#(that does not inspire any confidence in the author)

[cultivating-wildflowers]

"the first book is rough but the story really picks up in the sequel/s" is not the selling point some people think it is

[channieskies]

𝓇𝑒𝓋𝓊𝑒

🔺Pairing: Chris/Bang Chan x FEM!|Reader 🔺Summary: Finding yourself as a bridesmaid once again, you're dragged along to a male review where each dancer is just as charming as the next. But what happens when you're trapped in the main events' magnetizing spell? 🔺WC: 14,600+ {40-60 min reading time} 🔺AU: Stripper AU, Bridesmaid Au 🔺Genre: Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Non-Idol AU 🔺Nets: @neverendingdreams-net & @mirohs-aurora-society 🔺Warning(s)⚠️: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! This post contains nsfw material. Please do not interact with it if you are under the age of 18. Do not translate or repost to other sites. Unprotected sex [please wrap it before you tap it. This is fiction, and I control the narrative. Real life is scary, so please be safe], dom and sub undertones, creampie, oral (male and female receiving), choking, slight exhibitionism, fingering (fem receiving), light spanking, mentions of self hate, mentions of cheating. (please let me know if I missed any) 🔺Disclaimer: This story does not reflect the real lives or personalities of Stray Kids. I do not know them personally. This is purely a work of fiction. 🔺Authors note: Hi! This has been a story in the making for over a yeah now. I wrote and intended to publish this back in Oct 2023, but I never finished it. With new found inspiration, I found myself able to finally push through and publish this. I hope you enjoy this (old ass) story! Special thanks to @therhythmafterthesummer &@bunnliix for beta'ing this for me. I really appreciate it!!

Once a bridesmaid, always a bridesmaid. This was your third wedding this year. Meaning, it was soon to be your third unflattering dress. Your third time smiling uncomfortably in pictures. This would probably be your third time getting stuck dancing with the handsy uncle who always smelled like aqua velva and cheap liquor. You conclusively loathe attending weddings, but absolutely loved and adored your friends. So when asked for the third time this year to be a bridesmaid, of course, you agreed. Because, what else are friends for? 

A party bus full of late twenties and early thirty somethings, pre-gaming after pre-gaming, sounded like a setup for a god-awful lifetime movie. One where the bride gives some lucky stranger her goods after the bachelorette party and before the wedding. But you hoped that wouldn’t be the case. Imogen had been planning this wedding for four years now, and it was finally coming to fruition. She was the type to never let anything get in her way, and that included herself.

“I’m going to slide down that man and ride him till he calls me mama!” You chuckled as your friend struggled on the pole pushing her party city veil out of her face. “He won’t see it coming. He has no idea what kind of freak he's about to call his wife.” She’d been abstinent since her last relationship, so naturally, her and her fiance were celibate. That meant neither of them had dusted off the cobwebs in over four years. Couldn’t be you, but if she liked it, you loved it for her.

But you guessed forced celibacy was just as bad as actually vowing to not have sex. You were in a no-man’s-land. Pussy drier than the sonoran desert. Truthfully, if anyone did touch you, you were sure an actual cloud of dust would puff out of your cunt. It was terrible, really. Your last relationship ended with him cheating, after wholly decimating your confidence. Making your answer to ‘But He’s a photographer, he sees pretty, skinny girls all the time. What would stop him from cheating on you?’ totally irrelevant. 

You caught them in your bed, on your Egyptian cotton sheets. Three hundred thread count sheets that you let him keep, since you knew you couldn’t wash the filth out of them. To make matters worse, she was much younger -barely legal-, and half your size. It was just your luck that her billboards were posted all over town. A fucking model. Yeah, that was a never ending cycle of self-denigrating that you had to unpack with your therapist. You swore up and down you'd never let it happen again. 

But you were better now. Well, at least you hated yourself less. It took some time, a LOT of therapy, and the help of loved ones letting you know you were loved. Plus you have learned how to love and take care of yourself better. You’d given that man all of you and expected nothing of him and you know what they say about expectations right? Keep them low and you’ll never be disappointed. Bullshit. Even if you don’t have any, expect to be disappointed. 

The bus rolled to a stop. The neon lights  wrapped the building and entrance. Large posters of scantily dressed, well-oiled men stood stories tall. Big burly guards stood out front of the entrance, you guessed, to drag any woman who got too handsy with the dancers, out and off the premises. You all piled off the bus, bride and her maid of honor first. All of you, except the bride in her tight white dress, were in an array of green. 

Your dress was a dark emerald color. The satin dress hugged your body just right, hitting you mid-thigh, with ruching around the stomach to hide anything you didn’t want to show. Like your tummy. You stood back, not too excited to see sweaty men gyrating in your face. But your thoroughly plastered friends would beg to differ. “Party for Standfield.” 

One of the guards checked his tablet and nodded. He talked into his earpiece and opened the velvet rope. “Your host will meet you inside. Enjoy your stay at Taste, Male Revue.” He gave a knowing smile as your group sauntered past him and into the red glow of the front door. You were blasted by air as you entered. Rosemary and bergamot invade your senses almost immediately. 

“It smells like a man in here.” One of your friends noted as she swooned.

“Acqua Di Giò, it was what my ex used to wear to be exact.” You were perturbed. You wanted to have fun tonight, let down your hair. Not be reminded of the insufferable douche you thought was the one. 

“Great nose you have there ma’am.” You jumped as you were greeted by the host. He smiled. His features made him look like a fox, he was absolutely adorable. He looked way too young to be associated with a den of sin. What was he doing here? “We pump the fragrance into our system, it’s one of the owners favorites.” He nodded and bowed, greeting your party officially. “Welcome to Taste, male revue. I am your host for the night, Ian.”

You squinted at his name tag that clearly had the letters ‘i’ and ‘n’ written on it. You wanted to speak up about it, but when you looked around at your friends you realized it wasn’t worth the concern. “We have set up the v.i.p lounge for your party. Your bartender is starting on your first round of drinks as we speak. Your food will be served after the first hour of performances. Any booked solo time will be conducted after dinner and dessert. Please make sure to reserve your favorite dancer for any solo time before the conclusion of dessert.” He nodded, giving you all a once over, as if counting the party. 

“It seems everyone is accounted for. Please follow me so we can kick this night off.” The main club area was a huge space with white tables and chairs that contrasted with the black carpet flooring. The stage was black, but shiny, making it a smooth surface for the dancers to glide over. The main stage area was packed. An oiled up dancer was grinding on some pretty blonde girl while she giggled. 

"Must be nice.." you mumbled under your breath as you watched her get flipped upside down, her barely clothed vagina now in the dancer's face, her face in his crotch. The scene disappeared from view as you were ushered into the v.i.p area. Over the door it read "The Chapel", The tall frosted glass door looked like it had been hit with a blast chiller. I.N led the group past the doors, an odd but pleasant smile on his face. The floors were still black, but everything else was white and silver. Light lines the floor to help people navigate the darkness. 

By the looks of the room the theme had to have something to do with ice. There was a bar that was made from glass that was back-lit with blue and white lights to give the illusion of frost. The ceiling was mirrored and also lined with lights around the perimeter. "Dibs on the seat next to Imogen!" Your friends clamored as they practically raced to the front near the stage. There was a chair sitting directly in front of the stage, a sash with the silvery letter of "bride" written on it.

"You want to sit next to me, Y/n?" Imogen asked as she grabbed your hand. The two of you had been friends for so long that she could tell when something wasn't completely right with you. She squeezed your hand to get you to look at her. "If you feel even a little uncomfortable here, let me know, okay?" She smiled and you reciprocated.

"I'm fine Imogen. Plus, this night is about you. One last night of free looks before you're tied to Jerry from accounting forever." She laughed.

"That doesn't mean I don't want my girls to enjoy the night too. Honestly that's what I want the most out of it. So, sit next to me. Okay? Allana said the guys here are extremely hot" You hesitantly nodded. There was no way you would have picked a seat that close for yourself, but this was about what she wanted. So, naturally you would agree.

His days never started before noon. Anything before two pm was entirely too early for him. Days always shifted into night and then into the wee hours of the morning. So sleeping until the sun was high in the sky was a must for him. 

Chris reached out to the other side of his bed, feeling the cool sheets against his hands. It had been a while since someone occupied that side, his last relationship ended over a year ago. But they were still close friends, since it ended amicably. 

He groaned, forcing himself to roll over and swing his legs off the side of the bed. His hair was messy, curls pointing in different directions, face and lips a little swollen from activities the night before. Also known as late night ramen with his best friend, Changbin. His phone buzzed on the night table, alerting him that it was time to wake up. "I know, I know." He groaned, shutting it off.

He eventually forced himself to leave the comforts of his bed and padded to the bathroom right outside his room. After showering and grooming, he made breakfast for him and his roommates, as well as pre-workout shakes. The three of them headed off to the gym a few blocks away from their apartment, together. He loved the atmosphere there. People were kind and supportive and it was never too crowded. He put on his playlist and zoned out.

After a good shower and lunch, he and his friends headed to work. You'd think after coming home so late at night they wouldn't be ready to go back.  But they loved their job. It was fun to interact with people and dance. Getting to see the smiles on clients' faces made everything worthwhile. Plus it didn't hurt that he had some of the highest requests. Becoming so well known that he had danced at parties for some elite celebrity clientele. He couldn't tell you who though, he signed a n.d.a for that very reason.

"Alright, A team, we have a bachelorette party coming up tonight. They requested all six of team A. The maid of honor said and I quote, 'Give us all of them. We all like something different.' So, be ready for a wild night and a lot of bookings." Jeongin, the club manager and host stated. Bachelorette parties were always a mixed bag. It could either be a group of tame women who let go when they got a few drinks in the system. Or wild women who got even wilder after a few drinks. Or it could be the ones who ended up with their photos posted in the hall of shame. Those were the ones no one could let back in because they caused so much of a ruckus.

A year and a half ago, Chris had an encounter with a hall of shame inductee. She thought it would be a good idea to sneak backstage and hide in his dressing room. He was taking off his make-up when she popped out from behind his clothes rack completely naked. Telling him how she saw how he looked at her and that she knew she was just his type. He tried to talk her down, but no wasn’t in her vocabulary. It took two guards and Jeongin to pull her off him. She scratched his arm up so bad that even when it healed he had to get a tattoo to cover it.

But thankfully, hall of shamers were a rare occurrence. "Chan, they asked you to be the headliner for the night. Maid of honor says you're just the bride's type. So make sure to work your magic on the bride to be." He nodded. Once their briefing was over he headed to the dressing room to get ready for the night. 

"Did you see the pictures of the bridesmaids?" Changbin asked as he caught up with him in the hall. "I wonder how many are single. Because the bride has some gorgeous friends." He showed him the folder with their pictures in it, just a few random girls on top. Folders were usually provided for parties that might be willing to spend a little extra to get "special" treatment. Not all the dancers participated, but they had rooms past the party lounge, just for extra services. Changbin frequented the rooms, especially if he found a party goer that really caught his eye.

Chan used the rooms at first. But he felt cheap everytime he saw the extra money on his check. It felt like he lost a part of himself each time he did it. So, eventually he just stopped. The owner understood, telling him that he didn’t need to force himself. He didn’t look back and had no desire to.

The hours had quickly passed him by. It was nearly showtime. The guys could see the bridal party shuffling in, taking their seats. A few of them battling over the two open seats next to the bride. The bride was off to the side talking to another woman he couldn't see, before she dragged her along to one of the seats next to her. The house lights dimmed just as the woman was about to step into view, so he didn't see her face. "Alright guys, it's showtime." He spoke to the room. He pat Minho's back, since he was the first one up. Minho simply smirked as he headed out of their waiting room and to the curtain for countdown.

A few of Imogen's sorority sisters were giving you death glares. She chose you and her maid of honor, her sister Allana, to sit at her sides. The rest were situated in comfortable white arm chairs. Drinks had been served, not that the ladies in this party needed any more to drink. They were already inebriated. Minus you, also known as pedestrian Pattie, because of your one drink policy. The lights on the stage slowly brightened, revealing the host from earlier in the center of the stage. His outfit had changed completely. The suit he wore before was traded in for a black mesh shirt with a cassock. A matching black stole with silver and white crosses on it. Dress pants and boots. He was a priest, and this was his chapel.

"I hope you ladies are ready to get on your knees... and pray." A few of your friends screamed, exhibiting just how ready they were. "The temptations will be high tonight, let's see if you can survive it and join me on the other side. I hope our first performer can tempt you to let go of your inhibitions and pull you to the dark side." He moved from the center off to the side, "Anyone need their pipes cleaned? Welcome to the stage, Lee Know." 

Thirsty by Taemin started to flow through the speakers. You could hear the little water droplets at the beginning of the song. From the line I.N threw out about cleaning pipes and the water drops, you knew exactly what the theme would be. Plumber. As the lights focused on the performer, you noticed how handsome he looked. Worn jeans with rips in them. Working boots and tool belt. Long hair that covered his eyes added to his mysterious charm. He wore a white tank top and his arms were so well oiled you could almost see your reflection. 

Was this what male revues were like? He slid to the end of the stage, right in front of you and Imogen. Your eyes were wide, hands unconsciously moving to cover your chest. He ripped the shirt, but not completely. He left a little of it to cover some of his abs. He reached a hand down slowly as he thrusted, practiced fingers making quick work of his button and zipper. His body rolls were immaculate. You swallowed hard and he noticed, winking his eye in your direction. A girl behind you squealed thinking it was meant for her, but his eye contact told you differently. He smirked and stood, jumping down right in front of Imogen. He grabbed her hand trailing it down his torso to where his pants were undone. 

Her mouth dropped as she blushed furiously. She shook her head profusely, adamant about not even touching a man that wasn't her fiancé. He smiled, and it was one of the most dazzling things you had ever had the privilege to lay eyes on. His eyes landed on you and you stiffened. He smirked again, clearly sensing your hesitancy. He moved to the girl who screamed for him earlier and by all that was holy you were glad it wasn't you. If he fucked anything like he danced, some lucky someone was definitely walking out if here pregnant tonight.

 He had somehow removed his jeans without taking off his boots, a feat in itself. You had no idea where he pulled a water bottle from, but his ripped shirt and tight boxer briefs were soaked. The way his body moved, his thick thighs, the devilish smile he wore, all of it was heart attack inducing. No wonder they called this room the chapel, it was aptly named. You were certainly in need of prayer after witnessing him work his magic. From him picking her up to bounce her on her like he was fucking her while standing. To him putting her down and grinding into her rear. This first dance was surely an eye opening experience.

Once the song ended, I.N made his way back to the stage, sly smirk on his face. "You've been blessed by Lee Know. But are you ready for the next performer? Or do you ladies need some holy water?" He eyed the crowd. "It seems like you're in the mood for something sweet after quenching your thirst. Anyone like….. peaches?" He moved to exit the stage again. "Welcome to the stage, Lix." 

The names seemed to get stranger as time went by, first an Ian that was spelled I.N. Then Lee Know, who clearly knew a lot, judging by how his body moved. Now a Lix? Was he going to show tongue tricks? The room filled with fog, the lights fading from white to peach as Kai's Peaches started to flow through the speakers. You excused yourself, letting Imogen know you were taking a break. You headed past the bar, making eye contact with the bartender, who tipped his head at you. You returned the gesture with a smile before smacking dead into a hard chest. 

"Oh- sorry." Hands flew to your waist as an assurance that you wouldn't fall. You let your eyes travel to the man in front of you. He had on black boots, slacks, and a black tank tucked into them. A sleeve of tattoos that you glanced over, but couldn't help but immediately noticed the snarling wolf on his hand, while brushing your eyes quickly over the rest. He had a stud in his beautifully large nose, messy smokey eyeshadow. His hair was styled in an unkempt way, but it looked attractive on him. 

"It's my fault, I should have been looking where I was going." The accent threw you through a loop. He let you go, taking a step back. "Are you with the bridal party?" He nodded towards the small crowd who were cheering for Lix. It was now the hallway guy’s turn to give you the once over and truth be told you had to press your thighs together at how his eyes lingered on your lower half as he bit on his bottom lip.

"If they continue like this, yes. But if they somehow cause trouble while I'm away… I've never met those people in my life." Your little joke caused him to laugh, putting his pretty smile and dimples on display.

"Are you enjoying the show?" His brow rose as he leaned against the wall. It was almost as if he had all the time in the world to chat you up in this corridor.

"Yeah. I mean, this is my first time at a male revue, so it's a little different. Takes a little time getting used to seeing male bodies gyrating in your face." You looked back at Lix who now had one of Imogen's sorority sisters grinding on his lap. You quickly looked away and back at the confidently relaxed man in front of you.

"As opposed to a female, I'm guessing?" His voice seemed to deepen with his question.

You hummed, "I've been to a few strip clubs. My close friend invited me to his bachelor party a few months ago, and I've been back a few times since then. But Allana, the maid of honor, she's been here a couple of times, so she decided to book this for her sister." He nodded slowly, taking in your words.

"But are you enjoying it?" He tilted his head to the side.

"I mean.. it's different." You chuckled, "It has its charms. The dancers so far have been different from the last, so that's good."

"So, I take it you haven't found a dancer you like yet, is what you're saying." He had this smug look on his face as he said it.

"I liked the first guy, he was cool." 

He hummed, nodding to himself. "Cool, huh?" He smirked, "Okay. So, what can be done to make this a good experience for you?" You tilted your head as you looked at him. Why was he asking you this? This was a night for Imogen to enjoy, you were just here in support.

"For me?" You purse your lips in thought, softly humming. "As long as Imogen- well, the bride to be is happy, so am I." He shook his head, not liking how you answered for your friend and not for yourself.

"Taste is an experience for all of his patrons, brides, bridesmaids, and whoever else comes in here. So, I'll ask again.” He plastered on the most charming, panty melting smile he could manage. Dimples on full display. “What can be done to make this a good experience for you?" He leaned in towards you, your faces a mere breath away from the other as he looked you square in the eyes. “What would have you coming back for more?”

"It would be nice to see someone get flipped around, I guess." You shrugged. He asked, so you threw it out there. “I saw someone getting thrown around on the mainstage as we made our way back here. They were practically sixty-nining on stage. That was pretty cool.”

"See someone get flipped around, yeah?" he nodded as he leaned back to his original spot against the wall. "Not willing to be the one getting flipped?" You laughed unexpectedly, taking both you and him by surprise. You cleared your throat as a way to cover up the abrupt chortle.

"Do you have Hercules or Captain America back there or something?" You nodded to the door that had a small 'restricted access' sign on it.

He shook his head. "No. But I -" You cut him off again, this time with a piteous sigh and a shake of your head.

"Do you see all of me or is your vision half off like the happy hour drinks?” You clasped your hands together as you tried to find the words to explain how insane he sounded. “It's cute that you want to try, it really is. But, sweetie, you'll throw your back out trying to flip me around." You moved next to him and pointed towards your group," You have all of them to choose from. Pick one that you can handle." You pat his shoulder. "Break a leg." You left him there stunned. 

You quickly made your way to the bathroom to freshen up. That man was hot, absolutely everything about him was attractive. His accent, his eyes, lips, nose, dimples, tattoos, the way he stood there, that ass that you noticed as you passed by him, every single last thing. Too bad he had delusions of grandeur for thinking he could handle a woman like you.

Chan had a routine and for the most part he stuck to it. He'd put on the bottom part of his stage outfit, do his hair and makeup, then scope the crowd for whomever his victim would be for the night. The poor unsuspecting soul would never see it coming, until he was in their face seducing him.

He usually watched the crowd, to see how they reacted to the dancers before him. He noticed a few of the women in the party were down for anything. That could be fun, but they usually ended up wanting more than just a private dance. A few were reserved, only dancing a tiny bit in their chairs to the music. 

Then there was you. The one who looked in awe of everything that was happening, like this was a totally foreign concept to you. Like you were having your male stripper cherry popped, so to speak. As if this was an eye opening experience. He eyed your expressions before his eyes traveled down your body. Every last inch that he could see of you was stunning. As if he didn't already have you as his pick for the night, you pulled him even more with your radiating beauty. 

Plus it helped to see that you were clearly on edge. The way you kept shifting in your seat, crossing and uncrossing your legs let him know you were aroused by the show. He could make good use of this information. He was told to go for the bride, since he was her type. 

But by the way she was redirecting dancers to her friends, knowing exactly who would be the best candidate for each dancer, says she is loyal and might be the best wingwoman in town. He needed to make good on his promise to approach her first, and hopefully she would direct him right to you.

Bumping into you was purely coincidental. He usually didn't make contact with his person for the night until he locked eyes with them on stage, he liked for things to seem organic. But talking to you only made the fire inside of him grow hotter. He was desperate to prove you wrong. To show you that he just simply needed to be Chris to flip you around or do whatever else it is you fancied.

You were confident, he'd give you that. You knew what you wanted. He liked that. But what he didn't like was you dismissing him like that. Hercules? Captain America? It absolutely boggled his mind that you thought you were incapable of receiving what that girl on the main stage received just because you had a few more curves. He settled at the bar and nodded to the bartender. He always took a ceremonial shot before his stage, tonight would be no different.

"What's on your mind?" Seungmin asked as he placed the empty shot glass in front of Chan. "Because I can see you overthinking from here." He poured the top shelf tequila into his glass then slid it closer.

"The woman who passed by here not too long ago, did you get a good look at her?" He really didn't know why he was asking, it was like Seungmin had photographic memory, he could probably tell him what time you passed by and everything.

"I did. Why?" He narrowed his eyes, "Don't tell me you're going back on your rule." Chan took the shot, shaking his head as the liquid burned down his throat.

"No. I just.." He sighed as he slid the shot glass back across the bar. "Do you think I'm strong enough to you know… flip her? Because she has me second guessing myself." 

"Possibly." Seungmin shrugged. "You know Changbin hyung is the better candidate to answer that question." When he didn't say anything further, he knew he was done with the conversation.

"Thanks, Seungmin." The bartender nodded, getting back to making another round of drinks for the party goers.

Chan headed back backstage, passing you again as you exited the bathroom and headed to the bar. You didn’t even spare him a glance, sending him even further into the abyss that was self doubt. 

Chan found Changbin in his dressing room, exercising before his set. "Bin. Question." Chan flopped on the couch, not too far away from his friend. "You scoped all of the bridal party, right?" 

Changbin grunted and stopped his bicep curls. "You know I did. Gotta pick my person for the night." He grabbed a weight to do bicep curls, he had to make sure his muscles looked good under the lights. "Why? What's up? You look a little worried."

Chan was chewing on his lip nervously, not even realizing he was a bit frazzled by her comments. "There is this girl -" He stopped mid-sentence as Changbin nearly dropped his weight. 

"A girl- wait- seriously?" He carefully put his weight down so he didn't accidentally injure himself with any more news. "You plan on… you know.. Going back on your rule?" 

"No- why do people keep asking me that?" He sighed exasperatedly. "Where is the folder?" Changbin nodded towards the makeup table. Chan grabbed the folder and skimmed through the photos until he found yours. "Her." He gave his friend the photo, you didn’t have many full body pictures, so Allana provided them with the best one she possibly could. "Do you think it would be possible for me to flip her?" Changbin eyed the picture for what seemed like forever.

"Yeah. I think you can do it. Why are you asking this suddenly? This isn't like you." He slid the picture back into the folder.

"She said I couldn't."

"You felt challenged, huh?" Changbin laughed.

"I- I did and I don't normally let things like that get to me. But- I felt like she dismissed the thought before she'd even seen me work. She told me I'd throw my back out trying to flip her. Then told me to 'break a leg.'" He mocked your tone while rolling his eyes.

Changbin laughed so hard he doubled over, clutching his stomach from the pain of it.

"It's not funny!" Chan usually had unwavering confidence when it came to stage presence, for him to be shaking in his boots over one little comment was the highlight of Changbin's day.

"You're right, it's not funny. It's hilarious. I like this girl. She managed to shake the unshakable Bang Chan.” He smirked and Chris groaned. “But seriously bro, just prove her wrong. Pull her on stage, seduce her, then flip her. Simple."

"But I'm supposed to go after the bride." Chan protested, his face somewhere in between a scowl and a pout.

"Forget that. Minho already said she's denying dances for herself. So go after the friend." He picked his weight back up. "Now get out so I can get ready. I can hear Hyunjin's music playing and I'm up next."

Chan nodded and took his leave. Taking everything his friend said into account. He was going to win her over. He was going to give her exactly what she wished for and a little more.

Bored. That's exactly what you were at the moment. You didn't want anyone to take it the wrong way, these men were talented, there was no doubt in that. They were also too pretty to be real. Like somehow they were all AI generated. You flashed a smile at the unbelievably pretty man on stage as he made eye contact with you. His flowing black locks were mostly pulled into a ponytail, showing off his alarmingly beautiful face.

You figured his theme was that of a prince and honestly, he fit the bill. Regal looking from head to toe. You sipped your drink as he rolled his surprisingly toned body. You appreciated the view even if your usual type was a little bit beefier. You preferred a man that could pick you up, toss you around a little bit. And truth be told, you looked like you could break him just by looking at him. Him, the cute chubby cheeked boy before him and the small fairy-like blonde named Lix. At least the first guy, Lee Know, looked like he'd put up a fight. His thighs at least made him look sturdy. Plus he looked like he might be into a little pain, and you liked that.

You weren't even going to think about the cocky guy from the hallway. Sure, he had nice shoulders and an even nicer ass. But the mere thought that he thought he could flip you was laughable. He didn't look strong enough to flip a table to be honest. You were too caught in your own thoughts to notice that the prince had vacated the stage and I.N. was announcing the next performer. It wasn't until the lights changed from the pretty, calming, pale blue, to the fiery red that consumed the whole room. Alarm bells rung, pulling everyone's attention to the stage. Smoke snaked its way from behind the large white panel that covered the expanse of the back of the stage, giving a hazy feel to the room. “What's my name?” 

A few of the ladies must have been paying attention to I.n. seeing that they replied with a roaring “Changbin!”. That included Allana, who wasn't sitting not too far away from you. His voice was gruff, sexy. Your eyes hadn't moved from the stage since the atmosphere changed. His silhouette was the first thing you saw of him. This thick, muscular man. Everything from head to toe looked sturdy and well crafted. You sat up, gripping the armrests of your chair. A smooth r&b track flowed through the speakers as he sauntered out. A fireman. His pants sat low, suspenders keeping them in Place. His Coat was slung over his shoulders, his hat pulled down over his eyes. This man was sexy.

He tossed his coat out into the crowd. He literally fanned the flames of tension between two girls as they started fighting over it, both tugging on the yellow fireman's cloth. What was this effect he seemed to have on all the women, that included you. He held eye contact with Imogen with every step he took off stage. You could see the faint blush on her cheeks as he got closer and closer. 

Even he seemed to have a pull on her and that alone spoke volumes. He straddled her legs and grabbed her hand putting it right between his peck before making them dance. She covered her face with her free hand, giggling like some adolescent schoolgirl. You'd only seen her like this a few times in college, but this had to be a first, at least since she'd met her fiancé. He slid her hand down his oiled torso as he body rolled. She was as red as a tomato and you were just as or even more green with envy. 

She'd been adamant all night about keeping her hands to herself, what changed? You sighed, deciding to push your jealousy to the side. You took the final sip of your drink. Opting to let the cool liquid calm your nerves. He stepped back, and grabbed Imogen's hand, pulling her to the stage. Maybe she'd had one too many drinks and forgotten the strict rules she had set for herself? Either way, this was her party, something to celebrate her and her upcoming marriage, so you had no ground to stand on when it came to being upset.

But it did look fun. The smile on her face and blush on her cheeks said it all. He picked her up and carried her to stage, all while she covered her face out of sheer embarrassment. Some girls really had all the luck.

Nerves. They weren't something he was used to dealing with before a show and any he did feel would be washed away by the shot he took beforehand. Not today. Chris was beyond just nervous, he was two seconds away from having a full blown panic attack and it was all because of you. You and your words. He knew better than anyone just what he was capable of, but you had him second guessing himself at every turn. Turning to others for advice and reassurance, which was very unlike him.

He looked out at the crowd while Changbin did his thing, taking one for the team and seducing the bride to be, so Chris could have a little more of an opportunity to try and get to you. He eyed your expressions, your movements. Noticed the slight grimace on your face as you looked on at your friend and Changbin with what looked like jealousy. “Ah, so that's your type.” He couldn't help the little smirk that formed on his lips. He and Changbin were gym buddies and even though they had very different body types, they still did the same things when working out. He had this in the bag.

Chan usually fluffed his cock before a show. Though he looked pretty decent without it, fluffing before he went on stage ensured he looked just as above average as he was. He went back into his dressing room to finish getting ready. He took his usual routine, pulling up a video, locking the door so he wouldn't be interrupted. He landed on a video he liked and started to stroke himself. But his cock seemed uninterested in something that had gotten him off time and time again. To say he was frustrated, would be the understatement of his lifetime. You insinuating that he couldn't handle you kept flashing in his head in big, red, neon letters. 

What is the off chance that you were right? That he really couldn't handle you. That he'd make a fool of himself and you in the process? What if he dropped you? He'd never be able to forgive himself. He'd never be able to show his face here or anywhere for that matter. What if this followed him for the rest of his life. Like somehow everyone knew he dropped a girl who told him he couldn't handle her. He groaned loudly, so loud he almost missed the knock on his door. “Five minutes.” He sighed. There was no use, his dick was disheartened. He tucked himself back into his boxers and pants and threw on the rest of his outfit. 

He did a self check. Breath. Minty fresh. Outfit. Every detail in place. Makeup. Subtle, mostly just a tinted moisturizer and an alluring smoky eye. Hair, straightened and pushed up and back out of his face. He nodded to himself in the mirror. “You got this.” He hit his chest a few times to really pump himself up before heading out towards the stage. It was almost as if everything went mute. He couldn't hear the crowd screaming Changbin's name, practically begging for an encore. 

He couldn't hear I.N. trying his best to calm them down so he could announce Chris as the next performer. He couldn't hear the stage hand telling him to wait. He snapped out of it as the young woman touched his chest. “Are you even listening? I.N hasn't announced your name yet.”  she rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed by him at the moment.

“I'm so sorry. You know what it's like when I'm in the zone.” He gave her an apologetic look. She sighed and nodded, deciding to let things go. Chris tried his best not to look out at the crowd, he didn't need anything knocking the confidence he'd built up. But he couldn't help himself. He peeked out, finding you and your friends fanning yourselves while giggling. Probably still giddy about Changbin's performance. He couldn't understand why, but that gave him a little confidence boost.

While Changbin was a wonderful performer, Chris was in the top stop for a reason. He couldn't wait to shock the crowd with the routine he had planned. “You ladies have been very naughty tonight. You know that? Now that the flames have been put out, I think it's time we arrest the culprit behind it all. Don't you-” Sirens filled the room again, but this time it was police Sirens. “Oh no, the cops are coming. Is that…” I.N. pretended to look off in the distance as if this was a totally believable bit. His dedication to the scene was impeccable. “It's officer Bang. Be careful ladies, I've heard he's a very bad boy with a badge. I hope you all are ready to submit or be charged.”

The stage hand nodded and Chris finally walked out on stage. With one hand on his belt, the other twirling the cuffs, he walked out to the middle of the stage and stopped. His lips curled into a smirk as he looked over the crowd. He made it to the end of the stage and pointed at a still flustered Imogen. She covered her face and shook her head. 

Changbin had clearly done some work on her, if she was back to refusing dances. She glanced from her sister to her best friend as if she was contemplating which one to pick, between the two. She grabbed your hand lifting it into the air, declaring you the winner of the lap dance from officer Bang. Much to his delight and your chagrin.

He extended a hand towards you, a slick smile on his face, while you visibly panicked. “Go, Y/n. Have fun. For me, yeah?” It was like she said magic words. You closed your eyes and sighed. It was for Imogen. That is the reason you relented. At least that's what you tried to tell yourself.  You took his hand and he held it until you made your way up the tiny staircase to the stage. 

“Before we get started, do I have your consent to do what I need for entertainment purposes?” Your eyes scanned his face before darting to Imogen who nodded profusely. 

You sighed again, shoulders falling slightly in defeat. “Yeah, yeah. Just get on with it.” You waved him off just for him to catch your wrist, slapping the cuff around it.

“Then, you're under arrest.”

“What's the charge officer?” One of the ladies yelled from the back. She was a lawyer, so this was probably very familiar for her.

“Underestimating me.” He once again invaded your space, his face dangerously close to your own. You could smell the fresh mint toothpaste on his breath. “You're guilty, until I prove you wrong.” You were so distracted by the alluring look in his eyes that you didn't feel him grab and cuff your other hand until you heard the faint click. “Play my music.” He yelled back at the dj. You felt this overwhelming sense of embarrassment. Was this man about to do what you knew he couldn't?

He bent you over, with your cuffed hands placed on the back of a chair that you hadn't realized had been put on stage. “I can't take you in until I frisk you. So spread those legs for me.” You did as told, spreading your legs a little, feeling your dress ride up the backs of your thighs and settling right in the undercuff of your booty.

