he pushed the fat tip of his cock between your folds, and you moaned at the burning sensation. It was the good kind of burning, the one that left stars dancing behind your eyelids and on the periphery of your vision. It made you clutch the sheets harder, and then Namjoon pushed in, embedding himself deep inside of you.

He grabbed your hips, fingers digging into the supple skin so hard you were pretty sure they were going to leave marks behind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. All you did was moan loudly, especially as he pulled almost all the way out before slapping his hips forward again.

It was rough, and your body jerked forward from the impact of his pelvis on your ass. You couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything other than the stretch between your legs, and when he started pounding into you, you felt him so deep you cried out his name.

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged you. “You take me so well.”

He slightly slowed down, but his hips still snapped forward in quick and harsh thrusts as he leaned forward, adjusting the position. When he was satisfied by the new angle, he resumed his previous speed, as one of his hands grabbed at your hair, pulling it in a makeshift ponytail so he could keep you in place.

He didn’t pull on your hair harder than that, didn’t force you look back at him, and for a moment, all that could be heard in the room was the sound of skin slapping on skin, and the moans and grunts you two were making. It was loud, and you were glad you lived in a house and not an apartment – you were pretty sure your neighbours would have heard otherwise.

When Namjoon landed another slap on your ass, you cursed loudly, and it made him still halfway out of you. He massaged the spot gently, soothing the skin with his warm fingers. “Do you want to switch position?” he asked.

As much as the current position felt good, you knew this angle would never make you cum. So you nodded your head, and Namjoon pulled out of you, sitting back on his heels. You turned towards him, and your eyes fell to his hardened length. To your juice coating the condom, and you got an idea.

“Lean back on your hands,” you ordered.

He cocked an eyebrow in question, yet he still obeyed. When he was properly positioned, you climbed on top of him, grabbing his cock to guide it towards your entrance. You help onto his shoulder with your other hand, and you slowly sunk on him until his cock hit your cervix. It hurt a little, the angle different from earlier yet making you feel so much more, and you grabbed onto his other shoulder.

“Shit,” you cursed.

“You okay?”

You nodded. “You’re so fucking deep.” And then you leaned back a little, and both of your gazes dropped to the space where your bodies were connected. To the bulge in your tummy as you slightly leaned back. “So fucking big we can see you in me.”

He moaned and threw his head back as you moved up, only to slam back down a second later. He put all of his weight on one hand, and his other settled on your waist, following you as you established a slow and sensual rhythm, rolling your hips whenever he was deep inside of you. It had his big cock rubbing against that sweet spot inside of you, and when the corners of your vision turned white, you started moving faster.

You grabbed onto his neck, not squeezing, and you felt him swallow under your palm. Your pleasure increased tenfold as the hand on your waist moved to cup your breast, and when he squeezed your nipple, you clenched your walls hard against his dick.

“Fuck,” he let out, and he looked at you.

The moment his gaze met yours, you started choking him, increasing your speed to chase your orgasm. His mouth fell open, and his dick reached deep inside of you as you kept going, kept splitting yourself on him.

When your orgasm hit, you wrapped an arm around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder. He circled your waist, fucking up into you as much as he could in this position. He rode you through your high, and you were a shaking mess when he finally slowed down, hand rubbing your back soothingly.

“Lie down for me,” he gently said.

You were too lost in ecstasy to argue, and you craved his dick the second it was out of your pussy. He wasn’t out for long, and he kneeled between your legs, holding them to his chest as he pushed in in one powerful thrust. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head with the sensation, and you moaned out his name as he established an unforgiving rhythm.

When his teeth sunk into your calf in a clear attempt to muffle his own moans, you clenched hard around him, and it was enough to get him close. To your surprise, he pulled out of you, quickly taking off the condom, and he pumped his dick, emptying his load on your stomach and pelvis. The feeling of every hot spurt on you had you reach between you, and when some landed on your fingers, you quickly brought them to your mouth, getting a taste of him.

Namjoon grunted, and he slowly decreased the rhythm of his jerking off until he was just holding his dick over you, one last drop of cum meeting the rest on your stomach. You didn’t move for a long time, both of you trying to catch your breath. It took a while, but once your pulse had stopped racing, you propped yourself up on your elbows, looking at the white mess on your stomach.

“You made quite a mess,” you teased him.

“Sorry,” he sheepishly said. “Was that okay?”

You nodded. “As long as you clean it up, yes.”

He laughed, bending so he could retrieve some tissues from your nightstand. He first cleaned his fingers, and then your stomach, making sure not to leave a single drop behind. Still, you felt sticky, and when you offered him to take a shower, he agreed right away.

You let the warm water run on your body, taking with it your sweat and Namjoon’s cum, as you ran your hands through your hair. You sighed, opening your eyes to the sight of him as he looked down at you, a fond smile on his lips.

“Can you pass me the shampoo?”

He nodded, but instead of giving it to you, he motioned for you to turn. “I’ll wash your hair.”

The domesticity of the action had your cheeks burning, and all you could do was hope he hadn’t noticed. You still turned, and when he started massaging your head, you shut your eyes, sighing in contentment. When he was done, he made you turn around so he could wash the shampoo out of your hair, making sure you didn’t get any in your eyes. After that, you switched place so he could wash his own hair, while you busied yourself with cleaning your body, erasing what was left of the action that had transpired between you and Kim Namjoon.

You didn’t speak more in the shower, though you did exchange a slow kiss once you were both entirely clean. Namjoon’s lips seemed more hesitant now, but as you wrapped your arms around his waist, it was his turn to sigh in contentment. His kiss grew more affirmative now, as if he was trying to tell you that he, too, felt a certain way with you.

Because right now, you felt like you were floating, like you were an astronaut in zero gravity. It was dizzying, but in a beautiful way as you held onto him, and he held onto you. It was filled with memories of the past, yes, but also of promises of the future.

That was when you remembered what he had said right before you had started having sex. How he had been imagining you like this ever since you had met again, thirteen years after you’d disappeared from his life. The previous wariness returned, and you pulled away from the kiss to rest your forehead on his chest. He let you do it, unaware of the drop of doubt that was solidifying into lead in your stomach.

After the shower, you lied in bed, Namjoon by your side, unable to form a sentence. Unable to breathe your worries into words, unable to share with Namjoon that you were afraid he only wanted you for sex. And you tried, you really tried to speak, but all you could do was slowly breathe in and out, trying to calm your racing heart before it burst inside your chest.

Right when you thought you had gathered enough courage, Namjoon softly snored next to you, and you realized that, after all, it was too late to share your concerns.

*****

                You stared at the scenery out of the window. You hadn’t been to Ilsan in a long time, but when Namjoon had mentioned he was going to visit his family, offering you a ride – a company official ride, considering he couldn’t drive – you hadn’t been able to say no. So you watched Ilsan from the window of your parents’ kitchen, remembering growing up.

Remembering days of childhood innocence, and of teenager crushes. Of teenager fights, and breakups that had shaped who you had turned out to be. It was strange to think that you were going to circle your way back to Namjoon, that you were going to come here to Ilsan, with him.

You hadn’t told your parents. When they had seen you arrive, they had asked how you had gotten here, considering your car was nowhere to be seen. You had lied through your teeth, saying that you had taken the train, and they hadn’t pushed, knowing that you indeed often took the train anyway, in an attempt to clear your head and sketch some ideas for your next art piece.

Instead, you had been at the back of a company car, chatting the ride away with Kim Namjoon as if it wasn’t only the tenth time you had seen him again after your breakup thirteen years ago. It was like you had never parted – complicity between Kim Namjoon and you was easy as breathing, as natural as the sun shining in the sky overhead. And the sun had shone all the way home, as if to tell you that your worries meant nothing.

But your worries were still haunting you. Hadn’t stopped haunting you since you had sex with him, chasing you through your days, taunting you through your nights. You weren’t able to escape them, especially not as he acted the way that he did.

That is, as if you were far closer than you were. As if the years hadn’t come and gone, as if thirteen years had been just the blink of an eye. It was strange to you, stranger still, that whenever you were with him, you tended to forget too. Tended to bask in his warmth, and it was no wonder your relationship was so physical.

Indeed, sometimes you even thought that it was all there was. Because each time you had seen him after your date had been physical, his body on top of yours as he fucked your brains out. As you climbed on top in an attempt to gain control, but you doubted you’d ever have the control when it came to Kim Namjoon.

So you looked outside the kitchen window, trying to remember who you were. Trying to remember what you wanted, and trying to figure out what you should eat for dinner later.

You were here for four days, and though you had brought supplies so you could paint here, hoping your childhood home would bring you inspiration, all you had been able to do was worry about Kim Namjoon and what he meant in your life.

You weren’t sure it mattered. Because even though your relationship was purely physical, it still brought you satisfaction. Always left you swimming in ecstasy, always made you sleep soundly for a few days.

It had been weeks since your date. Almost two months, actually. Namjoon had texted you regularly, though the conversation never really delved into subjects that mattered. He was too busy to hang out often, but he made you feel as if he was making time for you. Yet you couldn’t shake what he had said out of your mind.

Did you want to just be someone Kim Namjoon saw when he needed to fuck? When he needed to paint himself on you, to bring more confusion into the mess of art your mind had been since the date?

The answer was easy. No, you didn’t wish to be just that. You’d never been one to have fuck buddies, and every time you saw Namjoon, the impression was reinforced. Perhaps because he made small comments, about how he was glad he could fuck you, glad you were in his bed.

Glad you moaned out his name whenever you came, and evidently, he made you come plenty enough. But yet you needed more, and you hated yourself for it.

Why complicate something that was so easy? So you remained silent, never said anything, though you did hold onto him as much as you could when you slept in his arms, trying to remind yourself that if he just wanted sex, he wouldn’t sleep over, or ask you to stay.

Would he have offered to drive you to Ilsan if you were nothing to him? You highly doubted so. Especially considering how he had talked to you, how comfortable he was next to you.

You sighed, looking away from the window as you turned towards the living room. Your father was napping on the couch, and your mother had gone to the market, declining your offer to come with as she had claimed you needed to work on your paintings.

You had been staring at the canvas for an hour before you had come to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, and you had already finished it as you had watched the world outside the kitchen window, lost in thought. You figured taking a walk would help clear your mind, and you hoped you’d find inspiration by the time you were back home.

Though the weather was warmer outside than it was weeks ago, when you had your date with Namjoon, you still wrapped a thick scarf around your neck, burying yourself in the warm coat you had brought here. You put on your Chelsea boots, and the minute you stepped outside, you loosened the scarf.

The air smelled fresh and hinted at spring. There was no snow, most of it having melted under the peculiar warmth, and by the time you made it to the end of the street, you unzipped your coat too, feeling too hot.

You turned to your left, bowing your head slightly at the older couple that you passed. They reciprocated, but you didn’t pay attention to them more than necessary as you walked towards the park behind your middle school. The middle school where you and Namjoon had first fallen in love when you were dumb and young.

Ten minutes later, the building came into view, and memories swarmed in, chasing Namjoon out of your thoughts. Well, chasing current Namjoon out of your thoughts as you remembered your classes, and the teacher that you had always hated. As you remembered sitting on the bleachers of the soccer field, chatting the evening away when you were supposed to be home.

It was no surprise that you found yourself making your way to those bleachers, and you sat as high as you could, eyeing the empty field. It was the middle of the week, and the soccer field was empty save for birds searching for worms in the wet grass.

You leaned back on your hands so you could look up, gazing at the few clouds in the sky. Wind played with your hair, blowing it in your face, but you ignored it, focusing on the fresh air. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you inhaled deeply.

You were calm and content... until you let out a startled cry as someone said your name. Your eyes flew open to the sight of Kim Namjoon at the bottom of the bleachers, looking up at you.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you told him, hand on your racing heart. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just out on a walk,” he informed you. “Didn’t expect to run into you.”

He walked up the bleachers, sitting next to you before you replied. “Your parents are bothering you?” you teased, gently nudging him.

“Nah,” he said, laughing. “I’ve been songwriting since I got here? Can’t get this song right, so I decided to walk. Thought it’d help clear my mind.”

Of course, he was out and about for the same reason as you. Because you and Kim Namjoon were far more similar than you wanted to believe it. Sometimes, it led you to think that you were two of the same person, and usually, whenever you thought that you had to rein yourself in, reminding yourself that all he did with you was have sex.

“Couldn’t paint,” you admitted.

“Your parents are bothering you?” he asked, repeating your question with a corner smile and a single dimple.

This time, you pushed him, laughing before replying, “You’re annoying.”

He grinned, though you both fell silent as your gazes moved up to the sky, and you enjoyed the afternoon warmth. You knew the night would get cold, but you still had a few more hours of sunlight before the world gave way to darkness.

“You know,” he said as your eyes chased a white cloud on the cerulean expanse of the sky. “I was hoping we could hang out, while we’re here?”

He said it like a question, as if asking for permission, and it had your heart race in your chest. “Aren’t you afraid of your parents asking questions?”

“Not really,” he answered. “They know that you came with me. They want me to invite you over for dinner.”

Your gaze widened as it dropped to him. He was already looking at you, a small, hopeful smile on his lips. “Is that something that we’re supposed to be doing?” you enquired.

It seemed to take him by surprise. “What do you mean?”

You reckoned now was a good time as any to voice your concerns. Perhaps because the scene was familiar, safe, and you couldn’t deal with the concern gnawing at your nerves anymore.

“What are we, exactly?” you said, softly, finally giving voice to the worries.

Namjoon’s eyes went round as blush crept on his cheeks. “What?”

The drop of lead from that first date grew inside of you. “It’s just… we’ve only been hanging out for sex, correct?”

“Is that what it is for you?” he enquired after a few seconds of silence, of him just watching you with a somber expression.

You chuckled awkwardly. “To be entirely honest, I don’t do this. So no, I’d hope it’s not that, but…” you trailed off, eyes falling to the field in front of you. “You haven’t really made me feel like you’re in this for more than just sex.”

He leaned forward as if trying to gain your attention. As your gaze remained stubbornly on the empty field, he said your name once. His voice was soft, gentle, and that, more than anything, made you turn to look at him.

“I thought we were… dating?” he admitted. “I… I’m sorry if I just… assumed?”

It was such a Namjoon thing to do that you couldn’t even blame him. His revelation made the lead melt away to be replaced by a sweet warmth much like the one the sun rays carried. “Oh?”

As you didn’t say anything else, Namjoon straightened, putting a little distance between the two of you. “Unless that’s not what you want?”

In truth, yes, it probably was what you had been wanting since the beginning. Since he had arrived at your house with the flowers before the date, and since his lips had found yours for the first time again after thirteen years apart. You had been wanting him, more than just physically.

“I mean…” You chuckled awkwardly again, shrugging your shoulders. “Yes, that’s what I want.”

He grinned, dimples flashing blindingly, even more so than the sun in the sky up above. “Good. So you’ll come over for dinner?”

This time you laughed, and you cocked an eyebrow. “With just a few hours notice?”

“Yeah?” He shrugged. “My parents already know you, what does it change?”

And when you held his soft gaze, you decided why not? Why not dive in feet first, and not care about the consequences?

You doubted there’d be anything negative to come out of a dinner with Namjoon’s parents. And turned out you were right – both of them were happy to see you, and Namjoon’s mom kept repeating how proud she was that Namjoon had found you again, in Seoul. To Namjoon’s dismay, she told you about just how much Namjoon had cried after your breakup, and about how much it had encouraged him to become a rapper. Namjoon was red up to the tip of his ears as you looked at him, yet he didn’t scold his mother, didn’t tell her to stop.

And this, most of all, was the Namjoon you remembered from thirteen years ago. A shy, sweet boy who was always good to his elders, always polite and ready to help. He did help his mother, doing the dishes along with you after you’d eaten, and when it was time for you to leave, his father scolded him and told him to walk you home.

Namjoon grumbled that he was already going to do so, and you said your goodbyes to his parents before walking out into the night. It was a lot colder than it had been during the day, and you buried your hands in the pockets of your coat as you walked close to Namjoon, his arm brushing yours with every step that you took.

“Sorry about that,” Namjoon apologized.

You glanced up at him, gazing at the aura around his head caused by the streetlight behind him. “About what?”

He shrugged. “The dinner. I didn’t expect my parents to be weird about it.”

“They weren’t,” you reassured him. You walked in silence for a time, eyes moving back to the street in front of you. It was empty, even though it wasn’t particularly late at night. Perhaps it rendered you bolder, because you said, “I’m really happy I said yes. I missed them.”

He smiled, softly. “They missed you too.”

A comfortable silence moved between you, and you basked in it as you made your way home, with your teenage lover by your side. It was hard to believe that he was next to you right now, and just like that, you knew what you were going to paint when you were home.

“The night is beautiful,” Namjoon said softly. “Makes it feel like we never left, you know?”

“Like it hasn’t been thirteen years, right?”

He nodded. “The weight of the years does feel lesser since we’ve reconnected.”

His words had warmth blossom in your chest, heating up your body in the cold early spring night. They had you glance at him, and when you found him already looking at you, you stopped. He stopped just a step ahead of you, turning to look at you.

“Do you think we were just right people, wrong time?” you asked. “I’ve been thinking… it’s been so easy with you, since our date. It’s strange to believe that it would be, no?”

“The years haven’t changed us as much as you’d imagined they would,” he agreed. “Like…” he glanced up at the sky, searching for words to voice his feelings. “BTS came into my life after you. I’d say it changed me, made me grow up far faster than I thought I would. Being the leader and all, I had a lot of responsibilities on me, you know?”

You nodded, not really knowing where he was going.

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to be the leader,” he continued, revealing something you weren’t sure he had said out loud to anyone before. “I wish I didn’t have this weight on me and… in November, when I saw you again, I was going through a hard time. I didn’t entirely recognize you at first, but I was drawn to your gallery again and… I tried to find a reason to visit. To find a reason to talk to you.”

His eyes met yours again, and you almost balked at the intensity of his gaze.

“I felt lighter with you than I’d felt in years. So, when you say right people, wrong time, I think you’re right. I think thirteen years ago was all fucked up for us, but I think we were always meant to find each other again, through all the craziness of the world.”

You didn’t hesitate. You grabbed the lapels of his coat, pulling him down in a kiss. He kissed you back instantly, though his lips were slow against yours. Soft, anchoring you in this moment, in this space that had used to be yours when you were younger. He kissed you like time had slowed for you, like you had all night to stay right here, in this spot.

Your heart found a soothing rhythm in your chest, one echoed in his own ribcage, and his large hands found your waist to pull you closer. When he slipped his tongue in your mouth, you sighed dreamily, the taste of him so heavenly now that the lead in your stomach was gone that you thought you were going to start flying right here, right now.

Namjoon pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, and your breaths moved up in the sky, forming a single cloud over your heads.

“Had I known that you were worried I wasn’t into you like this, I wouldn’t have had sex with you every time we hung out,” he admitted, softly.

That, more than anything else, finished reassuring you.

“Hey,” you let out. “It’s okay. I should have spoken to you about it before.”

He pecked your lips once more before pulling away. He offered you his hand, and you gently took it as he smiled at you, his dimples so familiar on his cheeks that you wanted to drown in him.

“Let’s get you home,” he said. “I wouldn’t want your parents to worry.”

“I’m an adult now,” you reminded him, earning a laugh as he pulled you towards your house.

He shrugged. “They are still your parents; they’ll always worry for you.”

His words held truth, so you didn’t resist as he finished walking you home. You stood in front of the gate, looking at each other, and Namjoon gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers grazed down your face until they rested on your jaw, and he leaned down to press another gentle kiss on your lips, one that had you wish you didn’t have to part with him for the night.

One day, you liked to believe you wouldn’t have to part at all.

*****

                Being in a relationship with Kim Namjoon was easy. The weeks following your trip to Ilsan had you growing ever so closer, and you accompanied him to a dinner with all of his members. There, you saw what it meant for him to be the leader, but you kept your hand in his, bearing the weight of it along with him, even though it wasn’t like he had to keep them in check in private.

You had left early as you needed to go to your studio early in the morning, but had been unable to part with Namjoon, which wasn’t all that surprising to you or him. You both liked sharing a bed, liked the closeness that it allowed you. So you stayed the night, and the next day you made your way to your studio level-headed, ready to paint all day after your meeting with your manager. Your phone was dead, but you knew she wasn’t one to miss a meeting, and you figured you could always charge your phone when you got to the studio.

To your surprise, Sooah wasn’t alone when you got there. There was a suit-clad man, and he bowed his head at you respectfully as you walked in. You threw a curious look to Sooah, and the expression on her face made your heart drop to your ass, if that was possible.