 You tried not to be self conscious about slightly exposing yourself to not only your friends but a bunch of strangers in the process. You felt the warmth of his hand on the small of your back as he pushed it down ever so lightly, making you arch. The fabric covering your ass was hanging on by a thin thread.

You could have sworn you heard him curse behind you as he rubbed your sides softly. “You aren't hiding anything, are you?” You couldn't see his face, but he was trying his best to continue playing his role. The way your curves looked in this dress was already tugging at the strings to make him come undone. You, bent over like this, this was causing the frayed ends of his sanity pull as well.

“No.” You sighed heavily. You couldn't look at the crowd. To you they could only be responding in either two ways. Disgust or bewilderment. There was no in between in your mind. 

“I'm going to pat you down to make sure you don't have anything on you to hurt me.” He knew that was a lie. You'd already hurt him. You couldn't possibly do more damage than you already did to his ego. Or so he thought. With both hands situated on your hips, he ground his own hips into your backside before letting his hands slip down to your thighs. 

He dropped to his knees, his hands traveling down with him over the outside and then the over inside of your parted legs. He was immediately faced with more pain than he could possibly manage. He was face to face with the wet patch in your lace panties and it immediately threw him off guard.

 It wasn't that he didn’t know you were wet, he'd figured that out much earlier in the night. No, it was because it was much worse than you just being merely wet, you were soaked, panties clinging to your pussy for dear life he was desperately doing to his sanity.

You felt exposed. Chewing on your lip, just waiting for the moment you could finally sit down. The rest of the girls who were danced on were seemingly having the time of their lives and that included Imogen. Why couldn't you just get out of your head? Whether he could flip you or not could be pushed to the back of your mind for the time being.

You just wanted to relax and enjoy the moment. Because when was the next time you'd get a dude to touch you like this? You were more than touch starved for a reason. In a perpetual dry spell. Plus, it didn't hurt to admit that there was this overall sexiness about this man. You sighed, arching your back a little more, spreading your legs a little more. Giving him more of the view he didn't know he needed.

He had to calm himself. The view he had in front of him right now, had to be one of the best things he'd ever seen in his life. It almost felt as if he was receiving the lap dance instead of you. He shook his head lightly, bringing himself back from being too distracted by you. He ran his hands down the outsides of your legs then moved between them to rub back up. 

Standing back up, he grabbed your hips once again to grind into you, hands moving up your sides slowly, then up your back to the nap of your neck. He grabbed tight, not tight enough to hurt and pulled you back to him. Your back now flush to his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, hips still moving sensually against your own. You could feel his steady breaths against your neck, as if he wasn't doing a routine. As if his heart beating quickly in his chest wasn't enough to alert you to how he was feeling. 

“Turn around for me.” You took a moment, but complied. You couldn't have him thinking you were eager enough to comply immediately. You waited a beat before turning around and facing him. He didn't let go of you, but he gave enough slack in his arms for you to move freely enough. Your chest rose and fell with each of your panicked breaths. Being this close in proximity to such a handsome man was making you nervous. 

It'd truly been that long since you've been touched? Yes. You were genuinely surprised he wasn't covered in cobwebs from the contact. He hooked his hand under your thigh, lifting it, settling it againsts hip. His other hand sat  firmly right above your ass just to keep you in place. You could feel his bulge against your heat, just the thought of his proximity made you salivate. And it turned out that he didn’t need fap material when you were in his presence. He'd recovered just fine after not being able to get it up with his usual means.

From where the audience was sitting, it looked like the two of you were caught in a passionate moment, unaware of the spectators. He ran his nose over your jaw as he pulled you in even closer. There was little to no room between the two of you. It took everything in him to pull away. There was the magnetism you held that made him not only curious about you, but made him want to stick to you. “Why don't you sit down for me, huh?” You sucked in a shaky breath and gave him a faint nod.

He let you go, even if his instincts told him to keep holding on. He took a step back as you took a seat. He tossed his hat to the side of the stage and took his sweet time unbuttoning his shirt. He threw the garment to Imogen who surprised the heck out of you as.she sniffed it. She mouthed an “Oh my gosh he's so fucking fine.” To you while fanning herself, successfully making you giggle. 

But those sweet giggles were soon replaced by A gasp as Officer Bang stood shirtless in front of you. You finally got to see the full extent of his tattoo placement. Random little red and yellow flowers, some flags, a cute portrait of a dog. None of it matched his almost sinister hand tattoo. That snarling wolf that looked as if it was staring you down, ready to rip you to shreds.

He leaned into your face once again, pulling you away from ogling his half naked, tattooed body. His finger hooked under your chin so that you'd look up at him. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?” Something about the way he looked at you as the sensual sounds of the Cuff It remix playing in the background made you press your legs together in an effort to stop your pussy from getting any wetter, as if it could. You were undoubtedly soaked, you knew that and unbeknownst to you, so did he.

“Never.” You whispered to him, a smirk spreading on your lips. “You'd have to earn that, Officer Bang.” You leaned back in the chair, his hand falling from your face and back to his side. The music playing in the background drowned out the conversation the two of you were having.

“Earn it, huh? Alright, bet.” He was putting on an air of confidence, he wanted you, if no one else, to think he was as confident as they came. Even if his feelings had been wavering all night. He took your cuffed hands and placed them on his stomach as he rolled his body. Your fingers slid until they caught onto his belt. He moved in, straddling your legs while towering over you.

“Take it off for me.” His voice was clear and commanding. He watched you carefully as you unbuckled his belt. Your brows were furrowed, lips tucked between your teeth. The amount of concentration exerted just undo his belt, let him know that your mind was working ten steps ahead of you right now. Even the look of innocence you gave him after you completed your task did not negate the fact.

“Thought you weren't going to be a good girl for me?” He whipped the belt through the loops then folded the belt in half. “What happened to me earning it? Huh?” He tapped the leather accessory under your chin. His eyes were so piercing they almost broke the barrier of your confident facade.

“How does that make me a good girl? Maybe I just want to see you with less on. Did that thought occur?” He chuckled, grabbing the back of your head while grinding towards your face. You flashed him that innocent look again, but with your adjacency to his crotch and you darting your tongue out to wet your lips, there was nothing innocent about you. 

If anything you straddled the line between playful and something deeply sensual, with little to no effort. You knew what you were doing. You were teasing him, and he loved to be teased almost as much as he loved teasing. “It did. But you're a little too eager for it to be just that.” He stepped back again, hands moving to your thighs again. He pushed them open and lifted them, letting your legs rest around his waist. He grabbed the back of the chair with one hand, the other was placed on your hip. “Just admit you want me. It'd make things easier for you.” The way he ground his hips into you had a moan slipping past your lips

His lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Just give in to me.” He moved in like he was going to kiss you. At least to your hazy visions that's what it looked like. He fit so perfectly between your thick thighs and the way he moved against you was dizzying. Your friends were on the edge of their seats as they watched this dance. It was flirting with being hardcore pornography on the stage. The way your wetness was now dampening the front of his trousers. How your legs wrapped around him, pulling him in with the sharp heels of your shoes.

You moaned again, nails dragging down his stomach. “I could do much more to you if you let me. Just give in to me.” He was staring into your soul. He was touching you, but just barely and yet it felt as if every nerve ending of yours was on fire. As if another part of you was reacting, you nodded. It had to be that part of your brain that was too horny to function. The touch-starved beast that was desperately seeking attention from this beautiful specimen of a man that had you pent down to a chair in front of your friends.

His lips twitched into a small smirk. “Good girl.” He unhooked your legs from around his waist and moved them to his shoulders. His smirked shifted into a cocky smile as he left open mouth kisses down your clothed frame till he was right above your heat. He stealthily placed a kiss to your exposed panties, eyes still focused on yours, but now with a playful glint in them. He placed kisses on your thighs then nipped at the skin.  

Chris had never been this drawn to a client before. He wanted to feel your skin for real. To feel your touch, maybe even to taste you, if you'd let him. With him this close to you, he could smell your sweet scent. And if he was honest, he'd tell you just how tempting you were. But, the man had a job to do. He was meant to entertain, and he had no reason not to fulfill that task. 

He switched your position, your thighs were once again around his waist. “Put your arms around me.” You didn't hesitate. You looped your arms over his head, letting your arms settle around his shoulder, fingers accidentally threading into the damp patch of hair on the back of his head. He lifted you up, almost as if you weighed nothing to him. The look of shock on your face said enough. 

He chuckled, his hands gripping your ass to keep you in place. “Hold on tight, okay? I got you.” He used the grip on your ass to swing you back and forth, your hips crashing into his crotch, like he was fucking you. Your hold on his neck tightened. A bit of fear he'd drop you was creeping back up into the back of your mind, no matter how much you tried to trample it down. 

“I won't drop you, I promise.” He smiled, “If I do, you can take it out on me however you like…. Deal?” That however you like sat with you. You almost wanted him to drop you, just so you could take it out on him. You nodded in agreement and relaxed your body, so that he could do what he wanted. “Plus, I don't plan on flipping you in front of all these people.” You looked at him confused, what was he even saying?

“That should be something done in private.” The next thing you know, your back is pressed against the cold stage and his hips are giving you a barrage of quick fire strokes just to slow it down once again. Now all he needed to do was a few finishing moves to close out the show, then things would come to a close. That would be the end of his time with you. For some reason, that just didn’t sit right with him. 

He wanted to at least know your name. He’d tell you his name in return. He didn’t want to leave off with you knowing him as Officer Bang or Bang Chan. He wanted you to meet Chris. He placed your leg on his shoulder, feeling from your ankle down to your thigh. You don't know how but he turned you quickly on your stomach and maneuvered himself back between your legs. Rolling his hips into yours. You had nowhere to run, and truthfully you liked feeling him pressed against you.

You were flustered, face slightly damp with sweat. Chest rising and falling rapidly. Body racing with adrenaline. Loving the feeling of his hips grinding in circles against yours once again, making the heat of lust crawl back up your body once again. Fogging your mind until you couldn’t think of anything else but the way he felt moving against you. The lights dimmed, music faded, your friends roared loudly as they cheered from the crowd. You’d forgotten they were there, mind too gone with the man that was still on top of you, though his routine had ended. 

“Come back stage with me?” He asked in your ear, voice hoarse from speaking over the music so you could hear. You nodded, too aroused to actually verbalize an answer. “Was.. was that a yes?” He chuckled lightly as he sat up. He grabbed your hips, helping you to get up from the floor, knowing it'd be pretty hard to do with your hands still cuffed. He stood to his feet before helping you and leading you carefully off stage, hand in hand.

That part was still dark and he didn't want you to take a tumble. You squinted as the darkness turned to light once behind the curtain. He pulled you off to the side, retrieving the key from his pocket. “You did great, by the way.” He kept your hand in his as he tried to unlock your cuffs. “It felt.. natural.” He wouldn't look in your eyes, at least not for long.

“I should be saying that to you, honestly. You're an amazing dancer.” You nodded, but noticed just how shy he got. He was still shakily trying to put the key in the hole, biting down on his bottom lip. “Take your time…” You encouraged him. “I'm sure Imogen still wants to party while a few of the girls.. you know.. partake in the other services offered here.” You didn't know why, but the thought of one of your friends asking to sleep with him bothered you immensely.

“And… What about you? What are your plans… if I ever get you uncuffed?” He was cursing himself out in his mind, how hard was it to take off a cuff? He'd done this many times before. Why was he so nervous?

“I'm down for whatever. I mean, I have to wait for my ride, right?” You chuckled. “Plus I'm sure one of the girls is booking you as we speak. Especially after that performance. I only saw a few of them from my peripherals, but they were beyond impressed. I think you got a standing ovation.” You chuckled half heartedly, the thoughts of him and one of the girls was still swimming around in your head. Leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Ah- yeah, nah. I don't offer those kinds of services. I leave that up to the rest of the guys.” He finally heard the click of the cuff and sighed out of relief. “Fucking.. finally.” He removed them and placed them in his pocket, then grabbed your wrists to message away the little indents left by them. “It doesn't hurt, does it?” His eyes were fully focused on your wrists.

“Not really. Rope burn is far worse, in my opinion.” You shrugged. “The marks will be gone within the hour.”

“Rope Burn- heh. Is it?” God, you were still doing things to his mind. His erection hadn't calmed down yet, either. “Are you.. Ya’know.. into that type of thing?” He could hear his heart in his head, beating loudly.

“I'm into all types of things, Officer Bang.” You teased.

He had to look up to the ceiling to gather himself. The image of you tied in rope, just waiting there for him almost made him cum in his trousers. He cleared his throat, focusing his attention back on you, “Chris. You can call me Chris.”

You smirked, “Chris, huh? Are you expecting me to tell you my name now…. Chris?” It was something in the way you said his name that almost made his knees give out.

“That would be nice. But it's not necessary, not if you don't want to tell me.” He was sweet, you recognized that. He finally let your wrists go, and you immediately missed the contact.

“Lucky for you, I'm feeling generous.” You gave him a soft smile, “I'm Y/n. It's nice to meet you, Chris.” You didn't ask or hesitate, you just took his hand in yours, giving it a shake. But he took you off guard when he pulled you hand to his mouth, giving you a kiss on the back of it.

“Pleasures all mine.” That mischievous glint was back in his eyes as they traveled from your face down to your chest and back up.

“It's not. But it could be.” You don't know who broke first, but you were suddenly engaged in a kiss, your back pressed against the hallway wall that you first met him at. He had you boxed in, a hand on each side of your head. Your hands started at his waist and worked their way up his abs to his pecks.

He needed to feel more of you. Just your lips touching was not even close to being enough to satisfy this growing need he had for you. He pressed his body yours, moving one hand to grip one of your thick thighs, resting it at his waist. You could feel him against your core, the contact igniting something within you.

He moved his kisses from your lips to your neck, taking his precious time with leaving his mark behind. He didn't know who needed to know, but he wanted people to know he'd been there. You moaned as his teeth grazed over the most sensitive spot on your neck. “There, yeah?” He ran his tongue over the bite, just to suck a hickey into the spot. 

“Turn around for me.” Letting your leg fall from his side, he took a step back, watching you carefully as you turned to face the wall. Face and chest pressed to the faux brick. “Fuck…” Your dress had ridden up, but not far enough in his humble opinion. He grabbed the fabric and pulled it up over your ass, watching your ass drop-out of the material. The glimpse he'd gotten earlier didn't do you justice, not in the least bit.

He landed a smack to your ass, gripping that same spot before smacking it again. You looked back at him, lust dripping off of your expression. “Don't look at me like that.” He could feel his cheeks flush, his ear burning.

“Like what?” You asked, genuinely curious as to what your expression looked like to him. There was still lust burning in your eyes.

“Like you want me to fuck you. Right here, right now.” He had taken hold of your hips again, his body pressed to yours once more.

“I wouldn't object, if you're asking.” His fingers dug into your hips lightly. He leaned his head on your shoulder and let out an exasperated sigh. He was convinced you were sent to get him to back out of everything he'd once vowed he'd never do again. Maybe Changbin sent you. An agent of chaos.

“You don't seem like the reckless type and that… would be very reckless.” He felt as if he was on the edge of desperation. “You aren't a bad girl, are you?” You whimpered. He hadn't realized you were feeling just as desperate as he was. “You don't want to be a good girl for me? Haven't I earned it?”

He was breaking you down with every word utter from his beautifully plump mouth. “Can't I be both for you?” He nodded against your shoulder.

“Yes, yes you can. Yes, you absolutely can, baby.” His fingers toyed with the lacey waistband of your thong. “As long as I'm offered the same courtesy.” He traced along it until he got to the string sitting snugly between your cheeks. “May I?” He pulled away, just to get another glimpse at your ass.

“Go right ahead.” You by all accounts, were a straight shooter. You usually told it like it was, especially when you'd had a drink or two. But being this bold? With a stranger? Never. This was far from who you usually were. He pulled your panties to the side, taking in the glorious sight before him.

“Fuck…. I've been waiting to see this all night.” He spread your cheeks to get a better view and the visual was almost too much to take in. Your pussy was already ready for him. Your puffy lips were smeared with wetness that had collected throughout the night. He ran his fingers over your lips, shuddering from the warmth of your slickness. 

You moaned feeling his skin make contact with yours. It'd been so long since you'd been touched that you'd almost forgotten what it felt like. “I want to tease you so bad…” His voice was breathy, fingers running up and down your slit, “But you're so fucking wet I can barely contain myself. Your pussy is begging me to fuck it.” He slipped a finger in. You were wet, but he could still feel resistance. He groaned. His mind filled with how wet and tight you were. 

He added a second, knowing almost immediately that he'd have to stretch your pussy out if he expected to fit. If he even made it that far. You  clenched around his two digits as he slid into your wetness. You bit down on your bottom lip, to stifle the moan that was rising in your throat. He gave you no time to adjust, his fingers pleasantly grazing against your walls, in and out. Your eyes fluttered shut, you were numb to any of your surroundings that weren't him

He twisted his fingers, palm now facing down, the eye of a snarling wolf on his hand now watching your back. He was intoxicated by the feeling of his fingers sliding in and out of you. Imagination running wild with the thoughts of what it would feel like to be deep inside of you. To feel your tightness squeezing his length, wetness coating it. To see just how your fat little cunt swallowed him.

He needed to add a third, for his sanity. Just as he slipped that third finger in, people rounded the corner. He stuffed them inside of you, covering your mouth with a kiss as he shielded your lower half with his own. You couldn't even comprehend how indecent this was. Your mind is completely consumed with lust.

“Oh- didn't mean to interrupt.” Allana giggled, hands wrapped tightly around Changbin's arm. Changbin gave his friend a knowing look, a smirk dancing across his lips.

“The lounge is free. All the guys booked tonight.” He smiled, patting his shoulder before toting off his client for the night.

“We can't stay here.” Chris spoke lowly into your ear. “Come with me, yeah?” He pulled his fingers from your grip and couldn't stop himself from getting a taste. The way your wetness coated his fingers like the sweetest drips of ice cream from a melting cone, he truly couldn't resist. 

He indulged in sweetness while you adjusted your dress, pulling it down to make you look presentable once again. He was still licking his fingers even after you were done. Needing more than just a taste, he grabbed your hand and tugged you gently along to the lounge. It was a shared space, but with his dressing room being too small and him not having a designated room anymore, the lounge would have to do.

Chris made sure to lock the door. “I don't know how much time we ha-” He was stopped mid-sentence by your lips on his. You pulled him by the belt loops on his pants to the plush white sofa in the middle of the room. Pushing him down on it, you quickly straddled his lap and wrapped your arms around him, resuming the kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, mingling with the lingering minty freshness. 

Everything was telling him to be a gentleman, to be responsible. To find out how you'd get home if your friends left. He'd gladly take you, but he knew how it would look if he knew your address. Most people wouldn't be comfortable with that, he understood. “Get out of your head.” You spoke against his lips. You could tell he was thinking? That it had nothing to do with the nasty things his other head had been thinking for hours now? “Hey.” Pulling away from the kiss, you grabbed his face, making him look at you. “Whatever it is, worry about it later. I feel like I’ve been edged all night and I really need to be fucked stupid. Okay?”

He chuckled, “Okay.” Your little not so peppy-talk seemed to do it for him. Any and all thoughts not pertaining to this moment he was sharing with you were now out of the window. He needed to see you in all your glory, and thought he appreciated the way that dress fit you, he would much rather see it on the floor. He slipped the straps off your arms, fingers gently trailing down your skin, leaving little goosebumps in its wake.  You let it fall, pulling your arms out. Next to go was your strapless bra, expert fingers quickly rid you of the garment, tossing it somewhere in the vicinity. “You’re perfect.” His thumbs traced over your collarbones, before his fingers joined in over your chest and down to your breast.

“Hardly. But I know how to take a compliment.” You joked, “Thank you.” He touched you like he was trying his best to savor the moment, not wanting it to end. He shook his head, cupping your breast, feeling the weight of them.

“You look perfect to me.” You just hummed, not wanting to argue him down about it. It wasn't worth it and you wanted to stay in the moment. He kissed your sternum, “Get up for me for a second.” You were taken off guard, but you moved off his lap and stood up. He laid down flat on the sofa and beckoned you over with his finger. “Sit on my face. I want to taste you.” It took a second for your brain to catch up with his words.

“Look, just because you might be capable of flipping me does not mean I wouldn't suffocate you-” He groaned, interrupting you.

“I didn't ask. Just come sit on my fucking face.” Your eyes went wide, not expecting him to talk to you like that. But you would be the first to admit it kind of turned you on. You moved with haste, kneeling next to his head before straddling his face. “Good girl.” You were beginning to really like the sound of him calling you that.

You steadied yourself with your hands on his chest, careful not to put all your weight on him, keeping most of it on your knees. Chris grew impatient the way you were hovering over him, after pulling your panties to the side once again, he roughly grabbed your hips pulling you down on top of him. His face made the perfect seat for you, enveloped between your cheeks, nose and mouth slotted between your lower lips. His tongue immediately went to work, making you squirm on top of him.

You bit back your moans, even with the other guys being otherwise occupied, you didn’t want to risk being too loud. A hard smack landed on your ass, making you jump and squeeze your thighs around his head. Deft hands spread your cheek; that gave him a little more room to move between the thickness of your ass and pussy lips. Not wanting to be the only one to receive pleasure, you leaned forward, sliding a hand into his pants. You gripped his member with one hand and pushed his boxers under his balls with the other.

You gasped at the sight of his thick cock; mouth immediately salivating. He slid his thumb into your cunt, making your grip on him tighten. He groaned against your clit, stopping for a second just to commence his torture of your pussy. But two could play that game, right? You went to work, testing out the waters first.  Seeing just how much of his big cock you could take. You spit on it, letting it dribble down his length. “Good girl.” He spoke between your folds.

Making sure his member was completely wet, you gripped the shaft with two hands and took him back in your mouth. Your mouth and hands moving simultaneously on his dick made him sigh with pleasure. It'd been a while since he'd been touched by anyone besides himself and he needed the relief more than you knew. Your mouth was the perfect amount of wet and the way you slurped was the perfect amount of nasty. He replaced his thumb with his index and middle fingers, going slow at first before quickening his pace to match yours. 

Wet noises replaced the background club noise that filled the room earlier. Chris loved the way you tasted on his tongue but he needed to get his dick wet with more than saliva. With a hard smack to your ass, he spoke up, “Turn around for me.” He had figured out that in order to get his point across with you he needed to be assertive. He was normally polite, but politeness could wait for later. “I need to be inside of you.” 

You were so needy you didn’t even think twice about his request. You let his cock go with some resistance, a small pop resounding through the room as you pulled him from your mouth. You must have been moving a little too slow for his liking, because the next thing you knew, you were flipped over onto your back, legs spread but also close to your chest as his cock slid between your folds. “I don’t mean to be impatient…” He paused, groaning as the back of his tip brushed over your clit, sending chills through his body. You were beyond wet, more especially now that he’d added his saliva to the mix. “I need you.”

You could feel the heat travel from the center of your chest, up your neck, to your face. His words felt genuine, even under the circumstances. He leaned in, kissing your lips, distracting you from him lining himself up with your entrance. The kiss was intoxicating. Enough so that it made your hip buck up into his, the tip of his cock consequently sliding into you. Your breath hitched, eyes rolling back at the unexpected stretch. “Patience is a virtue, beautiful.” He chuckled darkly. Was this the same man who couldn’t even give you time to flip around yourself? He was now telling you that patience was indeed a virtue, but it was clearly something neither of you had. “Fuck you feel so good..” He hadn’t taken his eyes off of you since he flipped you over, and honestly, he didn’t know if he would be able to. You were gorgeous to him. Every single last inch. The wet sound of his hips harshly slamming into your filled the room, tuning out the muffled club music.

The way he was filling you up, stretching your walls deliciously, was absolutely mind boggling. He felt so good inside of you that you almost didn’t know what was up or down. Your nails dug into his forearms. Your jaw was slack, eyes threatening to close. “Fuck…. Yes.. there…” He had readjusted his hips, digging his knees into the couch, pushing your legs towards your armpits. You’d never been stretched like this, and you meant that in more than one way. He focused his eyes on the mess that was accumulating between the two of you. Your wetness was accompanied by your cream, his cock was dripping with your essence. The sound, the sight, the smell, the taste, everything was getting to him. You moaned loud, eyes glossed over, unable to hide your feelings from him anymore.

Your eyes were just as dark as his, both of you caught in the torrent of ecstasy. He leaned in, pecked at your lips, then your jaw, over your neck and chest, to your breast , draggin his tongue across the flesh before haphazardly sucking the pebbled bud into his mouth. Your hands flew to his hair. Fingers tugging on the sweat slicked curls at his nape. He moaned and that sent you barreling towards orgasm. You spread your legs wider, begging to feel more of him. He picked up his speed, his wet mouth dragging across your chest to give your other tit the same treatment. His ability to multitask was truly astounding.

Normally you’d put in some type of effort, hell-bent on not being some random man's pillow princess, but the way this man was putting in work all you could do was lie there and take it. You squeezed your already tight walls around him, making his hips stutter. “Don’t play games you know you won’t win.” He spoke gruffly, lips still pressed to your feverish skin. “Quit while you're ahead, baby.” That felt like a challenge. Part of you wanted to know just what he planned to do if you didn’t ‘quit while you were ahead’. So you tested it.

Every drag out of your cunt earned a clench. The first time he let it go, but the second time caused him to groan, eyes rolling into the back of his head. “You’re fucking killing me…” He grumbled, doing a few shallow and quick thrusts just to throw you off. He pulled out completely, tapping his slick riddled cock against your clit. A tiny drizzle of cum shooting from his tip and landing on your already messy pussy. “Look at how wet you have my dick. You even have me cumming a little already… fuck… you're perfect” He bit down on his swollen bottom lip, teasing you with just the tip of his dick. He enjoyed the way your cunt looked wrapped around him. You tried to wrap your legs around him, groaning when he caught on, pushing your legs back towards your chest.

“Nuh-huh, you think after all of that I’ll let that pretty pussy of yours get what it wants?” The sinister look he gave you as his lips curled into a smile would have been terrifying if it didn’t turn you on. “Not a chance, sweetheart.” He laughed innocently as if he didn’t just stuff you full of cock moments ago. “You’ll be lucky if I let you come.” He smirked, sitting back on his legs, he grabbed at your hips, swiftly turning you around. You didn’t even get a chance to protest. It happened faster than your mind could process. A few throw pillows were stuffed up under your stomach, successfully elevating your hips. “Fuck… would you look at that?”

You didn’t even know him well, but you could tell he was pleased with himself. He smacked both your cheeks before spreading them wide. Wild thoughts were running through his mind at the sight. He spit on your pussy before using his tongue to lap up all of the cream that was spread over it, your asshole, and your thighs. A man starved. That's what he ate like. It was your turn for your eyes to roll back, you gripped at the armrest, pushing your hips further into his face. Those plush lips in combination with that thick tongue? Heavenly. You could feel the coil in the bottom of your belly twist up and just as it was about to snap, hell pulled away with a soft chuckle.

You whined. You needed that release. “My turn…” You don't know what exactly came over him, but it was like he snapped. He slid back into your wanton cunt, causing your pussy to queef from suddenly being filled to the brim. You squealed, not used to your body making that sound. He placed his hand over the lower part of your back, just above your butt, pressing down to make you arch for him. And that's when all hell broke loose. This man had to be the spawn of the devil with the way he was after your soul. He was desperately trying to snatch your life force right out of your body with every deep thrust he gave you. Your walls fluttered around him, he moved his hands to your hips, nails digging into your skin as a way to ground himself. He was muttering things to himself, it honestly sounded like a bunch of gibberish to you. But then again, it was hard to concentrate on anything other than how hard he felt inside of you. “Fuck… this pussy is so good.” He groaned, pressing his hips flush against yours, hitting the deepest spot inside of you.

Your toes curled, vision turning white from the sensation. You didn’t even realize you were cumming until he pulled all the way out. “Please… please put it back in.” You begged, hole begging to be filled again, even though you just came. He obliged. He wanted to get off just as you had, but this time he wasn’t out for revenge, he slowly entered you, letting you feel every inch and vein. It had been a while since you last had some, and then it wasn’t much to write home about. This? Him? You’d shout it from the rooftops if you had to, this man’s dick game was impeccable. You moaned and writhed under him. He trached a hand up your sweat slick back, grabbing ahold of your neck and pulling you up and back towards him. His other arm wrapped around your tummy as he drug his lips over your shoulder, speaking a melange of your name and several curse words. He was in heaven. His heart pounded hard against his chest, any sounds but the ones that reverberated off the walls in this room were a non factor to him. He was here, at this moment, with the beautiful woman he spotted out in the crowd.

You hoped there was a hidden camera in this room that could pinpoint your time of death, because you could have sworn you ascended. Your tongue was hanging out of your mouth, eyes slightly closed, a severely fucked out expression on your face. You were dripping wet, walls still quivering around him, and he loved every bit of it. “You’re so fucking good, baby… so tight.. Wet… fuck..” His voice progressively got whinier, his end was near.  His hand moved from the back of your neck to the front, squeezing lightly. His conclusion was right on the tip of his tongue, the words begging to fall from his lips. His hips stuttered, his arm around your middle pulling you impossibly close. He gave a few sharp thrusts, “Fuck- baby, I-I’m gonna come… I’m gonna..” He cried out, once against pushing his pelvis completely against yours as he spilled his seed inside of your begging cunt. You moaned, the feeling of his warm cum painting your walls was enough to make them quiver again, threatening to overstimulate him. “Fuck, baby.. Too tight..” He spoke, while thrusting his cum deeper into your cunt. It took a spell of labored breaths and soft whimpers before he came down enough to pull his softening cock from inside of you. If he let you go right now you were sure you would fall face first into the cushions of this couch. 

You were blissed and fucked out, a crooked smile set on your face. He laid you down gently, watching your cunt to see if any of his seed dripped out, to see if he indeed fucked it deep enough. He smirked to himself when the only proof that he came inside of you was the small snail trail he broke when he pulled out. The room was silent for a while, the sound of the muted club music was no longer drowned out by the sound of sex. You’d close your eyes, honestly ready to knock out for the next couple hours if he let you.  He on the other hand had his eyes focused right on your pussy, still wet from the night's events. “My gosh… you are a dangerous, dangerous woman.” His dick twitched when you pulled your knees together to get a little more comfortable. He sighed, this just wouldn’t do. “I don’t usually do this… but.. I honestly don’t think I’m done with you for the night.” His words caused you to quickly open your eyes and turn around. Your eyes traveled from his face to check if he was serious, down to his semi-hard dick. “Would you mind… coming back to my place for.. Round two… or three?” 

Your eyes were wide. There was no way this man was serious. “Only if you are down. If not, we can hit the showers and I can escort you back to you-” You stopped him with a sensual kiss.

“Yes.” You spoke against his lips. Maybe being a bridesmaid paid off this time.

FIN

[esotericalchemist]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 - 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐱 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 ☾

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The Portrait Zone in the Matrix of Destiny represents how others perceive an individual and the external image they project into the world. It reveals the outer persona, the way people relate to the individual, and the impressions they create based on their actions and behavior. This zone highlights qualities that are easily recognizable by others, such as charm, authority, wisdom, or unpredictability. Understanding the energies in the Portrait Zone helps individuals become aware of how they are seen by others and can provide insight into how they can enhance or refine their external interactions and relationships.

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1 - The Magician

The 1st Arcanum in this position manifests itself as the energy of a "Pioneer" or "The Magician," reflecting how others perceive the individual as someone who possesses immense potential, leadership, and the capability to create and inspire. This energy radiates authority, confidence, and a pioneering spirit, making others see the individual as someone who can push boundaries and lead new initiatives. They often appear as people who hold the fire of creation, ready to take on challenges with courage.

However, this external perception of power might not always align with their inner reality. While the world sees them as bold and innovative, internally, they may struggle with doubts and the fear of failure. If this energy is negatively expressed, it can lead to overcompensation, where the individual might act overconfident or harsh, while feeling deeply insecure beneath the surface.

In its positive manifestation, the 1st Arcanum brings out a strong sense of innovation, leadership, and the drive to bring new ideas into reality. People are drawn to their magnetic energy, seeing them as trailblazers capable of making significant contributions to any field. The challenge for the individual is to balance this outward projection of power with an inner belief in their abilities, rather than relying solely on external validation.

2 - The High Priestess

The 2nd Arcanum in this position manifests itself as "The Secret" or "The High Priestess" in the Tarot. It reflects how others perceive the individual as someone mysterious, enigmatic, and deeply intuitive. They are often seen as keepers of hidden knowledge, possessing an air of wisdom and secrecy that draws people in. Their ability to understand the unseen and their natural inclination toward spiritual or mystical matters makes them appear insightful and almost otherworldly.

Internally, however, these individuals may feel detached from reality, lost in their own world of thoughts, illusions, and spiritual contemplation. They might struggle with balancing their inner truth and the external world, sometimes feeling misunderstood or isolated due to their deeper understanding of life's mysteries. When negatively expressed, this energy can manifest as secrecy, mistrust, and emotional distance. They might become withdrawn, overly secretive, or lost in illusions, unable to connect with others.