“Hi,” the man politely said. “I’m glad you’ve finally showed up.”

He sounded annoyed, and it grated your nerves right away. You cocked an eyebrow before saying, “To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“I am Jo Jonghyuk,” he answered, offering his hand for you to shake. “Hybe representative.”

You let out a nervous chuckle. “What’s bringing you here?

Sooah was the one to answer. “There’s been leaked pictures of you and Namjoon,” she informed you carefully. “They are… all over the media this morning.”

A drop of cold sweat rolled down your spine. “Excuse me?”

You hadn’t noticed it before, but the man had a briefcase. He quickly opened it, getting a stack of papers out of it that he handed to you unceremoniously. You looked at them, eyes widening as you saw the series of pictures, all of them of you and Namjoon.

And your face was far too recognizable. You couldn’t pretend it wasn’t you, couldn’t pretend you had no idea what the man was talking about. So when he asked if there was a space where you could sit down to discuss, you let Sooah suggest heading downstairs. You followed them with fear in your gut, and even when you were sitting on the couches downstairs, you still couldn’t stop your heart from racing in your chest.

“So,” the man said. “We’re aware that our artists have lives outside of the company.” He paused, watching you carefully. “But we need to preserve their image. I’m sure you can understand?”

Sooah saved you by replying. “What is that supposed to mean for Y/n?”

“Namjoon is currently in a meeting with other representatives. He will be asked the same thing as you,” the man offered as an explanation.

You cocked an eyebrow. “And what is it that I’m going to be asked?”

“Keep the relationship behind closed doors.” The man motioned around you. “As an artist, I’m sure you understand how one’s image is important. The stocks are going to be impacted if it is said that Kim Namjoon is in a relationship, and not for the better. We are going to release a statement later in the day to refute the rumours.”

It wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be, yet you still felt sick, down to your very core. “And this needed an early morning meeting?”

You’d like to think that you sounded arrogant, defiant, but your voice was filled with nerves, shaking pathetically.

The man offered you a polite smile. “No. I’m here to have you sign an NDA.”

That made more sense. And still, it wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be – it wasn’t like you were going to scream about your relationship with Namjoon. After all, it still was fairly new, and you also wanted to preserve your anonymity.

In that instant, as the man pulled out said NDA from his briefcase, you understood something. Your anonymity was gone, gone like the winds of winter as the world outside slowly turned to spring.

Your face was visible in the pictures. People had seen you around the gallery, outside of official events, when you wore your mask.

You signed with a trembling hand, barely recognizing your own name on the paper, and the man offered you a copy of it before saying that he had to go. He thanked you for your cooperation on the way out, and when he was gone, disappearing at the bend in the street, you turned towards Sooah.

“I’m fucked,” you said.

She pursed her lips, concern moving on her features. “You are not. There’s no indication that people will associate you with Maehwa. I don’t think this will affect the gallery.”

You shook your head. “You don’t understand.” You scoffed, gaze dropping to the floor as the lead you had felt after your first date with Namjoon rematerialized, turning into a reality you didn’t think you were ready to gaze at. “It’s just a matter of time. His fandom discovers everything. They will know it’s me.”

“Then we’ll use it as publicity.”

Your eyes widened as you looked at your manager. “You can’t be serious.”

“Your art is beautiful,” she reminded you. “You’ve been building your reputation for years. Why would you being a human, having relationships, impact it?” She paused as if to give weight to her question. “It’s just going to put emphasis to the emotion in your art. People won’t see you as a masked individual anymore, but rather as the person behind the artist.”

You didn’t want to hear her. Knew she was being rational, yet couldn’t bear the truth in her words. Perhaps because you had always loved your anonymity. Always wanted to keep it, to use it to protect yourself from the world of fame, a world you had never wanted for yourself.

No, you just wanted to make art. To enjoy the science behind the pieces, the emotions that made you create. You were afraid it was going to be taken from you now. And who were you to blame? It was just a question of time before people connected the dots between you and Namjoon, thanks to the pictures, yes, but also to the interview that had yet to be released.

“Deep breaths,” Sooah said calmly, cutting through your spiraling. “I promise it’ll be okay.”

“What if it’s not?” you asked. “What if I can’t paint anymore?”

“You’ve been painting your whole life,” she reminded you. “You won’t suddenly stop because of rumours about you.”

See, that was the logical way to think about it. You clung to the words, held them close to your heart and let them replay in your head. It eased the anxiety that was building inside of you, and soon enough, your frantic breathing returned to normal.

“Shit.”

Sooah raised her eyebrows, waiting to make sure your spiraling truly was over. When you didn’t say anything else, she nodded once, patting you on the shoulder. “It’s all going to work out. And besides, congrats on your relationship with Namjoon?”

She said it like a question because, frankly, you hadn’t told Miyoung or Sooah a lot about you and Namjoon, except that you were taking things slow. It was the best you had been able to come up with, back when you thought he was only seeking carnal union with you, and you hadn’t changed the narrative after you and Namjoon had made it official in Ilsan.

And later, as you worked on the painting you had started in Ilsan, you pictured the cold night, when he had kissed you under the streetlamps. When you had realized that you had truly been wrong all along, that life was a cycle bringing you back to him. Back to where it had all started. You remembered his soft lips on yours, and that, most of all, finished calming you down from the anxiety.

Every stroke of your brush on the canvas, every new line, meant a thousand words, as you painted. As you created art from nothing but the memories your art held, as you put them together to form the image that had come to you that cold night. It was beautiful, in a heavy kind of way, because the emotions were heavy. The love, the recognition and the knowledge of life and the cycle of it, all entwined together to form something that only you and Namjoon could understand.

And as you worked, forgetting all about the world outside, all about the threat to your anonymity, you believed everything was going to be alright…

Almost.

*****

                “Thank you,” you thanked the young girls after they were done perusing your gallery.

It had taken all but a few hours for your artist self to be associated with Kim Namjoon and your gallery. On the same day, you had received more visitors than you had ever had, and though you had donned your mask, you knew it was pointless.

Knew from the looks and the whispers that people knew. Still, for the next following days, you kept wearing your mask. Kept trying to ignore how people weren’t here for your art anymore, but rather for you as a person. For your connection to Kim Namjoon, for what you meant to him and what he meant to you.

Namjoon had been understanding when you had told him how anxious the situation was making you. Had suggested avoiding public spaces altogether, and so far, you had only been able to see him once for dinner two days ago.

The dinner had been spent in far more silence than usual, while you both contemplated what this meant for you. You had settled on really taking it slow, letting the rumours die of their own volution instead of doing more about them. Because Hybe had released a statement, and already Dispatch was on the newest rumour, forgetting all about your possible connection with Kim Namjoon.

Except for the fans, that is. Because the fans came to your gallery, complimented your art, though you did see them snickering in your back. Before, you had believed you were above this, above petty gossiping and jealous bullying, especially coming from younger people. After all, younger people were that – young, and youth often held an amount of stupidity that was rarely found elsewhere.

As it had been the case for you and Namjoon, thirteen years ago.

Still, you found you were increasingly anxious, and instead of expecting Namjoon’s next message, his next call, you started dreading them. It was vicious, poisoning your blossoming relationship without him even being aware of it.

How could you blame him? He was used to this life, after all.

You sighed in your mask, hating the way your eyes burned. They burned more now that you wore the mask more often, drying out whenever you breathed out too strongly. You had gotten artificial tears, and you couldn’t wait to be able to lubricate your eyes as you watched the last few people milling about your gallery.

It was almost closing time, and you were looking forward to it more than you usually did. Mostly because you wanted to bask in calmness and silence for a while, if only to be able to get a grip on the anxiety.

Two older women approached you, hands behind their backs, where you stood by the big painting of Ilsan. They bowed politely, and to your relief, asked you if one of the pieces was for sale. Art enthusiasts, then. It was reassuring to see some of them in your gallery, even after all the recent events.

“Yes,” you answered them politely. “It’s currently on auction for the month. You can put in your own bid if you’d like.”

The smallest one pursed her lips, tilting her head to the side. “How expensive was the last bid?”

Even though this was supposed to be Sooah’s job, you still had access to the app where the bidding took place. So you took your phone out of your pocket, heart dropping in your chest when the screen lit up to show you three texts from Namjoon. You ignored them, swiping the phone open before clicking on the app.

As it loaded, you looked up to smile at the women. “Just a moment.”

They nodded in understanding, yet one of them looked over her shoulder as if annoyed. You felt bad, but it wasn’t like you controlled the technology. All you could do was wait, and the second the app opened, you scrolled down to the current bidding.

You hadn’t checked it since the bidding had started. Lowest bid had been set at 5 million won, but right now, the number you were reading on the screen didn’t even make any sense.

“Huh,” you let out, and you looked at the women, chuckling awkwardly. “It seems the bid for this piece has gone out of the roof.”

That was putting it lightly. Because, looking at the amount on your phone, you believed the bid had been sent to outer orbit.

The smaller woman winced. “How high?”

“1.2 billion won,” you replied. You checked your phone to make sure and even showed the screen to them.

“Oh,” she said. “We can’t afford that.”

You offered them an apologetic smile. “I have more pieces that are on sale and not on auction if you want me to show you.”

The one that seemed like she wanted to leave suddenly widened her gaze. “Oh, that would be lovely.”

They ended up buying a smaller drawing, saying that they were sure the value of it would skyrocket if they ever wanted to sell it. You wanted to tell them that it probably was just a bubble caused by the rumour and that it’d soon burst. Evidently, you couldn’t tell them that, both because of the NDA and because you were growing tongue-tied with the praise they were sending your way. Instead, all you did was offer them a wink, saying that you hoped they’d hold onto it dearly, and then you walked them to the door as it was closing time anyway.

When the door was locked behind them, you leaned against it, sighing shakily. With trembling hands, you fished your phone out of your pocket, and you went through the different pieces you had on auction. Half of the profits were going to a charity for abused women, and still, it’d leave you with much more money than you ever thought you’d own.

You called Sooah, but it was her day off. You didn’t expect her to pick up, as she had told you she was going to be busy tonight, and of course, she didn’t. You still sent her a text to tell her to check the auction app, and then you pushed up from the door, heading to your studio downstairs.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, amidst the brushes and pots of paint you had left hanging around, not really caring about cleaning after yourself when you were in the arms of inspiration. But right now, the mess was making you feel like an imposter, like people would soon find out that you weren’t worth it.

It was then that you finally checked what Namjoon had sent you.

I hope all is well, his first message read. It was followed by, I’ll be in the studio until later tonight, but would you like to hang out after? Finally, his last message was, I’m going to come over to your studio after closing hour with take-out

For some reason, the thought of him coming here made you want to disappear through the floor, but it was already too late. Indeed, your phone started vibrating in your hand with an upcoming call, and his name on the screen taunted you, telling you that, yes, you were just an imposter.

You picked up, hands shaking slightly as you brought the phone to your ear.

“Busy night,” Namjoon said as a greeting.

You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. You’re on your way?”

“I’m outside,” he admitted. “Just waiting for some people to walk away before I come in. I assume it’s locked?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “I’ll come open for you.”

There was an awkward silence as if he expected you to say something more. When you didn’t, he said, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, and cringed at yourself. You weren’t a liar, hated lying, and lying to him felt like you were eating something foul. “Just tired.”

“Well, I hope you’re excited for some take-out. I got your favourite.”

Now, your heart ached in your chest. Because that was Namjoon. Namjoon would always get your favourite food, would always know what to do to cheer you up. Tonight, it felt wrong, as if you didn’t deserve it.

And really, did you deserve it at all? Did you deserve the attention that he had brought to you? Did you deserve the shine in the spotlight?

You highly doubted so.

Walking upstairs felt like a trek to the top of Mount Everest. You were aware that it was anxiety, that you probably shouldn’t listen to the thoughts right now. But they were taunting you, haunting you, a thousand little ghosts spinning around your head in dizzying circles until all that was left was a broken piece of you.

The sight of Namjoon, hood up and mask on, on the other side of the door wasn’t a relief. It was a hand clutching your throat, choking you up until you were left gasping for air on the ground. You stalled for a few seconds, and you wondered if he could feel your hesitancy. If he knew the spirals you had been going down, if he knew you were questioning everything.

You clenched your jaw, sighed deeply, and somehow a small spark of light split the darkness. Because this was Namjoon. This was the same Namjoon as a decade ago. The first boy you had ever loved – could he still really just be that today?

Finally, you walked over to the door, unlocked it and opened it for him. His dragon eyes were unreadable, but they were questioning. You felt as if they were asking questions to your soul directly and, ever bared in front of him, you were pretty sure your soul was answering.

“Hey baby,” he greeted you as he walked in, and you quickly shut the door and locked it behind him.

“Hi,” you said, voice vulnerable in the midst of your anxiety.

“You’ve been busy?” he asked, the soothing tone of his voice dragging a gentle hand on your back, telling you that maybe, maybe if you could let go of the anxiety, everything would be okay.

But could you, when its talons had sunk so deep into your heart you couldn’t quite tell if it was still beating?

“Yeah,” you answered. “I’ve been working on a piece and… didn’t see the time fly.”

He nodded understandingly. “Of course. That’s why I brought food.”

And that was how you found yourself sitting next to him on the couch in your studio, eyes trailing to your piece of art. You wondered if he could see your anxiety in the swirls of darker colours on the canvas. Could he tell you were haunted?

Could he be the solution?

“I think my album is going to be good,” he said as he swallowed the fried chicken he was eating. “You’re going to love it.”

You pursed your lips, not willing to tell him that you’d always loved whatever he made, even back then. “Of course.”

He flashed you a smile, but you could see that it wasn’t quite reaching his eyes. He didn’t say anything though, and you both finished eating in silence. When you were done, Namjoon sat back in the couch, letting out a long sigh as one of his hands gently landed on your thigh. You immediately tensed, and his hand slid away, fingers flexing as if they wished they could hold onto you, but knew it was best not to.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, his deep voice surrounding you, echoes reverberating through the fabric of your soul.

Could you tell him? Could you be honest with Kim Namjoon, or would it make him run away?

A scary thought formed in your mind, coming from the dirtiest part of your soul. Would it be better if he ran away?

“A lot,” you admitted, unable to hide the truth from him. “Quite a lot.”

You met his gaze for a few seconds before finding solace in your painting again.

“You know you can talk to me,” he gently said.

“I know.”

But you couldn’t. You didn’t want to have to tell him that this was all too much for you. That it was too quick, that you felt like you were stuck in a train aiming for a wall at top speed.

“I’m sorry,” he said after the silence had stretched so much, you thought it was about to rip the fabric of reality itself.

“What for?” you asked, genuinely wondering.

He leaned his elbows on his knees, pulling at some calluses on his palm that he got from working out without gloves on. “We haven’t really talked about the rumours.”

You hadn’t. Hadn’t even mentioned anything once, preferring to act as if it had never happened. Foolishly, you’d hoped that it would preserve your anonymity, even after it was gone. Even after the first fans stepped foot in your gallery, even after you’d seen articles about you in the press.

“Yeah.”

“Is that what’s on your mind?” he asked, and he turned his head towards you.

From this angle, it was entirely too hard to avoid his gaze. Instead, you latched onto it, hoping it would make everything better.

“It might be,” you said. You sighed, wetting your lips before you added, “It is.”

“How have you been feeling?”

You weren’t sure there was a way to answer the question. Because you didn’t want him to know just how bad the anxiety had gotten, didn’t want him to know that your life changing so much in such a short amount of time was the scariest thing that had ever happened to you.

“Stressed,” you answered, deciding to use a lesser word in the hope that it wouldn’t hurt him too much. “Especially now that the anonymity is gone.”

He nodded. “I was expecting that to happen.”

You cocked an eyebrow, but found yourself unable to say anything else.

“I’m sorry I took that away from you,” he murmured, and a flash of pain in his eyes told you that he really was.

That Kim Namjoon felt guilty when it came to you, more than he had probably ever felt guilty about anything in life.

“You didn’t mean to,” you reassured him. Because it was the truth – you couldn’t be angry at him for what had happened. You had been part of it just as much as him.

“But it’s still my fault,” he added. “It’s because of me if the media has been after you.”

“It’s not because of you.” You paused, searching for the right words to convey the meaning you wanted. “It’s not you as a person, but rather what you mean to the world.”

You slightly winced, convinced that you had somehow landed on the wrong words after all.

“Possibly,” he said. He sighed, before once again sitting back on the couch. His fingers twitched before he clenched them on his thighs, visibly resisting the urge to do something.

To touch you, you assumed.

“Possibly,” he repeated. “But it’s hard to separate the person that I am from the person that I mean to others. To me, it’s just me, both of these.”

You nodded, because you already knew that. Namjoon was authentic through and through, with everything that he did and was. With every single one of his words – he was a cool-minded reflective person, and it was one of the things you liked the most about him. Maybe because it was such a stark contrast from when he was young, blood boiling at any minor inconvenience.

Maybe because it was an anchor in an otherwise stormy life.

“I know,” you said. “And that’s why I don’t believe it’s your fault. You didn’t mean for any of that to happen. And neither did I.”

“Still sucks that it did.”

You’d never heard a truer sentence before. And it was rhetorical, didn’t mean for a reply. All that you could do was nod, gaze escaping from his to find your wriggling fingers in your lap. A new silence stretched between you, still as heavy. Heavier than gravity – was it going to form a black hole between you and him?

“What’s that painting you’ve been working on?” he asked.

You glanced towards the art. Observed the paler backdrop, the painting that you had started in Ilsan. Your anxiety had splashed swirls of darker blue over it, adding melancholy to it that you’d never really visited in your art before.

“Something to get my mind off the edge,” you admitted. “I’ve been trying to pour my thoughts into it. To escape reality for a time.”

Maybe it had been the wrong thing to say. Weeks later, you’d look back on this moment and realize that it was the catalyst to the destruction. But right this instant, you couldn’t even think past the words.

“To escape?” he prodded.

You nodded. “Don’t you use music as an escape?”

“Yeah,” he said, but somehow his voice was flat.

It brought your attention back to him, and you noticed his eyes on you. Noticed the grief that your words had instilled behind his pupils, hiding somewhere in the deep brown of his gaze.

“So I assume you must understand.”

He didn’t answer right away. Held your gaze as if time had stopped, and maybe it should have. Maybe time should have been kind to you and him, in its chronology.

“If you need an escape from this,” he said, motioning vaguely between you and him, “maybe we shouldn’t be doing it at all.”  

Your heart stopped in your chest, turning cold. Anxiety flooded in, washing away everything that you once were. You felt naked, young, as if you’d gone back in time and were watching him walk away again.

“I never said I needed an escape from us,” you said, and the venom in your voice surprised both you and him.

“Are you happy right now?” he enquired. In a whisper, as if it was the scariest thing. And scary words could never be uttered too loud – wouldn’t they just break everything in their wake?

“I’m not sure.” You saw the flash of hurt on his face, and you quickly rushed to add, “I’m just so anxious.”

“I’ve been making you feel anxious?”

You shook your head. “No. Not you. The situation. The sudden fame. The spotlight and my art being sold at crazy prices. The fact that I have to worry about paparazzi, about what I do or say. It’s so sudden.”

Namjoon didn’t reply right away. Instead, he looked at you, gaze heavy with feelings you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Maybe it was understanding – because of course he’d understand what you were going through. He was going through it too, though he’d known this life for years now.

“I’m sorry I brought this to you,” he eventually chose to say, carefully. As if he was aware you were fragile glass right now, one wrong move and you’d explode into a million tiny little shards. “I can take it away easily,” he claimed.

You cocked an eyebrow, because was he offering you salvation? You highly doubted he could.

“How?”

He pursed his lips, features turning apologetic for a time. “We break up. We go our separate ways, I get the rumours off your back. No one’s going to be after you anymore if they think I’m with someone else.”

The loudest sound in the universe was your heartbeat, in that instant. It was so loud even your thoughts became distant little specks, unable to break the wall of sound.

“What?”

He sighed, shrugging. As if he was giving up, as if he’d given up even before he’d gotten here. “If being with me makes you so anxious,” he started. “And by that, I mean not me as a person. What I mean to the world, or whatever it is that you said earlier. If it makes you too anxious, I’m just going to remove myself from the situation.”

Were you stupid, for being unable to reply anything other than ‘what?’ again? Perhaps you were. Especially as he scoffed this time around, and something started aching in your chest, differently than it was before.

“I think it’s better for you if we break up,” Namjoon explained. When you remained silent this time around, he slowly shut his eyes, head hanging low. “I don’t think I could reassure you enough when it comes to your anxiety for us to be able to be together.”

Your heart felt as if it had slowed down in your chest, so much so that the world surrounding you turned silent, soundless. You heard the breath of air that you took in, cringing as it did nothing to ease the slowly rising panic in you.

“I don’t want us to break up,” you said, murmured, though the moment the words crossed the threshold of your lips you realized that perhaps this had been what you were aiming for all along.

“I can’t date someone that gets so anxious just because they’re with me,” he answered, and he looked truly apologetic. Guilty too, as if he had committed the worst crime humanity could witness.

And perhaps breaking a heart truly was the worst crime out there.

It felt unlike Namjoon. You’d gotten the impression that he was someone reliable, someone cool-headed who’d be able to support you, to help you go through your anxiety. But as you stared at him, sitting there on the couch in your studio, you realized that he, too, struggled with his own anxiety. Had probably struggled with a lot of it in the past, so much so that he couldn’t afford to put himself in a situation where he’d only get bad again.

The only solution appeared like a dark cloud looming over the horizon of your conscience. You wished wind could blow it away, wished you were strong enough to manage your anxiety without losing him, but you knew it’d be easier once he was gone. Knew your sleep wouldn’t be as troubled, knew you’d be able to dwindle away into anonymity once more.

You had to let him go. For your sake, mostly, but for his too. Because he deserved someone who could shine with him in his spotlight, someone who’d be able to accept all of him, including his fame. And that just wasn’t you.

“Namjoon…”

“It’s hard for me too, you know?” he added. “To watch the person that I love getting worse every day, knowing that I’m the cause of it. Y/n…” he paused, and this time he was the one to look away. “I haven’t even seen you smile in weeks. Ever since the rumours.” He shook his head. “Even before that. I’m not sure you’ve been happy since we started dating.”

“That’s not true,” you declared, trying to put as much conviction in your words as you possibly could. “I was happy in Ilsan. I was happy when we came back, too. It really is just the sudden fame that’s been throwing me off.”

You were relieved you’d finally found words to explain your anxiety. And somehow, them slowly falling out of your mouth eased the anxiety, eased the fear.

But you knew you were going to let him go.

“Then we take a break,” he continued. “I don’t want to be the source of something negative in someone’s life. We take a break, let the rumours dwindle away, and when it’s safe, we can try again.”

Your eyes blurred with tears. If he saw them, he ignored it, instead focusing on the calluses in his hands again.

“If that is what you want, I’m not going to force you to stay with me,” you said, voice small in the enormity of what was happening.

He scoffed. “What I want is just impossible. This is just second best.”

“Breaking up with me is second best?” you asked, anger and bitterness swirling under the surface of your ache. “It’s that easy for you?”

He frowned, meeting your gaze again. “Who said it was easy?”

“You’re the one that claims it’s a good thing. Second best.”

At that, he rolled his eyes, slowly shaking his head again. “This is not what I meant.”

Maybe your anxiety was winning against you, maybe the knowledge that you had to let him go was stronger than anything else. Because you couldn’t watch him anymore. Couldn’t gaze at his deep brown eyes anymore, knowing that they’d become ghosts in your memory in just a few moments.

A few moments of breaking, of a glass heart dropped to a stone-cold floor.

“Then leave, Joon,” you said, voice unwavering even though you felt like ice was clutching your entire being. “Let’s take this break, let’s see if it’s better for both of us.”

The dark cloud rolled closer, engulfing you. Especially as he didn’t fight more. As he nodded his head, got up and motioned towards the stairs. As if that was enough when he was dropping you, giving up on you.

But weren’t you giving up on him just as much?

That night, you sat cross-legged in front of your canvas, watching the opened paint pots littering the floor around you. When your eyes slid back towards the canvas, a single tear escaped the confines of your eyelids, rolling along your cheek.

Deep brown eyes looked back at you, shining with their own unshed tears, reminders of where you failed in the timeline of your life.

*****

Thirteen years ago

                You were going to kill Kim Namjoon. You would kill him, and be happy about it.

You’d heard from a friend of a friend that he had been hanging out with a certain Jeon Yuri, a beautiful, popular girl that had every reason to be liked by a guy like Namjoon. It was understandable – everyone loved Yuri.

Only, Yuri hated you. Always did, and took to insulting you in that covert way of hers that made people think she was complimenting them. But you saw right through her – you knew she was just a conniving rich girl. So you hated her back, with all the hate your little heart could summon.

To think Namjoon was hanging out with her? You’d kill him for it.

So you waited outside the gates of your childhood home for him to show up. You had been waiting there for a while already – partly because you needed to cool off, but also because you wanted to avoid your parents’ questions. Because obviously they loved Namjoon.

Everyone loved Namjoon, and everyone loved Yuri. You knew you were going to hate the both of them.

Namjoon arrived with a smile on his face, dimples flashing as if they’d get you to fold, to forgive him. To be fair, he did not know about your history with Yuri, as you never spoke about it to anyone. But when he saw your features, his smile immediately crumbled, replaced by worry.

“What’s wrong?” he instantly asked as he stopped in front of you.

“What’s wrong?” you repeated, before scoffing. “Why did I have to hear from Kim Haru that you’re hanging out with Jeon Yuri?”

His brows furrowed. “What’s wrong with hanging out with her?”

Your eyes widened and your fists landed on your hips. “Everything? She’s just a bitch.”

“Excuse me, what?” Namjoon let out, and you could tell by the reddening of his cheeks that he was already getting worked up too. “You told me to never call a girl a bitch and now you’re doing it?”

You rolled your eyes so far back you thought you could see your brain. “It’s not the same thing.”

He scoffed, in that condescending way of his that he always used when he wanted to win an argument. And you saw red. You saw blood red, scarlet like you were but a bull attracted to a flag.

“Don’t you fucking condescend me right now.”

“Don’t you fucking curse at me.”

“No seriously,” you continued. “I don’t want a guy who’s only after popular girls.”

“I am not,” Namjoon drawled. “I’m tutoring her and Park Seojin in maths. You already knew this.”

As a matter of fact, you did not. “You never told me.”

“Because you never listen to me,” he spat. “You’re always just drawing your fucking drawings as if that’ll lead you anywhere in life.”

“Kim Namjoon!” you burst. “And you’re always just going on about how you want to be a rapper. You’re a kid, dude, stop chasing after pointless dreams.”

He stepped closer to you, towering over you. You stood your ground, crossing your arms on your chest. “You’ll be sorry you ever said that. Oh, you’ll be so fucking sorry.”

“I don’t think I will. I don’t even think I’ll remember you.”

It was a low blow, and you could tell it hit him right in the gut. “You’re breaking up with me over such a stupid thing?”

“I’m breaking up with you because you’re a liar. You said you were with your friends, and then I learn that you were with Jeon Yuri?”

He sighed for a long time, shaking his head in frustration. “Oh, so this is really what it is about? Maybe there’s a reason why I didn’t want to tell you I was tutoring her.”

You scowled. “Why?”

“Because I knew you’d throw a jealousy fit. You think you’re entitled all of my time.”

“Fuck you,” you growled. “Fuck you. I have all the rights to be jealous when my boyfriend hides stuff like that from me.”

“Boyfriend? I thought you broke up with me.”

Your gaze slightly widened. “What?”

“I’m not your boyfriend anymore,” he said, adding your name like it was an insult. “Get over me already.”

“Do you even love me?” you replied, your anger suddenly dying down to be replaced with gut-wrenching pain.

But you knew better than to expect his anger to ever die down. It took forever for Namjoon to calm down, and you feared you had crossed a line tonight.

“Not when you get mad at me for no valid reason.”

His words hit like a slap to the face. “I just don’t like her. Can’t you tutor someone else?”

“No.”

The simple negation brought back a shade of anger to you, and you said, “Then perhaps we really should break up. Maybe I can find someone that actually respects me.”

“Because I don’t respect you?” he said, hands moving around his frame in anger.

“Clearly not.”

“You’re right then,” he continued. “I don’t respect you. I don’t love you either, apparently, so I’m done.”

“Joon…”

“No, Maehwa,” he said, and this time the nickname broke your heart in two, splitting it right in the middle. “You don’t say my name like that.” He slowly shook his head, seething. “As a matter of fact, I don’t want you to ever speak to me again. To ever look at me. I don’t want someone that acts like a fucking child.”

“You act like a child all the time,” you interrupted, but he ignored you.

He ignored you, in favor of turning around to walk away. You watched his back, before taking a step towards him, yelling his name again. He stopped, but didn’t turn to look at you. Instead, he said, “I’ll kill you if you follow me.”

You scoffed. “Oh please, as if you’d ever hurt me.”

“I’m serious, I’ll fucking kill you if I ever see you again.”

It felt enormous, to say such a thing. And perhaps youth was that – enormous in its drama. So you replied, “I hate you more than I hate anything in this world.”

He shrugged his shoulders, and then he walked away.

He walked away into the October night, and your cleaved heart shattered in a million tiny pieces.

☆☆☆☆☆

Read the rest of the fic here bc tumblr sucks and now we can't write posts longer than 1,000 blocks

[merchelsea]

took care of your girl - max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen + fem! driver!(charles' gf) reader

summary: charles is too busy celebrating his P2 to care about your home dnf, but max is not.

author's note: this is my first time writing for tumblr and im so excited!! i cant believe i actually came up with is.

word count: 4k+

PART TWO

"ugh, you're so boring." charles sighed.

he had been trying to convince you to go celebrate his p2 with him for the last five minutes, but you were just not in the mood for a party.

i mean, this was monza. ferrari's and alfa romeo's home race, but your home race too. you had big expectations for this one.

of course you didn't mind ending up 6th, like you thought you would 4 laps before the end. you just wanted to cross the line. but you didn't.

at lap 50, you collided with sargeant, who was trying to overtake. the williams got to the end, and you didn't. you thought it was so unfair, but there was nothing you could do.

you had done an amazing race, managing to go from 15th to 6th. it was more than enough after a terrible qualifying, and you couldn't understand how someone took that from you in a heartbeat.

you were so angry. all you wanted to do was cry. but you still got out there with your best smile and watched the drivers getting to the podium.

first one to get up there was lando, who once again did a great race for mclaren, ending up 3rd after an 8th in qualifying. he was a great driver and everyone could see it.

then they called charles. the man in ferrari red stepped into the 2nd place with the brightest smile. he was really happy, and so were you. you were happy for him, genuinely.

you smiled and applauded just like everyone. you were so proud of your boyfriend. of how he managed to get that thing they call a car from 13th to 2nd.

the tifosi were out of their minds proud, and so were you.

in that moment, just for that one tiny amount of time, all you felt was happiness.

and then they called max verstappen. you sighed and applauded when the men got to his place. your smile never fading, but growing wider. you were beyond proud, more than what words could ever achieve to show. so you just stood there applauding.

you knew it was boring to see the same person win race after race, always getting to step on that ridiculous number one. but he deserved it, and you were delighted to be able to see his dreams coming true. because he was talented, that’s something no one could deny, but he worked his ass off.

you didn't get to watch them celebrate tho. because, unfortunately, someone called you in the garage.

lewis was already there when you arrived, and he was the first to talk to you.

"hey listen, i'm sorry for what happened. you deseved that 6th." he pat on your shoulder and you smiled, thankful.

"it was a great race, just a bad outcome." you sighed after hugging him casually like you always did after a race. "you nailed it today, congrats!" he thanked you and toto arrived, wanting to talk to both his drivers.

"you were absolutely amazing out there today. every person in this team is very proud." he smiled. "of both of you." his eyes fell on you when he said that. he knew you well, and he could tell you blamed yourself for what happened, even if you didn't show. "the incident with the williams was a shame, but you two fought like hell. i am proud of you."

you faked a smile and thanked toto. his words were comforting but they didn't do much. you were still upset.

that's why the first thing you did when you were free was lock yourself in your driver room. letting your body fall into the couch you reached for your phone to focus your mind on something that was not the race.

but after a little, you heard someone knocking in your door.

"mon amour? it's me. can i come in?" you got up and unlocked the door, facing your smiley boyfriend. he greeted you with a wholehearted kiss, showing you how happy he was for his race.

"hey baby." you smiled to him. "you did so good today, i am the proudest girlfriend in the world." you whispered into the tight hug you pulled him to.

"thank you!" he said simply, not even acknowledging your race. you weren't surprised because he never did, but it was your home race. and somehow you thought that changed something. "so, does the proudest girlfriend in the world want to come and celebrate with her man?"

and that is just how you got into this 'fight'.

"i'm not boring. you know that i would go any other day." you tried to explain yourself. it was kind of embarrassing, having to explain that to the person who's supposed to love you and understand you. "i just dnf'ed, charles. in my home country. after a freaking perfect race. that´s not easy."

"aren´t you happy for me?" he asked, looking at you with a fake sad expression.

"of course i am. you know i am." how could you not be? the monegasque deserved this more than anything.

"then come. why don't you make an effort for me? you know how important this is. and i want you to be by my side." he begged.

he didn't understand you. god, he didn't even try to. he was the one who wasn't making an effort here. he never made, and that's what you've been realizing for quite sometime.

"i'm sorry charles. but not today. you go and enjoy for me." his fake expression suddenly faded to give room to a frown.

"fine." he sighed and left, slamming the door on his way out.

you stood in the drivers room, this time not trying to avoid any thoughts. in fact, you were analyzing the race. from the start to the moment you went out.

all of your overtakes were perfect, not once colliding with other cars. you knew that because you were in the car, but you were looking for something to blame, some other touch that could've damaged the car slightly. but you never found it.

so you cried. you cried looking at the roof of the room. you cried your heart out because you were this close to proving people wrong, you were this close to making your people proud.

you cried until you heard another knock on the door, this time around being the last mechanics in the garage, telling you they would go for dinner and would come back later, leaving you alone for sometime.

when they left, you went to take a look at the car. and observing it, you realized what went wrong. but instead of putting your mind to rest, you started to think about what you could've done to prevent it.

"what are you doing here?" you heard a familiar voice, and turned to face its owner. the dutch was looking down at you, who cried with her head between her knees, in front of her racing car.

max had changed into his normal people clothes, whilst you still wore your racing suit.

"it's my team's garage. what are you doing here?" you asked, highlighting the 'you'.

"i was on my way and saw you here. what happened? why are you here on your own?" he asked. genuine preoccupation in his eyes. you could recognize any expression of his. any and every.

"nothing happened. i just wanted to be alone." you lied. straight up lied into his eyes. that was not something you were used to nor something you liked to do. but you did. and you knew he didn't buy it for a second.

"oh yeah. you decided you wanted to be alone, sitting against a wall, crying, for three hours after the race without showering and changing, just for fun? sounds like something i would do." max ironically said.

"look verstappen, i just wanted to be alone. and i still do, so if you could go away i would appreciate it." you said, getting up to walk to your room.

"don't call me verstappen." he says seriously. you never call him verstappen. "and i'm not leaving you alone after today. i know better than to do that." he follows you, leaning in the door frame when you are about to close the door in his face. "where is your so called boyfriend?"

your left eyebrow shot up as your head turned to look at him. his face remained serious, waiting for an answer.

"celebrating his podium. aren't you supposed to be celebrating your win?" you asked carefully, trying to get him to leave.

"maybe." he crosses his arms in his chest as you turn off your laptop and put it in your bag.

"then go." you said simply, collecting your stuff to go home. you wanted to stay there, but alone.

"not unless you're coming with me." he changes his position again to be more comfortable as you sighed, making him know you were getting tired. but that didn't change anything for him.

"leave, max." you said firmly, looking at him. he mimicked a 'no' with his mouth. "why?" you tried to get out of the room, but just as you passed through the door, the dutch caught your arm, making you look up to face him. your height difference was not too big, but it was still noticeable.

"because i know you, and leaving you alone after a dnf here, is a mistake i don't want to make." he let go of your arm, but you didn't move. "a mistake i'm not going to make." you stepped back, and proceeded to pick up your stuff. "go shower and get dressed, i'll get your stuff. if you are going home, i'm going with you."

"no. i don't want you to come." he laughed.

"care to guess who doesn't give a fuck, darling?"

"do not call me darling. and you are not coming, i wont let you in." you threatened, knowing you would never do such thing.

"then i hope you have money for a new door." he was determined, and you knew he was damn serious about not leaving you alone.

"i hate you." you laughed and as soon as the sound got to his ears his mouth formed a big bright smile. oh, what that laugh did to him. it was even better than winning races.

"if that means i get to come, i'm more than happy. now go shower." you did as he said, going straight to the bathroom.

once inside, you never thought about stuff like not giving the interviews you were supposed to, or how charles never once said he was proud of you.

the only thing you thought about was max, in your room, picking up your stuff so that you could go home with him. and the fact that it wasn't strange nor weird, it was fine.

from the beginning, you two had a special connection with each other. that's why you became best friends so easily, and also why you fell in love with him.

but he never showed reciprocity, so you thought it was a one way thing. god knows that if he had gave you one minimal sign, you would've never ended up with charles. the thing his, he didn't.

since your red bull day's, in his eyes you were just friends. or at least that's what you thought.

cause it turns out that the world champion is a way better liar than you could imagine. or you are just blind. because the signs were always there, you just doubted yourself enough to be oblivious to them.

it was the little things. like you being the first person he talked to after every freaking race. or how he was always in his best mood for you, but only for you. how he always said he was proud of you after a race, it didn't matter if you ended up first or last. he always came to you, hugged you tight and whispered "you were amazing, i'm so proud of you".

that's the kind of thing you noticed but never payed attention to. and that's exactly why you are with charles now. because he, on the other hand, was direct and shoot his shot.

he didn't love you and you didn't love him, but you felt good with each other, and it was nice having someone. you both knew it from the start, even if you denied with every thing in yourselves. it was just so obvious now.

you got out of the bathroom with hair still wet, but already dressed in your black sweat pants and your light pink top. max had picked every single thing, leaving your room exactly how you found him.

"let's go?" he asked, after a couple of seconds observing and admiring you.

you nodded in response and tossed your car keys to him.

"you drive, i sing." he picked them and laughed.

"deal." you made your way to your, brand new, white mercedes in a comfortable silence. but when you closed the doors, he broke it. "i don't want you blaming yourself, williams got a 10 second penalty for a reason. you were amazing, i'm so proud of you."

"you always say that." you smiled, looking at him.

"because it's true. i am proud of you."

"i know, and i am proud of you too. it's just that you always say the exact same thing." you noticed. max was sure you never took note of his words, but he didn't know how much they meant to you.

"i guess it became kind of our thing now." with now, he meant the past 3 years. you just nodded and smiled, searching through your phone for a good song.

"hey max?" you called, still unsure if you should mention it. he muttered something you didn't understand due to being focused on your words. "you know you don't have to do this, right?"

"do what, y/n?" he asked, fully focused on the car as he started driving.

"care because he didn't." straight to the point, we can see some improvements.

"omg, you can be so dumb sometimes." he talked, out loud, to himself. you didn't understand, so he might just be right. which is something you'll never say.

"huh?" you muttered, confused. he was indeed right.

"i care. i always do. i would have cared even if he had some decency in that shitty brain of his and had, at least, taken you home. do you actually believed i would have to go through the mercedes garage to get to my car?" he laughed, your face full of confusion, reflecting what was happening inside of your mind. "i was looking for you. i thought charles had took you home, or out, but i had this little thing inside of me telling me to check."

"oh yeah, that was me sending you telepathic messages." you joked. "thank you for coming, max. this is just a very important day for charles."

"whatever helps you sleep at night, y/n. and i would always come, any day and anytime." max took his eyes off the road to face you.

"are you saying racing is not important for him?" you focused on the first sentence.

"i'm saying he would do this on a regular tuesday. and i'm saying i would come after winning at zandvoort if you were needed me." he sighed. "you should stop lying to yourself." now was your turn to sigh. just as he layed his eyes on the road, your right hand went through your hair.

frustration, anger, sadness, loneliness.

"i'm not lying to myself, you don't know him like i do."

"i may not, but i know you. better than he ever will. you don't love him, and i bet my career you never even managed to lie to him about it." ding ding ding, max verstappen, the mr. knows it all was right once again. you are mad at him for knowing you so damn well.

"if i didn't, then why would i be with him?" you tried again. fooling max was getting more difficult by the day.