When positively aligned, the 2nd Arcanum enhances their intuitive abilities, allowing them to access deeper truths and guide others with their wisdom. They are seen as trusted confidants who can help others unravel life's mysteries. Their key challenge is to stay grounded while embracing their intuitive insights, ensuring they don’t lose touch with reality while navigating the spiritual and the mystical.

3 - The Empress

The 3rd Arcanum in this position manifests itself as "Femininity" or "The Empress" in the Tarot. It reflects how others perceive the individual as someone embodying nurturing energy, beauty, and creativity. This energy often gives off an aura of fertility, warmth, and caring, making the person seem naturally maternal or supportive. Others may view them as a source of comfort and inspiration, someone who has the ability to foster growth and provide emotional support.

Internally, these individuals might feel a strong connection to family and heritage, particularly the feminine lineage. Their sense of identity often revolves around caring for others, creating beauty, and cultivating harmony in their surroundings. When negatively expressed, however, this energy can manifest as feelings of inadequacy or self-neglect, leading to issues with self-worth or the inability to express their nurturing side. They may also struggle with rejecting their femininity or overburdening themselves with responsibilities.

When positively aligned, the 3rd Arcanum enhances the individual’s ability to create abundance, support others, and cultivate an environment of love and care. They are seen as graceful and harmonious, able to create beauty in both their personal and professional lives. Their key strength lies in their capacity to nurture, whether in relationships, creative endeavors, or even business.

4 - The Emperor

The 4th Arcanum in this position manifests itself as "Masculinity" or "The Emperor" in the Tarot. It reflects how others perceive the individual as strong, authoritative, and someone who embodies leadership. This person is seen as a protector, a figure who takes responsibility for others, and someone who provides structure and stability. Their presence exudes a sense of command, making them natural leaders in various aspects of life, including family and work.

Internally, these individuals may feel a constant need to control their environment and take charge of situations. They have a strong sense of duty and responsibility, especially toward their family or close circle. However, when negatively expressed, this energy can manifest as excessive control, harshness, or even authoritarian behavior, pushing others away or creating unnecessary tension. They might struggle with accepting help or relying on others, leading to frustration or aggression when things don't go their way.

When positively aligned, the 4th Arcanum enhances the individual’s ability to lead with wisdom and strength. They become reliable pillars in their communities, offering support and guidance. Their actions are driven by responsibility, and they create an environment of security and order, both at home and in professional settings. The key to their success lies in balancing their need for control with the ability to trust and delegate, ensuring they don't overwhelm themselves or others with their strong energy.

5 - The Hierophant

The 5th Arcanum in this position manifests itself as "Knowledge" or "The Hierophant" in the Tarot. This energy reflects how others perceive the individual as a wise figure, a source of knowledge, and someone who upholds traditions and faith. People often see them as educators, spiritual guides, or those who inspire others with their deep understanding of life, ethics, and higher truths. They tend to be regarded as mentors, transmitting wisdom and helping others find their path.

Internally, these individuals are driven by a desire to learn and spread knowledge, always seeking to understand the deeper meaning of existence. They are devoted to a mission of learning and teaching, often feeling a sense of responsibility to share their insights with others. However, when this energy is negatively manifested, they can become rigid, overly critical, and preachy. Their need to instruct others may turn into an obsession with being right, leading them to impose their views and stifle those around them.

When positively aligned, the 5th Arcanum enhances their ability to inspire and guide with compassion, using their knowledge to uplift others. They become figures of authority in matters of faith and learning, embodying a deep connection to tradition while remaining open to new ideas. Their energy flows when they strike a balance between being teachers and learners, continually evolving while helping others along their spiritual or intellectual journeys.

6 - The Lovers

The 6th Arcanum in the Portrait zone manifests itself as Love or The Lovers in the Tarot. In this position, this energy shapes how others perceive the individual as charming, graceful, and attractive, both in appearance and demeanor. People with the 6th Arcanum in this position are often seen as very charismatic, easily able to engage with others, and naturally drawing people toward them. Their ability to form connections and communicate harmoniously is their key strength, making them appear as peacemakers and social butterflies.

Externally, they are viewed as individuals who value beauty, relationships, and emotional connection. They are often admired for their sense of style, their ability to create harmony in their environment, and the grace with which they interact with others. People see them as magnetic, with an aura of elegance and warmth that makes others feel comfortable around them.

When negatively manifested, others might perceive them as overly concerned with their appearance or with what others think of them. This can lead to superficiality or a tendency to seek approval and validation from their social circle. On the other hand, when positively aligned, the 6th Arcanum enhances their ability to form genuine, loving connections, bringing beauty, love, and balance into all aspects of their life, both in their relationships and within themselves.

7 - The chariot

The 7th Arcanum in the Portrait zone manifests itself as Movement or The Chariot in the Tarot. This energy shapes how others perceive the individual as dynamic, driven, and constantly in motion. They are seen as people who are always on the go, with a clear sense of direction and purpose. To others, these individuals often appear unstoppable, focused on their goals, and willing to push through any obstacles that come their way. Their swift, decisive actions and leadership skills make them seem like natural-born achievers.

Externally, they are viewed as highly energetic and capable of motivating others, often taking the lead in moving things forward. They seem to thrive in competitive environments and are admired for their ability to stay one step ahead.

When negatively manifested, others may see them as reckless or too aggressive, rushing forward without fully considering the consequences. In contrast, when this energy is positively aligned, they inspire admiration for their determination and ability to turn ideas into action, making them seem like people who always know where they’re going and how to get there.

8 - Justice

The 8th Arcanum in the Portrait zone manifests itself as Responsibility or Justice and shapes how others perceive the individual. People tend to view them as extremely reliable, disciplined, and principled. These individuals are often seen as figures of authority who bring order and stability wherever they go. They are recognized for their fairness and their commitment to doing what is morally or ethically right, even when it’s difficult.

Externally, they may be perceived as people who naturally enforce rules and maintain balance, whether in their personal relationships or professional settings. Their approach to life appears structured, thoughtful, and purposeful, and they often inspire respect due to their strong ethical stance.

When negatively manifested, others might see them as overly rigid or judgmental, enforcing rules without flexibility and becoming harsh in their pursuit of justice. However, in their positive form, they radiate wisdom and the ability to make impartial, well-considered decisions that benefit everyone around them.

9 - The Hermit

The 9th Arcanum in the Portrait zone manifests itself as The Hermit in the Tarot. Others perceive these individuals as deeply introspective and wise, often seeming distant or detached from the hustle of everyday life. They come across as highly reflective and mature, someone who contemplates life's deeper meanings rather than focusing on surface-level interactions. Because of this, they can seem mysterious, reserved, and even somewhat cold to those around them, though their wisdom and insights are undeniable. They often act as advisors or quiet observers who provide profound knowledge when asked.

While others might admire their wisdom, they may also find them challenging to connect with on a personal level, as they tend to retreat into their own world of thoughts and reflection. Their solitary nature can create a perception of aloofness, but it also generates respect for their depth and intelligence.

When negatively manifested, these individuals can appear overly distant, arrogant, or self-absorbed, convinced that their understanding surpasses everyone else's. Their solitude may turn into loneliness or isolation, causing difficulties in forming meaningful relationships. On the positive side, however, their energy draws others toward them as guides or sages, as they are able to offer invaluable advice and understanding in complex situations, encouraging others to explore deeper truths.

10 - The Hermit

The 10th Arcanum in the Portrait zone manifests itself as The Wheel of Fortune in the Tarot. Others perceive these individuals as adaptable and fortunate, often experiencing highs and lows in life but seemingly always landing on their feet. They appear to have a natural connection to the cycles of destiny and are seen as flexible, able to navigate change and uncertainty with ease. This gives them an air of unpredictability, yet also resilience, as if life’s twists and turns work in their favor more often than not. People may view them as lucky or blessed, even when they seem to face difficult situations.

Internally, these individuals feel deeply connected to the flow of life, understanding that both positive and negative experiences are part of the same cycle. They often possess a calm acceptance of life's unpredictability and have faith that things will eventually turn out well. However, when negatively manifested, they may become passive, overly reliant on fortune, or fail to take responsibility for their circumstances. This can lead to others perceiving them as lacking direction or control over their own lives.

When positively aligned, individuals with the 10th Arcanum in this zone inspire others through their ability to embrace change and remain optimistic. They show how to ride the waves of fate gracefully, encouraging others to let go of excessive control and trust in the natural ebb and flow of life. Their light-hearted approach and belief in destiny often lead to remarkable success, as they seem to attract good fortune at just the right moments.

11 - Strength

The 11th Arcanum in the Portrait zone manifests itself as The Strength card in the Tarot. Others perceive these individuals as strong, both mentally and emotionally, with an impressive ability to overcome obstacles and handle challenges with grace. They are often seen as resilient and determined, possessing an inner power that radiates outward. This energy makes them appear courageous and capable of handling difficult situations, often inspiring others to draw upon their own strength. People are naturally drawn to them for guidance, seeing them as capable of bringing calm and order even in turbulent times.

Internally, these individuals are driven by a deep sense of personal power and confidence. They have a quiet but profound belief in their ability to endure and persevere, even when faced with significant difficulties. However, when negatively manifested, they may become overbearing or attempt to control situations and people too rigidly, mistaking force for strength. In this state, they can come off as domineering or inflexible, pushing others away with their need to assert control.

When positively aligned, individuals with the 11th Arcanum in this position shine as natural leaders, demonstrating how true strength lies not in brute force but in inner resolve, patience, and understanding. They are able to gently guide others, creating an atmosphere of stability and trust, and are often seen as protectors or advocates for those who need support. Their ability to balance power with compassion makes them pillars of strength in their communities.

12 - The Hanged Man

The 12th Arcanum in the Portrait zone manifests itself as The Hanged Man in the Tarot. Others perceive these individuals as people who approach life from a different perspective, often appearing unconventional or detached from the material world. Their energy gives off a sense of sacrifice, surrender, or patience, as though they are willing to wait or let go of control to gain deeper spiritual or philosophical insights. This can make them seem mysterious or enigmatic to those around them, as they often resist the norms of society in favor of their inner truth.

Internally, these individuals are reflective, searching for meaning beyond what is easily visible. They are willing to endure discomfort or delay gratification to achieve a higher understanding or a deeper sense of purpose. When negatively manifested, they can come across as passive, stagnant, or even as martyrs, trapped in indecision or a state of inaction. They may struggle with moving forward, feeling stuck in their own thoughts or awaiting external change that never comes.

When positively aligned, the 12th Arcanum reveals a person who has mastered the art of surrender and trust in life's natural flow. Their patience, resilience, and ability to see things from alternative perspectives often inspire others, helping them navigate difficult circumstances with wisdom and grace. These individuals can guide others in finding peace amid uncertainty and in recognizing that sometimes, growth requires letting go.

13 - Death

The 13th Arcanum in the Portrait zone manifests itself as Death in the Tarot. Others perceive these individuals as transformative forces in life, often symbolizing profound change, renewal, or endings. They may come across as intense, mysterious, and even unsettling, as their energy often signals a break from the past or an unavoidable transition. People with this energy are seen as catalysts for transformation, able to bring closure to old situations and pave the way for new beginnings, though they might also be perceived as harbingers of sudden or unexpected changes.

Internally, these individuals are deeply connected to cycles of death and rebirth, understanding the necessity of letting go in order to grow. They are often reflective and accepting of the impermanence of life, recognizing that transformation is a constant. When negatively manifested, they may appear destructive, obsessive, or stuck in a cycle of loss, unable to release the past or move forward. Their energy can be experienced as overwhelming or disorienting to others, especially when they resist the changes they themselves need to undergo.

When positively aligned, the 13th Arcanum embodies a powerful force for renewal and regeneration. These individuals are capable of navigating life’s transitions with grace and insight, helping others accept change and embrace new possibilities. Their ability to bring closure and initiate rebirth makes them a guiding figure for others during times of upheaval or transformation, inspiring growth and resilience.

14 - Temperance

The 14th Arcanum in the Portrait zone manifests itself as Temperance in the Tarot. Others perceive these individuals as balanced, calm, and composed, often seeming to embody harmony and moderation in all they do. They come across as peacemakers, able to blend opposing forces or perspectives with ease, and are often seen as patient and wise, someone who naturally promotes equilibrium in both personal and social situations. Their presence is soothing, as they are known for their ability to handle conflicts with grace and to maintain a steady and controlled demeanor.

Internally, these individuals strive for inner balance and a sense of unity between their emotional and rational sides. They are constantly working toward self-improvement through careful moderation and restraint, always seeking to find the middle ground. When negatively manifested, they may appear indecisive or overly passive, unable to take bold actions for fear of disrupting the harmony they seek to maintain. This could cause them to miss opportunities due to a tendency to avoid confrontation or significant changes.

When positively aligned, the 14th Arcanum allows these individuals to act as natural mediators and healers. They have the ability to inspire others through their example of patience and moderation, fostering a sense of peace and cooperation. Their energy encourages others to find balance in their own lives, as they skillfully navigate life’s challenges with poise and thoughtful deliberation.

15 - The Devil

The 15th Arcanum in the Portrait zone manifests itself as The Devil in the Tarot. Others perceive these individuals as intense, magnetic, and sometimes overwhelming. They may be seen as possessing a powerful, even dark, allure that draws people toward them, though often with a sense of caution. People might interpret their energy as dominant or controlling, leading to a perception of manipulation or hidden motives, especially if these individuals are focused on their personal desires and ambitions. Their intense presence can make them appear seductive, charismatic, or dangerously captivating.

Internally, these individuals are driven by a strong desire to break free from limitations, both external and internal. They may constantly wrestle with material attachments, power dynamics, or primal instincts, seeking to satisfy deep desires or gain control over their environment. When this energy is negatively manifested, they can become consumed by their own impulses, leading to unhealthy relationships, addictive behaviors, or an overemphasis on materialism and self-gratification. This can make them appear obsessive or manipulative to others, creating toxic dynamics in their connections.

When positively aligned, however, the 15th Arcanum allows them to use their inner strength and magnetism to empower themselves and others. They learn to harness their deep desires in a constructive way, transforming challenges into opportunities for growth. Their energy then becomes a source of empowerment for those around them, helping others break free from their own limitations and fears, and encouraging them to face life’s darker truths with courage and honesty.

16 - The Tower

The 16th Arcanum in the Portrait zone manifests itself as The Tower in the Tarot. Others perceive these individuals as catalysts for significant change or disruption. They often appear to challenge the status quo, either consciously or unconsciously, which can lead others to see them as unpredictable or even destructive. People around them might feel uneasy or unsettled by their presence, as they have a tendency to bring about shifts that force those in their environment to confront uncomfortable truths or face sudden upheavals.

Internally, individuals with the 16th Arcanum are often undergoing deep personal transformations. They may experience sudden revelations or abrupt changes in their own lives, which can feel like a collapse of old structures or belief systems. These individuals are driven by a need to rebuild their lives on more solid foundations, even if it means going through painful or difficult periods of destruction first. This energy can lead to profound personal growth, but it also comes with the risk of chaos and instability.

When negatively manifested, these individuals may become agents of destruction, causing unnecessary chaos or harm in their relationships and surroundings. They might tear things down without considering the consequences, leaving others hurt or confused. On the positive side, when aligned with their higher purpose, they serve as powerful forces for renewal, helping themselves and others break free from old limitations and create stronger, more authentic structures in their lives. Their role becomes that of a transformative force, pushing for the necessary changes that lead to deeper understanding and growth.

17 - The Star

The 17th Arcanum in the Portrait zone manifests itself as "The Star" in the Tarot. Others perceive these individuals as beacons of hope, inspiration, and renewal. They often come across as calm, serene, and deeply connected to their higher ideals, projecting a sense of optimism and healing energy. People are naturally drawn to them because of their ability to uplift others and provide guidance in times of difficulty. They may be seen as dreamers or visionaries, possessing an inner light that inspires those around them.

Internally, individuals with the 17th Arcanum are often driven by a deep sense of purpose and a desire to bring about positive change. They have a strong connection to their spiritual or creative sides, seeking to manifest their dreams and ideals in the physical world. This energy provides them with clarity, allowing them to remain focused on their goals despite any challenges they face.

When negatively manifested, these individuals may become overly idealistic or disconnected from reality, placing too much emphasis on dreams without taking practical steps to achieve them. They might struggle with feelings of disappointment or frustration if their high expectations are not met. However, when positively aligned, they serve as sources of inspiration and guidance, helping others to see the potential for growth and renewal in even the most challenging situations. Their ability to maintain faith and optimism in the face of adversity makes them true symbols of hope and perseverance.

18 - The Moon

The 18th Arcanum in the Portrait zone manifests itself as "The Moon" in the Tarot. Others perceive these individuals as deeply intuitive, mysterious, and often enigmatic. There is an aura of complexity and depth around them, as they seem to operate on a different wavelength, guided by their inner feelings and subconscious thoughts. People might see them as dreamers or those who dwell in realms of fantasy and emotion, but this also makes them intriguing and captivating to be around. Their intuition often leads them to insights others might miss, though this can also make them appear unpredictable.

Internally, these individuals are highly sensitive and deeply connected to their subconscious mind. They may frequently experience emotional highs and lows, navigating between reality and illusion. The energy of the Moon drives them to explore the hidden sides of life, such as dreams, fears, and the subconscious. This can result in powerful inner guidance but may also lead them down paths of confusion or self-deception if not carefully managed.

When negatively manifested, the energy of the 18th Arcanum can lead to fears, anxieties, and a tendency to get lost in illusions or deceptive situations. These individuals may struggle with clarity, allowing doubts and insecurities to cloud their judgment. However, when positively aligned, they can tap into their intuition and emotions to help themselves and others uncover hidden truths. Their sensitivity allows them to guide others through emotional and spiritual challenges, making them empathetic and insightful companions.

19 - The Sun

The 19th Arcanum in the Portrait zone manifests itself as "The Sun" in the Tarot. Others perceive these individuals as radiant, optimistic, and full of life. They often seem to light up the room with their presence, exuding warmth and positivity that draws others toward them. These individuals are seen as confident and inspiring, often serving as a beacon of hope or a source of motivation for those around them. Their energy is uplifting, and they are perceived as people who bring clarity and joy to every situation.

Internally, these individuals are driven by a strong sense of purpose and self-expression. They seek fulfillment through their ability to shine and to be recognized for their talents and contributions. The energy of the Sun within them fosters a sense of abundance and success, allowing them to face life's challenges with confidence and resilience. They are naturally inclined to pursue goals that allow them to share their inner light with the world.

When negatively manifested, this energy can lead to arrogance, an inflated ego, or a need for constant attention. They may become too focused on external validation, leading them to neglect deeper connections or overlook the needs of others. However, when positively aligned, these individuals embody true leadership and a generous spirit, capable of bringing joy, positivity, and growth to everyone they encounter.

20 - Judgment

The 20th Arcanum in the Portrait zone manifests itself as "Judgment" in the Tarot. Others perceive these individuals as transformative and awakening forces in their lives. They often carry an air of destiny, as if they are here to bring about change or guide others through pivotal moments of self-realization. People around them might see them as catalysts for growth or spiritual renewal, as they naturally bring others to confront deeper truths or decisions. They are often recognized for their wisdom in matters of karma, fate, and life’s ultimate purpose.

Internally, these individuals are constantly evolving, driven by a deep need to align with their higher purpose. The energy of Judgment pushes them to reflect on their past actions, decisions, and experiences, often leading them to life-altering revelations. This inner quest for renewal helps them guide others through their own personal transformations. However, they may also carry a burden of responsibility, feeling called to help those around them achieve clarity and purpose.

When negatively manifested, they may become overly critical or judgmental, both of themselves and others. This can lead to unnecessary pressure and feelings of inadequacy. However, when this energy is positively aligned, they serve as powerful guides for others, offering insight, wisdom, and support in times of great personal change and awakening. They embody the energy of rebirth, helping people rise to new levels of understanding and spiritual growth.

21 - The World

The 21st Arcanum in the Portrait zone manifests itself as "The World" in the Tarot. Others perceive these individuals as complete, whole, and fulfilled. They are seen as people who have a strong sense of achievement and harmony, often exuding a sense of accomplishment and mastery over their lives. People around them may view them as a source of balance and stability, seeing in them the embodiment of someone who has successfully navigated life’s challenges and reached a state of inner and outer success.

Internally, these individuals are driven by a desire for fulfillment, unity, and integration. They have a deep connection to their life’s journey and often feel a sense of purpose in bringing things to completion. The energy of "The World" signifies a natural flow of cycles, where they understand the importance of endings and new beginnings. This understanding allows them to navigate life's transitions gracefully and with a sense of acceptance and peace.

When negatively manifested, they may struggle with feelings of incompletion, fearing that they have not reached their potential or that something is missing in their lives. This can lead to a sense of restlessness or dissatisfaction, even when they have achieved much. On the positive side, however, they bring harmony, completeness, and fulfillment not only to their own lives but also to those around them, guiding others toward personal wholeness and satisfaction.

22- The Fool

The 22nd Arcanum in the Portrait zone manifests itself as "The Fool" in the Tarot. Others perceive these individuals as free-spirited, unconventional, and spontaneous. They come across as people who move through life without fear, embracing adventure and the unknown. This energy gives them an air of unpredictability, often making them seem carefree or even reckless, but also charming and open to life’s endless possibilities. People see them as unburdened by the constraints of society, norms, or traditions, which makes them appear youthful, exciting, and full of potential.

Internally, these individuals are driven by a desire for freedom, exploration, and new experiences. They often feel disconnected from the concept of rigid structures, choosing instead to follow their intuition and embrace the moment. This gives them a unique ability to adapt to changing circumstances and see the beauty in life's mysteries, allowing them to view life through a fresh, almost childlike lens.

When negatively manifested, these individuals can appear irresponsible, directionless, or naive, making impulsive decisions without considering the consequences. Their lack of foresight may lead to chaotic situations, where they feel lost or overwhelmed. However, when positively aligned, they bring inspiration, creativity, and a zest for life to those around them, encouraging others to embrace uncertainty and take bold steps toward their dreams.

TikTok - Masterlist - YouTube (subliminals)

[requiemforthepoets]

it’s you that i’ve been waiting for, all of my life ⟢ LN4

final part of the crazy rich asians au ⟢ part one part two

PAIRINGS: lando norris x asian!female!reader

SUMMARY: with a lot of your family and friends are either getting engaged or married, it made you think about a lot of things—well, mostly marriage.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: non-use of y/n, reader is asian, foul language, traditional family, asian culture & tradition, food, crazy rich asians inspired + plot, heiress reader, named characters (except reader, names are mostly taken from CRA), social status, high society, mentions of marriage, reader having a wedding fever, fluff, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 9.6k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: finallyyyy, this is the last part of my crazy rich asians au. the rest of the updates for this series is already smaus—which will be updated sporadically. to all that read, commented, and reblogged, thank you so much from the bottom of my heart. tbh, i wasn’t even sure/confident with this three part series bc it was literally my first time writing this kind of fic, so thank you so much. as always, your reblogs/comments are highly appreciated, and i hope that you’ll enjoy this last part! also, happy new year, guys! 🥺❤️

You and Lando had just finished settling into your hotel, when your phone buzzed with an incoming facetime call from Nick. Surprised but not entirely shocked by his timing, you answered the call and held your phone up as you sat on the edge of the bed. Nick’s face appeared on the screen, expression tense and unusually serious.

“Hey, is Rachel with you right now?” he asked without preamble, tone laced with urgency.

You frowned, confused by the question. “No, she’s not,” you replied, glancing at Lando, who was sitting on the edge of the bef watching your conversation. “Lando and I already left Singapore earlier, we’re in Malaysia right now. Why? Is everything okay?��

Nick ran a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily before diving into the whole explanation. He told you and Lando about how your Auntie Eleanor had hired a private investigator to dig into Rachel’s background. Your stomach sank as he laid it all out—the dossier that your Auntie Eleanor had compiled, which included several Chinese news articles and missing person reports with Rachel’s mother’s photo. All these revelations had been shared with your Ah Ma at the wedding reception, and things had escalated from there.

You can slightly hear Nick’s voice trembling as he recounted how your Ah Ma had become mad and forbid Rachel from continuing her relationship with him, declaring that Rachel’s family background poses a threat to your family’s reputation. The words made your chest tighten, and you felt a mix of anger and sadness bubbling inside of you. Then it all started to make sense now—Rachel’s disoriented state, the way she fled from the reception without looking back.

“Wait,” you interjected, still processing everything. “Ah ma was at Colin and Minty’s wedding? I didn’t even see her, she rarely goes to events like that unless her presence is absolutely necessary.”

Nick nodded, confirming your thoughts. “She was there. It wasn’t planned for her to come, but I think Mom had managed to convince her.”

You sighed. “Well, that explained a lot. No wonder Rachel was running off like that, she must’ve been completely blindsided.”

He paused before continuing. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of her, but she’s not answering my calls or texts. I just—” he trailed off, his frustration evident.

Thinking quickly, you remembered something Rachel had mentioned in passing. “Maybe she’s staying at her best friend’s house? She told me once that she has a close friend in Singapore.”

Nick’s eyes lit up slightly. “That's a possibility. I’ll try to find out where her friend lives.”

“Do you need me to come back?” you asked, words spilling out before you could second-guess them. “Lan and I can fly back to Singapore tonight if you think it’ll help.” you glanced at Lando, who nodded in silent agreement.

He shook his head quickly. “No, no, don’t worry about it. I think I can handle it for now. But if Rachel answers your texts or calls, can you let me know right away?”

“Of course,” you said firmly. “I’ll text her again and keep you updated.”

“Thanks,” Nick said with a small, grateful smile.

“But hey, listen,” you said carefully, “if you find Rachel—in which I know that you will, you have to give her some time. Don’t push her, and don’t force anything.”

Nick was quiet on the other end, so you took it as a queue to continue. “She’s been blindsided, completely blindsided by all of it. Think about it, the information that Auntie Eleanor dumped on her, how it was thrown at her, none of it was easy for her to process. She didn’t even see it coming, and honestly, no one would’ve been ready for something like that.”

“I know,” Nick murmured. “But I just want to fix it. I want her to know that none of this changes how I feel about her.”

“I know you do,” you said gently. “But right now, Rachel needs space to process everything. Imagine if you’re in her shoes—finding out things about your family’s past in such a public and humiliating way. That kind of betrayal isn’t easy to shake off, especially when it comes out of nowhere.”

You paused, choosing your words carefully. “You have to be patient with her, Nick. Let her come to you when she’s ready. If you try to force her to talk or rush through it, it might just push her further away.”

There was another silence, then a resigned sigh from Nick. “You’re right,” he admitted. “I hate it, but you’re right. I just feel so useless sitting here, doing nothing.”

“Nicky, you’re not doing nothing,” you assured him. “The best thing you can do right now is respect her boundaries and be ready when she’s ready. Let her know you’re there, but don’t overwhelm her, and Nick…” you trailed off.

You briefly hesitated before adding, “Rachel was thrown into a pit of wolves. Our family, for all its grandeur and well, admit it or not, can be really cruel. She wasn’t prepared for it, but that’s not on her—it’s completely on us, and if you love her, you’ll help her navigate through it when she finally comes around.”

Nick’s voice softened. “I do love her, more than anything.”

“This might sound very cliché, but trust the process,” you said. “She’ll come back to you when she’s ready, and when she does, you’ll be there for her.”

“Thanks again,” he said quietly. “I really needed to hear that.”

“Anytime,” you replied. “Just keep me updated, okay? Don’t lose hope.”

“I won’t,” Nick promised.

“Alright, take care.” you said before ending the call.

As the screen went dark, you tossed your phone onto the bed with a sigh, staring at the ceiling in frustration. Your call to Rachel had gone straight to voicemail, and though you had sent her a message, you couldn’t shake the knot of worry in your chest. Flopping down beside your phone, you exhaled deeply. The fact that your Auntie Eleanor had gone so far as to hiring a private investigator made your blood boil. It was not just meddling—it felt invasive and cruel.

“Why?” you muttered to yourself, running a hand through your hair. “Why did she have to go that far?”

Lando glanced over you from where he was sitting, watching you silently for a moment before he laid down beside you on the bed.

“Hey,” he said softly, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s just…Auntie Eleanor. Why would she do something like that? Nick and Rachel were happy, and Ah Ma already liked Rachel, so why did she have to ruin it all? What does it even accomplish?” your voice wavered slightly as you spoke, your emotions bubbling to the surface.

Lando listened patiently, letting you vent. When you paused, he gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I get it,” he said gently. “It’s frustrating, and it’s not fair to Rachel. But you know Nick, he’s not going to give up on her just because of this. They’ll figure it out eventually.”

You looked at him, brows furrowed. “But what if they don’t? What if this just ruins everything?”

“It won’t,” he said firmly. “They’ve come this far, haven’t they? Something like this might take time to work through, but if they’re meant to be, they’ll find their way back to each other. You’ve got to believe in that.”

His words were calming, and you found yourself nodding slowly. “You’re right,” you said, though the knot in your chest didn’t fully loosen. “I just want them to have the happy ending they deserve.”

“And they will,” Lando assured you with a small smile. “But right now, you’ve got to focus on what you can control. We’re in Malaysia, come on, let’s enjoy our time. Relax, and take a breather from all the chaos back in Singapore.”

You gave Lando a weak smile, appreciating his efforts to make everything better. “Yeah, you’re right. We should make the most of it while we’re here.” pushing yourself off the bed, you glanced towards your suitcase. “We’ve got dinner plans later, don’t we?”

Lando grinned, standing up and holding out his hand to help you. “We do. Let’s go have a great night.”

You took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet, and smiled at him. “Alright.”

The first day in Malaysia began early, with the rising sun casting a soft golden glow as you and Lando set off for George Town in Penang. The drive was long, roughly about four hours from Kuala Lumpur, where you’re staying, but the journey was as much a part of the adventure as the destination. Lando was behind the wheel, where one of his hands was steady on the wheel, and his other free hand was laced on your fingers. His eyes occasionally darted towards you while you admired the scenery as you passed by.

“So,” he started, glancing at you with a teasing smile, “are you going to be my personal tour guide for the day?”

You grinned, looking at him. “Of course.”

When you arrived, George Town immediately swept you off of your feet. The streets were alive with so much color and culture, with the British colonial buildings standing gracefully alongside vibrant Chinese shophouses and intricate mosques. The air smelled of spices and street food, and the chatter of locals filled the space with a sense of warmth and energy.

“Look at that one,” he said, pulling you gently toward a painting of a little boy riding a bicycle. “We have to take a photo here.”

Lando pulled out his camera and posed next to the mural, with a wide grin on his face. “Your turn, come on,” he said after snapping his photo, motioning for you to take his place. “Hold on,” he gestured for you to pose in front of the mural. You rolled your eyes playfully but obliged to his request, striking a simple pose.

“Perfect,” he said as he snapped the photo before lowering the camera. “Though the real thing’s better than the photo,” he added cheekily, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on your cheek.

“Smooth,” you teased, shaking your head but smiling nonetheless.

You wandered through the streets hand in hand, occasionally stopping every so often to admire the architecture of the small shops selling everything ranging from antiques to handmade crafts. At one point, Lando pulled you into a quiet alley where a local artist was painting a new mural. He tilted his head, examining the work.

“Think I could pull something like this off?” he joked, referring to the mural’s intricate design.

“Absolutely not,” you replied, laughing. “But I’d pay good money to watch you try.”

The day would not have been complete without food. You introduced Lando to char kway teow, a flavorful stir-fried noodle dish. He took his first bite, his expression shifting from curiosity to delight.

“Okay, this is incredible,” he said, nodding enthusiastically as he went for another bite.

“You have a good taste,” you replied, stealing a noodle from his plate.

“You mean you have a good taste,” he corrected.

The day continued like that—strolling, laughing, stealing kisses, and taking photos. Every corner of George Town seemed to hold a story, and every moment felt like it was just for the two of you.

As the sun began to set, the sky turned a warm orange, and Lando snapped one final photo. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget today,” he said softly, looking at you instead of the view.

You smiled, squeezing his hand. “Me neither.”

The second day began with the sun streaming through your window, casting a warm glow over the start of what you knew would be an unforgettable day. After breakfast, you and Lando set off for Paradise 101 in Langkawi, a private island that promised a perfect blend of adventure and relaxation, and just an hour away.

As soon as you stepped onto the island, the soft sound of the waves lapping against the shore and the salty breeze filled your senses. Lando reached out for your hand, giving it a light squeeze he looked out at the clear blue sky.

“Ready for some adventure?” he asked with a contagious smile.

“Always,” you replied, already feeling the excitement bubbling up.

The first activity on the list was parasailing, something you had always wanted to try. Strapped into the harness side by side, the instructor began counting down, and then, the boat picked up speed, lifting you and Lando off the ground, soaring above the waters. The world below looks so tiny, and the ocean stretches endlessly beneath your feet.

“This is insane!” Lando shouted over the wind.

You turned your head to look at him, his expression lit up with excitement. “Right? Look at that amazing view!” you replied, pointing towards the horizon where the ocean met the sky.

“Look something out of the painting,” then glancing at you, there was a mischievous glint in Lando’s eyes. “Though the view isn’t half as good as the one next to me.”