"we both know why." he said to your eyes, turning his head when he was done talking. damn, max.

the rest of the ride was completely silent, you wanted to say something but you couldn't. you simply could not. you couldn't even put on some music to relieve the tension.

all those questions coming to your head like gun shots "does he really know?" "why didn't he say something?" "does he see me the way i saw him? the way i still see him." every single one of them wounding you, creating a whole you couldn't close.

he was silent as well, his mind a little quieter than yours. that had been stressing his mind ever since you told him about charles, and now he couldn't keep it in.

not when the girl he loved was left alone by her boyfriend for a fucking party. he would've never do such thing, max would've been by her side, letting her know how proud he was, how loved she was.

the dutch was so angry, it took him everything to stay silent in that ride. but he did it, because it wasn't your fault. he was mad at charles, for not being a good enough boyfriend. he was infuriated because the monegasque couldn't make you happy. he was out of his mind because the greened eye ferrari driver took the place in your life that he wanted. that, in his head and heart, was supposed to be his.

the first glimpse of voice came from his mouth, when you were already in your apartment. monza was the only racing place you had somewhere to call home.

"come here." he opened his arms, when you looked at him. you expected him to talk, you wanted him to talk, but that was the only thing max said. the only thing he wanted in that moment was to feel you close, feel like he was protecting you from every bad thing.

of course you went, you would always go. his armes embraced you almost immediately and you closed your eyes, trying desperately to feel him closer. you could try to deny it but you missed him more than anything.

"i'm sorry." you apologized. none of you knew what you were talking about, yet at the same time, you both knew exactly what you meant.

max didn't respond, not with an "it's okay" nor a "not your fault". he simply kissed the top of your head while stroking your hair, and you knew it was okay. everything was fine between you two.

maybe not fine, but they were okay for now.

"break up with him." he half advised you half asked you. everyone knew that was the right thing to do, but he wanted you to do it for other reasons too, not just because it was right.

you chuckled into his chest, causing him to push a little just to face you.

"you talk like it's easy." he stepped back, separating the two bodies completely.

"breakups aren't easy, but yours, particularly, is. it's as simple as it sounds." he went back to the serious features.

"it's still a break-up."

"breakups only hurt when you love each other. do you love him?" you stood silent as he stepped closer. you watched as he brought his hand to your chin, caressing him once there's contact. "tell me. do you love him?"

"i don't." you let out as a sigh. instead of smiling, like you expected, max's face did the exact opposite.

"then why are you with him?" he asked in a low, tired voice. he was trying to find an explanation where he was not in the middle. he wanted to know that he was not involved in the why you weren't happy.

max knew, deep down, that you felt something for him. he always had that feeling. but, in his defense, you didn't make it easy for him. hiding it, locking the feelings in a deep part of your yourself, where no one could find them. bringing up some made-up-boy whenever you felt like you where being to obvious, constantly telling him he was like a big brother you could talk about that sort of thing. you had covered up the truth pretty damn well.

but even with all of that, he knew. something in him just knew. and all he could think about now was how he could've changed something, how you wouldn't be with someone who didn't deserve you if he had just done something.

he had tons of opportunities to ask you out on a date, or tell you how he really felt. it was just hard to believe you would feel something for him sometimes, so he waited for you. he waited until it was too late.

"i like him." you lied again. it was the second time you lied straight into his eyes in such a little time. that pissed him off. you should never feel the need to lie to him.

"bullshit. we both know that you're with him because i never risked losing you for how i felt. i never got to shoot my shot, and he did. that's why you are with him."

you lowered your head, both hands going to your face immediately. you felt like crap.

"what do you expect me to say?" you asked, raising your voice. your eyes finally fell on his.

"i don't expect you to say anything. i just want you to cut this thing you two have going on." his gaze never left your face, not even when you weren't looking at him. "you don't deserve this. you deserve to be happy. to be treated right. you deserve to be loved right."

another sight and then silence filled the room. no one could say anything.

"just..." he started, leading your eyes to look for his. "do you still..?"

"yes, max" you shot automatically, your voice sounded like a cry, but that didn't matter.

he sighed, relieved. and then stepped closer again, pulling your body to his, in a hug. he let you cry against his shoulder, while he cried silently against yours.

you pulled away to look into his eyes, smiling silently. even being like this, you had just found out that this was no 'one way thing', he felt the same.

"stop smiling. i'm fighting over here not to kiss you." you laughed, that was the best thing you could've heard that day.

"don't." you searched for his hand, taking it into yours once you've found it.

"i would love to, believe me. but as much as i want this, you have to be fully single first." his eyes were so bright that you were sure they could glow in the dark. you always loved his eyes.

"i love you, max." you whispered with the biggest smile on your face.

"i love you too." he whispered back. your smile growing impossibly wider.

max kissed the top of your head before leaving your room. it was a bit past 4a.m. and you had just finished watching a rom-com movie you liked.

it's fascinating how you two fit so perfectly. it's like you've been handmade for each other.

of course that, on his way out, max had to find charles coming. because that's just your life.

the dutch and the monegasque spent a little of time just staring at each other.

"what are you... what did you do in there?" charles asked breaking the awful silence that had been installed. you could hear everything from the inside of the room due to the paper thin walls.

"i took care of your girl." you would pay to see charles’ face that moment. "not so yours anymore, i guess." max said with his most serious face. he definitely won the idgaf war.

"not so mine anymore? mate, what are you talking about?" his confusion was deeply amplified by the alcohol in his system.

"i don't know man, figure it out." the world champion responded and walked out.

he knew that the moment he walked out charles would enter that room and lay in the same bed you were. but he didn't mind, he trusted you fully. and on top of everything, he knew that no matter what, he was the one you loved.

so when he closed that door, he had a smile on his face, knowing damn well he would open her soon.

[r0se1111]

just found your page and you’re so talented! I love me some Stanford Pines.

I’m in the mood for some angst and fluff so how about reader getting courage to confess to Ford, but he rejects reader because he’s scared and reader tries to move on, and Ford ends up regretting rejecting reader and after much convincing, Dipper, Mabel, and Stan help ford win reader back with a grand gesture and they get together?

Thank you so much! S/o to the ppl who get the title reference :P

Too Sweet

Stanford Pines x Reader

You take a deep breath through your nose, feeling the cold air flow to the back of your mouth, down, down, down, until it settles in the warzone that is your fluttering stomach, bolstering your nerves into a full-fledged shaky-handed, sweaty-palmed fit.

The hot cup of coffee jostles in your grip as you stood before the door of the Mystery Shack. You fix an intense stare on it as if you could telepathically keep the warm liquid from spilling. This is it. You chew your bottom lip and climb the stairs to the front door. I'm gonna tell him.

You knock a few times before the door swung open, revealing a familiar brown mop of hair and niche handmade sweater.

"Y/N!" Mabel beams. You swore you saw a little rainbow arch above her head for a second with the amount of joy she put into your name. You smile back warmly.

"Hey kid. Would your Uncle Ford happen to be home?"

A whip of her head and a call of his name down the hall confirmed that the man of the hour was home and decidedly not currently occupied. Soon enough his oh so comfy looking sweater, crooked glasses, and friendly smile were in your view.

"Y/N! What brings you here?"

You give a quick sidelong glance to where Mabel was standing beside the doorframe, watching the two of you with bright eyes and a bitten back smile. As much as you love her, having an audience to what you were about to do wasn't exactly ideal. You take another steadying breath before thrusting the coffee forward.

"This is for you."

Ford blinks and amusement pulls his mouth into a close-lipped but genuine smile. He takes the cup from your hands, fingers brushing yours. His touch was so warm that when you withdrew your own hand, you glanced down to look at where your skin had met, convinced there must be some sort of mark signaling that electric shock he gave you.

"Thank you!" He pries off the lid to blow some of the heat away and smell the deep, earthy aroma. "I'm never one to complain about free coffee, but what's the occasion?"

"Well!" You start a lot louder than you meant to, slapping your palms down onto the sides of your thighs in a fit of nervous energy. Shit. Start over. "Well," You repeat in a quieter tone. "I wanted to see you and ask you if you would possibly be interested in. Well. In a date?"

You try to overlook the squeal you hear from Mabel as you watch Ford's expression. His face goes a little slack with shock, and he tilts his head in an achingly endearing manner in what looks like thoughtful confusion.

"With me!" You clarify. "A date with me."

"Oh."

You wince at the word, then watch in anticipation as Ford does that thing he always does when he feels stuck with a problem. Rolling around the idea in his head as he tries to look at it from every angle. His mouth opened and shut a few times, and every time he opened as if to reply your body tensed. Finally, he seemed to settle on his response.

"Y/N," He spoke in a gentle tone. "I'm really flattered, but I'm not one for relationships. And I-" He paused and his eyes flitted to the top of the doorframe as if he was searching for some script there, some guide to turning down half-assed attempts at confessing long-held feelings. "I value our friendship as it is too much to jeopardize ruining it because of my own...er... situation. Feelings." He clarified with some vague hand motions you'll definitely read too much into at a later time.

You reminded yourself to blink and bit out a polite chuckle, pressing your nails into the palms of your hands and nodding as you forced yourself to keep eye contact with him. "Right! Of course, I understand. I really value our friendship too so this is... this is good probably. Just us staying friends. Good friends."

You could feel the blood rising to color your cheeks, and the embarrassment of rejection arriving to clench at your heart. As Ford furrowed his brows and started to speak again, you abruptly interrupted, unwilling to endure any other placating excuse he could give you. "I should actually get going. Lots of errands to run. But you- you enjoy your coffee!" You wave and back down off the porch. "Bye Mabel!"

As you walk away you can't help the frown from decorating your face, and the weight of disappointment from weighing down your shoulders until they slumped forward. All the slow-kindled courage you had summoned to ask Ford out had escaped your body like helium from a sad balloon, descending to the ground at a meandering, melancholy pace. He has a point though. I'd rather have him as a friend than nothing at all.

Shaking your hair back from where it had dropped into your line of sight, you shove your shoulders back and initiate the grim process familiar to many a rejected lover, the dreaded moving on phase. I can do this. I can do this.

Back at the open front door of the Mystery Shack, Ford stands in gaping wonder at your disappearing form. You wanted to go on a date with him? A weird old man with six fingers and an obsession with fantasy-math-based board games?

"What the heck was that?" Mabel's borderline shriek of horror interrupted his brief bout of self-doubt.

"What... was what?"

"The girl of your dreams asks you on a date and you say no? How am I supposed to be the flower girl at your future wedding if you can't even say yes to one date!"

Ford stutters and stares at the girl before composing himself to reply. "Mabel, this is much more complicated than that. Y/N is a close friend of mine and someone I admire and care about greatly. I can't just go on a date with her. Not when so much could do wrong!"

"All I'm hearing are excuses getting in the way of true love! What could go so wrong?"

What couldn't go wrong, Ford considered the possibilities grimly. "Well, I could scare her off with my immense knowledge of interdimensional travel, or we could be on the date and get attacked by some half-man-half-car-half-horse for all I know, or she could want to hold hands and our hands would fit together weird and she'll realize she's much too good for me and deserves someone else-" He's cut off by the sad look on his niece's face.

"You know you're a good person, right Great Uncle Ford?"

"Um, well, yes. Yes I suppose I try to be."

"And don't you think good people deserve to be happy?"

"I suppose so."

"And go on dates with pretty ladies who are so totally into them?"

Ford smiled crookedly. "I think I know where this is going." Out of fear of the surprisingly stern look on Mabel's face, and out of love for his niece who he never wanted to cause unhappiness for, he sighed. "Yes, they do deserve that."

"Aha! So you admit that you deserve to give dating Y/N a shot?"

The man flusters. "Admitting that doesn't change the fact that I said no. Why would she give me the time of day now?"

The look on Mabel's face looks eerily similar to Stan when he's come up with a new way to scam tourists, a vaguely threatening sort of manically joyous ambition. "Because you've got me, my brother, and your brother to help you come up with the best apology-slash-confession ever!"

A few days into your abstention from thinking about Ford under the threat of tears and self-pity, you hear a knock on the door and open it to reveal none other than his twin brother, Stanley. He had his hands shoved into his pockets as he leans against your doorframe and stretches his leg across to kick at the other side in casual indifference. "Hey kid. You busy?"

"... no?"

"Well I need a favor done for me back at the Shack. Think you could help me out?"

You pause and take him in. Something about this seems fishy. "You want me to help? Don't you have Soos for that?"

"It's his day off."

"What about the kids?"

Stan shrugs and waves his hand dismissively. "The kids are bein' kids. They don't wanna help their poor old Grunkle out. Spoiled, really."

"What about-"

Stan crosses his arms and looks at you pointedly. "Look, I wouldn't have stopped by if I didn't need your help specifically for an undisclosed reason back at the Shack. You coming or not?"

Maybe it'll be good for me to do something. Get me out of my funk. You think. The devil on your shoulder whispers back, but what if you run into Ford? Frowning, you ponder for a bit as Stan drums his fingers on your door obnoxiously. You're a big girl. You can handle it!

You sigh and move past Stan to close the door behind you. "Alright. What's the damage?"

When you make it to the Mystery Shack everything looks pretty normal. You peek around at the generator and inside the gift shop as Stan leads you, searching for whatever he could possibly need your assistance for. Suddenly, two pairs of hands grab your own and tug you around excitedly.

"Y/N! Why don't we all walk into the kitchen together for a totally mundane and normal reason!" Dipper's voice cracks a bit and you narrow your eyes in suspicion. You look over to Mabel for clarification, but are only met with a giggle and the glimmer of the sparkly heart patches on her newest sweater as she ushers you forward.

"You Pines are up to something." You eye Stan, who simply holds his hands in front of him in an act of faux innocence which you might have believed if you didn't know the guy.

Your investigation of this new strange behavior which has gripped the Pines clan is cut short as you are pushed into the kitchen and abruptly stumble to a stop.

"Ford?" Any residual embarrassment you might have felt was overshadowed by the sight in front of you. Ford, standing in the middle of the kitchen holding a mug of hot coffee. In his other hand, he holds what looks to be a handmade poster proclaiming the words "I'm sorry" in glittery gel pen. Little cupids and swirly heart doodles frame the phrase, and you're charmed to notice that Mabel obviously helped make it.

"Y/N." He breathes your name out like he'd been punched in the gut. He stares at you for a beat before shaking himself out of whatever trance he'd been in. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. About the way I acted when you asked me on... a date the other day."

Ah. There's the embarrassment. You flush at his mention of your failed flirting. "Ford, it's really fine. You don't feel the same, you don't need to apologize for that." The words sting your throat a little, but you desperately want him to understand you'd forgive anything for him, just to be with him at all.

"No it's not fine." His voice starts to verge into the passionate tone he gets when explaining his newest discoveries. "I can tell I hurt you, and you don't deserve that. Also..." He clears his throat, suddenly looking a little shy. "I never said I didn't feel the same."

You swear your heart freezes in its quick motions within your chest. "Oh?" Your voice squeaks out as a near whisper.

Ford nods as he continues. "I do... feel the same. For you, that is." He clears his throat and sets the poster to the side before moving forward with his mug of coffee. "I was a fool to try to hide it. I was blinded by my own self-doubt, and worried about things I had no real way of knowing for sure. But I can see now that us being just friends isn't the best solution to my problem."

Holding out the mug, he smiles and your breath gets stuck in your throat. "I would love to go on that date with you, if the offer still stands."

You reach forward to grasp the mug with two hands, fingers overlapping Ford's on the warm ceramic. You hold them there for a moment, his confession enough to embolden you to savor the shimmering feeling of his skin under yours. Slowly, he works his fingers out from under yours, with purposeful and slow movements where he traces your hands and presses them closer to the mug, as if urging you towards the comforting heat.

Once his hands have retreated to gather together in front of his chest, you bring the mug to your lips and sip at the coffee. Of course it's perfect. Of course he knows exactly how I like it. You pull the drink up to your chest, basking in the warmth you feel not just from the drink itself bleeding through your top and into the skin over your heart, but also in the sincerity of the gesture, and the confession that had breached Ford's lips.

You nod and smile, a small, coy thing. "The offer still stands."

Ford visibly relaxes and you almost giggle at the fact that he'd felt just as nervous and tense as you. "Thank you-I mean- that's great! I know a wonderful cafe downtown where they make the best coffee. Of course, I am of the belief that my recipe is superior, but they are a close second. In fact..."

As you work on downing your own mug, you watch Ford in pure adoring pleasure. Your mirth and affection only grow as you see Stan, Dipper, and Mabel exchanging high-fives from the corner of your eye. Those sneaky Pines.

[volturiprincess]

Forgotten?

Alec Volturi x vampire mate reader

Summary: Alec has been distant from y/n, will his mate forgive him Warnings: Slight curse words, angst to fluff A/N: You know the satisfaction of finishing a one-shot is beautiful. Im also glad Alec is my second one, love this man of a vampire. Also whenever I write for the twins, they are aged up. Enjoy :)

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(This scene is perfect, that eye movement was everything, I could watch this GIF for hours if I could. But like sir who let you look that good?)

I was sitting in the library with Felix and Demetri just talking about our latest mission that the three of us had recently.

“You know the satisfaction I had when I sunk my teeth into that human, she was such a pain in the ass, and it made it better that her vampire mate was watching, but….. I got to say Felix the amount of times I have seen you rip heads off, it's always more satisfying than the last one”

Felix smirks “Thanks y/n, you know it never gets old either and you are right that human girl was annoying, glad she got what she deserve”

Demetri spoke up “I never understood how a human and a vampire can be mates, it's just how can that be you know, like I feel if they ever had intimacy or something that poor human would be dead in a minute”.

We burst out laughing at his comment, “Dem you never fail to make me laugh” 

He shrug his shoulders “What can I say it's a talent”

I roll my eyes at his comment and Felix says “Where’s your mate and Jane, I thought you were going to spend the day with him anyway or something”

I said casually with a hint of sadness“I was suppose to be with him today, but he canceled last minute, he said he had to do something important”

Both guys looked at me and Demetri was the first to talk

“More important than you? y/n that's been like the 10th time he has canceled on you this past month, how in the world are you not pissed at him, when was the last time you two spent quality time together?”

I thought about it for a minute trying to remember but then I realized it's been a very long time, maybe a half a decade already. We haven't even had sex in that time either. I looked at the boys

“Um…maybe a couple of years?”

Their eyes widened at that “A couple of years?” they responded in unison.

I nod hesitantly “I didn't even realize it's been that long, son of a bitch, has he been avoiding me or something?”

Felix shook his head in disapproval “You know that's not fair for you y/n, have you even brought that up to him”

I shook my head “I mean I just….You know your right Felix, this cant be going on like this, maybe I should I give him a piece of my own medicine”

Demetri eyes widen like a child who was given a treat“Oooo I like the sound of that”

I smile slightly but then I sense Alec entering the library which causes me to internally panic. I ignored him sitting next to me and instead I went to the bookshelves and looked for a book to read. In the corner of my eye I see that Alec looks at me with a bit of a confused look but then an idea pops up. My power is being able to move things with my mind but I could also telepathically talk to others. I use my power and send a message to Felix to improvise with the upcoming plan I'm about to do.

“Felix? Can you help me get that book that's up there?”

I look at the mountain of a vampire who is instantly by my side. “Of course cara, which one do you want?” 

I could see that Alec’s eyes have narrowed at the sudden interaction “That one called Philosophy of Athens”

Felix nods and reaches over me to grab the book and I just look up into his face when he is reaching up, he looks down to me with a devilish smirk and I just wink in return. I knew Alec will be fuming with anger but he deserves payback. Felix hands me the book and he slightly brushes his lips on my jawline which catches me off guard for a minute but I fake an innocent look at him while he just winks and walks back to his previous spot. I stand there for a minute and I see that Alec has disappeared. I look around the library and Demetri speaks up

“He left after Felix gave you the kiss, you should of seen his face, if looks could kill, Felix would of been six feet under”

I roll my eyes and ask “Should I go after him or…?”

Demetri shakes his head “Y/n you got a reaction out of him, you need to keep going so he is the one that comes up to you, he is the one that has been pushing you aside, now it's your turn”

I nod “Your right Dem, this is the start of a new era”. They both smiled mischievously.

1 week later..

It's been a week since the library incident and Alec still has not come up to me, I know the game I am playing is dangerous. I mean come on he's one of the infamous twins who are the most intimidating and ruthless and yet here I am ignoring and pushing him away. It has been so hard to be this way with him, I love him so much that just being like this is torture, I think I would rather have Jane use her power on me then have to be like this with Alec and that is saying something.

On Alec’s part he still is acting the same, he has not even dared to look me in the eye or even been in the same room as me for long. I also noticed that recently I have been aching for Alec more than usual, I literally want him to be with me again, at this point I would take anything from him even if he just looks at me. 