You laughed, swatting at him lightly. “You’re such a cheeky little shit.”

When your feet touched the sand again, Lando was already pulling you toward the ziplining station. The zipline took you across the island’s canopy, and each time you landed, Lando was there waiting, stealing quick kisses before moving to the next line.

“Race you to the bottom,” Lando challenged, a mischievous smile lighting up his face.

“Oh, you’re on,” you replied, determined.

As the two of you zipped down, the wind whipping past, the sound of your laughter had filled the air. Lando had beaten you to the bottom, of course, but he immediately pulled you into a hug when you joined him, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

The afternoon was reserved for a private yacht cruise, just the two of you. As the boat glided through the calm waters of Langkawi’s northern coast, you couldn’t help but marvel at the picturesque coastline, with the emerald-green water shimmering under the sun.

“Perfect, isn’t it?” Lando asked, leaning back beside you, his sunglasses perched on his nose.

“Perfect,” you agreed, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his.

“You know,” he began, “we should bring the others here sometimes. They’d love this.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” you replied, looking at him. “Though I kind of like it being just us right now.”

“Me too,” he said, voice soft, brushing a kiss on your forehead.

You decided to give kayaking a try, but knowing Lando, it probably would be a chaotic one. “You’re paddling the wrong way, babe!” you exclaimed as Lando’s oar splashed water everywhere. “Are you sure you know how to paddle?”

“Of course I do!” he argued.

Lando was just kept on paddling in circles, the kayak even refused to cooperate—or so he claimed.

“Babe! You’re just steering us into circles. You’re doing it wrong!” you called out, grinning mischievously.

“I’m not—hold on, are you gaslighting me right now?” he accused, realizing your game.

“I would never!” you said, feigning innocence.

Lando almost toppled over the kayak trying to adjust, and you couldn’t contain your laughter. But eventually, you found your rhythm, paddling side by side through the tranquil waters.

“Okay, maybe this teamwork thing isn’t so bad after all,” he admitted, voice softer now.

“You think?” you teased, glancing at him with a smile.

The highlight of the day came with the private UNESCO Geopark mangrove cruise. You and Lando had been transferred to a small explorer boat, where you were taken through a landscape that felt almost otherworldly. Sheer limestone cliffs rose majestically from the water, their forms resembling ancient temples.

“This is incredible,” Lando murmured, voice tinged with awe as he leaned over the side of the boat.

You nodded, eyes fixed on the towering cliffs. “It feels like we’ve stepped into another world.”

The guide led you through the Tanjung Rhu River, Kisap River, and Kilim River, each stretch offering breathtaking views. At one point, you visited a fish farm and even ventured into the crocodile and bat cave, marveling at the natural formations.

When the cruise ended, the day slowly gave way to evening, and you returned to the resort. Lando had made a reservation for an outdoor dinner at the resort’s restaurant, with the table set against the backdrop of the sparkling Andaman Sea.

You were sitting right across from Lando, the soft glow of the setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink. “Today was really perfect,” you said, voice warm.

Lando reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “Well, that’s because I spent it with you.”

“To more days like this,” you said, raising your glass with your free hand.

“To more days with you,” Lando replied, raising his glass as well.

The waves whispered against the shore as you clink your glasses together, ending the amazing fun filled day in the most serene and beautiful way imaginable.

On the third day, which is your last day in Malaysia, felt like the perfect opportunity to slow down and enjoy a more relaxed pace with Lando. After having your breakfast at the hotel’s restaurant, you decided to explore Kuala Lumpur together and do some shopping, mostly picking out Christmas gifts for family and friends. Your first stop was Cartier, where the staff immediately recognized you and Lando as you entered the boutique.

“Welcome back,” one of them greeted warmly. “Please, follow us to the VIP room.”

The room was elegant and private, with plush seating and pristine glass displays showcasing Cartier’s finest collections. You scanned the displays carefully, selecting gifts that felt personal and meaningful. From time to time, you would turn to Lando for his opinion, holding a piece to show it to him.

“What do you think of this one, love?” you asked, turning a bracelet in your hands.

Lando leaned in to get a closer look, studying it for a brief moment. “It’s nice, but maybe this design suits them better,” he suggested, pointing to another piece that has more classic finish to it.

His input was reassuring, and you found yourself smiling more with every choice you made. So piece by piece, you finalized your selections and decided to have each of it engraved with the names. While the staff began the engraving process, you took the opportunity to explore the display cases further.

Your eyes fell on the iconic Love rings, their sleek designs catching the light. The delicate design, with its understated elegance and signature screw motif had drawn you in immediately. You paused, gazing at them a little longer than you had intended. They were very stunning, and the thought of having matching ones with Lando crept into your mind.

For a moment, you let your mind wander. The thought of having matching Love rings with Lando made your heart flutter. It would be such a sweet symbol of your relationship, a quiet nod to the love you shared. But as quickly as the thought came, doubt crept in. Would he even want to wear something like that? You had only been together for a year, and while your relationship felt deep and serious, you weren’t even sure if he’d see it the same way.

“Miss?” the associate’s voice gently pulled you back to the present. “The items have been engraved and wrapped. Would you like us to send them directly to your hotel?”

You smiled, nodding. “Yes, please. That would be perfect. We still have some plans for the day.”

The associate assured you that everything would be taken care of. You thanked them again and turned to Lando, who was casually leaning against the counter, watching you with an easy smile. What you didn’t realize was that he had caught the way your gaze lingered on the Love rings earlier. But he decided not to say anything, only offering you his hand as the two of you prepared to leave.

“Ready to go?” he asked, voice gentle.

“Yes, let’s go,” you replied, sliding your hand into his.

As you both left the store hand in hand, the shopping bags destined for your hotel, Lando’s mind was already working, his thoughts drifting back to the love rings and making a mental note.

Finally, Dior was your final stop, and as you stepped into the elegantly designed VIP room, the ambiance felt as refined and luxurious as always. The staff greeted you warmly, offering refreshments and giving you a moment to settle in before showing you all of the latest collections.

You browsed through the items thoughtfully, then occasionally turning to Lando for his input, yet again, on potential gifts and personal picks. He followed you closely, hands tucked casually in his pockets, his easy demeanor adding a comfortable balance.

As you admired a pair of beautiful heels, Lando leaned in slightly, tone light but teasing. “You know your luggage is already packed to the brim, right?”

You paused mid-reach, blinking at him as his words sank in. “Wait…really?”

He nodded, trying to suppress a grin. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure you’d have to sit on it just to zip it up.”

With the sudden realization, you glanced back at the shelves, and you turned to the sales associate with a smile. “Do you have any luggage available in stock?”

The associate’s face lit up. “We do, actually! Let me bring it out for you.”

As the associate disappeared into the back, Lando let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “Only you would come shopping for gifts and leave with luggage to carry it all.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, nudging his arm. “Well, if you’re going to go shopping, might as well do it properly.”

The associate soon returned, rolling out a sleek Dior luggage piece in a design you hadn’t seen before that caught your attention immediately. Its understated design and impeccable craftsmanship stood out, and you took a moment to examine it closely.

“This is perfect,” you said decisively, a satisfied smile spreading across your face. “I’ll take it. I don’t have one in this design yet, so it’ll be a great addition.”

Lando chuckled softly beside you as you made your way to the counter. When the associate had totaled the purchase, he casually pulled out his black card and handed it over, placing it on the counter.

“Here, I’ve got this,” he said smoothly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small grin.

“No,” you reached into your bag without hesitation, pulling out your own black card and handing it to the associate directly. “I’m paying for this, please. It’s my shopping.”

The associate glanced between the two of you, clearly confused and trying to decide whose card to take. You were sure that the associate would take your card, so you focused briefly on a nearby display of handbags, thinking which designs might fit into your collection. While you were distracted, Lando seized the opportunity.

“Swipe it on mine,” he said quietly, giving the associate a quick, reassuring nod.

By the time you turned your attention back, the transaction was already complete, and the staff were carefully packing the luggage and other items into Dior’s signature paper bags.

“What just happened?” you asked, narrowing your eyes slightly as Lando smiles cheekily at you.

“Nothing, babe,” he replied, tone far too innocent to be convincing. “Just making sure you’re not overworking your card today.”

You sighed, half-exasperated but mostly amused. “You’re impossible.”

“Just making sure your new luggage is properly christened,” he teased.

Shaking your head with a small smile, you turned back to the associate and asked, “would it be possible to have everything be delivered to our hotel? We’ve got a dinner reservation coming up, and it would be easier if we didn’t have to carry all this.”

“Of course, Miss,” they replied, nodding. “We’ll ensure everything is delivered promptly.”

“Thank you,” you said warmly before turning back to Lando. “Ready to go?”

Lando placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you towards the exit. “Let’s go.”

By the time you stepped out of Dior, the soft glow of dusk had already begun to settle over the city, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The streets were alive with the hum of evening traffic, but your thoughts were focused on the dinner reservation at Akar Dining.

The drive to the restaurant was peaceful, with Lando’s hand resting on your thigh as the car navigated the streets. You arrived just in time, the warm ambiance of the restaurant immediately wrapping around you as you stepped inside, the host greeted you and guided you to your table. Lando, ever the gentleman, pulled out your chair, his hand lingering briefly on the back of it as you sat down.

“Thank you,” you murmured with a small smile, adjusting the hem of your dress as you settled in.

Lando took his seat across from you just as a waiter approached your table with the menus. The dimly lit atmosphere, paired with the sophisticated decor had made the evening feel intimate and special. As you scanned the menu, your eyes immediately caught a few dishes you knew you would enjoy, while Lando appeared slightly less certain.

“So, what are you thinking of getting?” you asked, glancing up from your menu to find him frowning slightly.

“Honestly?” he set the menu down for a moment, leaning back in his chair. “Most of these seafood dishes aren’t really my thing.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “It’s fine, just pick something else. You don’t have to love everything on the menu.”

Eventually, he decided on the braised aged duck, and you ordered a seafood dish that intrigued you. As you waited for the food, you took a sip of your water, your gaze lingering on Lando. The memory of what happened at Dior earlier was still fresh in your mind, and you decided to address it.

“By the way,” you began, setting your glass down. “Thank you for paying earlier at Dior, but you really didn’t have to, Lan.”

Lando shrugged casually, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Of course I did. You shouldn’t have to pay for something when I’m right here.”

You sighed lightly, tilting your head at him. “Lan, I can pay for my own things. I don’t want to rely on you all the time, especially when it’s my shopping.”

“I know you can,” he replied, tone soft but firm. “But that doesn’t mean I want you to. It’s not about whether you can afford it—it’s about me wanting to take care of you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off with a playful grin. “And before you argue, I’m not budging on this.”

“Well, if you’re so insistent on paying for everything,” you said, leaning forward slightly, “then at least let me pay for dinner tonight.”

“Not happening, love,” he said simply, leaning back in his chair with an air of finality.

“Lando,” you started, but the waiter returned just then with your food, momentarily halting the conversation.

As you both began to eat, you couldn’t help but glance at him occasionally, trying to come up with a way to outmaneuver him when the bill comes. Lando seemed thoroughly engrossed in his braised aged duck, nodding approvingly after the first few bites.

“This is actually really good,” he remarked, gesturing to his plate with his fork.

“It was worth the try,” you said with a satisfied smile, enjoying your own meal.

When the plates were cleared, the waiter had returned with the bill, and you reached for it instinctively, smiling as you’re about to get a hand on it, but to your dismay, Lando was faster. He snatched it from the waiter’s hand with a smoothness that left you momentarily stunned, his card already out and ready. Without a word, he placed it on the bill and handed it back to the waiter before you could even blink.

“Lando Norris!” you hissed, voice a mix of exasperation and disbelief. “I told you I was paying for dinner.”

“And I told you that you’re not,” he replied, tone calm and unbothered.

You stared at him, incredulous. “You can’t keep doing this. I have my own money, you know. I don’t need you to pay for everything, my love.”

“I know you don’t,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “But I wanted to. A gentleman never let his woman pay. End of story.”

“But—”

“No buts,” he interrupted gently, gaze soft but resolute. “I know that you’re independent, and I love that about you. But letting me take care of you every now and then doesn’t make you any less independent.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “At some point, you have to let me pay too. I don’t want to feel like I’m relying on you for everything.”

“I get that. But tonight isn’t the point,” he said, as his thumb gently caressed your knuckles and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. “Letting me take care of you once in a while doesn’t mean you’re relying on me. It just means that I love you.”

Your heart softened at his words, the sincerity in his voice melting away your objections. “Fine,” you murmured, though a playful edge crept into your tone. “But one day, you’re letting me pay for something. Mark my words.”

Lando chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a wide grin. “We’ll see about that.”

After an amazing dinner, you were finally back in your hotel. The moment you stepped inside the room, the exhaustion from the day’s adventures hit you like a wave. You slipped off your sandals with a sigh of relief, placed your bag on the vanity, and immediately collapsed onto the plush bed, letting the softness swallow you whole. Lando was not far behind, shutting the door with a soft click before walking over to where you lay sprawled out. He chuckled as he kicked off his sneakers, tossing them aside without any care.

“You look absolutely done,” he teased, voice laced with affection.

Without another word, he climbed onto the bed beside you, his arms snaking around your waist as he pulled you close. You didn’t protest, in fact, you just melted into his embrace—his warmth and familiar scent of his cologne instantly soothing your tired muscles.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” you murmured lazily, though you made no effort to move. “We still need to pack for tomorrow. I need to arrange the things we bought today inside the new luggage.”

Lando nuzzled his face into your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “Mhmm…packing can wait.” he said as he kissed your collarbone. “I just want to stay like this for a bit. It’s been such a good trip.”

You smiled faintly, tilting your head slightly to rest against his. “It really has. I think this was exactly what we needed, huh? Just us, no distractions.”

“Uh huh. No meetings, no interruptions…” Lando added with a sigh, tightening his hold on you. “I wish we could stay longer. Feels like I’ve barely scratched the surface here.”

You laughed softly. “You’re the one who extended our stay by an extra day. If we keep this up, we might not even make it to the UK in time for Christmas.”

He groaned dramatically, pulling you even closer. “Fine, you win. We’ll leave tomorrow, but I’m telling you, we’re coming back here next year.”

“Alright,” you replied, voice muffle as you buried your face in his chest.

For a few moments, neither of you spoke, content to lie tangled in each other’s arms as the city lights outside cast a faint glow into the hotel room.

“Okay, okay,” you finally said, breaking the peaceful silence. “We really need to pack, babe. I’m not about to start throwing things into a suitcase at five in the morning.”

He groaned again but rolled over, propping himself up on one elbow as he looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “How about I do the packing, and you stay here looking all pretty?”

“Absolutely not,” you replied, swatting his arm lightly. “If you pack, I’ll end up with half my things missing and thrown with wrinkles.”

Lando laughed, sitting up and pulling you up with him. “Alright, fine. Let’s get it over with, but you owe me cuddles afterwards.”

You rolled your eyes playfully as you slid off of the bed. “Deal. Now, let’s get moving before you start whining again.”

He grinned, grabbing his suitcase and tossing it onto the bed with enthusiasm. “You know me so very well.”

As you were neatly folding a dress and placing it neatly in your suitcase, your phone rang, cutting through the quiet hum of activity in the hotel room. You glanced at the screen and saw Nick’s caller ID flashing. Your eyes immediately widened, and your stomach sank slightly—you had completely pushed aside the chaos from earlier in Singapore.

“Nicky,” you murmured, picking up the phone and quickly answering. Lando glanced up from his own packing, curious.

The moment the call connected, Nick’s face filled your screen, grinning from ear to ear. Before you could say anything, he shouted out, “WE’RE GETTING MARRIED!”

Your jaw dropped, and your heart leapt. “WHAT?!” you screamed, startling Lando, who immediately moved closer to check. “Oh my god! Nicky, are you serious?!”

Nick nodded excitedly, his smile growing wider. “Yes! I proposed to Rachel earlier, and she said yes! We’re getting married!”

A loud scream of happiness escaped you, and grabbed both Lando’s hands and jumped up and down, causing Lando to follow your lead, with you chanting ‘Nick and Rachel are getting married’ a couple of times. Both of you jumping like you’re in a cult, chanting to summon something.

“Nicky, this is amazing news! I’m so happy for you and Rachel! Oh my god, I’m going to cry!” you said, nearly dropping your phone in the process.

Lando laughed and leaned into the frame, resting a hand on your waist. “Congratulations, mate! That’s incredible news!”

“Thanks, man!” Nick said, grinning even wider. He turned back to you, clearly eager to share more details. “Mom finally came around, and she gave me the emerald ring to propose with. I actually chased Rachel to the airport, it turns out she was about to leave, already inside the plane and I just dropped on one knee and proposed to her. You should’ve seen Rachel’s face when I pulled out the ring, she was so shocked.”

You clutched your chest dramatically. “Nick, that’s so beautiful. I’m so, so happy for you both.”

Nick chuckled, his excitement very evident. “But wait, there’s more. I’m throwing a surprise engagement party for Rachel tomorrow night, and I need you both there. Please say you can come.”

You glanced over at Lando, your eyes silently asking if he was okay with changing plans. Lando, ever the supportive boyfriend that he is, nodded without any hesitation.

“We’re both in,” you said to Nick. “We’ll fly back to Singapore tomorrow.”

Nick let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you! I can’t wait to see you both, and don’t worry, it won’t be a massive party, just a small gathering of close friends and family.”

“We will not miss it,” you assured him. “But just so you know, we’ll have to leave right after the party. We’re expected in the UK before Christmas.”

“Fair enough,” Nick said, still beaming. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow then, and thank you, both of you, for being there for us.”

“Of course,” you replied, voice soft with emotion. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

After ending the call, you turned to Lando, who was smiling at your obvious joy. “Looks like we’re making another detour,” you said with a laugh.

“Well, wouldn’t have it any other way,” Lando replied, pulling you into a quick hug before returning to his packing.

The flight from Malaysia to Singapore passed quickly, only an hour long. You and Lando had decided to leave in the afternoon to allow yourselves some extra time to relax before the engagement party. By the time the private jet touched down at a private tarmac in Changi Airport, the sky had shifted to a warm, dusky hue.

You were already dressed for the event, adjusting the hem of your dress as you prepared to disembark. Your outfit for tonight complimented Lando’s outfit perfectly, a choice you both had coordinated without much effort. Deciding not to take your belongings off of the jet since you would be leaving Singapore immediately after the party. Taking one final glance at the jet’s sleek interior, you then stepped out.

Lando walked beside you, his hand firmly holding yours as he guided you down the steps of the jet. The heels you wore, though elegant, weren’t exactly forgiving, and his grip gave you the balance you needed. Once you reached the car waiting on the tarmac, he moved ahead, opening the door for you.

“Careful, love,” he murmured, holding out a hand to help you inside.

You gave Lando a small smile as you slid into the seat, careful not to wrinkle your dress. He followed right after, shutting the car door behind him. The soft hum of the car engine filled up the space as the vehicle pulled away, heading towards Marina Bay Sands. You then leaned into Lando slightly.

“You know,” Lando began with a playful smirk, “I think we’ve spent more time in Singapore lately than in Monaco.”

You laughed softly. “Tell me about it. It looks like we’ll be back here again sooner rather than later for Nick and Rachel’s wedding.”

He tilted his head in mock resignation. “I guess I’d better get used to the humidity then.”

“Oh come on,” you gave him a teasing nudge. “You’ve survived it so far. Besides, you look so good here, very tropical chic.”

Lando chuckled, resting his hand on yours. “Thanks, love. But seriously, it feels like everyone’s getting married or engaged all of a sudden. What’s with the December air.”

You sighed dramatically. “Tell me about it. First Colin and Minty, now Nick and Rachel, also don’t forget about my friend from Parsons! She’s getting married in Moscow next year and has already sent in the invitation.”

“Moscow, huh?” he mused. “Another flight for us?”

You glanced at him with a small smile. “If you want to come with me, that is. I don’t want to pressure you into attending all these weddings, I know that it can be really tiring.”

Lando tilted his head, pretending to think it over. “Moscow, a wedding, and a chance to see you again in another dress? Sounds like a total dream, so it’s a yes for me.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, nudging his arm. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love every bit of it,” he quipped, grinning.

As the car drove on, your thoughts began to drift. Weddings, engagements, proposals—it seemed like everyone around you was taking those big steps. You didn’t want to admit it, but that idea of marriage had been creeping into your mind more and more lately. It was not something you wanted to bring up, not yet, but still, it is a topic that had been occupying your mind.

You shook off the feeling, focusing instead on the city lights beginning to twinkle outside the car window. “Yeah, and I think that we’re going to need a bigger calendar,” you joked.

Lando laughed, resting a hand on your knee. “As long as you’re on it, I don’t mind.”

The car rolled to a smooth stop at the grand entrance of Marina Bay Sands, with the city lights reflecting off the sleek glass facade. The chauffeur had exited first, circling around to open your door, and before you could step out, Lando was already at your side, extending a hand to help you out of the car.

“I’ll be here at the agreed time to take you back to the airport, ma’am.” the chauffeur said as he tipped his hat.

“Thank you,” you replied with a polite smile.

Lando intertwined your hands, and you both began walking towards the entrance. The evening air was warm, and the energy surrounding the iconic building was palpable. A few people by the lobby immediately recognized Lando, and their eyes widened when they noticed you by his side.

“Excuse me,” a young woman asked hesitantly, clutching her phone. “Would it be alright if I can get a quick photo with you both?”

Lando exchanged glances with you and nodded warmly. “Of course, just a quick one.”

You stepped aside with him, pausing for a few photos, each person thanking you both profusely afterwards. Once the small crowd dispersed, you and Lando resumed your walk, making your way to the elevators that would take you to the sky deck. The elevator ride was smooth and swift, and when the doors opened, the familiar faces of your family, Nick’s closest friends, and your cousins scattered throughout the beautifully decorated space.

As your eyes scanned the crowd, you spotted your mother first. She stood near one of the seating areas, speaking animatedly with one of your aunts. You guided Lando over, and her expression shifted to surprise the moment she saw you both.

“Darling!” your mother exclaimed, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Hi, Mom,” you greeted, smiling warmly before stepping aside so Lando could greet her.

Your mother opened her arms invitingly. “Lando, come here.”

Lando hugged her briefly but warmly, a soft laugh escaping him. “Hello, Auntie. It’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” your mother replied, taking a step back to look at you both. “I thought you’d already be in the UK by now.” she said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“We were supposed to leave after the day after the wedding,” you explained, “but we decided to make a quick stop in Malaysia for a few days. Then Nicky called last night and asked us to come, so here we are.”

She smiled knowingly. “Always the supportive cousin. But you’re leaving tonight?”

“Yes, the jet is on standby at the airport,” you confirmed. “We’ll head straight there after the party.”

Your mother nodded in satisfaction, and gave Lando a pat on the shoulder. “Well, you enjoy yourselves tonight. It’s a rare sight to see you two so relaxed.”

You and Lando exchanged a small smile before moving on to greet Colin and Araminta, who were just chatting near the champagne table.

“Hey!” Colin greeted, giving you both a hug. “I didn’t think we’d see you two again so soon.”

“Neither did we,” you replied with a laugh. “But here we are.”

You turned to Araminta, who hugged you warmly, then stepped back, smiling brightly. “It’s so good to see you again, and Lando, of course! You’re becoming quite the fixture at family events!”

Lando grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Colin smirked. “At this rate, uncle’s going to give him the talk soon, if he hasn’t already. Then we all know whose wedding we’ll be attending soon after Nick and Rachel’s.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Too late, Dad already gave him the talk, and even Ah Ma had given her blessing.”

Lando grinned, playing along. “Proud to say that I’ve passed all the tests by now.”

Araminta gasped dramatically, nudging Colin. “See? It’s official now. We’ll start saving the date!”

The four of you exchanged pleasantries and some laughs for a few moments before your attention was drawn to a surprising sight. Standing by the bar were none other than Bernard and Kitty, a pair you had not expected to see here at all. You caught Lando’s eye, and he gave you a subtle shrug, clearly just as a surprise.

Shaking it off, you turned your focus back, making your way toward your aunts. Auntie Alix, Auntie Eleanor, and Auntie Jacqueline, who were all chatting in a tight circle. You approached with Lando by your side, greeting each of them in turn with a polite kiss on the cheek and a warm smile.

“Ah, you’re here!” your Auntie Alix smiled. “I thought you were in the UK already.”

“Nick called,” you explained with a smile, “so here we are.”

“Well, we’re glad you made it,” your Auntie Jacqueline chimed in, “and you’re glowing tonight.” she added, her gaze flitting between you and Lando.

“Must be the Malaysian sun,” Lando jokes, earning a soft laugh from the group.

Your Auntie Eleanor gave Lando a sharp but playful look. “You’re certainly making yourself comfortable with this family, aren’t you?”

Lando smiled politely. “I’m just trying to keep up,” satisfied with his answer, your Auntie Eleanor waved you off with a chuckle.

Nick and Rachel hadn’t arrived yet, so you and Lando decided to take the opportunity to mingle with other guests. The evening was lively, with laughter and champagne flowing freely.

Several guests had approached you and Lando for photos, and you obliged, posing with ease. Lando kept a hand on your lower back, guiding you smoothly through the crowd as you moved from one group to another.

From across the room, you noticed your cousin Oliver weaving his way through the crowd, a bright smile on his face as he head towards you. As he approached, you and Lando turned to greet him.

“Oliver!” you said warmly, pulling him into a quick hug.

“Hey you two,” he said, giving you both a smile before continuing. “I want to introduce you to Rachel’s best friend. She’s dying to meet you.”

Curious, you exchanged a glance with Lando before agreeing. “Of course! Lead the way.”

Following Oliver, you navigated through the elegantly dressed guests until you stopped in front of a small group of people.

“Here we are,” Oliver said, motioning toward a striking woman with a vibrant smile. “This is Rachel’s best friend, Goh Peik Lin.”

You extended your hand toward her. “Peik Lin, it’s so nice to meet you!”

Peik Lin shook your hand warmly. “And it’s so nice to meet you as well!”

Your gaze traveled briefly over her outfit, a beautifully tailored dress that exuded elegance and sophistication. “I have to say, your outfit is incredible. You have such impeccable taste.”

Her smile widened, excitement evident. “Oh stop, you’re going to make me blush! But thank you, it means a lot coming from someone as stylish as you.”

Oliver then turned to the older couple standing beside Peik Lin. “And these are Peik Lin’s parents, Goh Wye Mun and Goh Nenna.”

You offered a polite smile as you greeted them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both, Mr. and Mrs. Goh.”

Nenna’s eyes sparkled as she took your hand. “Just call us Auntie Nenna and Uncle Wye Mun! And my goodness, you’re even more gorgeous in person! I’ve seen photos of you, and they don’t do you justice! You’re very stunning, my dear!”

You laugh softly, feeling a light warmth rise to your cheeks. “You’re too kind, Auntie Nenna. Thank you so much.”

Then you turned to Wye Mun, whose expression shifted slightly as recognition dawned on him. He tilted his head, studying you for a moment.

“You’re one of Harrison Sr. and Elizabeth Young’s children, aren’t you? Their only daughter,” he said, tone a mixture of surprise and admiration.

You nodded, smiling. “That’s right. I’ve heard of your family before as well. If my memory serves me right, you’re the owner of Goh Developments, correct? One of Singapore’s most successful real estate companies?”

Wye Mun chuckled, clearly pleased. “Yes, that’s about right. I’m flattered you know about us.”

“Of course!” you said. “Your company’s work is extraordinary. Some of your developments are architectural masterpieces.”

The brief exchange shifted naturally into a short discussion about real estate, with Wye Mun enthusiastically sharing tidbits about recent projects. Peik Lin listened intently, Oliver and Lando conversing with each other, while Nenna just watched the whole conversation with a smile.

You then gestured towards Lando afterwards, who had been standing quietly beside you. “Allow me to introduce to you my boyfriend, Lando.”

Lando extended his hand towards Wye Mun, who shook it firmly. Wye Mun’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Ah, Lando Norris! I watched you win the Singapore GP last September. Quite an incredible race, I must say. You’ve got some serious talent.”

“Thank you so much,” Lando said with a polite smile. “It was an unforgettable race for sure.”

“And I didn’t know that you were dating the darling of the Singaporean social elite!” Wye Mun added with a playful tone, eyes twinkling.

“Oh Wye Mun, look at them!” Nenna interjected, her gaze moving between you and Lando. “They look so good together, a very beautiful couple. Perfect match!”

Wye Mun nodded in agreement, tone light. “Quite the power couple, I’d say.”

You couldn’t help but smile at their comment, glancing at Lando, who was already looking at you with a soft expression. “Thank you,” you replied simply.

The conversation continued easily, with the group exchanging stories and laughs. The atmosphere was warm, and you felt genuinely pleased to meet Rachel’s best friend and their family.

As the buzz of conversation faded into hushed whispers, Araminta stepped forward with a smile and announced, “Nick and Rachel are on their way up now! Everyone, take your positions.”

You and Lando stood slightly off to the side, his hand on your waist, caressing it softly and tracing shapes. The elegant lighting of the sky deck reflected off the cityscape, casting a soft glow over the gathered guests.

Lando leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “You know,” he whispered, tone teasing, “it was so hot watching you talk business with Wye Mun earlier. You looked so serious and confident.”

You glanced at him, barely suppressing a smile, and gave his chest a soft slap. “Stop being cheeky right now, Norris,” you muttered, keeping your voice low to avoid drawing any attention.

But it looks like Lando was not done yet. He grinned at you mischievously, his voice dipping lower. “I mean it, baby. The way you talked about developments and projects? Very impressive, very attractive.”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks warmed slightly. “Lando,” you whispered warningly, “behave. This is not the time.”

He bit back a chuckle, amusement evident. “Fine, fine. But you should know, I can’t help it when you’re like that.”

You shushed him quietly, your finger briefly brushing his lips. “Quiet now,” you insisted softly, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention.

As you returned your focus to the party, your thoughts flicked back to your earlier conversation with Wye Mun. Real estate development has always intrigued you—the intricacies, potential, and stories behind every project. It was not just a polite conversation, it was a chance to learn and build connections.

“Besides,” you murmured to Lando, keeping your tone casual, “it’s always good to broaden your network. Even if I already have so many, there’s no harm in widening the circle.”

Lando nodded, his expression now a mix of curiosity and pride. “Well, you’ve got a point,” he said softly.

You let your eyes wander across the crowd, noting a few familiar faces mingling among the guests. “This place is full of businesspeople—major players in the industry, tonight,” you whispered to him. “I can recognize a few who could even be potential sponsors for McLaren.” Lando raised a brow at you, intrigued.

You turned to him, giving him a playful wink. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll help you land a deal or two.”

Lando smirked, leaning in closer to you again. “Now that,” he said, tone low and teasing, “is a kind of teamwork I can get behind.”

The sky deck fell in a hush as everyone stood in their positions, waiting for Nick and Rachel’s arrival. The atmosphere was buzzing, a mix of excitement and happiness among the crowd. The distant hum of the elevator announced their approach, and then, with a soft chime, doors slid open.

Nick stepped out first, his hands gently covering Rachel’s eyes as he carefully guided her forward into the middle of the crowd. Rachel, her posture both curious and expectant, laughed lightly, clearly amused by the surprise. The whole crowd held its collective breath, watching as Nick finally removed his hands from Rachel’s eyes.

The second her eyes opened, the silence of the crowd was replaced with an eruption of cheers and applause. Screams of happiness echoed across the sky deck, led enthusiastically by Colin and Araminta. Rachel’s expression had transformed into one of pure, radiant happiness as she took sight of everyone gathered for her. Overwhelmed with emotion, she raised her hand, showing off the stunning emerald ring that sparkled under the lights, then pointing to it with a grin.

People surged forward, surrounding Nick and Rachel with hugs and congratulations. You and Lando joined in with the crowd, your laughter blending with everyone else’s as you approached the newly engaged couple.

“Congratulations!” you said, beaming as you hugged Rachel tightly. “I’m so happy for you both.”

Nick grinned, pulling you into a quick hug as well. “Thank you for being here. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

Lando shook Nick’s hand before giving Rachel a warm hug. “You two are perfect for each other.”

Nick, ever the joker, glanced between you and Lando, a teasing glint in his eyes. “You know,” he began, tone playful, “I have a strong feeling you two might be the next one.”

Rachel, catching on, nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, absolutely! We’ll have to start planning your engagement party real soon.”

You and Lando exchanged amused looks, chuckling. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” you replied, though your heart skipped a beat at the thought.

As much as you adored Nick and Rachel, you did not need them adding more fuel to the fire—you were already simmering with wedding fever.

After the flood of congratulations, Nick took Rachel’s hand and gently guided her attention towards the infinity pool, where a group of synchronized swimmers began an elegant performance, their movements perfectly timed to the music. Rachel gasped softly, her eyes lighting up with wonder as she watched.

Then, from the corner of our eye, you noticed Rachel spotting your Auntie Eleanor standing a little way off. For a brief moment, the noise and excitement seemed to face as the two women exchanged a look, one of understanding and newfound respect. The warmth in Rachel’s smile and the subtle nod from your Auntie Eleanor spoke volumes. It filled your heart with joy to see that your aunt had finally come around, embracing Rachel in the way she deserved.

Nick then pulled Rachel into a tender kiss, earning a round of applause and cheers again from the crowd. Lando stepped behind you, wrapping his arms securely around your waist, holding you close. His chin rested lightly on your shoulder, and you could feel his warmth radiating through you.

The sound of fireworks exploding above pulled everyone’s attention upward. Bright colors lit up the sky, reflecting off the glass and water, painting the moment in vibrant hues. The cheers grew louder, people pointing and marveling at the display. You stayed like that, wrapped in Lando’s arms, watching the sky.

With fireworks still illuminating the sky and Lando’s arms wrapped securely around you, a quiet realization settled in your heart. It was not something sudden, it was something that had been building over time, piece by piece, moment by moment. The depth of love that you feel for Lando was staggering, overwhelming even, and yet it felt so natural.

You had dated before, countless boys who had seemed charming or interesting at the time, but none of them had ever come close to Lando. They never understood you the way Lando did. With him, there was no guessing, pretending, or effort to mold yourself into someone else’s idea of what love should look like. Lando saw you, truly saw you, in a way that no one else ever had. To be seen was to be loved.

This was what set Lando apart. With him, you never had to explain your silences, quirks, or the way your mind wandered to far-off places. He did not just tolerate those things, in fact, he cherished them. He loved them. With Lando, you felt understood in a way that words could never fully capture.

You thought back to the other relationships before Lando, the boys who had come before. They had their moments, but they always felt…incomplete. There had been a disconnect, a lingering sense that you were only partly there, only partly understood. They never have you the feeling that Lando did—feeling of being wholly, entirely loved. Lando was the man that you had been praying for, and for once, God had led Lando to you.

Sure, the way he loved you was not perfect, but it was honest. It was raw and real, and it made you feel more like yourself than you ever thought possible. Lando had this way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world, like his entire focus was only on you and no one else. That was the truth of it, wasn’t it? You had never felt this way with anyone else, and you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that no one else could make you feel the way he did. Lando was not just someone you loved—he was the person you wanted to spend your forever with.

The thought settled deeply in your chest, filling every corner of your heart with an indescribable warmth. It was not just that you loved him—it was that he was home.

“I love you,” you looked up at him, smiling.

Lando looked at you, smiling. He then whispered, “I love you too, so fucking much.”

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[aphrodeiities]

ᴛʜᴇ 1° ɪɴ ᴀꜱᴛʀᴏʟᴏɢʏ - ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪᴠɪɴᴇ

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THE DEGREE IN THE SIGNS.

THE DEGREE IN THE PLANETS.

THE DEGREE IN THE HOUSES.

♱ the 1° is the first degree to belong to a sign, which is aries. this degree specifically means being in unity for something, being a singular, and individual and being the divine. it speaks of the possibilities that can be reached, taking control of the future and embracing changes, where you are innovative, in risk and doubtful. it is a degree of the universe and being a trendsetter.

what does it mean when the 1° occurs a lot in a chart?

person needs to become independent, might depend on other people too much and takes time to learn lessons on their own. the native is bright, and charismatic and need to be unafraid to take the jump when it comes to new opportunities. person has to be unafraid to try new things.

THE 1° IN THE SIGNS

♱ 1° in aries - pioneers, trend-setters, dare-devils. they're willing to grab any opportunity they come across, they see the potential in themselves and everything along with other people. they're confident but can be very arrogant and even too violent/aggressive. they like to take the control of their lives, hate it when other people tell them what to do.

♱ 1° in taurus - divine beauty, can be stubborn to embrace changes, this could make them be considered as bratty people. could over-spend and are likely good at cooking, unique way of creating/embracing art. independency with money, possessive as well.

♱ 1° in gemini - can be very mean people, could make people do whatever they want. pretty hands and trendy people. though they might follow the crowd too much and be very anxious. intrusive thoughts and doing things impulsively, indicator of being popular online. beautiful siblings or children.

♱ 1° in cancer - protective over family, willing to do anything for them. a momager, or has one. sometimes can be lazy; could come from a well-off family or could make it happen for theirs. could be the first to move out or could move out really young. great mother, and doing something different to what family expected. emotional outbursts.

♱ 1° in leo - very arrogant and prideful people. known for something specific. can be very optimistic and wise. likes to be challenged, and challenges a lot of people, could change a lot, and has much passion for stuff, the type to make their passion into a job and can succeed.

♱ 1° in virgo - has many skills, being very competitive, can be honest people and very anxious. can achieve success in many ways/work-fields. sport/health oriented and can be religious. the type to realise their destiny is their own, and other people might find it hard to have the native with this degree listen to them. spiritual healing is important.

♱ 1° in libra - dresses like a goddess, like to be spoiled. generous and gentle, likes to please people and be liked by others. a popular person in their friendship group, popular in general. likes to feel like they belong into a friendship group. learning how to be dependent on themselves.

♱ 1° in scorpio - generous. could lead or join a cult, a magician, a survivor, being a successful person, wealthy. other people might copy them a lot. they inspire a lot of people. they're popular and magnetic. can be obsessed with wealth, the type to betray others over it.

♱ 1° in sagittarius - creative people, other people could look up to them. divine knowledge, can be very stubborn, active and direct. likes to be the centre of attention, could get in trouble a lot and can doubt beliefs, specifically systematic religion.

♱ 1° in capricorn - owning a company, very intelligent and clever. being a leader, the oldest relative/sibling. confident, might have authority doubt them and their beliefs. they oversee a lot of stuff, they could sometimes feel like they have the entire world on their shoulders.

♱ 1° in aquarius - innovative and unique people. popular people in their group, the face of a group. successful and wealthy people. intuitive/psychic people. known online or in a community. first to do stuff and having others follow their ideas. divine knowledge.

♱ 1° in pisces - very magical people. psychic dreams and divine energy, can be very insecure and doubtful. sacrifices a lot and strong ancestors/ancestry. believes in strong principles and morals, and can be people who can be lazy and care free.

THE 1° IN PLANETS

♇ 1° in sun - definitely being someone who gets much attention, and can be unsure with what they want to do in life, they inspire other people to creative. having divine aura and likely can have a respect father figure, or they're the person who is respected, can be given lots of opportunities. native can be explosive.

♇ 1° in moon - beautiful people. intuitive/psychic people. "divine woman" and divine wisdom. might follow the heart too much. can be explosive and has unpredictable feelings. beauty spots and having the need to belong to a tribe.

♇ 1° in mercury - very straight-forward people. can be excellent at marketing, and are popular people online if they try. can adapt to new situations easily and might have the habit of speaking over people, loud relatives and a clair. can be very articulate.

♇ 1° in venus - normally the one to initiate the first move. other people could want to copy their style or their beauty. likes to make money and be around friends. face of the beauty standard/conventional beauty, divine beauty but could get insecure easily. can do risky stuff related to beauty like botched surgery. likely to have envious friends. can imply of having a beautiful spouse.

♇ 1° in mars - explosive anger, likely to get into arguments with men/the same sex. very competitive and are likely to get into accidents, be careful with cars! though could have an infatuation with cars. "you only live once" attitude and can be very confident and controlling. can be aggressive as well, depending on the aspects. can imply having a beautiful husband.

♇ 1° in jupiter - very creative people, innovative and directors. could have a God-complex, could be worshipped or could worship others. can be someone with a strong belief/moral system. could have a high horse and can be someone who takes control of their lives. can make many possibilities for themselves and can be very direct.

♇ 1° in saturn - could like to be alone. leader of other people. owning a business. politicians/strong political views. struggle to believe in themselves and being someone who has controlling authority figures around them. can be one themselves; respected people.

♇ 1° in uranus - first to do something and could appear as other-worldly to other people, whether it be aura or features. something about them stands out. popular friendship group, unpredictable/doing stuff on the whim. psychic people. car racing, likely to embrace changes or bring them to other people.

♇ 1° in neptune - clairvoyant or has another clairy. always in their mind. maladaptive day-dreamer. doubts themselves a lot. beautiful person, can get walked over, can be someone who is one with the universe. can be unsure with how they look, very dreamy people.

♇ 1° in pluto - fiery person and mean. possessive and has a specific life path. always aiming for opportunities and can be someone who can be arrogant and conceited. stubborn to embrace changes but life is working hard for them to listen and go through stuff. much influence and popularity. could be prone to accidents.

♇ 1° in north node - very bright path. fame indicator. first to accomplish something. hot-headed. scars on the face and distinct features and can be someone who likes to be dominant. they see the potential of other people, the type to take on any path they want.

♇ 1° in black moon lilith - could be known for something specific, can be hated on. could surprise everyone by doing better than expected. slut-shamed and having dangerous beauty. Dark Goddess like beauty. vengeful and can be against authority. indicator of from rags to riches.

THE 1° IN THE HOUSES

♱ 1° in the first house - divine beauty, structured faces and prominent cheekbones. confident person, sees possibilities every where and can be an opportunist and innovative. they can be very head-strong as well. taking direction of their own lives.

♱ 1° in the second house - beauty indicator, always finding a way to make money. family-oriented, can adapt to different financial changes, nice/divine singing voices. great money-makers.

♱ 1° in the third house - main sibling/cousin, pretty relatives and pleasing or direct voices. might have a lot of siblings/cousins. might've had to change schools a lot. popular on the internet, nice nails ideas. but can be hesitant when it comes to do things. but can sometimes say whatever is on their mind.

♱ 1° in the fourth house - main family member. mother is top-dog or doubts herself. native could get embarrassed easily. religious/active family. supportive family and can sometimes be the black sheep family member. beautiful home, could be ancient or historic.

♱ 1° in the fifth house - performers. karmic children and love life. broadway or influencer. beautiful children and also someone who is generous and sympathetic. ego can get them into trouble, main child in the family, could be someone who wants everything.

♱ 1° in the sixth house - competitive people or has competitive enemies. can be someone who is spiritual/religious. can be a person who wants to make it, can be someone who is anxious. could doubt their own skills, might change workspaces a lot, loves/close to pets. could live a risky life or do a risky job.

♱ 1° in the seventh house - risky relationships. can be an insecure person. someone who gets hesitant with relationships, likely to believe in soul-mates. successful spouse and being someone who wears the pants in the relationship. could be obsessed with romance. can easily get partnerships, could like to feel like they belong somewhere.

♱ 1° in the eighth house - be careful with finances and drugs. could be obsessed with sex. can find out secrets/information about other people easily. can change their life around easily, could be protective over friendship groups, over themselves. could have religious psychosis; lucid dreams and shifting. likely to be in a cult.

♱ 1° in the ninth house - cult indicator. can be a leader or preacher for/to others. having adventures around the world and can teach people new information. parent might've been a priest and could be very spiritual and taking life in their own hands. could have unique opinions and can be someone who appreciates other religions ad cultures.

♱ 1° in the tenth house - having a career they want and not following what other people want them to do. ceo energy and competition in the work-space. much responsibilities and can be the face of a company or a product. any career can suit them, they're confident but needs to learn how to take the leap of faith.

♱ 1° in the eleventh house - internet famous. loved on the internet and can be people who are seen as a Goddess or teacher. can be seen as someone who starts new trends. unpredictable future, unsure of what to do. finds new way to make more money or friends. karmic/soulmate friends, but could be paranoid of them.

♱ 1° in the twelfth house - spiritual psychosis. anxious person. mind can be their own enemy or even fame. manifestors and feels like they have to teach or protect everyone. hesitant people. another indicator of shifting and lucid dream; can be a victim of bulling. expressive eyes. can stall a lot.

masterlist

degree theory masterlist

[blaire-apricity]

Kitchen

ʟᴀᴅs ʙᴏʏs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᯓ❅ ┆ synopsis┆ : How does the LADS boys handle themselves in the kitchen?

ᯓ❅ ┆ tags┆ : prompt, soft, fluff & possible OOC

──────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫

Xavier in the kitchen was almost a disaster waiting to happen—no exaggeration. He had a knack for forgetting to turn off the stove or neglecting to set a timer, leaving his meals charred and inedible more often than not. While eliminating Wanderers with effortless precision was second nature to him, cooking seemed to be his weakness. Typically, Xavier gravitated toward quick, easy meals—cup noodles, ready-to-eat options—and never fussed over what he ate.

Despite his mishaps, he genuinely put in the effort to learn, committing to recipes and working to improve. With time, practice, and a few burned pans later, he eventually became efficient in the kitchen. Once he mastered the basics, he started preparing large meals, focusing on quantity so you’d never be short of options, making sure you had plenty of your favorites to choose from.

. . ────────────── ❅ ⁺.

𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞

Zayne embodied the perfect image of husband material. Though his job as a Linkon doctor kept him busy with back-to-back surgeries and long hours at the hospital, he never failed to make time for you—especially if you were craving his cooking. Despite his demanding schedule, he made it a priority to prepare meals whenever he came home, often late into the night, just to see your face lit up with each bite.

Zayne was meticulous in the kitchen, his precise nature extending from surgery to the ingredients he handled. Aside from his disdain for carrots, he had an impressive knowledge of different vegetables and how to bring out their natural flavors in every dish. Whether he was baking or cooking, he always followed the recipes to a tee, ensuring every detail was perfect, particularly when trying something new. His care and precision in the kitchen mirrored the way he treated you—attentive, thoughtful, and deeply considerate.

. . ────────────── ❅ ⁺.

𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥

Rafayel may come off as bratty and spoiled, but beneath that exterior, he harbored surprising culinary talent. It wasn’t something he flaunted, considering that most of his meals were either prepared by Thomas, brought or ordered online. But when the mood struck him, Rafayel could whip up a dish with flair, though he often relied on instructions and recipes to guide him. His creativity shined through, however, as he loved experimenting and adding his personal touch to any recipe.

You were always his first taste-tester, the one he’d eagerly present his latest creation to—sometimes a surprisingly delicious innovation, other times an odd combination that left you questioning his choices.

. . ────────────── ❅ ⁺.

𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬

Sylus, much like Zayne, could easily be considered husband material, though he typically didn’t need to lift a finger in the kitchen thanks to his personal chef. Yet, when the occasion called for it, Sylus was more than capable of preparing a meal. Confident and knowledgeable, he rarely consulted recipes, instead relying on his sharp memory and expertise.

While patience wasn’t his strong suit, he made an exception when you were involved. If you were there to taste his dish, Sylus would put his full effort into crafting a meal that catered to your palate, making sure each seasoning and flavor hit the right notes. For someone who thrived on power and control, cooking was one of the few activities where he allowed himself to slow down, focusing intently on every detail. After all, he wanted it to be perfect for you.

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╰｡ Author's Note: There's significant parts that are definitely inspired by Infold's Special Chapter; "Ways Of Making Chocolate" chibi report on this prompt.

I'll be working on some requests (specifically a continuation of Grief) by next week since preliminaries are approaching soon, I'll be off from writing for a few days.

[ldysmfrst]

American Mate (7) - Is This a Joke

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 7 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 8,093

Work count for Story: 33,341

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children. One of which is special needs, and on 3/28, they lost 75% of their vision. I started a Patreon if you feel the heart to donate towards helping with the medical costs of appointments, medication, and modifications to the house, which insurance doesn't cover.

Warnings: (I am not good at this, but I will try. Let me know if I missed anything!!) NOT BETA READ!! This story will have a bit of angst, fluff, smut, f/m, m/m, and m/f/m. This chapter does have Anxiety, arguments, comfort, Alpha Space, close proximity, and scenting.

BTS HYBRID ANIMAL TYPES: Seokjin - Roan Ferret, Yoongi - Black Jaguar, Hoseok - Marten, Namjoon - Alaskan Timber Wolf, Jimin - Red Panda, Taehyung - White Southwest African Tiger, Jungkook - Flemish Giant Rabbit

AMERICAN MATE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

Silence. 

Total silence.

No one was breathing. Hell, your heart even stopped. Did he seriously tell you to become a Playmate? He didn’t even have the… whatever to ask you; he just told you.

How can he think that is even a possibility? It is not like one can just become a Playmate. There are rules, regulations, requirements, and a bunch of things you have to pass, which there is no way on this green Earth that you would pass.

Unknown to you, the pack's eyes shoot at Namjoon, just as shocked as you are because he never shared this proposition with them before making it. That is not the option that they thought of.  The scents in the room turned this way and that with confusion, shock, and concern.

Why would he suggest limiting their actions to only what a Playmate can do? You are their mate. You are not a toy to play with. How does this promise anything besides you having to stay near them and service them as a companion?

The whole idea of a Playmate was to take care of them, be their friend, help them relieve stress, or become a rut fuck buddy. Playmates were never meant to be a long-term commitment. While they wouldn't mind you doing any of that as their mate, the title of Playmate would make you think of everyone as only a job, right?

Giggling rings in the room, and the sound causes everyone to snap their eyes back to you as their thoughts come to a screeching halt. Under normal circumstances, such an angelic sound would have them cooing. This time, it has their ears standing straight, their hackles raised, and their Alphas pacing in their minds.

Your giggling bubbled to outright laughter as you looked at Namjoon with a slightly crazed look on your face, causing his smile to change into confusion as his confidence in his choice melted away. The look and your laugh reminded him of that one Quin character in the films the kids watch, which is not good.

"You're joking, right? Hahahaha. Pft... haha… Playmate… me!" You looked around the room to see you were the only one laughing, which only caused you to laugh even more. Your scent was spiking in so many ways that the boys were getting dizzy from it.

"You have GOT to be kidding me. This is … am I a joke to you?" You question, standing abruptly and stomping closer to Namjoon and Seokjin, making the boys startle with your movement “Do I look like a Playmate?” you ask while gesturing to your whole body and spinning around to accentuate your point.

"I have been doing nothing but abiding by Yoongi’s and the pack’s wishes since I got hurt,” with a deep breath, you close your eyes and stand as tall as your scent shuts off like it was never there to begin with.

“And now you are toying with me." Shaking your head, you mumble, “Just like everyone else.”

"Miss Y/n," Namjoon starts trying to explain himself, but all you can think of are excuses and lies that you have heard before that he might come up with if you let him keep going.

"No," snapping your eyes open and pinning them on the Prime Alpha.

"No excuses,” you step back.

“No lies,” another step.

“No more playing fun and games.” You turn to Jungkook with wide, panicked eyes and demand, “I need the address of this Airbnb so that I can call Derek or Evie to come and get me. NOW.”

“I want nothing to do with this sick joke of yours,” voice cracking at your declaration. It would help to get out of here before you start crying, which is your next step. 

You really want to cry out of frustration because you thought they would be different. You may not consider yourself Army, but Lily was, and with how highly he talked about the kindness of BTS, you thought they would be different. 

How gullible were you? Did you let your guard down just because of their on-stage personas? How often did you try to convince Lily that it was all an act, yet here you were, bending to their little game with some purring, chirping, and Alpha eyes?

Then again, it's you, the plus-sized four-eyed nobody. Why would the hottest band in the world treat you as anything other than entertainment to pass the time? Get with the program and get yourself back into your walls before you get hurt like before.

You see Jungkook, one of two who helped you calm down before, ignoring you and nervously picking at the rip in his jeans. Then, you finally notice that everyone is actively avoiding looking at you. Realizing that no one is coming to your aid, you stand tall and steel yourself to go and find someone who will, like their manager.

“I am going home,” you announce to the pack. Heading towards the hall, you are stopped by your black tail leash and a hand on your good wrist.  Taking a forceful breath, "Mr. Min."

You turn to face him, only to be met with powerful golden-yellow eyes that stop you in your tracks. You have seen them before, but they have never been this close—the molten gold bleeding into a darker brass surrounding the oblong jet-black pupil. Being the focus of those eyes with the discussion at hand makes you nervous but unafraid.

He steps forward to where you stand, making you practically nose-to-nose with the Alpha jaguar. His eyes search yours as his scent crashes over the room like a storming ocean wave.

Yoongi may not be the Prime Alpha, but he is strong enough to be one if he wants to be. His strength and dominance cause the pack members to hold on to each other, waiting for his next move.

He slowly reaches up and wipes away a tear you didn’t notice was falling. Bringing the tear to his lips, his tongue darts to taste it, and his face scrunches with deep concern.

"Y/n scent gone. Tastes hurt. Pain," he says as his hand returns to your face, cupping your cheek. The warmth only makes it much harder to keep your tears at bay. Your body starts to shake slightly, and you notice when it registers to the Alpha touching you.

Yoongi moves to leave the living room with you in tow. He takes hold of your good hand and says, "Come. Keep Safe. Promise. "

You don’t answer, your eyes focusing on his chest because you cannot take the fierceness of his eyes right now without breaking down.  After a few more seconds, he looks past you with narrow eyes at his Prime Alpha to say, “Leave alone."

Deciding for you, Yoongi, gently but without room for struggle, walks you out of the living room. Stepping into the hall, he looks at the door in front of him and then at the staircase down the hall. He turns to you. "Room?" He points to the closed door and then to the stairs. "Den?"

The next thing Namjoon knows, a pillow hits the side of his head from an unknown packmate. Turning to look for who it was, he gets hit by another. This one, however, ends up landing on Seokjin as well, causing the shock that had settled over the room to break.

"What the hell was that?!?!" Seokjin demands after hearing you go upstairs with Yoongi. Standing up, he walks over to the other side of the room. His irritation hits a limit that he hasn’t dealt with in a long time.

"Prime Alpha, with all due respect… have you lost your mind?" questions Taehyung, leaning back on the couch with arms crossed as he does his best to hold his Alpha back from taking over and storming up the stairs after you.

"Guys, think about it! She can pay for her flat and keep her independence. Come on… it would require her not to leave our side for the length of the contract," Namjoon defends himself.

"Yeah, the contract! That is all she will think it is—a contract job. We will only be a source of income for her, Hyung," Jungkook complains, his legs jumping with nerves. Throwing the pillows did his anger no good.

"Namjoon-ah, you know the rules and regulations that fall on Playmates. You know that she won't qualify, and I am not just talking about the ridiculous physical standards that they have in place. She is supposed to take care of us and be there for us. There is cooking, cleaning, and stuff. How can she do that with a broken wrist, huh?" Hoseok chimes in. “How can you ask that of her?”

Standing from the chair, Namjoon circles it. Gathering his thoughts, he rests his hands on the back of it, almost like it's a wall between him and his mates. "She will be able to care for us. Listen. Rules of a Playmate are pretty much what you said, Hobah.”

“Don’t you Hobah me right now, Namjoon! You are on thin ice. If you cost us our mate, you will not find yourself having a good time—at least not from me any time soon,” growls the Martin hybrid.

“Sorry, Hoseok-hyung,” Namjoon says, his scent filling with a slight smokiness as he starts to understand how much he may have messed up. “But really, think about it. The contract requires her to be with us at the packhouse or when we go somewhere, correct?"

Seeing his packmates nod, he continues, "This, technically, does not mean she has to do anything other than physically be there. No typing, cleaning, cooking, or labor of any kind. She isn’t required to do it unless we ask for it.

"She will take care of us by letting us care for her. All our Alphas will be happy to do so while she is healing. We all know that Yoongi-hyung will not be able to perform or do anything well if he is concerned that Y/n is not healing well.

“She already is instinctually being a mate by allowing our Alphas to act on their instincts, like with Yoongi right now and Jungkook in the office and back when the doctor was here. Having her as a Playmate will also be the best way for her to care for herself without the added financial stress. She is independent, and we can all see that. This way, she can keep that while learning to depend on us as mates."

Still watching their reactions, he concludes, "During that time, we will care for her and follow our instincts. We must show how well we can provide for her by tending to her needs, protecting her, and loving her as only her mates can."

"You want us to court her while she is our Playmate?" Jimin asks, watching the Prime Alpha nod. He looks around at the others, who now have contemplating looks on their faces. “I don’t get how this will work.”

"Namjoon-ah, I can see what you mean, and this may work, but what if she doesn't let us?” Hoseok questions.

“I want to cuddle with her, feed her, and feel her, but she wouldn't even take a bottle of water. She tried to run to a solo seat in the van to keep her distance from us. What makes you think she would feel comfortable accepting our courting gestures?" Hoseok continues challenging the Prime Alpha. "What happens when we interact with each other? How will she be comfortable joining in or being around that?"

"Do what you did with me," Jungkook says shyly. "Show her we are in it for more than just her being our Playmate. The companionship the contract states is not the only relationship we want because we want something deeper and stronger.”

Looking around the room with his big doe eyes, he continues, “She doesn't seem to mind cuddling with me. Next time we cuddle, maybe someone else can join. Or anyone can try to cuddle with her, and then if we are cuddling with each other, we can invite her to join in."

"Jungkook is right. Keeping the door open with baby steps is our best bet,” Namjoon smiles, knowing he has the youngest on his side now. “She may not even know what hybrid courting looks like.”

Running his hands through his hair, Namjoon continues, “Y/n has seen plenty of Playmate and client interactions. She should understand the intricacies that are involved with typical contracts. It’s good that none of us are due for a rut while on the tour, even if she has connected with two of us on an instinctual level.”

“She doesn’t know any of this though, Hyung,” Jimin whines, “How do we let her know that she isn’t going to be a regular Playmate for us, like the one who left us? Who is going to explain courting to her? What will let her know that when we flirt with her or ask her to join us for intimate times, we aren’t just using the contract to do so?”

Silence fills the room as everyone is deep in thought. 

Hoseok jumps up, “What if we showed her the other contracts we have had in the past? Show her that we are exclusive to packmates for our ruts. This way, she doesn’t think we want her for sex but for friendship to start with?”

Smiling at his words, Namjoon adds, “Good. Now, we need the rest of us to follow Yoongi-hyung and Jungkook-ah.  We need to find ways to deepen our connection with her. Meanwhile, we must show her how we interact as mates, our desire for her, and what we are meant to be for her.”

"Wh… What happens when the contract ends?" Taehyung worries. 

After a beat of silence, Seokjin speaks up while looking down the hall, "When the contract ends, we hope she understands that she is our mate and we did our job to prove we are the mates she deserves."

‘Become our Playmate... become our Playmate… Our Playmate.’ The words are replaying in your mind on a never-ending loop. His look of confidence is seared into your brain. It is like he thought it was the perfect ending to the world’s best joke or something. What else would it be?

Pressing your palms to your eyes as hard as possible, you try to think of what is going on in his head to propose that idea. Another voice in your head says what a waste you are, how you always are a disappointment and are a stain in the world.

The door opens, and you drop your hands to see Yoongi standing a little to the side. “Den not…um… no time but ready,” he says, looking around the room and then back at you.

“I understand you haven't settled in yet. Alpha, may I come in?” you ask, remembering that with any hybrid, it is better to have explicit permission to enter a den or a nest so you don’t upset them.

At his nod, you went into the room. It looks similar to the guest room but is a bit larger. Full-sized beds are on each side of the room, with a lovely natural wood shelving unit that splits the room in half. There are plenty of windows to brighten the space on both sides.

On one side, luggage lies unopened on the bed. On the other side, luggage is opened on the ground, and some clothes are tossed around. Looking over your shoulder at the Alpha, you hug yourself and wait for him to tell you where to go. 

Yoongi notices your hesitance and gently pushes at your upper back, guiding you past the bed to the attached bathroom you didn’t notice. The marble on the counters and walls is beautiful black, white, and gold. There is a double sink, a shower that looks like it has enough shower heads for an entire house, and a large jacuzzi tub. 

You get lost in wonder at the richness of the bathroom alone. You know this is an Airbnb, but did they build this house to be an Airbnb, or did it just become one? Who needs that many shower heads? Your evident astonishment allows Yoongi to hug you from behind, catching you off guard. 

“Y/n, sorry. Pack, sorry,” he says softly as he rests his head on your shoulder. “Take bath. Relax. Then talk. Towel and clothes on toilet. Outside. I will guard.” With that, he leaves and shuts the bathroom door. 

Well, that apparently was not a suggestion. However, a bath does sound nice, and it would be the easiest way to clean up and keep your brace dry. Moving to the tub, you turn on the faucet and take notice of the different bath salts, scrubs, and bombs.  

After picking a violet and vanilla bath bomb, only because Yoongi did say to relax, you slowly undress. The slowness is not by choice. Yeah, buttons are not your friend anymore. Slipping into the bath, you think about your day. So much has happened in the last 24 or so hours.

1 - BTS shows up two weeks early when the big shots are still gone. 

2 - They hate all the Playmates we had offered for whatever reason.

3 - You (and they) sent mixed signals from their arrival.

4 - Yoongi and you got into an accident.

5 - You broke your wrist, which will take forever to heal.

6 - They want you to be a Playmate.

Now, you are kicking yourself for not attending some of the seminars on the second gender of hybrids. You learned what you do know about hybrids because you grew up with Evie and her pack.

Your mom moved you and your brother to California when you were still in elementary school. Your brother, however, was in high school already and tended to travel whenever he could; he still does this today. You might as well have been an only child. 

When you were unloading (getting in the way of) the moving truck, the neighbors noticed your attempts to help and decided to have you come over to their house. Once the beta Tabby hybrid noticed you ‘helping,’ he introduced you to Evie, and that was it. The two of you were hardly ever separated, so Evie’s family included you on some of their pack trips. 

The only thing was that Evie’s pack didn’t have an Alpha, so you never got to learn anything about them. With how strong Evie’s dad, Earl, was, the pack never sought out an Alpha. You didn’t have much exposure in Colorado; as far as you knew, Alphas were uncommon to run into.

Now, thinking back on it, you see that your mother seemed only to tolerate your visiting Evie’s pack house. Your mother, Earl, and his mate Gwen never did come to your house, nor did they ever really talk to your mother other than getting permission to take you on trips. You were only allowed to go if you met a list of chores or agreed to attend certain events; it was always a bartering challenge with your mother and these trips.

Plus, you were human, so why would it be something to worry about? You were in college before you saw more than one Alpha in a single day, much less several in a week.

“Manager-nim, we need your help. Miss Y/n’s wrist is broken, and she cannot use it for upwards of eight weeks,” states the Prime Alpha.

Taking a sharp breath, Manager Sejin starts formulating options: “How did she take it?”

“Well, she took that rather well? She is rightfully concerned about functioning in her day-to-day life without her dominant hand. Also concerned with her… umm… her employment,” Namjoon beats around the bush, not wanting to get yelled at by his manager for his proposal like he was from his pack.

Silence is what comes from the other side of the call. “Manager-nim?”

Placing the container, he is holding down and braces himself against the counter. Manager Sejin has been with the pack since the beginning, and he knows when Namjoon isn’t saying what really needs to be said. Sighing, he asks, “What did you do, now?” 

“I offered her to stay at the packhouse as I should, being the Prime Alpha. I told her we would care for her until she healed and that she would not have to worry about paying for anything while she was here. She did bring up concerns about her flat and other bills,” he paused, taking a breath, “so … itoldhertobecomeourPlaymate.”

The next thing Namjoon hears is animalistic chattering intermixed with very human cursing. Yeah, that’s not a good sign. Unless powerful emotions are involved, the manager is skilled at keeping his hybrid hamster behaviors at bay.

“Manager-nim, you see, it would keep her with us so we can fulfill our responsibilities as Alphas. It would allow her to work and not compromise her finances. Plus, it will allow her to get to know us while convincing her that she is our mate,” explains Namjoon, hoping their manager would be easier to convince than some of his mates.

A deep sigh is heard, “And how did she take that?”

“Umm... not well, actually,” reluctantly Namjoon answers.

“I can tell I am going to get a migraine from this,” Manager Sejin rubs his temple. "Continue.”

“She laughed, but not in a ‘that is funny’ kind of way but more of a ‘that’s crazy’ kind of way. She flat-out refused and wouldn’t let me explain before she basically said we were playing a mean joke on her,” explained Namjoon, realizing more and more how screwed up everything had become now.

“Let me guess– none of the pack tried to help convince her of this GRREEAAT option of yours?” snarkily asked Manager Sejin.

“They didn’t know. I-ah… I just blurted it out,” Namjoon sighed. “I was panicking.”

“It serves you right to have her refuse you. Hell, I would have, too, if I were her. Namjoon-ssi, you should know better! For someone so intelligent, sometimes you are…” sigh. “Never mind. Where is she now? Do I need to get a van ready? Do I need to get the lawyers ready?”

“No, no van or lawyers,” confirms Namjoon before he pauses to continue. “Well, she did threaten to call her friends to come get her, but that was before she left with Yoongi-hyung.”

“SHE LEFT WITH YOONGI!” Sejin jumps up from leaning on the counter and dashes towards the front door.

“NO! No, no, no, not like left the pack house left. He went back into Alpha Space. He told me to leave her alone and took her to his den.” After briefly pausing, he said, “It sounds like she is taking a bath. Hopefully, she will calm down. Jin-hyung is going to go and talk with them.”

Putting his keys back down, Sejin sighs in relief. “If anyone can get you out of this mess, it will be him. Namjoon-ssi, you are an incredible Prime Alpha, but you get weird when you get a new mate. I thought by now you would be better at it.

“Namjoon-ssi, I will investigate how to modify their contract with our lawyers. IF, and this is a big if, she agrees, you may have something. Is that okay?” says Manager Sejin to reassure that while he thinks this is the stupidest way to court a mate, he still supports Bangtan Pack.