I miss his piercing burgundy eyes that always leave me in a trance or how his jawline tightens when I would brush against him slightly. Even to how he stands so elegantly when we are at our guard meetings with the Kings. Or how his smirk can literally make me feel weak in the knees but I would never give him the satisfaction in telling him the effect his smirk gives me because I know he would tease me for years to come. I miss how we cuddle either in our shared chamber or under the willow tree I am currently laying down, it was our spot that we would spend hours at.

I was so lost in thought I didn't even notice someone was calling my name until someone slightly kicked my foot and I finally sat up and snapped my gaze to the person. It was Jane and she had that emotionless look as usual, she was the one to speak first 

“Why are you here alone, I thought you were going to train the newborns with Felix and Demetri?”

I was going to do that today but the guys knew I was not feeling it and noticed I am not in a right mindset so they gave me the day off

“They gave me the day off”

She nods slightly “Still does not answer my question”

I look down defeated “He doesn't want me anymore, he won't even look at me anymore or even leave those little love notes in my favorite books”

There was a silence and I thought she left but she talked again “You think my brother does not want you anymore?”

I nodded and if I could cry I would at that moment “He doesn't even come into our private chambers as often”

There was that tense silence again “Have you spoken to him about this?”

I shook my head “How can I when I don't even know where he is half of the time and he wont even come to me anymore, he keeps canceling our date nights also”

At that point I wanted to shake Jane to get her to tell me anything about Alec, I was that desperate but I used my telekinesis to hold me down so I didn't actually jump her.

She spoke up again “I don't know what is up with my brother, he won't say but I can tell there is something wrong, I would assume you would have an idea because when we part ways i thought he would always go to you”

When she said that my gaze snapped up to her again in shock “So not even you know what is up with him then?”

She shook her head and I said “Jane, if I asked you to do something for me would you do it?”

“Of course, you are my sister-in-law after all, your the second person I genuinely like, first being my brother”

I nod “Can you use your power on me?”

I saw her eyes widen at that and she instantly shook her head “No I will never do that to you, why would you ask such a request from me?”

I let an unnecessary sigh out “I don't feel anything Jane, Alec has been distant for a couple of years already, I can feel that sudden small rip in our bond, it hurts Jane, it really does, and at this point I don't think I can even go on in life without him, even when I spend time with Felix and Demetri, I just fake it so they don't question me to much”

She got down on her knees and what she did next would shock others but not to me, she hugged me tightly. I just let her hug me while I just sat there dully, she soon pulled away and said “Y/n I can't bare to see you like this, I haven't even realized that you and Alec have been like this for so long, I don't want to see the two most important people in my life like this anymore”

I don't respond but nod along mindlessly

“Wait here, I will be back”

She left before I can look at her, I decided to lay down again and closed my eyes as I felt my eyes burn with venom, the thing that sucked of being a vampire is not being able to let real tears out, I just feel this burning sensation in my eyes but I haven't felt like this in centuries already. Alec has always made me feel loved and happy, the way that man with only just a touch has me melting for him or when he did those rare smiles I love so much. If I had a heart it would be beating out of my chest every time we are together.

When me and Alec were told we were mates by Marcus, we absolutely loathe each other, we could barely be in the same room without one of us getting annoyed by the other. It took us a good year until we started to tolerate each other. Soon after that year I started to feel the bond with him, I couldn't stand to be away from him for long and I knew he felt the same way because the minute we were apart he or I would go search for the other.

One day he decided to take me on a walk in the gardens, and as cliche as this might sound he kissed me under the moonlight. The moonlight was literally on us when we were kissing, at that moment me and him accepted each other completely as mates. We were inseparable, we started to share a room together and the Kings were more accepting of me and Alec going on missions together without the fear we might rip each other's throats out. 

It felt like we were in wonderland or in cloud 9, when he moved I moved, or when I moved he followed along. We also had a very long honeymoon phase where we couldn't keep our hands to ourselves, every time when we were hanging with the other guards, me and Alec would sneak away and have our intimacy or when we were in the hallways he would give me kisses out of nowhere against the wall, we been caught various times but that didn't stop us from doing it again.

We have been mated for centuries, and not a day goes by that I don't fall in love with him all over again or feel tired of him. He really is my other half but with the lack of Alec in my life it has taken a toll on me, it almost feels like HE is sick and tired of me.

Just that thought could break my non-existent heart, I would end up like Marcus in a way. If Alec were to leave me it's way worse than him being dead. I would still have to see him and be in his presence but not be able to actually be with him.

My mind must have wondered again because I didn't realize a certain someone was sitting next to me. I opened my eyes when I realized it was Alec from the pull of the bond. From that I sat up and he looked right at me, watching me carefully and intensely. He still has that stone face that makes him look so gorgeous, he really is the reincarnation of some Greek god. We stayed quiet watching each other for a while when he finally spoke, hearing his voice again would have made me shiver if I could.

“So you and Felix, huh?”

Even though it feels amazing to hear him talking to me, that question threw me off and made me change moods in an instant.

“Seriously? After months and months of not having full conversations or paying attention to me, you have the audacity of asking a question like that?”

He stayed quiet and I could tell his mind was blank because I couldn't hear his thoughts.

“Why would I ever get with Felix when I have a mate that I love deeply? words cannot describe the love I have for you”

That for sure caught him off guard because he blinked a bit from shock and he spoke up

“Just wanted to hear you say that and get a reaction out of you” and then he winks.

That bastard winked and it was so smooth that I didn't even give what he said a second thought, he left me flabbergasted.

“You really are bipolar, you never fail to surprise me after centuries of being together”

He smiles slightly at my comment 

“And you don’t fail to amuse me with your words”

“Don't think with your wink and smile will make me forgive you that easily”

“Forgive me? For what?”

The way he genuinely looked surprises at my accusation really did set my mood off

“Are you really asking me that? Have you not heard what I said earlier or noticed the lack of us?”

I saw his facial expression shift to tense “So I was ignoring you then?”

 “Obviously, do you remember the last time we went on a date?”

He stayed silent and I knew he was trying to remember and at that moment I can also tell everything that what has been happening these past few years was hitting him.

“Too long ago…”

I nodded “And even then when we made plans you would cancel or say you forgot or are to busy”

He looked down in what I could assume was shame.

“Even if we didn't go on dates, you have been avoiding me like the plague, you don't even look at me as much or even hug me, you can't even bare to be in the same room as me for long, it's as if we are back to when we hated each other before accepting each other as mates all over again but worse”

His mind was still blank 

“I have been miserable without you, I even asked Jane earlier to use her power on me because I don't even feel anything anymore”

He looked at me with shock “You really asked her to do that? But…”

“I did, but she refused of course”

He nodded “Cara mia, I been so stupid, I never meant to hurt you in anyway”

I looked at him “If you really never meant to hurt me what made you act like this toward me for so long?”

He took an unnecessary breath “I don't know, I felt like these past years I was feeling…..off, I felt like being away from everyone but I didn't even realize its been going on for a while until Jane came up to me and smack me and ordered me to come to you”

 “You could of just came up to me and talked or let me into your mind if you can't form words, I have always been there for you Alec”

He looked at me with remorse and in a soft voice he confessed

“I didn't want to be a burden to you or bring you down with me”

I reached reach for his hand

"Alec you will never be a burden to me, we go together in our darkest or lightest days as we always did in the past, there's no I in us”

He squeezed my hand “I never wanted to make you feel unwanted, I just wanted to figure this out alone but I realize I can't without you”

I nodded, “How could you let so much time go by like that without trying to get help from me or saying anything?”

He shrug his shoulders “We been immortals for so long that time kind of blurs for us in a way but that still does not make up for what I done to you, you are my whole reason for being here, my center and life, mi amore ti amo, I will never to this to you again, and if I do then I give you permission to slap me or something because then I would of broken my promise to you”

“Oh Alec come here” I reached for him and he instantly wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his laps to deepen the hug.

Just being in his arms again was the best feeling. I fell in love with him all over again at that moment, he is my reason for being and I would not want it any other way. 

A/N: This one was longer than the Felix one (it does not mean I love Felix less 😬) but Its cute. Anyways, Im debating to either do Jasper or Caius next. I have a Jasper one in the drafts but its not that good, I will see who's next.

[theemporium]

[1.9k] sometimes it isn't easy being the fourth hughes' sibling. sometimes the pressure to compete with your brothers gets overwhelming. sometimes you just need a tall, hot swiss man to reassure you in the hidden crevices of a bar in jersey.

first nico fic completely influenced by @httplando

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There was nobody in the world that was prouder of your brothers than you were. 

It took an insane amount of skill, talent and effort to even reach college level. To be scouted and sought after, to gain the attention of coaches in much higher leagues than the kids’ team in middle school. To play for a college, to gain the attraction of professional teams, to be drafted into the NHL. It was fucking insane for one brother to reach all those goals, let alone all three. 

But that was exactly what Quinn, Jack and Luke had done. 

All three of them shared a dream and all three of them have achieved it. And you genuinely could not be happier for them. You saw everything behind the scenes. You saw the work they put into it, the countless hours of training and practicing to hone that raw talent into pure skill. You know exactly what each of them sacrificed to achieve their goal of playing for the NHL. 

And yet, despite how genuinely happy and proud you were, it fucking sucked to be their sister because everything you did felt inadequate in comparison. 

Nobody in your family ever consciously went out of their way to make you feel that way. Never in a million fucking years would they ever pull something like that. But it didn’t mean that you didn’t have these feelings, that you didn’t feel that pit of bitterness and something equally as ugly and self-deprecating burning inside you whenever your parents would gush over your brothers. 

“My boys,” Ellen cooed, reaching to place her hand on Quinn’s cheek, considering he was the closest to her. “You all played so well.”

Quinn let out a small scoff. “Yeah right.”

“Hey, just because you didn’t win, doesn’t mean you didn’t play well,” Jim had retorted with a light nudge of his shoulder. 

“Couldn’t beat us this time, captain,” Jack commented, a wolfish grin on his face as he gave his older brother a mock salute that made Luke snort. 

Quinn’s eyes narrowed, but there was a smile on his face. “Next time I’ll get your asses.” 

Luke grinned. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Regardless of who won,” Ellen spoke up, a reprimanding look on her face that managed to shut the three of them up in seconds. “I’m proud of all three of my boys, living their dream and being the damn best in the league.” 

“To the Hughes boys!” Jim jokingly toasted, lifting his glass in the air and the rest of you joined and clinked your drinks together. 

And you know. God, you fucking know that none of it was a personal jab towards you in any way, shape or form. But it was hard to fucking deny the sting you felt as your parents gushed over your brothers. It hurt when you realised there wasn’t really much to gush over when it came to you.

You had made up some shitty excuse about needing to pee when you felt the tightness in your chest. You hadn’t given any of them a chance to be concerned about your abrupt departure. You didn’t even utter a single word as you pushed your way through the crowd of the bar, the establishment heaving with members and fans from both teams. You didn’t even glance at the girl who swore at you when you barged your shoulder against her a little harsher than intended as you pushed past the toilets and into a small alcove instead.

All you could focus on was the band wrapped around your chest, getting tighter and tighter with each breath. All you could focus on was the way your lash line welled with tears that would ultimately make your mascara run. All you could focus on was the thoughts rushing through your head, far too fast for you to even fully keep up. 

All you could focus on was the fact you really weren’t okay. 

You didn’t even look up when you heard a door swing open from one of the bathrooms. You didn’t look up when you heard footsteps. You didn’t look up—or even realise—there was someone standing a few metres away until you heard a familiar voice. 

“Hey, are you okay there?”

And despite the whirling thoughts and panicked breaths, you knew exactly who that voice belonged to. And when you finally lifted your head, the shield of hair finally exposing you to the person, you could see the exact moment Nico Hischier realised it was you. 

And it took a few seconds to realise just what a state you were in. 

You felt your cheeks prickle in embarrassment. You could feel the way your entire face heated up and your stomach dropped a little at the fact Nico of all people—your brothers’ captain and the man you thought about in ways that you never should—was seeing you like this. 

“Woah, hey,” he muttered out, a frown curved onto his lips as he quickly closed the distance between you two. 

And he was overwhelming. So fucking overwhelming in a way that had your head spinning for so many different reasons. It should have felt suffocating when he squished into the small alcove of the hallway with you, especially someone of his height and build.

But it wasn’t. 

It was almost comforting, or maybe that was just how Nico was. You had seen it plenty of times with his teammates, the way he wrapped his arm around them the second they were targeted on the ice or being chirped at by the rivalling team. You watched the way he would calm them down, hold his ground, keep everything in control. 

Maybe that’s what made him such a good captain. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you managed to blubber out, a sad excuse for a laugh escaping your lips as you tried to pretend your lungs weren’t burning for some air. “I’m okay!”

But he didn’t look convinced. 

“Is this okay?” His voice was soothing, calming almost. 

You blinked, taking a few seconds to realise he had lifted his hands from his sides and another few seconds to realise what he was asking before you dumbly nodded your head. 

You blinked again, and Nico’s hands were cupping—almost engulfing—your face as his thumbs softly swiped away the tears falling down your cheeks. You watched the way his eyebrows furrowed together in concern, his cheeks flushed from whatever he had been drinking to celebrate the Devils’ win. 

“Did something happen?” He asked, so gentle in the way he spoke like he didn’t want to spook you. 

“Just…thinking,” you replied with a weak smile, your breathing still a little erratic and uncertain—and he seemed to notice.

“Breathe with me,” he murmured, taking in a deep breath and giving you a pointed look until you followed his lead. “Just like that, schatz, that’s it.”

Your eyes never left his as you copied his movements, as you took deep breaths until the band around your chest seemed to ease and the burn in your lungs was long gone. Your eyes never left him as his eyes wandered over you, almost like he was double checking you were in fact okay and not physically hurt in any way, shape or form.

“It hurts,” you whispered, catching the boy’s attention as his eyes snapped up to look at you. “It hurts when I realise I can’t really compete with my brothers. Quinn is a captain, Jack is one of the best players in the league, Luke is killing his rookie season and here I am, not even sure what I want to major in and I—”

“Hey, hey,” Nico quickly interrupted when he realised your breathing was starting to pick up again. His thumbs continued to run soothing circles over the apples of your cheek, though the frown on his face remained. “You don’t have to compete with them.”

“I know but,” you paused for a moment, and he waited as you tried to gather the words. “They are them. They are the professional hockey players. They’ve known what they wanted to be since they were practically born and I don’t even know what I want to do with my life.”

“And that’s okay,” Nico assured you, and it felt a little ironic coming from another professional hockey player.

You shook your head, letting out another laugh. “And I don’t even know why I am telling you any of this because you probably want to go and celebrate your win. I mean, you do not need to be standing here and listening to my stupid problems—”

“I don’t mind,” Nico said, a soft smile on his lips. “And they aren’t stupid. Your feelings are never stupid, schatz.” 

He was your brothers’ teammate. Forget that, he was literally Jack and Luke’s captain. You had known him for as long as Jack was a part of the team. You had known him as long as he had been friends with your brothers. And yet despite in that time, you could count on one hand the amount of interactions you’ve had with the boy by yourself. 

And yet, here he was, standing in front of you with his hands holding your face and a smile that made your chest feel tight all over again. He was looking at you like your feelings were valid, like he understood. He was looking at you in a way that so many people never could. In that moment, you didn’t feel like the fourth Hughes’ sibling—you just felt like you.

But before you could even let the voice in the back of your head urging you to let the overwhelming emotions take over, the sound of your brothers’ voices snapped you out of whatever daze you were in.

“God, how long does it take for her to pee?” Jack. 

“I don’t know, she’s a girl. Maybe it takes them longer.” Luke.

“You both are so fucking stupid.” Quinn.

“I should go,” you whispered to Nico, and something in your stomach clenched as though you were about to be caught doing something scandalous. A part of you wished that was the case. “I’m sorry you had to—”

But Nico shook his head, his smile a comfort as he took a step back. “Don’t apologise.”

“Right,” you murmured as you gave him a shaky smile. “I’ll…see you later?”

He huffed out a laugh. “I’ll see you later, schatz.” 

You had quickly stepped out of the alcove before you could embarrass yourself further, finding yourself face to face with your three brothers who were busier bickering than realising you hadn’t even exited the bathroom.

You felt like your body was on autopilot for the rest of the night, but your eyes kept wandering in hopes of finding a certain someone. In hopes that you could see him with your own two eyes and confirm that the feel of his hands on your skin was, in fact, real. In hopes that maybe he was seeking you out too. 

And something in your stomach twisted in delight when your eyes met his across the bar, a grin on his lips that felt more easy-going and teasing than the soft smiles he had given you earlier. And some part of you knew that even if your interactions with the captain had been limited beforehand, something in the air shifted the second he placed his hands on you.

Because you had an inkling feeling that tonight wouldn’t be the last time you found yourself hidden in a secret place with the Swiss man, and something quite like hope sparked inside you that maybe the years of secretly crushing on your brother’s teammate was going to turn into something more.

.

[moonlightspencie]

ahh hi, i just read through your master list youre so talented!

wondering if dean winchester and enemies to lovers? with angst but also a happy ending but also like shouting confessions and stuff but also like dean is like patching up reader or maybe not shouting but like stuff? protective? abuhwfc idek what im saying but yes tysm <3 have a good day

awww thanks so much! this was fun to write, i looooove writing dean

pairing: dean winchester x gn!reader

warnings: mentions of injuries!

——————————

“What the hell were you thinking?” Dean snapped at you for the fifth time since you’d gotten in the car with him.

You huffed a sigh, still holding onto your leg in what was most definitely not a small amount of pain.

“I get it, Winchester, you’re pissed. Are you done bitching at me yet?”

“No, I’m not!” He let out a breath in annoyance, glancing sideways at you as he drove. “Running in without me was… was freaking stupid. You could’ve gotten killed.”

“I didn’t.”

“But you could have, damn it! I should’ve never agreed to bring you along.”

“I got the job done.”

“Barely.”

“Screw you.”

He opened his mouth to speak again, his chest heaving in anger as he glared at you again. He decided on a simple shake of the head as he tore through town to get to the motel.

As soon as he pulled in, he practically dragged you out of the car, carrying you into his room and setting you on the bed. You winced.

“Watch it. Kind of got a bullet wound here.”

You half expected Dean to snap something snarky back at you, but all he did was glance at you with his brows furrowed as he hurried around the room.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m trying to get said bullet out of that hole in your leg.”

You sighed softly, then started trying to gingerly pull your jeans off without further irritating your thigh.

“Damn it,” you cursed under your breath.

Dean turned quickly at that. “What?”

You merely shook your head, continuing to try and pull off your pants.

“Usually someone will at least try to flirt before they strip for me.”

“Shut up,” you grumble back, trying to hide a small smile.

He sat on the bed next to you, setting down his first aid supplies to help you get your pants the rest of the way off.

“Usually a guy will at least buy me dinner before taking off my pants,” you quip back at him.

“Shut up,” he smirked a little. Then he cleared his face. “You’re an idiot. You could’ve been killed tonight.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I’m serious,” he said, finally freeing you from your jeans with minimal jostling. “You acted like… like…”

“Yeah, yeah. I was stupid. I get it.”

He huffed again, shaking his head as he started prodding softly at your leg.

“Ouch,” you muttered softly, face scrunched in pain.

“I know. Sorry.”

“S’fine. Just pull it out.”

“I’ve been known to be pretty good at that,” he said noncommittally, slowly pulling the bullet out with a pair of thin tweezers.

You winced softly, but stayed mostly quiet as he worked.

“Attagirl,” he patted your knee gently. “Alright, we’re gonna have to stitch this up.”

“Damn it,” you groan, head falling back against his pillow.

“That’s why you don’t run off without me.”

“Shut it.”

“Just saying.”

“Well, don’t. I won’t hesitate to kick your ass.”

He snorted once, a tiny smirk on his face. You frowned, looking at him.

“What?”

He shrugged. “You sound like Bobby sometimes. I always forget you lived with him for a couple years as a kid.”

You hummed once. “Yeah. He acted like he hated it, but he was a pretty great foster dad for the time.”

“He was a great… well, everything.” He cleaned around the wound, handing you a bottle of some dark colored liquor. “Drink.”

You complied immediately, knowing you’d need a little something to take the edge off that inevitable pain. He took the bottle back, pouring a little on the wound to make sure it was sterilized on the outside.

“Ow!”

“It’s only gonna get worse.”

You scoff. “Not exactly comforting, Dean.”

“Not meant to be.”

You braced yourself as he started stitching you up, trying to focus on literally anything else until he finally finished. You let out a heavy breath.

“Good. You’re fine, see?” Dean said, looking at you expectantly.

You sighed, opening your eyes and glancing at your leg. It wasn’t half bad for some hunter stitches. You’d definitely had worse. You nodded a little at his work.