“Please, Manager-nim. Maybe if she sees what we mean written down, it will also help. Oh, and the pack wants her to see our previous agreements with other Playmates,” he adds before he takes a deep breath and ends the call. Namjoon nods to his mates to confirm that their manager is working to help make this happen, allowing the pack to relax.

The turning on of a shower indicates that you are most likely just rinsing off from your bath and should be out soon. The pack turns to Seokjin as he narrows his eyes at Namjoon.

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Looking at the change of clothes left, you debate on even trying them. You are not sure if they would fit, but you remember seeing the random lives Lily has shown you and note that Yoongi tends to wear baggy clothes. 

You also know that whenever you are around Derek, and he is in one of his moods, he always feels better when you and Evie wear clothes he keeps around for the two of you that he has scented or has worn himself.

The struggle to put on your undergarments with damp skin ends in frustration. You give up, and they join the bundle of your clothes on the floor next to the sink. So, you go ahead and wear the provided sweatpants and hoodie, which luckily fit sans underwear. 

The smell of petrichor surrounds you, making you smile. Your family and human friends always thought you were strange because you loved the smell of fresh rain and wet earth. The hybrids you have met and connected with never seem to question your love for different and unique smells.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you are happy at how soft and comfy the clothes are. The pants were tight on you but not uncomfortably so, and the hoodie was long enough to cover your backside, so no one could tell you weren’t wearing anything under them.

Wait… what does the big V on the hoodie stand for? You were curious enough to look at the tag, which proudly states that you are now wearing a Valentino Hoodie, of all things. 

Fuck! Why can’t he have a normal person’s hoodie for you to wear?

This is totally not like the Walmart sweater you lounge in at home. You don’t even want to try to figure out where the pants are from. For all you know, you could pay rent with the money it costs to buy what you’re wearing now.

Walking out of the bathroom, you are trying to twist a towel around your long hair and toss it on top of your head to reveal that Yoongi is no longer alone in the den. “Welcome to our den, Y/n. Sorry, it was not ready for guests, but well, you know. We all got here at the same time,” Seokjin says with a shy smile while Yoongi’s eyes roam your form covered in his clothes.

“Oh, I understand, Mr. Kim. I am sorry for coming into your den without your permission. I didn’t realize it was a shared den until after I was inside,” you bow slightly in apology, sending your hair towel spiraling to the floor. 

Grabbing the towel and standing up, you look around, not sure what you should do since Yoongi and Seokjin have taken the bed, and there is no other seating on this side of the room. Looking back at the two Alphas, you smile shyly. 

“Come here, dear. Let Yoongi-ah dry your hair while we talk.” Seokjin pats the bed between the two of them, and Yoongi holds up a hairbrush. “Yes, we do need to talk,” taking a deep, calming breath of petrichor, you sit cross-legged on the bed with your back to Yoongi. His hands go to your waist to help you scoot into the right spot. “Comfy?” he asks with his still Alphan eyes.

Attempting to ignore the tingle in your spine from his hands on you, you answer, “Yes, Alpha. I appreciate your help. Don’t worry about brushing too hard. I am used to having a multitude of knots that won’t come out.”

You don’t get to see Yoongi's look of confusion, but you do see Seokjin’s concern. “My hair likes to curl when wet, so it knots up quickly. I washed my hair this morning, so it's just wet from lying in the bath. There are no products in it anymore.”

Seokjin chuckles, “Y/n, you are more than welcome to use anything we have while you are here. Yoon offered you a bath, meaning you can use anything he offers.”

“I used the violet and vanilla bath bomb. Yoongi said to relax, and the smell of vanilla always helps me do that,” you commented to let the Alpha behind you know that you did accept his stuff to help you relax, as you were told. A bright smile graces both of the Alpha’s faces at your confession. The mate scent is comforting for you, which is making them feel more at ease.

“Dry, brush now. Relax more. Time to talk,” Yoongi says as he gently dries your locks with the towel you brought. “Are you okay if we talk, Y/n? I know today has been a lot for you. I will respect your request to leave you alone if that is what you really want,” Seokjin calmly states, but the pained worry in his expression has you nodding your head for him to continue. 

Seokjin expresses a little anger at the wolf hybrid downstairs, saying, “I will not excuse what Namjoon did. He didn’t talk with the rest of us before he proposed what he did, so we were shocked, as you were.”

“He didn’t? Is that why Yoongi said the pack was sorry?” you interrupted with a shocked look of disbelief.

“I am sure Yoongi heard us confront Namjoon once we knew you were upstairs,” he says, pointing to his tiny ferret-hybrid ears. So yes, the pack is sorry that the idea of you becoming our Playmate came out so… abruptly.”

Narrowing your eyes at his choice of words, you state, “But you are not sorry that he went for that option in the first place.”

Taking your good hand, Seokjin pushes out his cherry scent along with the vanilla to help keep you calm as he tries to salvage the offer; he explains, “Y/n, I am going to be straight with you. Our Prime Alpha will have a lot of begging to do to be back in the good graces of the rest of the pack for how he handled this, but what he offers… makes sense.” When you hear this, a scowl grows on your face, but you pause as the scent of cherries, rain, and vanilla fills your lungs. After a beat, you ask, “How? Why? I mean, like… really, how?” Pulling your hand closer, Seokjin focuses on his thumb, rubbing your forearm, his wrist brushing against yours. His eyes focus on the movement while he tries to think of the best way to explain the situation. Yoongi takes this moment to rest one leg on each side of yours and scoots closer, “I brush your hair.”

“What do you know of the Playmate contracts?” inquiries Seokjin. “Oh. Ah… Well, I know there are two kinds of contract: Companion or friend contract and partner or rut and heat-based contract. Both can be done individually, as a group, or as a sub-group. Doctors, lawyers, and managers are also involved. Honestly, that is all Derek’s department. I schedule meetings and set up health screenings and such. From my experiences, most of the American Hybrid Idols only take partner contracts.” “You are not wrong about the types, but it seems you may not have a clear understanding of their limits or allowances. Also, what one idol does will not imply what others will do,” clarifies the eldest Bangtan Packmate. “I get that,” you quickly say. “Derek said that due to hybrid health, most, if not all, companion contracts must include some partner option for heats and ruts. Especially if it is a longer-term contract.”

A soft huff is heard from behind you. You start to turn to look at Yoongi, only to have one of his hands slide around your shoulder and up your neck to your jaw. Your breath hitches at the movement, and you will yourself not melt into a puddle. 

“Keep looking at Jin-hyung, Y/n. Your hair is almost done.” Yoongi orders before moving his hand away and goes back to brushing the last bit of your hair. 

Blinking your eyes, you see a smirk on Seokjin’s face as his white little fluffy ears twitch in amusement. “Sorry, Alpha.” Looking past you, Seokjin says, “Welcome back, Yoongi-ah. Is your Alpha settled now?”

“Yes, Hyung. She smells like me, and that calmed him down quickly, though her sweet pea scent has not come out yet,” Yoongi answers with a slight husk at the end, showing his displeasure that you are still hiding from them.

Looking at your injured wrist, it dawns on you that you must have turned off your scent again. “Sorry– again. I do that without knowing sometimes, but it will come back… eventually.”

“No worries, Dear,” Seokjin says to dispel thoughts about forcing your scent to return. “Anyways, back to the contacts. Our Prime Alpha is having Manager Sejin gather our previous Playmate contracts to be brought over for you to review.” This comment has your eyes snapping to Seokjin quickly, as those are customarily kept quiet, but he explains, “We want you to see that we have never taken a Playmate for more than a companion. All ruts are handled within the packmates because we are a mate-bonded pack.” “Oh, so when he suggested I be your Playmate, it wasn’t a sex-driven conquest thing…” you nod in contemplation, “but that still doesn’t explain why. It explains that you aren’t taking advantage of me, but still…” Pulling you against his chest, Yoongi hugs you close. Leaning to where you can see his face, he smiles, “We would never take advantage of you, and do not think that because our past Playmates were not a sex-driven thing, we do not find you appealing.”

You blush at the implications of his words. Unable to hold his gaze, you try to clear your head and look at the older Alpha, “How can I be your Playmate?” “Simple,” he states. “Care for us.”

“Like it is that simple. I have a broken wrist," you argue back. “Caring for us, for a pack of Alphas, is different from how you have to care for your family pack.” Seokjin explains, “You were injured in an accident involving this pack. We all know that you will need assistance in caring for yourself and your things.” “As a respectful and responsible pack of Alphas, we will follow our instinct and culture to provide for you during this time. As Prime Alpha said, you will pay for nothing while you are with us. If you are contracted as a Playmate during that time, it will allow you to pay your rent, utility bills, etc.”

“Y/n,” Yoongi calls for your attention as he hooks your legs over his and turns you to see him better. “We… actually no. I will speak for myself. I will not be able to function well knowing that you are on your own trying to make things work.”

With his eyes flashing to his Alpha briefly, “My Alpha and I are not going to be able to go about our schedule without worrying about you all the time. At this point, I would prefer you stay as close as possible to me or a packmate. I can understand that it can be a bit much.”

“Having you by our side,” Seokjin chimes in, “granting our Alphas to express the instinct to care for you will be your way of fulfilling the contract.” Looking between them, your head swims, “What about the domestic stuff? I hear about Playmates talking about laundry, making sure their idols eat, and stuff like that.”

Clearing someone’s throat quickly draws your attention to the den door. A few other packmates are shyly standing just outside the threshold. In the middle of the gathering, Jungkook says, “You won’t have to do any of that, Y/N, we really want to take care of you. We want to treat you right. We want to support you.”

“Come in, my loves,” Seokjin calls.

At his permission, Jungkook bounds forward and kneels on the floor at your feet, resting his head on your knees again. Taehyung joins him on the floor and leans against Seokjin. Hoseok and Jimin also sit on the floor. Looking toward the door, you wait for the Prime Alpha to come in, too, but no one else does. Confusion and almost a hurt look come to your face for a moment before you look at the boys present. 

The next to speak up is Hoseok, “Namjoon-ah is waiting for Manager Sejin downstairs. He didn’t think you would want to see him right now. He knows he went about this wrong, but let him come to you, and don’t go easy on him. His primeness can be on his knees, and groveling a little won’t hurt him.”

This causes you to blush and giggle, causing the whole room to smile. The scents of cherries, rain, snickerdoodles, ebony, oranges, and lilac fill the room like potpourri with a warm vanilla underneath. Slowly, you relax a little more as the scent of your (unknown to you) mates rolls over you. You lean into Yoongi, seeking the comfort of his presence in the now-filled room. “Thank you all for coming up here. Seokjin explained to me that Prime Alpha's action was a surprise for all of us,” you say, looking around at the boys on the floor as they nod.

“It is just so much right now for me. I am overwhelmed. It has been explained that it wasn’t meant as some big joke, and you are trying to follow instincts—instincts I don’t know anything about.” Looking back at your hands, you ask, “If you would explain what you each would expect, I think that would help.”

With a soft bump of his nose on your cheek, you look at Yoongi, “You already know where I stand. Before this whole mess, my Alpha made that clear outside on the deck.”

“I want to ensure that you are eating well to be healthy and happy,” Seokjin claims.

“For me,” Hoseok says, “I want to help keep you laughing during the hard times.”

“A friend. I know you have your family pack, but I hope to be your friend while you are with this pack. Be someone you can go to,” Jimin shyly says while looking around at his mates and then you.

“Expression: I hope to help you find a way to confidently express yourself around me and others,” Taehyung adds.

“Cuddles, pets, scratches, umm... More cuddles. Just think of me as your personal stress ball or life-sized stuffed bunny,” Jungkook purrs as you run your fingers through his hair.

“I will be whatever you need me to be,” Namjoon says from the hall just out of the doorway. “And I will do what needs to be done to earn your forgiveness and trust as Prime Alpha, even if I have to borrow some knee pads.”

Namjoon looks around the room with a hesitant smile and settles his gaze back on you. “Miss Y/L/N and mates, please join me and Manager Sejin downstairs. We have some things to discuss.”

“He wasn’t lying,” you softly say with realization.

“Who?” Manager Sejin asks.

“Seokjin. I mean, Mr. Kim… said they never took a Playmate for more than being a companion. None of these have the rut clause, and to top it off, most have a clause to ensure that the Playmate understands it is not even on the table for discussion.”

“That is correct; the Bangtan Pack only satisfies their ruts within their mate-bonded pack,” further confirms their long-time manager. “They ask Playmates to have someone other than their mates to find friends and hang out. It can be a bit much, even with them being mated, to always have a bunch of men around.”

“Friends,” you say, nodding. “I can do that, but I cannot do all the other services listed in these contracts. Manager Sejin, how will this even get approved by PMS? I don’t qualify to be a Playmate.” 

“Miss Y/n, sit down and let us go over the contract that Namjoon-ssi and I drafted for you. Maybe it will help if you see the modifications already approved by your employer,” offers the hamster hybrid.

Taking a seat, the two of you go over the contract clause by clause. It broke down to say,

1—You wouldn’t be expected to do any housework, cooking, lifting, working out, driving, or video gaming (Manager Sejin said it needed to be there because of the Maknea line) until medically cleared.

2—The Prime Alpha himself would pay for all of the expenses while you were staying at the pack house during the contract period.

3—Big Hit would grant a salary of more than enough for your flat, utilities, and other regular bills. Honestly, it was enough to pay off your useless student loan, too.

4—The contract lasted for eight weeks and can be extended or modified at your or Bangtan Pack's request and subsequent agreement. But what caught your attention the most was that they had omitted the ruts clause, which prompted you to ask, “Manager Sejin, What about the rut clause?”

“Ah yes, let me get Namjoon-ssi for that one,” he says while getting up and retrieving the Prime Alpha from the living where they were all waiting. “Hello, Miss Y/L/N. Manager Sejin said you had a question about the contract for me?” Namjoon questions as he sits beside the manager on the other side of the table. “Yes,” you sit up, trying to maintain professionalism. “I have gone over the contact, and while your manager has explained it well, I have one that you must answer.” Looking him dead in the eye, which causes the Prime Alpha to shift in his seat, you ask, “Why is there no rut clause in the proposed contract? I thought you said that was in it?”

You would never outwardly admit, especially right now, how cutely red his face became when you asked, “Umm… well... There are a couple of reasons.” Licking his lips, Namjoon glanced at Manager Sejin, who only looked amused and couldn’t wait to hear what he would come up with. “Firstly, right now, none of the pack are set to have a rut within the time Dr. Blackwell said you would need to heal or during the length of the North American leg of the tour. However, and I guess this is more of the real reason why some of the mates have expressed a concern… well, the pack is not…” “Prime Alpha, I get it. The elder Mr. Kim and Yoongi expressed that I may be appealing,” you smile only to cover the slight pang of hurt as you say, “but that doesn’t mean any of you would want me that way.”

Manager Sejin shakes his head as confusion fills Namjoon's face, “No, no… God, why am I so bad at this?” Namjoon says, running his hands over his face.

“You are appealing, very much so, and the rut clause is not in the contract because the pack doesn’t want you to think that skinship is off the table,” Jungkook startles the three of you from the hall. “I'm Sorry, Joonie-hyung. We could all hear you floundering, and I couldn’t take it anymore,” he says, walking in and sitting next to you. “Thank you, Kookie. You all know I can get lost for the right words sometimes,” admits Namjoon. “Mr. Jeon, why would not having the rut clause in the contract make you think that?” you ask, turning to give him your full attention. You do catch the slight frown at the use of his last name.

“Skinship consists of many things: hugs, holding hands, sniff kisses, pecks on the head or cheeks, massaging, cuddling, and scenting, to name a few. At this point, you and I have done a few of these. You also have done some with Yoongi and…” Jungkook takes hold of your good hand and brings your wrist to his nose. Sniffing, a smile beams on his face, and his leg starts to bounce, “Yep, and Jinnie-hyung also scented you.” “Miss Y/L/N, many Playmates take these actions as openings or requests to have intercourse with us. That is not what we have wanted from any of them. Therefore, it is why that rut clause is always added to their contracts,” Namjoon adds. “Oh. I am not used to skinship outside my family pack,” glancing at Namjoon and then at Jungkook. “But… It felt comforting: Yoongi’s hugs, your cuddles, and the elder Mr. Kim’s scenting. While I am not used to it, it does feel nice.”

A slight blush heats your face and neck. Thinking back to the comfort of Yoongi holding you, the calmness Jungkook and Seokjin brought you, and the warmth you felt in Hoseok's arms. All the men in the room smile at your confession.

“Good, I would have been very sad if I had to stop cuddling with you, Y/n,” Jungkook says while playing with your fingers. 

“Miss Y/n,” Manager Sejin calls your attention, “Does that mean you will agree to this contract? I can send it for finalization and set a meeting for final approval?”

Your eyes drop to the proposed contract before you. If approved, the empty line above the word ‘Playmate’ feels like it would change everything if you placed your signature there. Taking a deep breath, you smell the vanilla again, mixed with a leather-like smell and holiday cookies.

First enters Jungkook, followed by Namjoon, both dawning looks of concern.

“What happened?” asked Taehyung.

“Did she agree?” inquired Jimin.

“Do not tell me – we lost her already,” demands Seokjin.

Yoongi stands from his seat and heads toward the dining room to try one more time to talk you into staying. However, he stops when you enter the room, holding all the contracts the pack has held.

“Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung, Jimin,” you call their names as your eyes look over the room and end on the last one, “Seokjin.”

The boys and their Alphas shudder at having you say their actual names. Each step forward, like you are taking a roll call as they wait for some indication of what is happening.

With a deep and respectful 90-degree bow, you say in Korean, “My name is Y/L/N, Y/N. I put myself in your hands as your new Playmate.”

Previous / Next

Taglist - CLOSED

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[touchme-teezme]

Last Pick.

PAIRING | collegeboy!mingi x fab!reader

TAGS | angst, smut, friends to lovers(?), p0rn with a plot with a cliffhanger (oopsie), lots of kissing, oral, reader was angry then h0rny…and then sad :( oh! and mingi’s lowkey a hoe

RATINGS | NSFW 18+ (minors DNI!)

SONGS | Cherry Hill - Russ, That's why I love you - SiR & Sabrina Claudio & Do you like me? - Daniel Cesar

SUMMARY | you and mingi are best friends. he likes you, but you love him. one fight changes the trajectory of your friendship forever.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ i didn't know if i wanted to write angst or smut... so here's both? a bonus fic to celebrate the hard (pun intended) launch of my blog! it’s a bit more dramatic than i’m used to but that’s what creative writing is for. i have a few other members in my drafts. i plan to update sometime this week. might just spam them idk. i've been in such a writing mojo lately; i think i just miss ateez haha. also if you’re new, english is not my first language so if i get some terminologies mixed up, sorry!! that's all, enjoy ya freaks.

+ 💌 click here to see my Love Interrupted series masterlist [ot8] — check out the other parts!

inspired by a quote from ‘save me an orange’ by hayley grace. “Stop looking at me like that.” “Like what?” “Like I’m someone you could actually love.”

It was getting late, and you were growing tired.

Mentally tired. You were tired of hearing the same stories, the same kind of complaining, and most of all, tired of pathetically waiting on the sidelines. You’ve been avoiding the truth for so long that you didn’t notice it consumed you.

You weren’t Mingi’s type. He liked their personalities, bright, funny, and effortlessly interesting. Feminine, sexy and confident. Girls that could lead and had interesting hobbies. Compared to his colourful dating history, you felt like you weren’t anything particularly special.

You finally accepted that tonight, while drinking on your balcony as you listened to how his tinder dates this month went. At the mention of the second girl (whose name you already forgot), you were already dying inside.

Before you thought it wouldn’t get any worse, he went off topic and started talking about his future and what he actually wanted.

He blurted out that he should just marry you if he was still single at 35, declaring he had officially given up on the shrinking dating pool.

He looked at you with a mix of admiration and bliss in his eyes. That stupid, goddamn part of your brain convinced you it could happen. He acknowledged that small 0.0001% possibility of you and him ending up together, so there was actually a chance you could actually be with him.

But reality sunk in and drowned you.

Song Mingi would never love you.

That’s when the little glimmer of hope you’d carried throughout your friendship shattered. The shards had cut you and hurt bled out.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You sighed.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m someone you could actually love.”

Mingi didn’t know what to say at first, but at least a hundred responses came to his mind.

His face (which usually said whatever he was thinking for him) settled into a look that screamed Where did THAT come from? for him.

That was enough to discourage you altogether. You let silence grow between you two, quietly finishing your last sip with nothing but the sounds of midnight Seoul traffic beneath you.

You set the glass bottle on the table and rose from your chair. “I’m going to bed. You can hang out here or just leave or whatever.”

Mingi took a few seconds to process the shift in mood before he ran after you inside. He thought you two were having some decent conversations, but he got ahead of himself like he usually does.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?”

You paused and turned around slowly. You were trying to carefully pick out the right words from what you were feeling.

“Nothing. I’m just tired.”

“I know, that’s why I came. You weren’t really replying to me and San said he hasn’t heard from you. I…I just wanted to see you.”

“Well, you saw me. You can go.” You shrugged.

Mingi furrowed his eyebrows. “If this is about what I said about marrying you, I wasn’t serious. I know you don’t believe in marriage and—“

You let out a wry scoff, cutting his weak explanation short. You could’ve been mean, throw him out, laugh it off and say you were kidding. But you couldn’t ignore that feeling in your chest anymore.

With eyes shut, you murmured, “I hate how you make me feel sometimes.” and when you opened your eyes, they were already watery.

Mingi's face fell. "Hey, c’mon, I didn't mean to upset you."

He approached you delicately, his large hands encasing yours with a gentle touch. If he were to pull you in for one of his bear hugs, you might explode.

You quickly stepped back, creating distance between as you refused his hands. “That’s all you do lately. You don’t even realise half of the shit you say and how much it hurts to hear.”

His eyebrows furrowed, he was now growing very concerned. “I thought we were friends.”

“Do friends make each other feel like they’re the last pick of the litter?”

Mingi's eyes widened. "Last pick? Hey, what is going on with you?"

You laughed, but it was devoid of humour. "Let me break this down for you. All I have been hearing about these days are your dates, your perfect girls, how you have no connection with them so you’re going to die alone and yet you’re still choosing to sleep with the entire city. Then you throw out this ridiculous idea of how you want to settle down eventually, and when you’ve had your fun, you would marry me. Do you have any idea how that feels?"

He looked taken aback. “But… what I said, that was a joke and—“

"A joke?!” Your voice rose. "My feelings are a joke to you? Do you have any idea how long I've been…”

You stopped yourself, your mouth hanging slightly open as you realised there was no point. You had no business convincing a man to want you.

Still, the volume and hurt in your voice stunned him into silence despite you not finishing your sentence.

"You know what? Just get out." You seemed firm and dismissive, yet your heart was breaking. "I can't do this anymore. I can't keep pretending that I'm okay with just being your friend if this is how it’s going to be until you… decide to settle. You have to go."

Mingi stood there, shock and confusion written all over his face. "You don't mean that. Please, we can talk about this.”

"No, Mingi. Just leave," you insisted, your voice cracking as you further widened the space between you, your hands held up in surrender as you walked away. "I'm done."

Yet another awkward silence grew between you. For a moment, Mingi didn’t move. He just watched you slowly walk towards your closed bedroom door disappointed.

Then, as if something snapped inside him. He finally realized what this was about.

You had feelings for him.

You didn’t say it out loud, but it made sense and Mingi felt like the biggest asshole in the world. He crossed the distance between you in two quick strides, desperate to reach you. His hand grabbed your shoulder first, turning you around.

“No, we’re talking about this.”

“I have nothing else to say to you. Go fuck someone new on tinder and just leave me out of it.”

“Dude, come on this is not how we talk to each other.” He was getting way too close to you.

“I couldn’t give two shits about how we talk to each other when you’ve pissed me off. So now, you have to go.”

“You almost said it a minute ago. Tell me why the girls bother you, why what I said bother you. I need to hear it.” He demanded.

Okay, that pissed you off more than you already were. Your chest heaved with the intensity of your emotions, the words bubbling up from a place you had kept buried for too long.

“This is stupid,” You whispered, shaking your head as your eyes continued watering as your gaze pierced into his. “You’re stupid, and you make me feel stupid.”

“Say what you wanted to, and I’ll go, and we never have to speak again.”

“So that’s it? You want an ego boost? You wanna feel on top?!” You practically yelled in his face.

“If that’ll make you be fucking honest for once, it might be worth it!”

“You’re so pretentious. I can’t believe I ever stuck around this long!”

“Why did you then, huh? Tell me exactly why you did!”

His yelling echoed in your apartment. You felt your heart beating in your throat as you stared at his lips.

Fuck it.

You closed the final few inches of distance between you in a swift motion. Gripping onto his shirt, you pulled him towards you forcefully, crashing your lips onto his with all the built-up anger and frustration pouring out.

Mingi was completely caught off guard by the intensity of the kiss. But the second you tried to pull away, he grabbed you back in. His hand gripped your waist tightly, pulling you against him as the kiss deepened.

He lifted one of your legs up to the sides of his hip as he pushed you up against the bedroom door, cushioning the impact with his palm on the back of your head. The heat between your legs was growing and rubbing against his crotch was making it worse.

Your hands were exploring his chest, his shoulders, his face and his hair. You finally gasped for air, tilting your head up which invited him to kiss down your chin to your neck.

“I hate you, I fucking hate you.” I whispered out, shaking your head. Baffled at how good of a kisser he was, but with how he was spending his weekends, it wasn’t exactly a mystery.

He bent down to hoist you up by your thighs, effortlessly wrapping them around his waist. With one of your arms snaked around his neck for support, the other reached behind to open the door.

“Hate me later.” He muttered, kissing you again as he carried you into your dark bedroom.

He laid you down, sandwiching you between his chest and your mattress. You could feel him getting hard through the tin fabric of his Adidas shorts.

He smelled so fucking good. His natural scent mixed with a hint of the cologne you got for him for his birthday made your imagination go wild. Your hands reached the hem of his shirt like an animal instinct, tempted to rip it off him if he didn’t take it off in the next few seconds.

He pulled up and tugged his shirt over his head when he noticed your neediness. In the faint light of the opened door behind him, you could see the outline of his toned body.

Soft streetlights from outside the window above the bed frame gently illuminated his face that looked down at you like you were a full course meal and he was starving.

You have found Mingi handsome since the first day you met. Hell, even he knew he was handsome but something about how he looked at that moment sent chills all throughout your body.

When he leaned back down over you, you couldn’t resist reaching out to his face to caress his cheek, your thumb brushing back and forth near the beauty mark on his face.

He took your hand gently, kissing the back of it. Guiding your hand to his chest, he let you trace your fingertips down his body.

You almost forgot why you were angry.

“Do you want to do this?” He asked, still sounding a little breathless from the escalation.

You looked up from your hand on his lower abdomen, “If you leave now I might actually kill you.”

almost.

He took in bottom lip with his teeth to hide an excited smile, before leaning down to capture your lips in another kiss. This time, he moved slower, savouring whatever was left of that cherry lip balm you had on. “I wasn’t planning to.”

You smiled into the next kiss. Typically you’re not supposed to enjoy having the tongue of the person you were just screaming at in your mouth, but you wanted it there for as long as possible. In fact, you wanted that tongue everywhere on you.

Mingi on the other hand was trying really hard to focus but he could literally feel your nipples through the t-shirt you still had on.

Why the fuck was it even still on, he had no idea.

He was now thinking about how you did not have a bra on the entire time he was hanging out at your house, wondering how often it had been happening without him realising.

You grabbed onto the sides of his hips, and groaned in his mouth. He flipped over, positioning you so you were centred on his hard cock. You readjusted your legs to straddle him comfortably, your arms crossing behind his neck for support as he was sitting up.

His hands found their way to your ass, squeezing it in encouragement as you started bucking your hips against him. Your nails scratching up his shoulders as you started to wonder if the rumours about his dick size were true — all while the friction was driving him insane with arousal.

He helped you take your baggy t-shirt over your head. Delighted that you weren’t wearing a bra, he even fixed your hair once it was off, carefully flipping it behind your shoulders. He slid a hand to the small of your bare back, stealing a quick glance at your face.

You were the prettiest girl he knew. He had told you that a few times, but stopped once he realised you were never going to believe him. He’d be lying if he said he was never attracted to you, he just could never find the courage to cross that line. He was afraid of losing you more than anyone else he’d ever met.

“What?” You simply asked.

Doe eyed, topless, in his arms. Mingi could’ve sworn he had a wet dream about this once. His eyes dipped to your chest without saying a word, and he buried his face there. You rolled your eyes, but inside you were screaming with joy.

He caught your left nipple between his swollen lips while he massaged the other in his free hand. You squirmed when you felt him nibble, and twist you like a personal bop it. You even felt the fucker smirk against your skin at your reaction.

Your hand moved to roughly grip on the hair on the back of his head and your back arched towards him, feeling his tongue licking on your chest in a circular motion.

His eyes looked up at you, as he sucked on your breasts sloppily and kneading them with his hand, admiring his view and the feeling it came with.

You felt the tip of his nose brush up across your collarbone to return to your neck. You were getting so wet, it’s a miracle you managed to restrain yourself from taking those eager hands of his and shoving them in your shorts.

“I-I’m still mad…a-at you.” You managed to choke out, shuddering from the tingling feeling of him sucking on a sweet spot you didn’t know you had.

“I know.” He groaned.

Your hand reached down to the rock solid boner you had been grinding up against. He took a sharp hiss of breath at your touch.

He flipped you over again before you could’ve tried to slip off his pants. He guided you a little higher on the bed and then sat up to pull your shorts and your underwear down in one firm swift motion.

With his hands gently on your knees, he parted your legs. “Fuck…” He whispered.

As you lay on the bed, propped up on your elbows, you were a little embarrassed that he was seeing that part of you at first, but the way his eyes looked into yours and raked down your body made you grow a little more confident in your skin.

“Are you gonna just stare?” You nodded your head at him.

“I’m taking my time because you have no idea how often I’ve thought of doing this to you.”

“Slut.”

Mingi cracked into a grin, his tongue cheekily running across his top teeth as he shook his head and took your leg over his shoulder. He pushed your other knee further out when he started to lean down, coming closer to your dripping cunt.

Took his time, he did.

He cherished every kiss, and the way his nose slid up and down against you made your breathing shaky. Your hands fondled your own tits that were still a little damp from his licks from earlier.

When he started basically making out with your clit, your head threw back and you couldn’t hold back your breathy moans. Your hips started to rock into his tongue.

“Who’s the slut now?” You heard him coo from under you. He watched you with fox-like eyes, keeping a vigilant gaze while you stimulated yourself and something about it made it ten times hotter.

“S-still you—Ah, Mingi!” Your head dropped onto the bed.

Your clit was swollen, and his fingers invited themselves between your folds before entering. There’s no way you could’ve held in that loud moan, or mask the look of absolute pure pleasure that contorted your face.

Something about how you were unravelling at the curl of his finger inside you, with your heel dug in lot his back and the sound of you moaning his name over and over had him excited for what’s to come.

Figuratively and literally.

Mingi’s dick had never been harder.

You reached for his hand that was gripping on your thigh to keep your legs parted. Your mouth dropped open as your eyes squeezed shut to feel the electrifying sensation throughout your entire body. His fingers and the upper inner part of your thighs were coated in your release.

Holy shit, Mingi actually made you cum. And he sucked and licked every last of it as you were riding it out.

He sucked on your clit one last time, giving a quick kiss goodbye before crawling up your body to meet your face.

His hand was beside your face as he tilted his head to the side. Mingi hovered over you and though you felt a bit dizzy, you managed to mirror the grin on his face.

“Are you still mad at me?”

“Furious.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

As you sat up slowly, he started to retreat to reel you in with your faces mere inches apart. Placing a hand on his chest, you pushed him down to get onto his back.

Who knows when’s the next time you would ever to be able to do this? In the back of your head, you knew this was a heat of a moment kind of thing, eventhough it made you a little sad, you wanted to kiss him again and again.

And he was more than willing to entertain it.

You could taste yourself off his lips. The dirtiness of it all made it hotter. His nails running up and down the side of your thigh as your chest pressed against his.

You moved down, planting little kisses down his gorgeous physique, you hands gripping on his sides as he watched. His hand reached out stroking the top of your head.

This had to be a dream.

You looked up when you reached the drawstring of the shorts he had on.

“Okay, okay, just be gentle,” He asked softly. “I’m a little… uh…”

With your teeth, you undid the little bow and tug his shorts down. Rumour confirmed: he was huge. Girthy, long, with cum already dripping down its sides from tip.

You thought you were seeing things wrongly so your hand reached out to hold it by the base and stroked up.

“Needy?” You teased.

Mingi’s brain electrocuted for a second, unsure if it was the tone or your hands. He flinched, “S-shit, baby, I’m really… hold on—“

You leaned forward, wrapping your hand comfortably around the base as you started to return the treatment he just gave you — tenfold. Mingi’s flustered face transformed into a look of pure satisfaction.

The way you licked, kissed, and sucked all over his shaft, he’d float if he could. The lewd noises you were making made him hiss, bitting in his lower lip as he watched from above.