“Yeah. Good.”

“Good,” he repeated again, then placed the bandage on it. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“I know.”

He looked at you for a moment. “I’m serious. I wish I hadn’t brought you.”

“I get it. But…”

“No buts about it. If we ever work together on anything again, and I mean ever, you’ll do as I say. Got it?”

You rolled your eyes. “Please. You’re not my dad or my boyfriend, and even if you were, I still wouldn’t take orders from you. Get a grip.”

“You almost got killed,” he repeated.

“I heard that the first fifty times, Winchester. But you almost get— you know what? No. You have gotten killed. More than once! You can’t say that shit to me!”

“I—” he started, but obviously didn’t really know what to say to that. He hummed once in thought. “Well… well, that’s different.”

“No it isn’t.”

“I don’t have to deal with losing me if I get killed!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I just… it’s different. If it’s you, then,” he sighed, running a hand over his face. “If it’s you, or if it’s Sam, or anyone else, I’m left here to know that it’s probably my fault it happened. I have to deal with it if you die and I can’t deal with it!”

“Oh, come on, you’ve always hated me. You’d live.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“You think I’m annoying at the very least!”

“Yeah, cause you are! But I don’t want you to die!”

“How sweet,” you deadpan.

“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean. I don’t… I couldn’t…”

“What?”

“I like you! Alright?! Is that what you want to hear?”

“No you don’t. You hardly tolerate me.”

“Because you’re too damn independent and it freaks me the hell out!” he snaps again. “I don’t want to like you because that means I’ll fall for you and that means if you die, I’ll… I’ll…”

You groan in irritation.

“Cut it out. I’m trying to tell you I want you!”

You scoff. “Excuse me?”

“I want you! Always have! You got any clue how many times Bobby smacked me when he caught me checking you out?”

You stared at him for a moment in shock, then burst out laughing. He scrunched up his face in confusion, staring at you. He swallowed.

“Quit— quit laughing.”

“You’re serious?!��

“Yes, I’m serious. You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

You laughed again. “Oh my god! You’re being a bitch because you have a crush on me? What, are you 13?”

He rolled his eyes. “This is why I can’t stand you.”

“Apparently you can’t stand me because you like me too much,” you laugh.

“You— You know…” he tried, but was obviously too flustered to speak properly.

He ran through options in his head, but one sounded way more fun than the others. He suddenly leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. That shut you up quick.

“Mm,” you mumbled against his lips, kissing him back.

He could be a douche, but he was also super hot. Not to mention, he was a total sweetheart when he wasn’t determined to be an asshole. Like now. He pulled away, breathing heavier.

“Don’t laugh at me again. It’s mean,” he muttered softly.

“Don’t confess to a little crush like that again and I won’t. Next time you wanna confess, just kiss me instead. Much more effective.”

“Will do,” he breathed out, leaning in again.

[midnight-pluto]

SPOILED!MEGUMI — headcanons

megumi was raised by gojo, he’s bound to be spoiled one way or another

CHAR: megumi fushiguro, satoru gojo

PAIRING(S): megumi fushiguro x gn!reader (can be read as platonic)

A/N: this is a topic that isn’t discussed enough, so I’m writing it and potentially going to elaborate on some more later

i would like to start off by saying i do not intend to paint megumi in a negative light by saying he’s spoiled — but i do intend on putting him in a goofy one

to be honest, megumi isn't that self-aware as he seems

y'all seen that one episode that inspired this post where yuji and nobara freak out over the price of gojo's shirt and question whether it's with tax or not and megumi deadass asks if tax matters? yea interpret that as you will

there is a decent chance that he doesn’t necessarily understand the value of money very well, which probably has something to do with the Gojo effect™️

ngl he probably said ‘print more money’ once and got attacked for it so he never said it again

but he's also so lowkey about it too like you would have never guessed that this boy would be as materialistic as gojo is

like he wears the same shit gojo does that's really expensive quality but doesn't have the brand name plastered onto it since he finds it tacky so you'll just never know unless he exclusively tells you

he also does have a talent of knowing what is good quality and what isn't; he would do great for those cheap vs. expensive videos

can also spot knock-offs from a mile away but never says anything about it since he doesn't have enough in him to care about that kind of stuff

so the first time both of you — including yuji and nobara — hangout at the mall and when you ask what he plans on getting and he just replies with something along the lines of new shoes so just imagine the collective shock between you all when he makes a beeline towards prada

"My boots got ruined last mission so I plan on getting a new pair."

"Okay, what store are you gonna be in so we can find you later?"

"Prada."

"Bitch what the fuck did you just say."

you didn't know what hurt more, megumi not telling any of you about the fact that he was loaded or his absolute nonchalance about the situation

and due to the amount of shock all of you were in, you all followed megumi like little ducklings bcuz his casual nonchalance about it was concerning

he was slightly embarrassed but found it easier to just pretend the rest of you weren't there during his hunt for new boots

it was also quite nerve wracking for you all since yuji only buys things from walmart and though nobara has expensive taste, she knows how to budget while you stay away from all things worth more than rent out of fear of damaging anything and having to pay for it

so it was safe to assume that it looked liked a bunch of kindergarteners in a line following their chaperone during a school field trip — just a lot more quieter and careful which cannot be said for every outing much to megumi’s dismay

megumi didn't take that long before picking out a pair that he liked and began to pay for under three pairs of wide eyes due to the sole fact that he pulled out a black card in order to pay for it

"Don't worry, it's Gojo's."

that statement did not help the situation at all

it also caused the three of you to demand why he isn't spending that money on you all to which his reply is just a deadpan: 'you never asked.'

i feel like this also extends to his taste in food as well

like when you suggest to head to the food court in the mall since yuji was getting hungry; this man has the audacity to disaprove since he doesn't like the taste

now that reasoning isn't the problem, the problem is that he suggests to eat at some expensive ass place an hour away because he was craving it and it was one of the only places gojo introduced to him as a kid which he actually liked

though he was forced to toss the idea aside due to the fact that there was no way you all could split the bill that way and you all weren’t that patient enough to walk an hour all the way to a restaurant you couldn’t even afford

it’s not that megumi didn’t offer to pay, he did, nobara just didn’t like the feeling of having to owe someone

that is until Gojo stumbles across his students and decides to get them food at the same exact place megumi suggested

A/N: writing this made me hungry

[genshin-obsessed]

Could I request a reader baking Zhongli, Diluc, Wriothesley, Neuvillette a bunch of desserts just on a whim?

Thanks for the request, hope you enjoy it.

Sweets for My Love

ꨄ︎ Diluc

That’s a lot of desserts.

He’s super happy for you but he doesn’t know how many he can keep eating. He will admit, they’re so good.

Tells kinda everyone who asks? That way, you’ll make desserts for them too. Gotta share those talents, you know.

He doesn’t share, no. Kaeya asked for a bite once, almost got his ass beat. Then again, it’s Kaeya.

He really does like your desserts.

ꨄ︎ Zhongli

Does not have enough tea for the amount of desserts he gets in a week. Slow down, cutie, he’s getting old.

That’s not to say he doesn’t like them- no, they’re super good. They’re extremely delicious!

All his acquaintances and such know about you and your talents. He tells everyone he can. That way, maybe you could money for it?

Loves to enjoy them with you. If you only make enough for him, he’ll share that portion with you too.

ꨄ︎ Neuvillette

Honestly, didn’t even know about all the desserts you can make. As in, he knew the names of many but there were still some he’d never seen before.

They’re all absolutely delicious, by the way. Not to mention, you can adjust the sweetness for his tastes which is even better.

He’s happy if you’re happy and honestly, you seem really happy when you’re baking. He even tried making some with you. It went ok, you did help a lot more than you think though.

Keeps you away from Furina. Sorry, but she can’t hog all your sweets. He was some too.

ꨄ︎ Wriothesley

Unlike Zhongli, he has the tea. Hand them over. He does do his best to watch how much he eats. The desserts aren’t the healthiest and he can’t be getting sick in Meropide.

He does really like them. Seigewinne saw him eating some and asked where he got them. He did get a scolding but she couldn’t say much when he mentioned you made them.

On occasion, she has some too. They’re super good, honestly. Everyone in Meropide is 100% jealous. They want some too.

They’re certainly a guilty pleasure. He’s more than happy to enjoy a cake or four with you.

[hazbinwhoree]

Hey! I love your writing and I was gonna ask about a request? If you're up to it, could you do an Adam x f!reader where reader sings in a band, and Adam goes to one of her shows? You can do whatever you want with the story (maybe even a little smutty if you want...😏😏) ty!!💗💗💗

I Was In A Band

A/N: Requests are reopened!

Despite how many of Adam’s shows (Name) had been to, he’d never been to one of hers before. (Name) was both excited and nervous. There was a reason she never invited him. But when she and her band took the stage, and Adam stared up at her from the front of the crowd in complete admiration, (Name) was fully excited.

They began their set, and Adam’s first thought was that their bands’ music was very different from each other. Immediately, the angsty tone had him knowing this was going to be very different from his metal shows.

The lyrics were much deeper than any he’d ever sung. They were beautifully written though. And (Name) sang them so beautifully.

He was pretty sure he fell in love with her even more than he already was.

When the show was over, they immediately sought one another out, but (Name) was stopped by a swarm of fans. As Adam watched the amount of young men who approached her, he realized how she must feel about his groupies. He didn’t like it at all.

He identified the feeling as jealousy as he watched man after man throw themselves at (Name). But his jealousy was soothed when her eyes found his and she brushed everyone else aside to come to him. She placed her hands on his chest and beamed up at him. “What did you think?”

Adam thought she was amazing, but his first thought was showing her groupies that she was spoken for. So he picked her up and did just that, crushing his lips against hers.

(Name) was surprised but certainly not complaining, winding her arms around Adam’s neck and kissing him back. When Adam pulled back and put her down, he revelled in the jealous looks men and women alike were shooting him.

“You were incredible,” he told her. “My girl is so talented.”

(Name) blushed.

“Can we get out of here?” Adam asked as more fans tried to approach them. “Of course.”

Adam was unusually quiet on the way home. When they got there, (Name) questioned him about it. “Is something wrong? Did you not enjoy the show?”

Adam pinned her up against the wall abruptly. “The show was amazing. I just didn’t like to see all those angels who wanted to get in your pants.” (Name) opened her mouth to argue but Adam cut her off, pressing his lips against hers.

“Shush,” he said when he pulled back. “I’m not accusing you of anything and I know it’s hypocritical considering my own groupies. It just made me want to remind you who you belong to.” His voice was low and husky.

(Name) grinned. “Yeah?”

Adam groped her chest. “Yeah. You should suck my dick and make me feel better.”

“Wow, make me do the work after my own show,” (Name) tsked. “I’m sure any of my groupies would have jumped at the chance to give me head.”

Adam growled. “No one eats pussy like me.”

“Prove it.”

Adam threw (Name) over his shoulder in a blink, rushing up to their bedroom. He tossed (Name) on the bed, grabbing her legs and dragging her down until her ass was on the edge. He pulled her pants down and off, kneeling between her thighs after discarding the clothing on the floor.

He pressed a kiss to her clothed core, tongue poking at the wet patch that had already formed on her panties. Then he hooked his thumbs under the waistband and tugged them down, discarding them like her pants.

Once her bottom half was bare, Adam didn’t give her a single minute to prepare, burying his head between her thighs and beginning to eat her out.

(Name) cried out as he licked up and down between her folds before beginning to fuck her with his tongue. He may be cocky, but he wasn’t lying when he said no one ate pussy like he did. He always gave the best head of (Name)’s life.

He gripped her thighs, holding her legs apart while he ate her out like his last meal, saliva running down his chin. His tongue was long and (Name) moaned and squirmed while he fucked her with it.

“Adam!” (Name) cried. Adam pulled back for just a moment to speak. “Yeah, that feel good, bitch? Remember, no one else can make you feel this good.” (Name) whined and Adam dove back in, sucking on her clit. Her hips bucked.

It didn’t take very long for her to get close, thighs trembling. Adam continued a steady pace of licking up and down, sucking on her clit, and fucking her with his tongue. His hands reached up to play with her tits.

“Fuck, Adam,” (Name) panted. Adam grinned, face wet with her juices and his own spit. “Cum for me,” he demanded, before thrusting his tongue into her again. (Name) cried out, cumming on command. Adam fucked her through it with his tongue.

When (Name)’s body finally relaxed, Adam pulled back, rising to his feet. He wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “How was that for head?”

(Name) giggled, fucked out. She made a grabby motion and Adam leaned over her, pressing his lips to hers. She could taste herself on him.

“Better than any groupie could have possibly given.”

[buggyjuggie]

The lin kuei trio + johnny,raiden and kung lao with a figure skating reader?⛸️

──★ ˙ ̟The Lin kuei trio + Johnny, Raiden and Kung lao x GN! Figure skating reader

「 ✦ Bi-han ✦ 」

* Ok i known it might seem obvious that ice powers = good at figure skating but i dont think Bi han is good at it…like at all

* I don’t know this idea is kinda funny to me he tries ,then fails, gets mad and says he’ll never do it again ( if you plead with him enough he’ll try and the cycle repeats)

* Just like with the skater headcanon he has to watch from the sidelines

* Tho as an act of service (hc: his love language) he cleans your skates, makes sure they are up to code and sharpens them.

* Like with Thomas back in they’re childhood he helps you practice by changing the ground into ice.

「 ✦ Kuai liang ✦ 」

* I would say Kua liang is decent at figure skating. Not disastrous like Bi han but also not 10/10 like Thomas

* He enjoys just skating in circles slowly while talking to you

* Just make sure to help him if he ever falls down so that he doesn’t melt the ice out of embarrassment

* He tries to attend every competition that your in but if he’s busy he leaves some flowers and a note for you

* Is the most supportive partner ever gives hugs, kisses, praises and so on after shows.

「 ✦ Smoke/Thomas ✦ 」

*As stated in Kuai liangs sections he’s a GOD at figure skating, it’s practically his secret talent

* Both of you tend to get competitive and try to out do each other

*He sometimes overdoes the spins in an effort to win against you and makes himself dizzy

* During his childhood would pleade with Bihan to turn the ground to ice so he could practice (Bi han caved but then messed with Thomas and made him fall)

* Like Kuai liang he tries to show up to every competition that your in. Even makes those supportive homemade posters

* He tends to embarrass you sometimes but it’s out of love so you can’t get mad at him.

「 ✦ Johnny Cage ✦ 」

* If you compete in any skating competitions your trophies go next to his

* He even sometimes cleans them for you

* Is always posting pictures or videos of either you performing or practicing to his socials

* You now have stan accounts dedicated to you and your carrier thanks to him

* If he ever has to play a roll that includes figure skating your phone better NOT be on silent because your the first person he’s calling up

* Takes you ice skates and costume shopping and yes he does get you custom everything as a surprise

「 ✦ Raiden ✦ 」

* I feel like Raiden is less than average when it comes to figure skatting

* He doesn’t fall on his ass all the time but he still has to use a skating aid or hold on to you

* Like Kuai liang likes just slow skatting around the ring and talking or in silence while taking in your presence

* After competitions takes you to Madam Bo’s even if you didn’t win he still wants to show that you should still be proud of yourself

* Once your done with practice if he sees that your cold he gives you his jacket and always carries a thermos with hot tea to keep you warm.

(Oh my god this gif)

「 ✦ Kung lao ✦ 」

* Tries to act like he isn’t but he’s scared

* After a bit of practice slowly starts to get the hang of things

* Once he’s good enough to be on his own first thing he learns is how to do a hockey stop just to annoy you

* Always brags to people about how cool you are and the amount of awards you’ve won

* Tried to write a message for you on ice ussing his hat but forgot that the skattes also leave marks so it just ended up being unreadable (you still appreciate the thought at least)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

And another request done ! I had so much fun with this one like my brain was filled with ideas i managed to finish this in only a day and again i really enjoys doing this one :3

[quibbs126]

[NEW Cursed Rarepair is here]

Can you make the fankid of..

Dark Cacao x Moonlight?

I finally got off my ass and drew him, so finally, this is Midnight Choco Cookie

I say all that because I have had his backstory figured out for probably over a year at this point, I just never got around to drawing his design

Okay, so basically the story of Midnight Choco’s origin is that Dark Cacao Cookie had wished for a child (MC is supposed to be older than Dark Choco, so Cacao doesn’t have a kid yet at this point). Moonlight heard his wish, and felt moved by his sincerity, so she decided to grant that wish and then created and sent Midnight Choco down to him from the stars

Moonlight and Dark Cacao aren’t together in this universe, it’s just that due to making Midnight with her magic, he’s also got some of her dough in there too. She’s basically more like a magic donor

Midnight Choco here is a warrior in the World of Dreams, and he spends his days battling nightmares, whether they come to harm train passengers or the individual Cookies having those dreams. And in the latter case, he usually tries to talk with and help those Cookies overcome those fears. He’s basically like Princess Luna in Friendship is Magic

He’s got some sort of helmet and also moniker for his nightmare fighting talents, but I haven’t really figured out what those are yet, so just know he has them. He’s incredibly powerful and a skilled fighter, but he’s also a very kind and sweet soul, just wanting to help those with the power he wields

However, not all is well with Midnight Choco. As far as he’s aware, he’s merely a construction of the Dream World to protect itself, like many others that inhabit and maintain it. He never leaves the Dream World. Not only that, but he has no real memory of having any sort of family. He feels some form of connection with the Slumbering Moon, but has never quite traveled to meet her

The truth of Midnight Choco is that he has in fact, been in a coma for the past 25-30 years of his life, slumbering within the walls of the Black Citadel

He grew up with his father, being raised in the Black Citadel and learning the ways of the sword from him. His extraordinary origins and seeming connection with the stars also led to him having quite an amount of stories surrounding him, being “the prince born from the stars, gifted to the king from the heavens itself”, among other things

When he was a teenager, Dark Choco was baked, and he got along pretty well with his little brother, for what time they had together

But then a couple years later, one night, Midnight Choco went to sleep, but never woke up. That following day it was assumed he had simply overslept, but as the day, and inevitably following days went on, it became increasingly concerning. He was still alive, and seemingly fine, but he wouldn’t wake up. Dark Cacao tried methods both physical and magical, but nothing could be done. The circumstances were made even more confusing by the fact that no one knew what caused it, because there was no trace of any poison or curses in his body, or anything strange that had happened recently, Midnight simply went to sleep and didn’t wake up

He has stayed this way ever since, and Dark Cacao has him kept in a room under constant watch, should someone attack him or if he potentially wakes up. He visits him often

What actually happened to Midnight Choco is that he accidentally awakened his power to go into the World of Dreams, and in the process of doing so, since he had done it incorrectly, gave himself amnesia, basically starting his life over in the Dream World and becoming the fighter of nightmares he is today, and subsequently believing he comes from the World of Dreams

He can in fact, break this spell and wake back up in the real world, but he doesn’t know he has this ability, nor does he believe he comes from the real world, so he wouldn’t go looking for a way to access this power. Though perhaps one day, he’ll learn the truth and wake up

He’s met both his father and his brother within their dreams and nightmares, but neither parties really recognize each other, due to dream weirdness and Midnight’s knight attire covering his face. He is semi aware of what’s been going on in the Dark Cacao Kingdom, like Dark Choco’s banishment, Caramel Arrow, Affogato and the like, but it’s basically been pieced together from the secondhand dream accounts, and due to his amnesia he doesn’t feel much personal connection to these events for himself, he just knows some of what’s going on in the real world

And I think that’s about it on Midnight Choco’s character. Wow I really did have a lot to say. Well, on to design things

So I got the name Midnight Choco from an ice cream flavor that I think I’ve seen around. It’s mostly because it’s chocolate and has night connections, but it works

Midnight chocolate ice cream:

So I admit, he doesn’t look as great as I have been hoping he would, but he has a design now, so I should just be happy with that

I admit, I didn’t really know what I was doing with his armor, I was just kind of trying to make it look good. The feet may not be great though. ToA Dark Choco ended up being a good reference for me

I originally wasn’t going to have gold, but all the saturated dark blues were getting too much, so it breaks up the colors

His sword is supposed to be like a clock hand. I originally drew it for Dusk Choco, but I thought it might look cooler on Midnight, since he’s the one descended from a Legendary and all. But it was a matter of copy/paste, so I don’t know how good it looks on him. But drawing a weapon was the main reason I put off drawing him, so it’s fine I suppose

I really wanted to add some gold gradient to the pants, but it just never looked right, so they have to stay just plain. Though I did change them and subsequently his hair to be a dark purple, so it looks a bit better

I honestly don’t really know what to say in this section. He may not be my best, but he at least has a design, and it isn’t the worst thing ever, so it’s fine

And yeah, that’s Midnight Choco. I think I’m too attached to him honestly, I want fanfiction of him. But yeah, I hope you enjoy him yourselves

[anjelicawrites]

Any chance you have any Aegond smutty thoughts to rid my brain of the shitshow that was that finale?

I do!!! Since you didn't specify if you wanted canon or modern, I'm going to do both!

Warnings: incest, unhealthy relationship, jealousy, scratching, biting, choking, kissing, lashings, oral (m receiving), wall sex, anal sex, demeaning language, edging, public sex, creampie, smoking, shotgunning, reference to threesome, reference to violence.

NSFW and 18 + only under the cut!

Aemond is strong, far stronger than Aegon is. Paired with the fact that Aemond is significantly taller than his older brother, this allows him to easily lift him and fuck him against the wall, nice and slow, enjoying the way Aegon begs and moans for it. He might let Aegon come, or he might not, it's always a whim.

Whenever he comes back from a brothel, Aegon goes straight for his brother's chambers, taunting him, wanting him to angrily fuck him until Aegon forgets his own name. Those are the times when he gets slapped and choked, sometimes even lashed with Aemond's belt, called a whore, when he gets facefucked until he passes out, only to come back to his senses to Aemond's thick cock ramming inside of him, with anger and jealousy. He can't walk afterwards, he has to crawl to the water basin and clean himself as Aemond makes a show of ignoring him, treating him like he's less than nothing, a mere hole to unload his seed.

Aegon can't force himself to be brutal with Aemond, when he's fucking him. He can't help but make love to his younger brother, gentle and slow, making him come on his cock until it hurts to reign his own orgasm in and he comes inside of Aemond, who shudders and moans, mindless.

Even if he's gentle, Aegon leaves his marks on Aemond's fair skin: scratches, hand prints, hickeys and bite marks cover Aemond's body: the sign of his brother's love and possession of him. If the Dance never happened and Aemond were to get married, Aegon would have fucked him the whole night before the wedding and convinced him to go to the Sept with his seed still dripping from his hole. The mere idea that his brother might love his wife fills Aegon with jealousy: that's his Aemond, who belongs to him, the wife is a simple necessary evil.

Aemond has sucked Aegon's cock on the Iron Throne, made him beg and wail, kept him on the brink of orgasm again and again, telling him that a king needs to know how to control himself, while Aegon trashed under him and grabbed his hair to force him to do his bidding, blind to the threat the swords posed him.

Aegon has cockwarmed Aemond on the Throne, naked albeit for the crown, sitting with his back to Aemond's front, legs splayed to let Aemond reach for his hard cock to play with it, flicking his red head and crushing his heavy stones, while murmuring in his ear what a whore Aegon was, what a shame it would be if they were to be discovered. His arse would curl painfully around Aemond's erection, the threat of being seen like this going straight to his cock, Aemond's vise around his base the only reason he can't come.

They have fucked one another before Council Meetings, only to go still smelling of sex, with their seeds dripping inside their breeches. Sometimes Aegon would plug his brother's hole, force him to go about his day with his seed still inside of him, because he knows Aemond would snap and fuck him face first on a table.

In modern times, Aegon would send Aemond pics of himself naked and hard, videos of himself masturbating and begging Aemond to order him to come. Aemond never gives him permission, he enjoys to keep Aegon dangling on the brink of orgasm for hours, days even. He would use his talented mouth and tight ass, only to stop Aegon before he could reach his end.

Aegon is always a pathetic, begging mess for his brother's cock, he can't live without it. Even after university they live together and no amount of nagging from Otto or Alicent can force them to get married and produce heirs: they belong to one another.

Countless times Aemond has woken up his brother with a blowjob, sloppy and slow. It's the times when he leaves him complete control to facefuck him to the point of tears, then he rides him, basking in the way Aegon stares at his body and helps him move over his cock.

They would go out, sometimes, clubbing to pick up someone to bring home with them. Sometimes it's a girl, others a boy. Females are allowed to sit on Aegon's face and ride his dick while Aemond fucks his arse, males can only be fucked. Once a guy tried to fuck Aemond and thank the Gods they had enough money to shut him up, after Aegon sent him to the hospital.

College era Aegon opens an OF for fun and to be admired by his followers. It gets shut down after Aemond finds out and fucks him live on camera, just to remind him to whom he belongs to.

Aegon is fascinated by the way Aemond's lips curl around a cigarette. Most of the time a quick smoke break ends up becoming a snogging session, with Aemond shotgunning his smoke with his brother, only to end up on his knees, sucking him off.

[msbigredmachine]

In Peace - A Roman Reigns One-Shot

When one of the Wise Man’s incessant phone calls comes at the wrong time 🙄

PAIRING: Tribal Chief!Roman Reigns x OC

Warnings: SMUT

Word count: 1.6k 

A/N: Finally doing a piece that's less than 2k words. @harmshake inspired and challenged me because she's so freaking good at conveying so much in less than 1,000 words. I need me that kinda talent, lol.

Enjoy!

------------------------

“Shit, baby girl, you drippin’,” he murmured, his full lips wetly brushing your cheek, “So wet, so fuckin’ good…”

The only reply you could muster to his gruff, breathy feedback was groan after whimpering groan of his name, your face pressed into the pillows, your soft, round ass in the air bouncing from the scintillating backshots he was pounding into you. Daddy had your back arched nice and deep as his sizable dick fed long, powerful strokes to your needy cunt, the rigid shaft glistening with your creamy cum which made your pussy sing as it plunged repeatedly all the way to the hilt of you. 

“Tell Daddy how that dick feel, baby, talk to me,” Roman growled, holding you up by your hair so you could respond. The commanding, whiskey-smooth, lust-heavy bass of his voice never failed to send tingles up your spine. Your eyes were in the back of your head, your gorgeous face awash with pleasure, alternating between panting and licking your lips as he made you take his big ass cock, the crude slapping sounds of your heated skins echoing off the walls of the master bedroom.

“Amazing, it’s so damn good, mmmph, fuck!” you whined wantonly as your orgasm loomed, your walls greedily squeezing his girth in warning. An unladylike sound poured out of you as your pussy poured all over the satin sheets, soul-shaking pleasure riddling your entire body with tremors. He only let you recover from your dizzying high for about five seconds before he turned you on your side to fuck you from yet another delicious angle, not missing his stride at all as his hand abandoned your hair to hold your thighs down. His hips snapped against you hard enough for your breasts to bounce in place while your juices seeped out of you in copious amounts, creating a wet mess between your bodies. 

“Fuck, Roman,” you moaned again, unable to keep your eyes from rolling back again as his thrusts transitioned to swivels of his narrow hips, winding wide circles into you nice and slow, burying his dick in your stomach like he promised when he threw you onto the bed hours ago. "God, that's my spot right there Daddy, oooh you so deep!" 

Leaning in for a sloppy, drugging kiss, Roman jiggled your breast in his palm, then let his hand slide along your smooth, sweaty skin, down your hip and over your ass, earning your yelp when he gave it a sound smack before grabbing a handful of the soft, supple cheek. He could kiss and caress your beautiful body till the end of time, could listen to you moan for him forever. "Uh huh, that’s right. I’m all up in that shit. Mmm, this pussy so good, babe-"

The sudden sound of a ringing phone pierced the air, almost ruining the amorous vibe. “What the fuck?” An irritated grunt expelled from Roman as he stopped thrusting, glancing at the nightstand where both your phones sat.

“That’s yours. Why your phone ain’t on DND?” you breathed, and rolled your eyes when you saw the caller ID and the Special Counsel’s pudgy face smirking at you. “Can he leave your ass alone? He’s been calling you all week,” you complained, massaging his sweat-slick shoulders while you caught your breath.

“I know,” Roman sighed, his tone distracted. Your eyes narrowed as you sensed him gravitating towards the device. Oh, hell no…

“No, don’t you dare.” You grabbed the back of his neck and tugged him back on top of you, locking your legs around his waist. “He’ll go away, baby, let’s keep going,” you cooed, luring him back in with soft, inviting kisses on his lips and threading your fingers through his hair to hold him to you. 

Thankfully, your seductions and his desire won. Heyman would have to wait. Roman moved again, rolling his hips, cupping your right thigh for leverage to push himself deeper into you. Your pastel pink nails scoured down his back to grip his smooth butt cheeks, feeling them clench and unclench rhythmically in your palms as he built up speed. “Unnnh, just like that, baby, fuck me…”

“Yeah, you like that, baby girl?” he taunted, kissing you full on the mouth as his hips pistoned, “Nut on me again, come all over my d-”

The goddamn phone rang again.

“For fuck’s sake!” you hissed angrily, while Roman’s forehead dropped onto your breasts with equal frustration.

“I’m sorry baby, lemme find out what he wants.” Pulling out of you, he reached over to pluck the iPhone off the charger and laid back on the bed. “Wise Man. I’m kinda busy here,” he grumbled, feeling you sit up next to him and cross your arms petulantly.

“I apologize, my Tribal Chief, but this is important,” you heard him say from the other end of the line. Roman tried to placate you with an apologetic look as he settled in to listen to Paul. At this, an eerily potent mix of rage and defiance took over your being.

They both got you fucked up if they thought you were just going to sit around and wait for them.

Allowing a couple of seconds to tick by, you positioned yourself between Roman’s sturdy thighs and picked up his long, thick flesh pole. You felt him tense up at your touch, a dark, wary expression crossing his handsome face as he watched you like a hawk. With delicate, deliberate movements of your fingers, you stroked him up and down at first. Then, you lowered your mouth over him, your lips sliding down the length of him and back up. Slowly, purposefully, making him rethink his silly choice to abandon you and your lovemaking.

The inviting warmth of his lover’s mouth had Roman squirming as he struggled to focus on the phone call. He tried to shoot you another warning look, but all he could see was a pair of innocent eyes and a wet chin, flashing him with a naughty grin as you slurped on his cock like a popsicle in July. One particularly toe-curling lash of your tongue around his tip made him moan out; however, it wasn’t just both of you who heard him.

"You alright, my Tribal Chief?" asked Paul. 

"Um, nah, m’fine, keep goin’,” he replied quickly, his free hand curling behind your head.

He may have been talking to Heyman, or talking to you. It didn’t matter either way as you continued working his length. Forcing him to inhale quiet, shallowing breaths to keep his Wise Man oblivious. But the dangerous pulls of your tight mouth made it so damn difficult, even more so as your jawline hollowed, sucking in more of him, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. His abs crunched each time you took him further down your throat. Roman’s eyes fluttered shut and his jaw slowly fell open, words trying to form but it was as though his voice had been stolen from him. Everything Paul was saying was getting inside one ear and coming out of the other.

"You sure you’re okay?" Paul said.

"Yeah," Roman answered through gritted teeth, milliseconds away from exploding, "I’m g-good, I’m…god-damn, baby..."

Still playing with your food, you reached up to snatch the phone out of Roman’s hand and held it to your ear. “Paul, get off the goddamn phone. I’m tryna fuck my man in peace.” Without waiting for a response you cut the call, switched the phone off and tossed it over your shoulder, not really caring where it landed. If it was damaged, you’d get him a new one, naturally.

You were deep-throating him now, sending surges of electricity from the hair on his head all the way down to his tippy toes. Your lips had the head of his dick sealed tight, and his fist tightened in your hair, holding on for dear life as you drained his cum out of him like a pipe. Roman's chest heaved as he succumbed to mind-blowing pleasure. His big body shuddered uncontrollably from the most discombobulating of orgasms as he unloaded heavy thick spurts of his essence into your hungry throat.

“Fuck…”

Ensuring you'd sucked him dry, you let his drained dick slide from between your lips and plop onto his left thigh, the long, thick member twitching and glistening with your saliva. He swallowed hard as your naked body slowly slithered upwards, wrapping around him like a wayward vine. He watched you lick the rest of his nut off your lips before sealing your mouths together. The erotic taste of him and you mingling with the scent of your perfume had his head spinning, intoxicated from his love and lust and desire for you. As aggressive as you’d just been, he couldn’t help but be turned on by it. He loved that his baby girl didn’t play about him at all. 

His heart pounded as your legs widened to straddle him, a groan rumbling within his chest as you reached down and caressed his dick before guiding it back into your waiting pussy. And then, you started to grind on him, a moan spilling from both your lips as his cock hardened inside you.

"You're like a bitch in heat,” he chuckled, his breath hitching as your pussy clenched around him.

The sinful smirk you levelled him with made his dick twitch again. "Ya damn right. Now fuck me like the bitch that I am,” you said.

"Oh I will...in a minute." Rolling you onto your back, he shoved the back of your knees into the bed, his hulking body holding you in place so you couldn't squirm. Two pairs of lust-blown eyes locked on each other as his long, warm, masterful tongue glided down south until it reunited with your wet pussy. He nuzzled your soft folds with his nose, breathing your heady scent in as he touched his tongue to your pussy, skillfully lapping up your wetness over...and over...and over... 

“Unnhhh, right there, Daddy, yes, yes, yessss…”

THE END

------------------------

I have quite a number of Roman stuff almost completed. Can't wait to post when I'm done!

Please leave feedback/comments. I appreciate them as they help me improve my writing.

Thank you all so much for reading!

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[dried-mushroom]

Hi hello! I absolutely adore how you write! It’s so nice to read~

Ive Seen the dating profile thingy you’ve posted of Harlan, and the „cuddling“ really caught my eye :0

Idk if you take requests right now, but if you do, could you maybe write something about how Harlan or AM get some well deserved cuddles? 👉👈

Have a lovely day! :D

Aww thank you so much, (I might do this for AM as well hehe) I really hope you enjoy this :)

Take a break

Harlan Ellison x Fem! reader

(tbh this one is a little vague in Harlan's description so it can be read as younger or older Harlan. It's up to you Pookie)

Summary: Harlan is having a severe case of writer's block and needs to relax (aka a shit ton of affection).

You were splayed out on the couch, messy h/c hair creating a halo around your head. You lazily drew patterns on the arm of the sofa, whilst the distinctive sound of typing filled the air. You lolled your head to the side, as Harlan sloped over the typewriter opposite where you were lying with a severe case of writer's block, to see how tense he was.

Your eyes travelled over the countless books and trinkets around the room to the expanse of his back and shoulders. Your eyes widen as you hear him sharply inhale and rip the paper out of the typewriter, discarding it onto the floor. When your eyes drifted lower, you saw the number of balls of crinkled paper beside the wooden chair he sat in, and your gaze softened.

You were another speculative fiction writer, that was one of the reasons he absolutely adored you. You met him at a convention, where you asked him to sign your old copy of I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream and Spider Kiss, he had also heard of your works and didn't think you were too shabby at the genre.

When you walked up to the desk he sat at, and it just clicked between you both, a bit of a cliche but you didn't mind (plus he did have you ride him in the backseat of his car swiftly after the convention ended). You and Harlan had been together for a number of years and hadn't quarrelled once so you had come to learn his mannerisms and him, yours.

You rolled off the sofa, sauntering over to the man who ran his hands through his soft hair, clearly irritated. You stood beside him and with two fingers you tilted his chin towards you, he looked up at you with, in your opinion, the most adorable pout you've ever seen on a man (you would never dream of telling him this though), You knew he was frustrated about some aspect of the new story he was trying to write and he needed to relax before it consumed him. You'd know because it has happened to you in the past and writer's block is one of the most excruciating things to go through for an author, for you, it led you to question your own capabilities.

"Honey, What's going on in that amazingly talented brain of yours?'

He looked up at you with his ethereal blue eyes before nuzzling his head against your stomach and mumbling against you;

"It's just so frustrating. I've spent so long creating this world and ideas just for it to amount to nothing, absolutely nothing. I fear my talent may have waned over the years."

You cradle his head in your hands (think challengers), stroking his cheek lovingly.

"Harlan Ellison. You are the most talented writer I have ever had the pleasure of meeting and your talent has not waned ever since you started writing. God I practically fell in love with you the moment I read Spider Kiss when I was 15. Now come on baby, you need to take a break."

That was another thing Harlan loved you for, your endless compassion towards him. He knew he could be a massive pain in the ass sometimes but you still treated him no differently even before you started living together. He smiled up at you, as you moved your hands to grasp him, pulling him from his seat up the carpet-clad stairs to your shared bedroom, him following diligently behind you.

It was approaching dusk already, so you closed the curtains in the room and got changed into something more comfortable, you could feel Harlan's obvious gaze on your body and you rolled your eyes in jest. You returned the favour when he removed the tight black shirt he was wearing and got into bed, you following in pursuit. Once you both got settled, he did something unexpected he started nuzzling into your chest, and you felt his arms embracing you, pulling you so close the warmth from his chest radiated through the thin material of your singlet. You eagerly reciprocated, intertwining your legs with his and stroking his back softly. He murmured against your chest,

"Thank you, I mean it. I don't think I deserve you sometimes, "

That made you smile. You kissed his foreheard before slowly succumbing to sleep.That night, Harlan peacefully fell asleep listening to your heartbeat.

The end

I'm sorry it's short and if I'm not writing fast, I'm trying to write the handful of requests I got (keep em coming and thank you to those who did request.)

[gyundo]

“My Temptation”

Choi Soobin (Soobin) x Male Reader

SMUT! DNI if under 18

Hyung kink, musk kink, size kink, muscle kink

Plot: Choi Soobin, the most kindest and sweetest person Y/N couldn’t even have dreamt of, walked right into both his heart and his life one fine afternoon. Attraction and love blossom, creating a masterpiece of an evening.

Y/N had always remembered being lonely and feeling neglected for a number of years. His father had always been working to allow a good lifestyle for his son, while his mother, due to not wanting to raise a child, had left him before he could remember.

Y/N, growing up as a child with a father too exhausted to play with him, now was in college, but still living at home. He couldn’t move out because he had nobody but his father, and he also felt lonely due to not being able to make any friends in college. Accustomed to the loneliness, he just didn’t know how to make friends quickly and often stayed away from too much socialization.

While studying in the library one afternoon, Y/N’s eyes were caught by a very handsome stranger. He had never seen him before, but his eyes looked full of purity and cleanliness. His lips, although plump, seemed like they had been painted by the worlds most talented artists. With perfect corners and transition from thick tissue to thin, Y/N realized he had never even seen a girl with such beautiful lips.

His nose, also beautiful and uniquely shaped, attracted him even more, while the smile of the man, who seemed to have solved a particularly difficult problem on his iPad, absolutely stole Y/N’s heart.

Y/N fiercely wanted to bring himself to talk to the boy whose radiating beauty was unmatched, but this was not necessary.

The handsome stranger, having adept peripheral vision, had noticed Y/N looking at him for quite some time. Feeling alone at college himself and looking for friends, he got up and walked to Y/N’s table.

“Hey, can I sit here. You seem a bit lonely?” Soobin questioned, hopefully.

“Um-Uh- Please do. I’m Y/N by the way, I live close by and I’m a sociology major,” the former blurted out. His eyes looked nervous, still processing Soobin’s height and how it added to his already impressive qualities.

Aware of Y/N’s clear attraction to him, Soobin swiftly replied, “Yeah, I’d like to sit next to you too. My name’s Soobin, and I’m a second year music major. You’re handsome, by the way”.

Y/N’s face immediately turned red and he turned away, embarrassed by Soobin’s words but attracted to him even more. Y/N was absolutely flustered that Soobin thought he was handsome, and Y/N felt a strange desire to become very close with him.

Y/N was barely able to study, more focused on the attractive man in front of him, and Soobin caught him staring more than once, winking at him each time. This made Y/N blush even harder, knowing that Soobin knew Y/N was clearly attracted.

Aside from his face, Soobin’s toned arms seemed so perfect to Y/N, they were slender enough to compliment his height, while also clearly looking strong with a decent amount of visible veins. Y/N’s mind wandered as he thought about how Soobin slapping his ass while having sex would hurt because of his strength, but in a good way. He quickly looked up at the man, and Soobin knew Y/N had been fantasizing about him from how long he’d been staring at him.

Soobin wanted to tease Y/N even more, and to do this, he pretended he needed to stretch, leaning back to grab Y/N’s attention before stretching intentionally too far, revealing his abs.

The perfection of the shape of the lower two abs made drool literally come out of Y/N’s mouth, and he wanted to see more.

His ego satisfied by Y/N’s undeniable fascination, Soobin decided not to tease Y/N any further about his drooling.

Y/N said goodbye to Soobin a half-hour later with a heavy heart, as he had to arrive home early for an important matter that his father had asked him to come home early for.