“S-shit you’re doing so good.” He managed to say, leaning over to comb back your hair in his hands as you steadied your pace.

When his tip scratched the back of your throat, he was done for. You almost ended up choking on the cum that bursted out of his wet hard cock that pooled warm in your mouth, and swallowed.

The noise he made was unlike anything you’d ever heard in your decade long friendship, and it was the best he’d ever felt out of all his past experiences.

But that wasn’t why he had to take a breather. He realised how wrong he’d been doing you. Knowing how you felt about him, and how he’s been treating you made him wonder if he even deserved to see you this way.

He moved in behind you, gently guiding your face toward his for a soft, sweet kiss that made you smile. He trailed playful kisses along the side of your face as your hand caressed his. His large hands traced lightly over your waist.

If foreplay was this good already, he could only imagine how mind boggling actually fucking you would be. But he seemed to enjoy finally being able to shamelessly kiss you and touch you wherever he wanted more though.

You, however, had a different thought. The lines of your friendship were already blurred. Being with him like this had been a fantasy, but now you were stepping into uncharted territory, where everything about your relationship with him might change — if it hadn’t already.

That’s when reality hit, your smile fading. You needed a moment to pull back.

He started slowing down when he noticed you or your body weren’t really responding to him anymore.

It hit you like a cold splash of reality—his stories of conquests, the way he casually shared tales of his past flings, and how effortlessly he moved on from each one.

“Hey, look at me. What’s wrong?”

In that moment, you realized you were just another number on his hit list, a fleeting moment in his game, and the weight of that truth settled heavily in your chest, leaving you feeling small and insignificant.

Even with his own doubts, Mingi was still ready to take things further right then and there, but seeing that look — the one you make when you have a lot on your mind — he couldn’t bring himself to continue.

His hand reached out, caressing the other side of your face, tucking your hair behind your ear in comfort, “We don’t have to, you know.”

You nodded, “I know. I’m sorry, I just… I’m thinking a lot right now.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He smiled at you, shaking his head in reassurance before closing in to kiss the side of your head.

He shifted on the bed, pulling you into an embrace and brought you close to him under the sheets.

You’ve shared this bed several times over the years, but never this intimately, without a pillow barrier or clothes on. This easily felt very new to both of you, yet still comfortable enough.

As you cuddled facing eachother, you turned to the ceiling as your thoughts began to swirl. You had settled the argument from earlier with your bodies, but the confusion in your heart still remained.

“Are you okay?” Mingi finally asked, concern in his eyes as you took your time to answer.

“Yeah, just…” The room felt colder, smaller, and you could feel tears pricking at your eyes as you turned to look at him. “I don’t want to be like the others. I don’t want us to end up being… nothing.”

“You’re not like the others,” Mingi said softly, turning to face you, his eyes searching yours. “I’m serious. I’m sorry for the stupid things I said. You are… you’re everything to me. You’re it, and—”

You’d heard it all before. You knew his usual pretty words for his pretty girls thanks to his stories but what you didn’t know was how he actually meant what he said this time.

“Look, Mingi…I just can’t do the whole friends-with-benefits thing. I can’t just stay friends after this. I need you all in if you’re going to be in my life.” Your voice trembled, and each word felt like a struggle. This boy had a grip on your heart that made the thought of losing him hurt. “If you can’t do that, you really need to go tomorrow morning, okay?”

He took a moment to let your words sink in, the silence stretching between you. Then, quietly, he leaned in and kissed you—a soft, gentle kiss. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. The warmth of his skin soothed you in the cool air as he pressed a light kiss to your forehead.

[100vern]

the great british fake-off | xmh

you thought the guy in the hawaiian-print shirt who seems physically incapable of being quiet would be the most annoying person here, so imagine your shock when it's xu minghao, who has seemingly decided you're the enemy and keeps sabotaging you. a baking competition for charity might have others on their best behavior, but what's a little sugar without some spice?

❆ pairing: minghao x reader ❆ genre: great british bake-off, holiday au; crack, fluff ❆ wordcount: 5.5k ❆ rating: e for everyone ❆ warnings: some swearing, minghao is a saboteur, idiots abound. ❆ credits: this netflix psd template for the banner. this recipe for the yule log; this recipe for the gingerbread house; and this recipe for the entremet. divider from here. this post for the divider. this was roughly edited by me, so any and all mistakes are my own. ❆ written for: the winter with you collab hosted by @camandemstudios. thank you for letting me participate! please make sure to check out the rest of the stories as they're posted. ♡ ❆ author's note: i had this rotting away in my wips since literally 2021, so even though it started as a completely different story, i'm so glad it's finally seeing the light of day even if it's not what i originally intended. (also, i know the banner says 12 contestants but the holiday specials only had a couple, okay. i forgot when i made it and i wasn't going back to fix it.)

The obnoxious one is wearing an aloha-print shirt.

He’s also extremely loud, his raucous, fake laughter filling every corner of the large warehouse you’ve been assigned to for filming. Makes a show of batting his eyelashes, throwing his head back every time someone cracks a joke that’s not even funny, comes up with nonsensical nicknames for the entire crew just to suck up to them.

“John Davies? Mind if I call you Joe?”

Joe doesn’t even make sense as a nickname for John, but John fucking loves it, apparently. Looks at the annoying guy like he just watched him string the stars in the sky.

But it’s the shirt—god, the shirt drives you absolutely crazy. He’s about to go on national television, be a household name, and some ill-fitting, charity shop Hawaiian print shirt is what he woke up and chose to wear. What’s his angle here? Appeal to the public with some sob story about only being able to afford second-hand clothes so that’s why he’s competing? Needs the money to care for a sick relative?

(The expensive watch on his wrist and his limited-drop sneakers tell an entirely different story, but you’re keeping that to yourself for now. No reason to play your hand so early.)

As much as you hate the shirt, you have to admit it suits him. The colors are garish and unsightly, just as obnoxious as he is, and you can’t stare at it too long because you start going cross-eyed. Looking at him feels about the same as stuffing your mouth with a bunch of sour candies: you get that same burn in the back of your jaw, same scrunched-up, grossed-out look on your face; have to squeeze your eyes shut to blink back tears.

You don’t even know his name, but you hate him immediately.

Your eyes scan the other contestants. None of them inspire the same level of animosity within you as the annoying one does; all of them nearly unremarkable. A variety of ages, appearances, backgrounds. You hear one say they’re a retired investment banker. There’s an accountant, a teacher, a fucking aerospace engineer.

And then it’s his turn to introduce himself. He clears his throat, speaks with an easy, practiced confidence. Completely void of nerves. Makes eye contact with everyone in your conversation circle. Gesticulates wildly as he speaks, immediately endears everyone to him.

“I’m Tim,” he says, and you nearly recoil at how honeyed his voice is. “But you can call me Tim. I’m thirty-eight, originally from a small town. Work as a…”

You can barely stand to listen to it anymore, each “Nice to meet you, Tim!” like another punch to the gut. How can’t these people see right through him? How are they falling for his bullshit? You should’ve known. Producers always throw in at least one bomb to up the ratings—a secret millionaire, someone rude and confrontational, a flat-earther. Even if you’re competing in a charity baking competition, of all things, it’s still reality television at the end of the day.

Just because the bunch of you are going to spend the next few days creating confections out of sugar, spice, and everything nice, doesn’t mean you have to be part of that ‘everything.’

Tim thinks he’s got this in the bag. Thinks he’s going to show up and win easily, the rest of you be damned, and even if you are typically a very nice person, you’re also highly competitive. There’ll be no rolling over done by you, and if Tim wants to play dirty—

Game on.

As you introduce yourself, you feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of your head. Probably because you don’t bother with the faux-humility the rest of the contestants have. Polite and charming but firm, just the way your mother had taught you. You’re not boisterous, don’t crack silly jokes to play up to the cameras the way Tim loves to do, and you know he’s scrutinizing you the way you’d done to him, trying to figure out your angle.

Well, joke’s on him—you don’t need one.

And you really, really hope it drives him crazy.

Except maybe the joke is on you, too, because you don’t account for Xu Minghao.

In true reality television fashion, the tent is boiling hot.

As if the universe itself had looked down on all of you and decided what you all needed was a heatwave uncharacteristic of this time of year, just to up the ante. Not even ten minutes in the tent and you’re all fanning yourselves and wafting air up your shirts. Which is great, really, because it isn’t like you need to use ovens or stand over hot burners. It’s not like you aren’t going to be soaking through your clothes with anxiety sweats, either! Sweat dripping off your brow into your eyes won’t matter because you don’t need to use them.

Everything’s going to be fine!

But everything is not fine. Not only has the universe gifted you with sweltering heat, it’s given you the work station directly next to Tim’s. You’ll have to feel his annoying, off-putting aura near you for the entire competition. There’s always the possibility of him bungling it and making an early exit, but you know that’s unlikely. Obnoxious he may be, you also know a strong opponent when you see one, and something tells you you’re going to be stuck with him for the long haul.

Think of the cats, you tell yourself. All of this is for the cats.

It’s not like you never would’ve returned here of your own volition. No, your first go-round with feel-good, competition-based reality television had gone fine. You hadn’t won, of course, because you wouldn’t be here again if you had, but you placed respectably in the top three. Became a fan favorite, too, which was arguably more lucrative than winning. People make a living on social media these days.

So, it’s not the competition itself that has you white-knuckled gripping onto the edge of your station. It’s the man at the one beside you, cracking all these stupid jokes about the weather and how it’s a horrible day for tempering chocolate, so he bets that’s going to be the first challenge!

You suck in a deep breath. Try to remember the breathing exercises from that one yoga class your sister had dragged you to. It had been about the same temperature then, too—well duh, it’s hot yoga, your sister had said, which was news to you, because you never would’ve signed up for something called hot yoga willingly. Still, you endured it, just like you’ll endure this, and a little sweat is not going to get in the way of you delivering a check to all those poor, sad cats without families.

“Psst, hey,” you hear from behind you. When you turn, a man is smirking at you as he finishes tying his apron around his waist—has to wrap the strings around twice, you notice, because only someone hand-picked by the gods themselves would have that shoulder-to-waist ratio.

You don’t really recognize him. Can’t recall his name or where he’s from; can’t remember what he mentioned doing for a living. Probably something artsy, if you had to guess—he definitely has the style and demeanor of a creative, with his trendy shag-mullet and the multicolored, glitter-y snowflakes decorating his nails.

You aren’t sure he introduced himself at all, but the confidence with which he holds himself—easy, like it’d take a national emergency to rattle him even a little—implies he doesn’t really have to. Most of the people here already know him, if you had to guess, and he gives the impression that he’s not fussed with impressing any of them.

If only Tim was so inclined.

You clear your throat, vaguely aware you need to respond. “Yeah?”

“Are you nervous?”

“Ah, I don’t think so? We’ve done this before, after all. We should be seasoned veterans by now.”

He smirks. “Should be,” he emphasizes. “Feels different when it’s for charity. Extra serious, you know?”

“Right,” you agree, taking a look around the tent. “Anything for the cats.”

There’s an immediate shift in the atmosphere. What was friendly and carefree is now tense; where a smile and a floral giggle sat on the man’s lips has been replaced with a crooked scowl. And it doesn’t make sense, all you’d done was agree with what he said, but then the producers are yelling something at the front of the tent, cameramen are rushing to their equipment, and a woman appears at your side and starts clipping equipment to your clothes, and there’s no time to question it. On your right, Tim’s laughing and joking around with some crew members like they’re old drinking buddies. It drives you nuts, has annoyance pricking at your skin, flushing your cheeks—

So much so that the woman at your side leans in and asks, “Should I get hair and makeup over here?”

“I—no, it’s fine.”

The unnecessary members of the production team scatter away after a loud countdown. Hair and makeup don’t come to wipe the sweat tracks from your skin. You already know Man Behind You is standing there looking perfect because he’s equally as attractive as he is mysterious. God truly has favorites, and this guy somehow made the top five.

You stare down at the instructions in front of you, confident in your ability to read but not so confident in your ability to make sense of any of it. And it’s your own recipe, which is the worst part. You’d typed this recipe yourself. These are your hand-written notes in the margins. You’ve conceptualized, tweaked, baked, and eaten this recipe more times than you can count, and now all you can do is thousand-yard-stare into the ether.

In the time since you were on the show, you’d somehow forgotten about the chaos. Not unlike that hormone women have that makes them forget about the pain and agony of childbirth, you reckon.

In addition to being one of the most bothersome people in history, Tim apparently doubles as a prophet.

Because it is a terrible day to temper chocolate, and you’ve got a bûche de Noël on the horizon that requires you to do so. You can pivot, maybe make some kind of buttercream, but a basic chocolate buttercream is not going to win you a world-renowned baking competition even if it is Swiss meringue. A child could make that.

You sigh. Push that wave of panic to the back of your mind. In a setting like this, you have approximately ten seconds to come up with a back-up plan and execute it and you wasted your time thinking, so you’re just going to have to temper the stupid chocolate and stick to your original plan. God, you have a headache.

But the show must go on, so you do too.

Step 1: Preheat the oven.

Easy enough. If nothing else, you can preheat an oven.

Step 2: Make the sponge.

Not as easy, but you’ve made so many sponge cakes throughout your life you could probably do it in your sleep. Whisk attachment on the stand mixer. Four eggs. Sugar meticulously weighed and added to the bowl. Sugar and eggs whisked together until the mixture is the color and consistency you’re looking for. Flour, cocoa powder, and salt sifted in. Metal spoon to fold it all together as delicately as possible. You won’t have a sponge cake if you beat all the air out of it, now will you?

“Good enough,” you mutter to yourself, staring down at the bowl.

At least you’d had the foresight to grease and line your baking tray, because the entire entourage arrives at your station just as you’re meant to be pouring the batter into it and sticking it in the oven.

“Ah, we meet again,” the group choruses, genuine smiles peeking through as if you’re old friends separated only by time and distance.

That’s the weird thing about being on television. For as long as you’re able, you exist within a microcosm of daily life. A world exists outside of your bubble, you know, but you don’t see much proof of it. All of your meals are eaten together; all of your conversations are had with one another. You share temporary living quarters and oftentimes too much of yourselves, and you’re thankful the show encourages teamwork and kindness because that’s the kind of thing that can grow sour if you leave it unchecked too long.

And then it just—ends.

Bubble burst, you all go back to your regular lives. You look back on that time fondly, but the friendships are thinned out by time and distance. Eventually it all starts to feel like a dream, except every now and then something breaks through the haze to remind you it actually happened: a stranger recognizing you at the store, a message on social media, the casting team contacting you to ask if you’d be interested in competing in a holiday special for charity.

“We certainly do,” you retort, smile matching everyone else’s.

All things considered, you are happy to be back. Even if the tent is crowded and far too warm, the atmosphere is unmatched, especially when it’s decorated for the holidays.

“What are you working on?”

You explain the general workings of your yule log: chocolate sponge, hazelnut liqueur cream filling, and chocolate icing to top it off. You aren’t sure how you’re going to decorate it yet—you’ll figure it out once you get there, depending on how much time you have—but you guarantee them it’ll look festive and professional.

Satisfied with your plan, they wish you luck and move on to the man behind you. It’s so great to see you again, Minghao, someone says, and you’re grateful they’ve spared you the embarrassment of having to ask for his name. It still doesn’t ring a bell, and you can’t recall what season he’d been on for the life of you, but he speaks with a patience and a gentleness that is so unlike Tim that you nearly drop to the floor in thanks.

But as the commotion of the tent reminds you, you don’t have time to waste thinking about Minghao. You’ve only been given an hour for your signature, and you’re going to need all sixty of those minutes if you have any hopes of presenting a finished product.

It doesn’t register at first.

It doesn’t register at second or third, either.

In fact, you’re sure you’re hallucinating when you open the oven door to pop the sponge inside and you aren’t hit with a blast of hot air. Room temperature. Perhaps a bit on the cooler side, if you’re being honest.

And that can’t be, because you know you preheat your oven. It was the first thing you did, because it’s always the first thing you do. It’s just… automatic, like opening your mouth to eat or washing between your toes in the shower. Instinctual. Not something that needs to even be considered, because it’s always the first thing you do.

No, this cannot be. Forgetting to preheat the oven is a rookie mistake and you’re not a rookie.

…Could it be?

Perhaps you were so caught up in the lights and buzz, the thrill of returning to the tent, that it had slipped your mind? Perhaps you’d pressed the wrong buttons and turned the wrong dials? While it’s not likely you’d somehow bumped into the oven and turned it off, nothing is impossible, so… maybe?

“Shit,” you hiss through your teeth. The producers are not going to be happy about your swearing. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Everything okay up there?” Minghao asks from behind you. When you turn, he’s got a flour-dusted towel thrown over his shoulder as he nurses a cup of tea, and his composure in the face of your hysteria has your head spinning.

Your mouth opens and closes like a goldfish. Minghao is drinking tea without a care in the world and your oven isn’t even halfway to the temperature you need. “I—yes? No? I don’t know. I could’ve sworn I preheated the oven, but—”

“Don’t panic,” he offers, his top lip catching on the rim of his mug. “You got this. Work on something else while you wait.”

Something else. Right, you can work on something else. Both the filling and the frosting still have to be made, and quick mental math tells you there should just be enough time to get everything done if you’re efficient. Of course, that’s a big if, but that’s why you’d chosen a yule log, after all: sponge cake doesn’t need that long to bake, and anything can happen (and go wrong) in this tent.

So, you get to work on something else. Measure out a sheet of parchment paper, dust it with cocoa powder, and set it to the side. Decide to get to work on the frosting, because if one thing has already gone wrong, you don’t trust the universe to let you temper chocolate correctly.

The chocolate is halfway melted when the oven dings. A small harrumph of victory and you’re finally good to go, setting a timer for twelve minutes. Minghao offers you a discreet thumbs-up, fingers covered in something sticky you assume is marzipan.

Time flies after that. You get both the frosting and your filling made, and it’s only through divine intervention that your sponge cake comes out perfectly and with enough time to score and cool. When you dare a look around the room, everyone seems to be in a similar position as you: frazzled and covered in powdered sugar, making frantic trips to and from the refrigerators, chucking seized-up caramel into the trash and starting over for the third time with a pained expression.

A holiday special—it was supposed to be more laid-back, more for the vibes and festivity than actual competition, but it looks to you like everyone’s taking it just as seriously as your first go-rounds.

“Fifteen minutes!” someone calls, and your competitors fade out of focus. You’ve got a yule log to ice and fondant to roll out.

You make it by the skin of your teeth.

It isn’t perfect, of course, as few things on this show ever are, but it’s more than acceptable. It looks great and tastes even better which is all you can hope for. Much to your dismay, Tim also gets top marks, but it’s Minghao that shocks you all. His stollen wreath earns him a handshake and a lot of clandestine, private glares, but he’d been kind to you earlier, helped untangle that knot of pandemonium, so you return the thumbs-up he’d given you earlier with a smile that feels akin to getting away with murder.

Something is wrong.

On its own, this is not necessarily surprising. Gingerbread, tasked with bearing the weight of an entire house, can be fickle. On any other day you wouldn’t blame it if it wanted to rebel and go sideways, but the thing is—you’ve made gingerbread before. Tons of times. Another thing you could probably make in your sleep if you absolutely had to. So it doesn’t make sense when you look down in your mixing bowl and it just… doesn’t look right.

You tell yourself it’ll get better when you knead it. Maybe the color just looks off because it’s underworked, and a few good punches will set it straight.

But it doesn’t. The dough sits at your station like a sad, formless lump, giving you no indication it intends to become anything at all. Which is, admittedly, a problem. Your technical challenge is to build a gingerbread house—one complete with little windows and golden-toned nightlights, a scalloped roof dusted with powdered sugar to look like fresh snow, a working door!—and you’re far from an engineer, but you don’t think you can have a gingerbread house without gingerbread.

You sneak a peek at Tim’s station, where he’s well into measuring an immaculate-looking dough with a ruler. The contestant in front of you is in a similar place, too, so it’s with an oh fuck I’m doomed sigh that you turn around and hope to find a comrade in Minghao again.

“Hey,” you whisper, trying not to draw attention to yourself. “Does this look right to you?” You jerk a thumb in the direction of your dough-lump. Minghao, bless him, looks around you and tries his best to hide his grimace.

He does not succeed.

“Um. Well, no.”

You sigh. Place one flour-dusted hand on your waist and pinch the bridge of your nose with the other. “I can’t figure out what’s wrong with it. I’ve made gingerbread a million times.”

“Looks pale,” he offers. Of course, this is the exact moment he dumps his own dough—his beautiful dough, flawless chestnut brown—onto his station to knead it. “Was the sugar right?”

A strangled, disbelieving laugh escapes you. Was the sugar right—of course the sugar was right! Dark muscovado sugar. Everyone knows that's what you use for gingerbread, so of course the sugar was right because no one, both in their right mind and at this stage of competition, would use anything else.

Before you can respond, Minghao’s pointing at your jar of sugar. Your jar of pale, producer-supplied sugar, which even a blind person could tell does not resemble dark muscovado sugar.

A million thoughts race through your head at once, but it boils down to instinct, you think. Your brain had seen flour, butter, and sugar and went into baking mode, not stopping to take in the color of anything. Maybe a smarter, more perceptive person would put two and two together and get sabotage, but you don’t have enough time to play detective.

“Here, here,” Minghao says, hurriedly handing over his (correct) sugar. “It’ll be close, but you should have just enough time to redo the dough.”

You’re going to throw up.

In the end, a chunk of chocolate buttons is missing from the roof and the piping around the edges is far from your neatest work, but it’s passable. You already lamented your loss during the signature bake, because anything less than perfection was not going to win you much of anything, and you’re now 0-for-2 on showstopping, unbelievable, awe-inspiring confections.

Just like the devil, your fall from grace will be studied.

Overthinking isn’t going to get you anywhere, but you can’t help it.

You collapse sideways into a chair, immediately face-planting into the catering table. Everyone else buzzes around you—animated conversations that have your head spinning, words that jumble together and start to sound like nothing at all—but you’re a million miles away. One mistake is out of character for you, but two? It’s unheard of. Something you would’ve said was impossible if it didn’t happen to you just a few hours ago.

This is something you need to file away for later so you can think about it just as you’re about to fall asleep, horror and embarrassment there to keep you company when it keeps you awake until the wee hours of the morning.

A chill runs down your spine.

“Hi. Do you mind?” You startle. Bang your knee on the underside of the table. “Sorry,” Minghao apologizes, but he doesn’t look sorry at all. You shake your head. Gesture to the empty seat across from you as if to say it’s all yours. “I brought you some tea,” he continues, setting it in front of you. “I find it’s easier than coffee when you don’t know how someone takes theirs. Less chance of getting it wrong.”

You smile. Wrap your hands around the Styrofoam cup and delight in the warmth. “Thank you. This was very kind of you.”

“Seemed like you had a rough day.”

Groaning, you try to wave away his words. “Please don’t speak of it.” Minghao jokingly salutes you before miming his lips sealed. “Anyway. Let’s talk about something that is not reality television or baking or a reality baking competition.”

So, you do. Most of the talking comes from you, to be fair, but Minghao is a good listener: nods along, chimes in when appropriate, keeps the spit in his mouth where it belongs. You talk about your hometown and what made you apply for the show the first time. He tells you about growing up in Haicheng and all the things he grew up baking with his mother. You swap stories from your respective seasons; Minghao shares anecdotes with a straight face that have you clutching at your stomach.

Hours pass this way, and you end the night feeling like you’ve made an honest-to-god friend.

Xu Minghao ends the night feeling the guilt weigh him down like an albatross.

In retrospect, it is probably a bad idea to make another sponge, but no one can accuse you of learning from your mistakes.

“It’ll be a patterned joconde sponge with two mousse layers—chocolate and raspberry—and a raspberry jelly. Then I’m going to attempt to top it with chocolate and raspberry decorations.” The judges blink. Are you sure that’s a good idea? you know they want to ask, but this is a holiday competition for charity, so they’re trying not to be pessimists. “Anything is possible through holiday cheer,” you tack on, hoping your smile doesn’t look crazed.

They nod. “Right, right,” they say in unison. “Well, good luck!”

And then they’re off.

Determined to nail this, you triple-check your oven, which is preheating to a crisp 400 degrees; you double-check all your ingredients and confirm they’re correct; when you can spare the time, you watch your refrigerator like a hawk, making sure no one tries to sneak their own work in there and displace yours when you aren’t looking, but everyone’s engrossed in their respective showstoppers.

Tim’s planning a shadow box of sorts, with blown-sugar baubles and isomalt fire. Someone else is stressing over their three-tiered cake, asking the presenter if they think they’ve taken on too much. From what you can piece together, Minghao is making a three-dimensional house, also made from cake that he imported special pistachios for.

“Special pistachios?”

“Mm, from Iran. They have a better color.”

“Iranian pistachios! Can you believe it!”

But you don’t have time to worry about Minghao and his special Iranian pistachios. You have so much to do and not enough time to complete it. Your paste is in the freezer and the sponge is in the oven, but you’ve still got two mousses to make, a jelly to infuse, and little chocolate trees to create—and all of this wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t pointless, but you don’t want to disappoint the cats by half-assing it. They deserve your whole ass, and your whole ass is what they’re going to get.

The result is stunning—not necessarily in stature, but rather craftsmanship and effort. This is what you’re capable of. This is why you came back to the tent. For all your complaining and wanting to put your head through a concrete wall, there’s nothing like seeing the judges ooh and ahh when you present your work to them. There’s nothing like the ego boost of someone taking a bite and watching their eyes light up. There’s nothing like carrying your cake back to your station feeling proud of yourself.

“Great job,” Minghao says, a genuine smile stretched across his face. He also exceeds expectations, of course. Must be those special pistachios, you think, but your congratulations are also sincere.

Production makes a spectacle of judging, much like they always do.

The set is decorated to look like a winter wonderland, even though you’re still in the midst of autumn: a giant Christmas tree in the center decked to the nines with garland and baubles; warm, golden bulbs strung from every awning they could find; all the participants bundled up tight in festive sweaters and scarves all the way to your chins, cheeks and tips of noses dusted with red-pink blush to mimic the cold that’s nowhere to be found. Fake snow falls from the sky, and it doesn’t feel real, but it does feel magical.

One of the hosts catches you by the elbow, asks who you think is going to win. “Oh, I’d have to say Minghao,” you answer, because you’d rather die than give Tim the satisfaction. “His showstopper was incredible, but he was really great the whole competition.”

In the end, however, neither of them wins—it’s Jeon Wonwoo, three-tiered cake guy, who comes out of nowhere to claim first place. He’s bashful as he accepts his prize and says he’s going to donate the prize money to an organization that provides underprivileged kids with video game equipment. No one has a whole lot to say about that.

Once most of the hubbub dies down (and you give Tim a half-assed you did great, so sorry you didn’t win), you find Minghao near the refreshments table. He’s frowning around another mug of tea. “Alright?” you ask, helping yourself to some cider.

“For some reason, I’m no longer feeling very festive,” he replies, which is a very funny thing to say while wearing a hat with a little pom-pom on the top.

You roll your lips to keep from laughing. Sidle in a little closer and knock his shoulder with your own. “Ah, I know how you feel, but you really did do great. You were my pick to win, for what it’s worth.”

“Please don’t tell me that. It only makes me feel worse for losing.”

“Yeah.” You sigh. “Would’ve been nice to donate some money to the cats, but shit, if I didn’t know better, I would’ve sworn some dark force was sabotaging me. Like, come on—forgetting to preheat the oven? Using the wrong sugar? Not even a kid would’ve made those mistakes.”

Two things happen in rapid succession: beside you, Minghao goes very, very stiff, and you realize you had been sabotaged. And not by some dark, evil force, either. You were sabotaged by the very man standing beside you—the man you shared thumbs-up with and thought was your friend. The man whose cake you complimented and picked to win. The man who is now standing ramrod straight, as tense as a corpse, and the thought of sabotaging someone in a charity baking competition is so ridiculous and unbelievable that you just—

You just laugh.

At first, it’s a bark of stunned laughter. Then, the more it sinks in how absurd, how nonsensical all of this is, you can’t stop. Tears are rolling down your cheeks. You gasp for breath as your stomach begins to ache. People are staring, including Minghao, who sort of can’t believe what he’s seeing, but none of it does anything to deter you.

“Oh my god,” you wheeze, “I can’t believe it was you—”

Minghao groans. “In my defense, it was for the cats!”

This was not the answer you were expecting. It makes you laugh harder. “What do you mean it was for the cats?”

He swallows. Removes the mitten from one hand to run it through his hair as if that one tic was enough to distract you from everything that’s happened in the last sixty seconds. (It is.) “Listen, you told me you were going to donate the money to a cat charity if you won and I just—so was I, was the thing. I was also going to donate the money to a cat charity if I won—”

“Okay, but which one, though?”

“The Cat’s Paw-jamas.” Much to Minghao’s horror, this sets you off again. “What? What’s so funny?”

“Minghao,” you try to choke out, but you can barely breathe around the cramp in your stomach. “Minghao, that’s the charity I was going to donate to. Oh my god, you sabotaged me and I was going to donate to—to the same fucking place. Jesus Christ, this is some Gift of the Magi shit.”

Your saboteur, who has gone deathly pale, is quiet for a very long time. Every now and then he’ll open his mouth like he’s going to say something before it snaps shut again. When he does manage to speak, what comes out are mangled apologies that sound like gibberish, and you wave all of them away. “It’s water under the bridge.”

“I—I really don’t think it should be?”

“Minghao, it’s fine, trust me, this was just for fun—”

“No, I really insist.”

You sigh, good-natured and exasperated. Something about the fake snow has you feeling romantic and a little bold, so you turn, grab him by the lapels of his coat. “Please tell me if I’m misreading this, but if you insist, maybe you can start by taking me to dinner…?”

This was clearly not what MInghao was expecting you to say. Dazed, he recovers quickly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in a half-smirk. “Dinner, hm?” You nod. “I think I can manage that.”

You smile. “Great. How do you feel about cat cafes?”

[cepheustarot]

What will be your future spouse's first impression of you?

Attention! This reading is for entertainment purposes only. This tarot reading does not give a 100% guarantee that all the described situations will occur or being ultimate truth. You build your own life and destiny and only you know yourself best.

Paid readings

Pick a pile. Choose one or more pictures. Trust your intuition.

Pile 1: Your future spouse sees you as a determined, persistent person who moves without stopping and overcomes all life’s difficulties. He’ll think you’re a strong person, with a strong character, you’re the kind of person who takes control, who can turn good luck and success to his side. He sees you as a determined person, you’re brave, you’re full of life energy, you have lively speech and emotional expression, he is drawn to you. In a word, you are a role model, able to inspire people by their actions and achievements. At the same time, he considers you a rather private person who prefers not to talk about himself and does not like to go into the details of his life, you are careful and attentive to people and not everyone is ready to open up. He also thinks you’re too honest, too direct and tell the truth to the face. He also thinks that you’re the kind of person that is called melancholic,  you can often be seen with a sad face or tired, and he thinks you’re a sensitive person, sentimental, vulnerable. 

Speaking of how he feels around you, you are like a breath of fresh air to him, you are like someone new in his life, such people he had never met before, and if he did, communication with them did not last long. Next to you, he feels calm, comfortable, harmonious and peaceful, he believes that you are the one who understands him in many things, who shares his views. He also trusts you, wants to share his innermost thoughts, personal things. 

Pile 2: Your future spouse sees you as a person who works hard to achieve his goals, but he feels that you can put too much effort into something that is not worth your time, he may not understand your priorities and goals. He also sees you as a hesitant person who has difficulty making a choice or generally choosing one of all the available options, and overall he thinks that you have in priority close people and you choose what is beneficial for them, sacrificing your interests and your comfort. Along with that, he sees you as a person who is content with what gives him life, values every opportunity and takes every chance that gives him life. You are a kind, caring person who seeks well-being in life and harmony, does not like to get involved in conflicts and settles all disputes peacefully. 

At first, you might not be able to communicate, it was difficult to find common themes and keep talking to you, it was very disturbing to him, but in time you will still be able to get hold of something in common and communication with you will no longer be so difficult, but on the contrary it will bring joy. Next to you he forgets all the hardships of life, detached from the problems, you to him as something comfortable, as safe place. He is also looking for any opportunity to please you, he is looking for a way to approach you, to gain your attention, because he considers you a very attractive person with a good heart. 

Pile 3: Your future spouse sees you as a person of authority, who has a good reputation, he considers you a confident person and his strength, you are  firm in decision and adhere to your principles. He also thinks you’re a bit of a powerful person who can put anyone in their place. This makes him feel that for you priority career and personal growth, as you spend a lot of time working/studying and are fully focused in this field. You also look like a mysterious person with your innermost secrets, and that attracts him, your aura attracts him, he wants to know you more and better. You’re also very perceptive and see right through people. 

Speaking of how he feels around you: he likes to communicate with you, he considers you an interesting interlocutor, most of your conversations are intellectual and touch upon the subject of philosophy, he likes your thinking and the way you think. In general, next to you, he has a good mood, pleasant feelings and emotions. He will also patiently seek your attention, and although it will take a long time, he will not regret it and will be sure that it is worth time and resources. He also understands that he can meet competitors on his way, but this does not embarrass or stop him, on the contrary, it serves as a motivation for him. 