“It’s funny that I have to leave right now, too. Can I get your number?” Soobin questioned Y/N.

Y/N, extremely excited that the older was interested in him, gave him his number and immediately checked all of his social media on the way home to make sure that Soobin wasn’t straight and just playing with him.

To Y/N’s luck, Soobin definitely appeared like he was genuinely interested in him, and he walked home briskly with a smile. He opened the door to see something he never would have imagined.

“Glad you arrived home safe, Y/N,” his father greeted, “The woman sitting on the right in front of me, Ahn Young, and I have been seeing each other for some time now, and we are going to get married next month. The young man on the left is Soobin, her son. He’s a year older than you and attends the same college. I know this is a lot for you to take in, but please take time to get to know Soobin and Ahn Young well, they’re great people”.

Y/N was more shocked to see Soobin at his home, who was his soon-to-be stepbrother, than he was to the news that his father was getting married.

Struggling for words, Y/N replied, “I’m so happy that you’ve found someone to make you feel whole again, dad. Ahn Young must really be a great woman if you’ve chosen her, and I openly welcome her and Soobin into our family. I’ll do my best to get to know both of them”.

Y/N’s father was extremely relieved, after fearing what Y/N’s reaction would be. Soobin stared at Y/N with a sexy smirk that only Y/N understood. They all ate dinner together, and Y/N, in a fashion to talk with Soobin about the recent developments, invited him to stay over for the night, a gesture that made all parties happy.

“So, um, I guess you’re my stepbrother now, Soobin,” Y/N said with mixed emotions. After a long time, Y/N found someone he really connected with and was feeling attracted to, but he was Y/N’s own stepbrother.

Soobin, wanting to show Y/N that the recent news was nothing to be saddened about, lifted his chin up, forcing Y/N to look into his eyes, whispering, “This is nothing more than a chance for us to get closer. We really should get to know each other better, don’t you think”. He said this all while biting his lip, making Y/N fall even more for him.

Y/N and Soobin slept peacefully that night, and before long, they started spending all their time together. Y/N lovingly began to call Soobin hyung, and they studied together, while also preparing for their parents’ wedding, which came sooner than expected.

The day of the wedding, Soobin and Y/N also became real stepbrothers, which meant they could finally do what stepbrothers do. They were both so happy to be in each other’s company, and soon, the family moved into a new home.

Unfortunately, due to wedding and honeymoon costs, the new house was a little bit on the smaller side, so Soobin and Y/N had to share not only their room, but what was Y/N’s old bed.

Y/N was very nervous about following boundaries between step-siblings, especially with Soobin being so attractive and purposely teasing Y/N too much.

While their parents went on their honeymoon, Soobin took the teasing up a notch. He began to purposely walk around the house shirtless, and enjoyed seeing the lustful expressions on Y/N’s face. Y/N kept trying to hide his attraction and maintain a sibling-like relationship, but Soobin wasn’t having it. He’d often sit a little too close to Y/N, purposely wearing short underwear around the house to show off his muscular thighs. Y/N wanted nothing more than to sit on Soobin’s thighs and ride his dick, but he managed to control himself once again.

Soobin intentionally began lifting weights in the middle of the living room to show off his strength to Y/N, and Y/N couldn’t get over how sexy Soobin looked with his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat that smelt a little like Soobin, a little bit of peach from his perfume, and a whole lot of manly musky testosterone that had Y/N’s lower body losing control.

He had to run into the bathroom more than once while seeing Soobin exercise, primarily to hide his very clear hard-on that Soobin knew he was the cause of. He intentionally gave Y/N a hug right after he was all done, and Y/N could feel all of ridges of Soobin’s abs that made him want to lick them all over. The pressure from his amazingly built pectoral muscles made Y/N go absolutely crazy, wanting him to feel Soobin’s body above him. But more than anything, the smell of Soobin’s sweetness mixed with musk made Y/N very visibly look like he was in a trance, as he could not help but sniff Soobin’s neck all over.

Soobin, extremely excited, could not wait for them to sleep in the same bed and to finally make Y/N his. As far as he had gotten from talking to Y/N, Y/N was a virgin and never had anyone even touch him, which only made excited Soobin. Soobin slowly pulled away from Y/N, but Y/N quickly pulled him back, touching his hands all over Soobin’s sweaty back and kissing him.

Y/N was so desperate for Soobin, he didn’t even realize that he had taken the initiative to kiss Soobin. Soobin delicately held up Y/N’s face and moved his tongue inside. Their tongues engaged in a beautiful dance that made Y/N moan in pleasure. He had never kissed before, and Soobin knew exactly how to make him feel good.

Despite a lack of any other action, Y/N had a very fucked-out expression when Soobin finally broke the kiss. As Y/N realized what he did, the thick string of saliva connecting the two’s mouths told the story loud and clear.

Y/N was embarrassed that he crossed the boundaries of a stepbrother relationship, but Soobin looked at him with desire. Y/N couldn’t help but feel horny at the sight of his half-naked stepbrother, whose body looked like that of a Greek god and whose bulge he couldn’t wait to explore.

Speechless from then until dinner, Y/N and Soobin ate in silence, both exchanging glances at each other until Soobin couldn’t take it any longer.

“N/n-ie, you didn’t do anything wrong. I wanted to kiss you too, that’s why I came so close to you in the first place,” Soobin explained.

“I get that hyung, but i’m really not sure if we should be doing that. I get that we really are attracted to each other, especially me, but that was before we became related. I’m really not sure what to do,” Y/N responded with a frown.

Soobin, knowing that actions speak louder than words, decided to show Y/N what their relationship should be later that night.

The two finished eating, and Y/N quickly got into bed. Soobin took off his boxers right in front of Y/N before getting in bed.

Y/N’s mouth watered as he was Soobin’s monstrously sized cock. So thick that it was two fingers wide when soft, and it was so long that it went almost halfway down Soobin’s huge thighs. Y/N couldn’t believe that every part of his stepbrother was a sin waiting to happen, and so he turned away from Soobin as he got into bed.

Soobin saw and knew Y/N’s reaction, so as he turned to Y/N’s side, he whispered, “Didn’t know a cock could be so big, Y/N?”

Y/N muttered, “Yes hyung, I’ve never seen one as big as yours. Everything on your body is so sexy and it’s so hard to control myself, especially when you’re in the same bed as me.

Soobin’s cock pressed up against Y/N’s bubble butt, and he felt its girth and length, along with its warmness, very clearly.

“You really don’t have to, my Y/N, my body belongs to you and yours does to me,” Soobin whispered again before proceeding to stealthily lick Y/N’s ear.

“F-fuck hyung, you’re really so hot. I can feel your dick right against me and it’s so enticing. I genuinely have never seen a man as hot as you, you make me too horny. Help me now hyung,” Y/N said with pure lust, no longer able to think logically after knowing a naked Soobin, ready to breed him, was lying down close to him.

Y/N felt Soobin’s cock grow larger against his ass, and he responded by moving his ass up and down.

“Hah, Y/N, you’re so cute and breedable, and I’m gonna make it happen today,” Soobin groaned with his head back.

Without any warning, Soobin pushed Y/N down while simultaneously pushing himself above him, grabbing his face and kissing him. The movement released enough musk for visible hearts to appear in Y/N’s eyes, as he made a face that could only be compared to ahegao. He was high on the smell of Soobin himself, sweat releasing pheromones from his hard workout in the living room.

Soobin firmly kissed Y/N, as the younger parted his lips to allow for his tongue’s entry. The harmony between their tongues filled both of their mouths with heated affections that both could not get enough of.

Y/N’s body began heating up as Soobin rubbed his huge erection against Y/N’s. He felt so small and petite under his bigger stepbrother, and he loved being covered by his large body and his irresistible musk.

Breaking the kiss, Soobin took off Y/N’s shorts with one of his hands, while another went under his shirt and began pressing against his pink buds. Y/N moaned at the sudden touching, but he enjoyed the stimulation.

Taking his shirt off as well, Soobin began to suck powerfully on Y/N’s virgin nipples, making tingly feelings emerge all of Y/N’a body as he yelped. Soobin put his large fingers in his little dongsaeng’s mouth.

“Mm-Hah,hyung, your fingers are so long and veiny,” Y/N muttered as he grabbed the elder’s hands with his own tiny ones to lick them properly all over. They just tasted so good to Y/N, and the length gave him practice for what was to come.

Taking his hand out of his mouth, Soobin flipped Y/N over as he put a finger into Y/N’s virgin hole.

“Binnie hyung, it feels really weird,” Y/N complained.

“Be a good little stepbrother for your Soobin hyung, hmm? It’s because you’ve never had anything in this tight little hole, but that’ll change from now on,” Soobin sexily announced.

Soobin put another finger inside Y/N, scissoring him open well enough for the pinkness inside him to be seen.

“H-hyung, it’s too much, I-I’ve never had so much happening down there,” Y/N moaned.

“You have no clue what too much is,” Soobin hungrily answered before moving his fingers in and out of Y/N faster and faster to get him used to it.

“A-Ah-Ahn-Ahn,” Y/N moaned out of unexpected pleasure from Soobin’s action, causing the older to smile.

Feeling like Y/N was prepared, Soobin slapped Y/N’s ass firmly, causing it to open up. Soobin’s strength felt exactly like what Y/N had previously thought it would, bringing him even more excitement and impatience.

“Ready for hyung’s huge cock to wreck your hole and give you a sinful delight?”Soobin questioned.

Y/N replied, both as a front and out of genuine concern, “h-hyunggie, is it really okay that we do this?”

“Of course, my cute dongsaeng, you’ve wanted me for so long it’s not fair to both you and me to stop here. I wanna fill you up with my seed so bad,” Soobin whispered before grabbing Y/N roughly for a kiss once again.

Soobin positioned his cock right above Y/N and pushed lightly again his hole. With a nod from Y/N, Soobin thrusted 8 of his 10 inches straight into Y/N at once.

“h-h-HYUNG,” Y/N cried out from the feeling of being filled. Solving was just so big that he knew Y/N would fear taking him gradually, so he did it all at once.

“It-it-HURTS, hyung,” Y/N muttered as Soobin began to kiss him deeply to distract him from the pain and let him adjust.

“Are you ready now, Y/N?” Soobin asked.

Y/N nodded and Soobin began thrusting slowly, earning a light moan from Y/N. Soobin loved the feeling of the Y/N’s tightness enveloping his hole, and unconsciously began to thrust faster.

Although it felt weird initially, the way Soobin’s large, bulbous tip stimulated his prostate made Y/N’s body tingle and ascend to a level of pleasure he didn’t know possible.

“F-fuck me more, bin hyungie,” Y/N moaned out.

“Anything for my little brother,” Soobin responded while he gagged Y/N with his fingers and thrusted faster.

His hole being abused by his stepbrother’s large cock and Soobin’s fingers roughly playing with Y/N’s tongue, he nearly felt himself come, moving his hand to climax by jerking himself off.

Soobin’s free hand slapped Y/N’s hand off and he flipped him over, pulling out his cock suddenly in the process.

“You’ll come from only hyung’s dick. My cock better be enough for you, and I’ll show you what it can really do. You’ve awakened a beast that you’ll regret and your ass will love, Y/N,” Soobin angrily growled.

Moving both of his hands to Y/N’s neck to choke his lightly, Soobin thrusted all of his cock back in, earning a grunt from Y/N, who couldn’t make any more sounds.

Soobin’s huge dick rubbed against Y/N’s velvety walls fully, not leaving an inch untouched, and the speed at which it bulged Y/ab’s abdomen was incomprehensible.

With his prostate being abused and Y/N obsessed with the thought of getting wrecked by his stepbrother who also happened to be Soobin, a man whose sexiness was unmatched, it was too much for Y/N.

“H-hyungie, i-it’s too much,” Y/N muttered as he felt more stimulated than he knew possible.

“You can take it more my precious baby boy,” Soobin curtly replied as he slapped Y/N’s ass hard, earning a cute moan from the younger.

Wanting to wreck Y/N more than he could account for verbally, Soobin thrusted harder and more roughly than even before, causing Y/N to simply move along with his powerful thrusts with an open mouth and his tongue out.

Y/N continued moaning without stopping as Soobin pushed Y/N’s ass down, causing his back to arch and Y/N’s prostate unable to process the pleasure caused by each thrust of Soobin’s cock.

“Your hole is so tight and perfectly made for me, Y/N-ie,” Soobin moaned out as he felt himself bottom out inside the younger. He felt so good about being the first inside his stepbrother, and made sure to let him know that nobody could do him better.

“You’re all mine Y/N, tell everyone who fucks you this good your first time,” Y/N’s hyung told him as he continued to thrust deeply inside Y/N, so much so that Y/N was sure his hole wouldn’t ever be able to close again.

“S-Soobin hyung is the one I belong to. SOOBIN HYUNG IS THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN WRECK ME THIS GOOD. SOOBIN HYUNGGGG,” Y/N moaned out as Soobin nearly brought him to cum.

Y/N heard the spurts inside his ass as Soobin’s precum made his walls wet and swollen from the thrusting, prompting Soobin to thrust in quicker and much smoother.

Feeling his climax coming, Soobin muttered, “My dongsaeng, it’s time to come. I’ll fill you up with the cum of your hyung that you’ve needed and i’ll make you pregnant. I’ll fill you so much that you won’t even be able to sit down without thoughts of your hyung wrecking you.”

“HAH, YES SOOBIN HYUNG, MAKE ME PREGNANT AND FILL ME UP WITH YOUR SPERM. MARK ME AS YOURS,” Y/N screeched out as the older bit on his neck roughly, leaving a mark of their time together.

The smell of Soobin’s sweat and look of sexiness on his face was it for Y/N, and he released cum like a fountain just as Soobin hit his prostate especially hard in his own desire to reach his climax.

Soobin wasn’t done as he kept grunting with each thrust and holding the small boy tightly to his muscular body, placing one arm around the younger’s belly to feel his own cock.

Feeling Y/N’s tight walls closing in and twitching, Soobin’s monstrous cock became rock hard as he animalitically thrusted deep into Y/N for the last time, releasing three weeks worth of semen into his dongsaeng.

So much cum surrounded Soobin’s 10 inches deep inside Y/N, overstimulating him to the point of coming again.

Soobin licked the cum off of the younger’s chest as he pulled out, with so much of his cum leaking out that Y/N was struggling to make it seem like he didn’t wet the bed.

With a growl, Soobin filled Y/N with his cock once again, using it as a butt plug, and leaving Y/N feeling extremely satisfied after being wrecked by his hot, hunky, and huge stepbrother.

“I want to do this again hyung,” Y/N moaned out from having thoroughly enjoyed having his virginity taken by his monster of a stepbrother.

“Of course, my temptation,” Soobin replied as cum continued to leak out of Y/N’s reddened, inflamed boy pussy.

Author’s Note: This took a long time to finish, but I hope you all enjoy. There is a top Soobin drought right now, and I wanted to fix that. Feel free to leave a comment on how I did below!

[coimbrabertone]

So Can NASCAR Drivers Turn Right or Not?

So in the past couple of weeks, I've watched a couple of races and a couple of things crossed my timeline that had to do with the following question: just how good are NASCAR drivers at turning right?

I don't mean this in like the Formula One fan newbie kinda way, I mean this as like a legitimate discussion as to the quality of the NASCAR field and the fact that road course ringers have seemingly returned to the series.

So, first things first, Shane van Gisbergen. Love him, New Zealander race car driver that went over to Australia, won three Supercars championships and three Bathurst 1000s. SVG then came over to America last year, won the NASCAR Chicago Street Race to be the first guy to win in his first attempt since 1963, and impressed so much that Trackhouse partnered with Kaulig Racing in the Xfinity Series to give Shane a full-time campaign in American stock car racing.

Well, last week he won the Pacific Office Automation 147 at Portland International Raceway, and this week he won the Zip Buy Now, Pay Later 250 at Sonoma. Which brings two things to mind:

One: Gee Xfinity races have some crappy ass names, don't they?

Two: Wow, he went back-to-back on road courses...that is really impressive, but also kinda sad.

Like two weeks in a row now the Xfinity field got beat by a thirty-five-year-old rookie on road courses. This is supposed to be the most road course heavy era of NASCAR, in the past five years the top three NASCAR series have gone to the likes of Mosport, Road America, Mid-Ohio, the Daytona Sports Car Course, the Charlotte Roval, the aforementioned Chicago Street Race, Circuit of the Americas, and NASCAR's traditional road courses in the form of Sonoma and Watkins Glen.

NASCAR drivers turn right a lot, they're not the oval only meme that F1 fans like to present it as, so what is going on?

Well, I think the simplest answer is that Shane van Gisbergen is a damn good race car driver. Supercars have long been compared to NASCARs and that's even truer in the Next Gen era, plus he's gotten a lot of support and advice from Marcos Ambrose, someone who I'll talk about more shortly. Plus, there's also Scott McLaughlin.

SVG and Scotty Mac are quite possibly the two best drivers to ever come out of Supercars, and we've seen Scott be successful in Indycar for a number of years now. Just this last weekend he was competing for the win at Road America with his Penske teammates. So it's not that NASCAR drivers are bad at turning right, it's that they've been unlucky enough to come up against a once in a generation talent.

To support this, there were another two Supercars drivers in Sonoma this past weekend. Cam Waters in the #60 RFK Mustang and Will Brown in the #33 RCR Camaro, and quite frankly, both of them had weekends full of bad luck that didn't amount to much of anything. Will was third in one of the practice sessions, and that's as close as he got to pulling off an SVG-esque performance in the Cup race.

And even in the Xfinity race, Ty Gibbs and Austin Hill both presented very real threats to SVG during the race, before Gibbs got caught up in a wreck and spun around into his own teammate trying to get going again, and Austin Hill got pushed into the grass after trying to slam the door shut on SVG in turn two.

It wasn't a cake walk.

Hell, Boris Said, long considered to be the archetypal NASCAR road course ringer, has been around the series since the mid to late 90s...he's never won a Cup race. He has one truck win at Sonoma and one Xfinity (then Nationwide) win at Circuit Gilles Villeneuve to his name.

So even way back when, NASCAR drivers could handle themselves on the road courses.

There are three road course ringers that have had a lot of success in the modern era, and I think all of them subvert the idea that it's as simple as being able to turn right.

The first is the great Juan Pablo Montoya, who famously got sick of F1 mid-2006, quit McLaren, and decided to become a NASCAR driver instead. Well, come 2007, and JPM is driving the #42 Dodge for Chip Ganassi Racing, and he won at Sonoma in his first attempt. He would only win one more NASCAR race, the 2010 Watkins Glen race. Despite this, I would argue his best season was 2009, when he finished eighth in the points after running as high as third in the season.

The high point was six top five finishes in eight races towards the end of the season, all of which were on ovals. One of which, Fontana, he was well acquainted with from his CART days!

The second is Marcos Ambrose, who in 2011 and 2012, had two consecutive duels with Brad Keselowski at Watkins Glen and came out on top both times. Those two races are badass, and I recommend you watch them, because it's just two big giant stock cars fighting tooth and nail without a care in the world for track limits. It's freaking glorious.

But after that 2012 Watkins Glen win? Well, Marcos then took two straight fifth placed finishes, at Michigan and Bristol, two ovals, and two very different ovals, no less. The third is AJ Allmendinger, who is still in NASCAR and still doing well. With wins on road courses in Cup and the old Champ Car series, and wins on both road courses and ovals in Xfinity. His story continues, most recently as SVG's Kaulig teammate.

So, the moral of the story? Being a good road course racer isn't enough to win NASCAR road races, you need to be a pretty damn good race car driver, and you need to learn stock cars. That means you'll have good showings on the ovals as well as the road courses.

To that end, in addition to SVG's back-to-back Xfinity wins, he also finished third at Atlanta earlier in the season and managed to finish on the lead lap in a Cup race at Talladega this year as well. In fact, I remember in that Talladega race SVG did well in the draft and worked his way to the front, only to fall back when the uppermost line collapsed behind him, and he was left all alone a lane above the drafting pack.

Something that could happen to anyone in a restrictor plate race in NASCAR.

So...NASCAR drivers are good at turning right, the top "road course ringers" in the form of JPM, Marcos Ambrose, and Shane van Gisbergen just happen to, you know, be pretty damn good drivers, and Xfinity races have some crappy ass names.

They let the crappiest name of them all die though.

So please, let's pour one out for the Beef. It's What's for Dinner. 300, the NASCAR Xfinity season opener at Daytona International Speedway.

RIP, 2021-2023. Your name was so bad that it was actually great.