[therhythmafterthesummer]

A Helping Hand (M) ~Seungmin

Pairing: LabHybrid!Seungmin x GN!Reader Themes: Smut | Fluff | Best Friends to Lovers | Roommates to Lovers Word Count: ~4k | AO3 Synopsis: After one too many shots of vodka, your best friend confided in you a little problem he’d been dealing with for a couple of months now. Tipsy-you figured that you were more than suitable to give him a helping hand. Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption · overall hybrid shenanigans · Seungmin has a dirty mouth · pet names · Smut (warnings under the cut). let me know if i missed any💜

Author’s Note: can’t believe my first ever published Seungmin fic is a hybrid au lmao. got a weird boost of inspiration for this after seeing @starlostseungmin talking about it, so here it is ! Special thanks to @notastraykid for giving her very valuable input to improve the first draft, as well as @comet-falls for letting me know it didn’t suck skjdfhsdkjf

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Smut Warnings: this is, as usual, some monsterfuckery · handjobs · praising · breeding kink (kind of) · hybrid anatomy (knot) · copious amounts of fluids. again, let me know if i missed any

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

“You–You don’t have to do this, serious–Oh, God…”

You swallowed, focusing on your best friend’s face. Focusing a bit too much on the vein that popped on his neck when he threw his head back, on how pretty his eyelashes looked when his eyes fluttered shut, on those pouty lips of his you totally didn’t wish you could have on yours… All while trying to ignore what you had between your hands, all while trying to ignore the obscene, squelching sounds their continuous movement produced…

“I said I’d help you, didn’t I, Seungmin?”

Seungmin inhaled deeply. His ears twitched, his tail seemed to have a life of its own, it had started thumping against the headboard of the bed the moment he’d sat down and you’d taken a hold of him.

After opening his eyes again, Seungmin looked at your face, and you saw his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed. “You did”.

“And I always keep my word, don’t I?” You twisted your wrists, never stopping the motions of your hands.

Seungmin sighed, and some of the tension in his shoulders seemed to evaporate with the motion. “You do…”

A spark of doubt flared in your mind, large enough it was impossible to ignore. Your hands stopped, and the tiniest whine left Seungmin’s mouth. “Unless you… Are you feeling uncomfortable? I can– I can stop”.

Seungmin’s hands flew to your wrists, preventing you from pulling away completely. “No. No, no, please, don’t… I… Fuck, I really want this. I really, really need this”.

You would’ve never expected the afternoon to take you here… To your best friend’s bedroom, to him sitting on his bed, with his back against the headboard, and with his legs spread. You would’ve never expected to have his cock in your hands, barely even out of his lounge shorts. In your mind, this had never been a real, genuine possibility. Yet here you were.

How long had it been since you realised you had a crush on your best friend? Too long, probably. It might’ve been a bit embarrassing, but you truly couldn’t even remember a time when you weren’t pining over him, a time when you weren’t thinking how it would be like to be with him physically, intimately…

Although, to be fair, this situation was far more sterile than all those fantasies you’d allowed your mind to wander into only in the wee hours of the night. It wasn’t as if Seungmin had confessed his feelings for you, or you to him. It was more like… like you were giving your friend a hand–literally and figuratively.

Seungmin was a hybrid. A black labrador hybrid, to be exact. He’d been your best friend since you were a kid, when the school you attended finally started allowing hybrids as students. You could still remember the first day you saw him, standing in a corner by the lockers. You’d approached him, mostly because your mother had taught you that hybrids must be treated well, just like you’d treat anyone else.

He was a shy boy, totally out of character for a lab hybrid, but the more you got to know him, the more he warmed up to you, the more you started to see that bright personality of his. As soon as he’d deemed you trustworthy, it was almost like that shyness had never been there in the first place.

He started to come over to your place to hang out or do homework, to open up about his life, and even to show more of his mischievous side. He’d call you everything from dumb dumb, to human kiddo, to little human, just because he could. But it was fine.

Even if at the beginning it annoyed you that he simply wouldn’t call you by your name, it eventually became such a Seungmin thing to do, you just couldn’t find it in you to be mad at him when his eyes sparkled so brightly whenever he used his little nicknames for you.

Seungmin was chaotic, he was funny, and he was the most loyal friend you’d ever had. He’d been with you through thick and thin. Every broken friendship and relationship, he was always there to console you, to hold your hand and tell you it was going to be alright. He was always there for you, without fail. He’d always joke around and say it was one of his lab traits, but you knew better.

Whether he was a hybrid or not, you knew Seungmin would still be the same Seungmin.

Your Seungmin.

A couple of years ago, you finally got to move out of your parents’ house. It was only natural that you ended up renting a place with your best friend, considering he, too, wanted to move out, and he didn’t particularly enjoy the thought of living with strangers.

Decades had passed since hybrids were integrated into human society. They finally had rights, they were treated as people and not some pet you bought from a store–no disrespect to pets, they had their rights, too. But pets weren’t people. Hybrids, on the other hand, were.

Hybrids had free will, they could reason like humans could, and they certainly deserved to be treated as equals. These were the values that you’d been taught as you grew up, and it was something you believed in still to this day.

Regardless, hybrids still had their animal urges and needs, which Seungmin seemed to have been struggling with for a couple of months now.

The confession happened last night, while you both threw a tennis ball back and forth at each other, after one too many shots of vodka–to be more precise, it’d been three. Three shots of vodka only. 

Alcohol wasn’t deadly toxic to Seungmin like it was to other hybrids, but his body certainly couldn’t digest it very well, which usually manifested not only in the flush that spread all over his face, but also by shutting down every single one of his filters. ‘I haven’t been able to come in two fucking months. Two months! I feel like I’m dying, dude. I just need to blow’.

You’d asked him how that was even possible, how he had not managed to bring himself to orgasm in two months, considering you knew he was a person with a moderate sex drive–based on the amount of times you had to stay in your shared flat while he had company over… His answer was a very graceful ‘The fuck if i know… Nothing works, my dearest little human. Porn doesn’t work. Literature doesn’t work. And my imagination clearly doesn’t work, either’.

He looked genuinely distressed about it, especially when he sighed, and his tone lowered. ‘I’ve been checking forums online… Going anonymous to ask strangers, specifically other hybrids, but most of them said that I needed to find the root cause, that something in my environment could be affecting my physical performance, but it’s… It’s really frustrating, because I genuinely have no idea what’s going on’.

‘Have you tried, I don’t know, getting laid?’ was what your tipsy self asked. You wouldn’t have asked that question fully sober for sure. You really didn’t want to know if Seungmin was out there getting laid these days. It had been a little over a year since you had seen him date anyone, and the thought of him dating someone now, admittedly, made you jealous. Which was potentially very stupid on your part considering you were just friends. The best of friends. Only friends.

‘Nah. Can you imagine if I’m with someone and I can’t fucking come? Distress… Besides, I don’t want to just… You know, do it with a random person. People are kinda… ew’. You could understand completely why he wouldn’t want to go out and hook up with a stranger. After all, some people still saw hybrids as sex slaves, or they were heavily fetishised, so it wasn’t exactly safe to partake in one night stands for him. 

Besides, your best friend was not one for hookups and one night stands in the first place. He had trust issues, especially with humans, so you could definitely understand his predicament. 

‘What if it’s someone you know?’ You threw the ball back at him just as you’d boldly asked the question, because spirits always made you voice things sober you would never have the guts to say.

Seungmin caught the ball and scoffed, completely sure that no one he knew would want to be that intimate with him, and not think ill of him if he didn’t manage to perform. 

But you had to open your big mouth again, very confidently telling him ‘And what about me? I can do it’.

The ball suddenly fell from Seungmin’s hand, landing on the floor and rolling under the coffee table. His eyes followed the movement like a hawk–or, maybe it’d be more accurate to say like a dog. He stretched his body a bit out of the sofa, not even bothering to stand up fully, trying to get the ball while he chuckled, maybe a bit nervously.

Seungmin genuinely thought you were joking for a second. That was exactly what he’d told you, but then he saw how serious you were about it, and, after a few minutes of silence, he simply said that you should have this conversation sober.

Which you did.

Which took you right here, right into his room, with his painfully hard cock in your hands.

Seungmin knew you wouldn’t judge him if he couldn’t come. He trusted you enough to be vulnerable with you in more ways than one, to tell you what he needed or wanted, so you would gladly help him–the fact that you had a major crush on him made you feel a bit self-conscious, you’d admit… Like you were taking advantage of the situation to touch him this intimately. But you had already offered it, and he had already accepted it, so you just didn’t feel like backing down on your word.

“Tighten your grip a bit more”, Seungmin mumbled, and once again he threw his head back when you did as asked and continued working his cock. “Fuck, yeah. That’s it…”

You were starting to heat up yourself. Especially whenever he spoke like that, with the tone of his voice as low as it was. Seungmin was one to swear a lot, very openly, but in this context, it certainly felt… filthier. And it affected you. Maybe embarrassingly so…

You couldn’t help but swear under your breath when your eyes drifted from his face to his length. How could you not look? When he was there, letting you touch him…

Clear fluid leaked from his tip, dripping all over your fingers and aiding your movement, intensifying those sinful wet sounds that resonated in your ears with each stroke. You knew his specific breed tended to produce more fluids than a human would, he’d told you this before in passing, but you had honestly not expected it to be this much.

Seungmin didn’t seem fazed at his slick soiling his clothes. On the contrary, it seemed like he didn’t even care at all.

“Like what you see?”

Your head snapped upwards to meet his eyes, and you immediately felt heat rush to your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry, I’m trying really hard not to look, but…” You suddenly felt small under his gaze, even if your hands didn’t stop. His eyes were so dark, staring right into yours so intensely the hairs at your nape stood on end.

Seungmin always tried not to look people in the eyes, ‘It activates this primal instinct in me, it’s a bit annoying sometimes, to be honest. I only make eye contact when… when I… Well, you know…’ He’d said once, very vaguely, but even back then, you understood. 

He didn’t need to tell you in which situation he enjoyed eye contact. Whenever you looked him in the eyes, you always felt trapped under his gaze, like you wanted to submit. And, somehow, it also woke the butterflies in your belly. Right now, that feeling seemed to have heightened tenfold.

“You’re trying not to look, but…?” Seungmin licked his lips, reaching forward to take a hold of your forearm. Not to stop you, but simply to drag his thumb over your skin in soothing motions.

“But…” You swallowed. You figured now was as good a time as any to let the thoughts out of your head, otherwise they would haunt you forever. “You’re so big”.

Seungmin giggled, a sound that he hardly ever let anyone outside of his close friend group hear, the flush on his face deepened, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. Adorable, even in this context… “You think I’m big?”

“Haven’t touched someone this big ever”, your pace was still slow, but you made sure to stroke as much of him as you could, as tight as he had asked you to. It wasn’t like he was crazy big, he wasn’t particularly long, but he was just… girthy. Girthier than you had ever seen in your pathetic excuse for a love life. “Not only that, but… It’s just… pretty”.

At that, Seungmin looked genuinely incredulous. “Pretty?”

“Mm… pretty”.

He was going to speak, but before he could, your movements sped up, and the whine that left his mouth as soon as you did had your insides instantly firing up. It was a completely involuntary reaction, how could your body not react when the sounds coming out of his mouth were this sinful? When the almost canine whines stirred the butterflies flying freely in your belly?

“Oh, fuck… That’s it, baby, just like that, shit…”

You didn’t even acknowledge the pet name that just escaped his lips. You were convinced it was a heat of the moment thing, so you swallowed that saliva that had suddenly pooled in your mouth, and continued to focus on your motions. 

With both of your hands, you went from the base to the head a few times, until you settled one of your hands at the base and the other at the tip. You had heard that the base of a canine hybrid’s cock was sensitive, not as much as the head, but much more than a human’s would be, and Seungmin’s wagging tail and content sighs proved that to be true.

You made sure to pull the foreskin with you when you pumped his head, and your eyes naturally drifted to the sight again. Pretty, indeed…

“You’re so fucking good at this, fuck…” Seungmin’s head was tilted back against the headboard, but he was still looking at you through his lashes. His chest rose and fell with his laboured breathing, he was essentially panting, his tongue poked out from between his lips, and the movement of his thumb on your forearm had long since stopped. He was now just gripping your arm, lightly digging his fingers on your skin.

“You think so?” You couldn’t help but ask.

Maybe it was a bit selfish, but you definitely wanted to hear more of his praise. It fed a pool of arousal in the pit of your stomach that you just knew you’d have to deal with as soon as you were on your own and away from his prying eyes…

“Fuck, yeah… You’re so good to me, so…” His words trailed off, stopped when he swallowed thickly. 

You wanted him to continue what he was going to say, you almost asked him to, but before you could, he spoke again–with an edge of desperation in his voice that almost made you faint.

“Squeeze a bit harder at the base”, so you did, twisting your wrist as you went up and down, and the loud moan that fell from his mouth made you dizzy with need. “That’s it, keep doing that, fuck…”

You worked his cock for a while, all as words of appreciation continued to fly past his lips, all as his slick kept dripping all over your fingers, as he directed more pet names your way. Until something started to feel different…

“Oh, oh, fuck… Fuck, shit, don’t stop, baby, please, don’t…”

You wouldn’t have dared stop, not when your fingers suddenly weren’t able to touch where you held him. You kept the motions on the head of his cock, but the base seemed to be swelling under your grasp, loosening it a bit.

“No, no, don’t stop there. Squeeze it. Keep touching it, pup”, Seungmin pleaded, tightening his grip on your arm while small whines escaped his throat, almost drowned by the sound of his tail thumping against the headboard.

“Oh, my God…” You knew hybrids were anatomically different to humans, but you had never really considered just how much they could be, so it really took you by surprise.

You were experiencing one of Seungmin’s hybrid attributes first hand. There, at the base of his cock, a knot was quickly swelling, and you would’ve never expected how much the sight and feel of it could affect you. Your mind raced, suddenly curious as to how it would feel like if he were pushing his cock into your warmth, how he would stretch you out to your absolute limits…

Seungmin might’ve been the hybrid here, but you were certainly salivating at the feel of his swollen knot in your hands.

Tightening your grip around his knot, you started massaging it, just as you pumped his head faster, coaxing a string of groans and moans and swears to come out of Seungmin’s mouth.

“Your hands… They’re so soft, so… perfect. That’s perfect, pup, you’re doing so fucking well”.

Seungmin was talking to you like you weren’t the one working him up. It would’ve amused you, had it not been feeding the fire that was burning bright deep within yourself.

You could feel your underwear sticking to your skin, drenched in your own fluids because of Seungmin, and the sounds he was making, and his heavy cock under your hands, and that fucking knot of his…

“Seungmin… Shit, you… This…” Being honest, you were speechless. 

“What? Huh?” Seungmin finally let go of your arm, instead he cupped your cheek, making you look at him, just as he started to thrust up into your fists. “I know what you want to tell me. Or, at least, I think I do, fuck… I can hear how fast your heart is beating, pup. I can smell it all, you know? I wanna know what you’re thinking. Tell me”.

You licked your lips, staring into his eyes. You were sure your face couldn’t be any warmer, yet the heat seemed to spread further the longer you looked at him, the faster you moved your hands and he thrusted into your grip.

“I’m… Fuck, I can’t help but think how it would feel like inside me, stretching me open…”

“Oh, shit–” Seungmin threw his head back. His tail thrashed against the headboard, and his ears were twitching nonstop. “I can–Fuck, baby, I can give it to you. Whatever you want, just say it and I’ll give it to you”.

With your lower lip trapped between your teeth, you took in a deep breath, almost shivering when Seungmin pulled his shirt up to reveal his torso just as he mumbled the most desperate “Close, so fucking close, puppy. Don’t you dare fucking stop. Tell me–tell me more…”

“I want… want your knot… I want you, Seungmin. So much, so, so much. Need you”, you emphasised each statement with a tighter squeeze to the swollen base of his length.

“Oh, fuck!”

With a few more thrusts of his hips, and a few more twists of your wrists, Seungmin gave you a quick warning, only for your name to fly past his lips, and explode seconds after. Thick ropes of cum spurted from the tip of his cock, painting his torso in the creamy substance and dripping all over your hands. It was so much cum, more than you had ever seen anyone ever produce.

The sounds coming out of his mouth were absolutely pornographic, they entered your ears and shot straight to your aching, needy insides. Needy for Seungmin, for his knot, and his everything.

You kept working his cock, pumping the tip to make sure every drop of his cum came out, squeezing and stroking his knot through it all. Until Seungmin’s body slumped against the headboard.

The movement of your hands stopped, but you didn’t remove them. The sight was straight out of a wet dream, his torso, his shirt, his shorts, your hands, everything was covered in cum, and you suddenly had the urge to taste it. But you begrudgingly resisted that urge, this was probably not the moment for that.

When you finally looked away from the mess, your eyes found Seungmin’s. His chest rose and fell with his ragged breaths, his lips were slightly parted as he gasped for air, and he was looking so deeply into your eyes you simply couldn’t look away.

You weren’t sure who moved first, maybe it was you, or maybe it was him… Or maybe, it had been both.

Before you knew it, Seungmin’s soft, moist lips were on yours, kissing you like a starved man. And you retaliated, of course. You kissed him with the same enthusiasm he had, licking his bottom lip to get your tongue inside his mouth, and very quickly, you started to feel lightheaded.

Kissing Seungmin was better than you could’ve ever imagined. Hearing him and seeing him come was a transcendental experience, and you were sure that your brain chemistry had just been altered forever. How could you ever go back to anyone else after this?

The kiss was messy, sloppy, tongues intertwining and teeth sinking on soft skin, producing wet noises all around. You would’ve honestly loved to stay there forever, kissing him, with his length in your hands and his cum all over your fingers. Unfortunately, though, you needed to breathe, so you finally disconnected your lips from his, and took a deep breath.

Seungmin looked into your eyes, and you looked right back. They were still dark, still alluring, but there was something else, something softer… Maybe more vulnerable. The stare-off lasted for a few moments, a few moments spent in silence, until you both broke into a fit of laughter.

Seungmin was practically glowing, he looked possibly the most handsome you’d ever seen him. Even when he was covering the lower part of his face with his hand while he laughed, trying to hide that pretty smile of his after years and years of insecurities produced by the now long since removed braces on his teeth, you still found him incredibly handsome and adorable.

“I take it you enjoyed it? You must have. Look at this mess you made”, there was a teasing smile on your lips, but the truth was, you genuinely wanted to know. 

“As much as you enjoyed, it seems”, Seungmin scoffed, and he gestured between your bodies, where you were still holding his cock. He was still just as hard as he was before he came. 

“You’re still hard?” You couldn’t hide the surprise in your voice, nor the way your eyes widened at the sight, and it made Seungmin smirk immediately. 

“Baby, I’m a dog. My cock thinks it should be inside someone right now, keeping all my cum contained with my knot. Of course I’m still hard, it wants to breed”.

“To… to breed?” Your voice was airy, shaky, suddenly unable to contain the feeling of pure arousal you felt coursing through your veins.

“Mm… to breed”, Seungmin repeated, and he bit his lip when you started to gently squeeze and caress his knot.

He detached himself from the headboard just enough so he could pull his shirt off. After a few moments of silence, he spoke again. His gaze softened further, and he brought his hands to your cheeks so he could softly caress the skin with his thumbs. “Thank you. Fuck, I'm so grateful right now. That felt so good”.

“Oh, please… It was my pleasure”, you chuckled, finally letting go of the head of his cock so both of your hands could focus on giving attention to his knot, hopefully helping relieve any possible discomfort he might be feeling since it was out in the open, unable to fulfil its purpose. 

The motions clearly made Seungmin’s blush deepen. He looked at you for a few bated breaths, and before you could even understand what was happening, you were on your back, gasping in surprise. 

Taking his discarded shirt, Seungmin knelt on the bed, right between your legs, and he cleaned your hands, as well as his torso of as much of his cum as he could. 

“Your pleasure, pretty human, hasn’t even started yet. Let me make you feel as good as you just made me feel”.

Tagging: @oiminho · @dundullresident · @straylightdream · @biribarabiribbaem · @dearalice · @alexis-reads-fics · @xcookiemonsteer · @knowleeknow · @ven-fic-recs · @liminaldaydream · @bintificreads · @svngiem · @princelingperfect · @aestheticsluut · @skzhomiehopper · @cessixja · @mimzibee · @hipsdofangirl · @floatingcoffecup · @toplinehyunjin · @goblinracha · @viviixlyy · @kpop-bbdoll · @meloncremesoda · @fawnpeaks · @dalamjisung · @jaiuneamesolitaiire · @lilramennoodle · @stayconnecteed · @iadorethemskz · @junebug032 · @meowmeowhoon · @poutypoutybin · @seo--changbin · @yeetfellx

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© therhythmafterthesummer 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

Constructive feedback (or even keysmashes, really) is always welcome :) feel free to leave your comments in the caption/tags when you reblog, or by sending me an ask !

General Masterlist

[thenerdyindividual]

Y’all I think another fanfic scam is going around.

[img id: a message from account avawhite inviting me to sign up for ifanfiction.com]

ifanfiction.com is a real site, but when you investigate it, there is a home page stating that their most popular genres are BTS, Werewolf, Billionaire, and Mafia using AI art as cover photos for the genre. It claims that there are 100,000+ stories published with 100 million readers. However if you try to click on any of the genre title cards, it doesn't take you to any actual writing. They also claim to have "professional editors", "fanfic community", and "work respected". The logo they used for fanfic community was a head with AI written inside it which does not inspire confidence.

Going to the authors page, there are a few paragraphs about what the benefits of writing for this site which sound like they were written by AI. They say you can also publish original fiction on that site and they will give you “fixed royalty share and bonuses from the income”. They make sure to say that all fanfic is free on their site, but later claim that users are paying to use the site. The only way to sign up as a writer is to either email the address in the screenshot above, or if you go to author.ifanfiction.com. However upon poking around the author page, there was no TOS. There also does not seem to be a sign up page to be a reader.

I followed the link to their facebook group, and found that there is only one member who is the admin. There are no posts, and the group was not created until December 14, 2023.

I investigated the tumblr that messaged me. This is what their blog page looks like.

As you can see it is blank like a bot page is. I also checked out their likes. There were only two and both were fic collection posts. They follow 8 people, 7 of whom have updated in the last day and the other updated a month ago. So it’s clear that they are active accounts which is likely how they were followed.

All of this seems really sketchy. I make no claims as to what the site is actually attempting to do, but it seems like it’s a combo of email phishing and AI scraping. I would not recommend trusting this site with any of your work, fanfic or original.

[deception-united]

hi!! just found your blog :))

so i've been wondering if you have any tips on writing characters in general. i feel like everytime i write, they're all the same (their internal dialogue are hardly different from each other) and rather boring and bland. do you have any advice for this issue? thanks <33

Hi, thanks for asking! It's a common challenge for writers, myself included, to create characters who feel vivid and distinct on the page—especially when there's a particular type of character that I enjoy writing more. This induces reluctance to explore and can make characters too similar in their mannerisms, quirks, and speech. Here are some tips to help you develop more dynamic characters:

Create detailed character profiles. Before you start writing, take some time to flesh out your characters. Think about their backgrounds, personalities, motivations, fears, desires, and quirks. The more you know about your characters, the easier it will be to make them unique.

Give each character a distinct voice. Pay attention to the way each character speaks and thinks. Consider their education, background, and personality when crafting their dialogue and internal monologue. Each character should have their own vocabulary, speech patterns, and mannerisms (see my post on character voices for more!).

Focus on contradictions. People are complex, and characters should be too. Think about the contradictions within each character. Maybe they're confident in public but insecure in private, or they're fiercely independent but secretly crave companionship. These contradictions add depth and realism to your characters.

Use character flaws. Flaws are incredibly important. They make characters more relatable and multidimensional, causing internal conflict and affecting their decisions, actions, and relationships. Give your characters weaknesses, insecurities, and vices that they struggle with throughout the story. These flaws can drive the plot and create opportunities for growth and development.

Explore character relationships. Characters are shaped by their interactions with others. Pay attention to the dynamics between your characters and how they influence each other. Conflict, friendship, love, and rivalry can all reveal different facets of your characters' personalities.

Give your characters goals. What does each character want, and what are they willing to do to achieve it? Their goals can drive the plot forward and provide insight into their motivations and priorities.

Consider the environment. Characters are influenced by their surroundings. Think about how factors like culture, society, family, and upbringing shape your characters' identities and behavior.

Allow for character growth. Characters should change and evolve over the course of the story. Give them opportunities to learn from their experiences, overcome challenges, and develop as individuals.

Read widely and observe people. Pay attention to how people behave in real life and in literature. Study how different authors create memorable characters, and consider what techniques you can apply to your own writing.

Check out this ask game for inspiration!

Hope this helped ❤

Previous | Next

[jk-kiwi]

Matchmaker

Matchmaker Mini series (?) - Part 1 Characters - BFF/JK x business owner Y/N (Woman)

Genre - romance, drama, angst, unreciprocated feelings, fluff (?), THIS is fiction!

Summary - Looking for love? Matchmaker could be the answer. But in a game of love, sometimes the hardest person to win over is the one closest to you. Will you be able to handle the love you've always dreamed of…or will the truth tear everything you’ve ever built apart? Matchmaker—where love meets destiny, and the real challenge begins when you least expect it.

Warnings - dating app shenanigans, jealousy, JK is going with other girls (he’s not dating though), a little bit of stalker behaviour, making a fake profile.

Author’s note - This is more of a pilot episode!!! I plan on making this a mini series with maybe 3is chapters if people are interested. I'm down for any ideas. PLEASE READ!

Word count - 2.6k

—-------------------------------------------------------------

“Yet another successful year for such an inspiring businesswoman! Miss Y/L/N, how do you feel knowing your app Matchmaker has topped the charts for yet another year? 

The enthusiasm was obvious in the reporter’s voice, her eyes sparkling with glam and eager while waiting for your response. You smile a little, leaning closer to the mic in front. “It’s an honor, truly! I’m happy my project helped so many find true love.” you reply smoothly, the people in front of you cheering loudly at your humble response. “You must be the ultimate romantic!” the reporter squeaks in joy “With so much success matchmaking others, how about your own love story? Is there a special someone in your life?” she asks curiously, making you freeze slightly. 

You clear your throat, smiling shyly. “Let’s just say I’ve been a little busy helping others achieve true love, it’s been hard to focus on my own.” The crown chuckles at your response while you avert your gaze at the watch on your hand, trying to come up with a solution to change the topic, and fast. “I don’t have much time left, are there any other questions regarding my application?” The lady was caught off guard at how bold and confident you were in changing the topic, but she managed to gain composure way too quickly for your own liking. 

“What more can we say, your app has a 95% success rate, you’ve truly made something extraordinary! What’s next for Matchmaker? Any exciting updates we can look forward to?”

You nod, your heel impatiently clicking on the floor. “Absolutely! We’re working on a new feature that incorporates real-time features to help dating take a much smoother turn! Please stay tuned for the updates!” You clasp your hands together smiling brightly. The reporter says the ending phrases, thanking you and everyone around while the cameras flash brightly towards you. With a final wave you step out of the public eye and into the backstage of the place, a sigh of relief leaving your lips and the buzz of a phone catching your attention.

_______________

Mr. JK - Saw the interview, you did great!

_______________

You smile seeing his message pop up, so he’s watched it after all. You lean against the wall, fingers hovering over the screen for a second before typing a response. _______________

Mr. JK - Saw the interview, you did great!

Y/N - You said you would not watch it! What a liar! 

Mr. JK - How can I not watch my favorite girl? _______________

His instant response makes your fingers freeze, leaving him on seen before closing your screen. A warm feeling starts spreading through you, making your heart race. His favorite girl? That’s not possible. You take a deep breath, unsure whether to respond or wait for him to send a next message. “Is he joking?” you ask yourself seeing he does not come with a reply. You sigh after 5 minutes of painful wait, wondering if Jungkook has that cocky grin on his face knowing he’s put you on the spot, if he even knows in the first place. The boy is clueless. Gathering the left over equipment and your bag, you make your way out of the building, one bodyguard on either side. Coming closer to the door you could hear the cheers and laughter of fans, their joy bursting in loud screams when you come out.You wave lightly, bowing down while trying to avoid questions, fame was not what you had in plan for your life, but you tried to enjoy it. 

Matchmaker. 

This was what brought you up to where you were right now. The app that transformed your career and also the lives of thousands of people, a success you’ve never imagined.

The project had been your passion, your dream. And it all started from a foolish mistake. 

You fell in love with your best friend.

That’s how it started, from the foolish guy you’ve been in love since 3rd grade.  But it wasn’t just about him. It was also about the stupid fact that the guy did not believe in love.

So you made matchmaker as a way to prove that love does not need to be over complicated when you meet the right person. 

And there you were now, your app has been number one on the dating charts for 5 years now, you’ve matched over 2 million people, yet you were still caught up on the web of being single, and your best friend was still the stupid fool who did not believe in love. In conclusion, the progress you made, despite being high on the app, was zero in your life.

—------------------

Pouring yourself a glass of wine you sit down on your sofa, the city lights from the lively night view being almost the only thing illuminating your living room.

You sink down between the plush pillows, grabbing the remote in your hand, switching through channels just to see you over and over. Old interviews, new interviews, media appearances you didn’t really remember making, but there you were, smiling brightly, speaking confidently. Each clip showing the polished, successful version of yourself that the world knows.

You can’t help but wonder, as your face flickers across the screen, “Is this who I really am?”. But the truth is, no matter how much success you have, it’s never enough when the one thing you truly want is something you can’t have. “Hey! There she is!” you jump in surprise, the red liquid spilling slightly on your nightgown. He stands in the doorway, a playful grin on his face. “What are you doing here?” you ask, setting your glass down, looking at how the wine spreads quickly, like fire, on your satin pajamas. Jungkook steps forward, unhinged at your reaction. His arms carrying the usual big bouquet of flowers he likes to gift you after a good appearance, a bottle of champagne in his other hand. “Came to celebrate another success of my girl!” Your nose scrunches up at the hearing of his praises, though, you should be used by now. “I told you not to call me that.” you mutter grabbing the flowers out of his hands. The boy chuckles before opening the bottle with a loud pop, rushing into your kitchen to grab glasses. “And there you go. For the great success of the best woman ever to exist, my best friend, Y/L/N Y/N, and for the phenomenon she’s created into the world of dating.” glasses clink together and you take a quick sip of the champagne. He drains the glass in one go, leaning on your couch with a satisfied face, making you chuckle and shake your head. Typical Jungkook. "You should savor it, not just gulp it down like that. It's good champagne." you tease him and he shrugs. “Some things should just be enjoyed all at once.” he replies, eyes staring at you as he props his arm up behind his head, making himself comfortable.

You roll your eyes, plopping next to him, his hand quickly reaches down to drag your gown a little lower. “Don’t show yourself like that.” His tone was unexpectedly serious. You scoff, folding your arms, letting silence break between you two. “So…what now?” you shift a little to face the man. “Should I tell you about my day? Are you up for a little rant?” Jungkook’s gaze softens slightly, his hand tracing patterns on your covered thigh, you just hum, eyes fixated on the tv. “Do you remember Rebecca?” 

“The girl you told me about, your coworker?” you remember her, how can you forget. 

Jungkook came in one day ranting to you how his new colleague has a crush on him. You sulked the whole day, how can you not remember. “Yes, her. We went out today.”

You swallow harshly, muscle tensing a little. “So, how was it?” your tone was cold, a flicker of jealousy catching you off guard so you try to play it cool. “Did you two have fun?” “Hmm, it was fine.” the man replies, shrugging it off as if it’s no big deal.

“Just fine?” you push. “I mean, she’s nice and all, and her body is uhhh, but I think she’s trying a little too hard to impress me.  You turn to face him more, the bitterness growing inside of you. “She could be fun for a few nights, I guess.” he adds with a casual voice. You scoff raising from your seat abruptly, not willing to take his shit any longer. Sure, Jungkook was a hot and funny guy, you knew he was not exactly a saint, man did not believe in love, not sex. But you also knew that his actions always hurt you in the end. He was a good friend, always there for you, helping with problems while dealing with his own, and you’ve been there for him countless times, especially since you were more financially stable and he had a lousy part time job that you always nagged him about. Even so, his boldness and the way he tells you everything that’s going on in his life so casually, bothered you a little. Safe to say, you were jealous, very jealous. 

He would come at times, ranting to you about all types of chicks he’s seen, telling you how his dates went on, or how many times they hooked up at his place, just to unknowingly hurt you in the end AND to never see them again since “they had flaws”. 

And that’s what stung the most. He’d get close to these girls, share himself with them only to pull away when things got a little serious, since love is just a “myth” in his stuck up, ideal head. It was frustrating, and it made you push away from him many times. “Are you upset?” he follows you around while you grab the glasses and clean around. You stop for a moment just to sigh, already feeling bad regarding the attitude you were giving him. “No, I’m fine,” you reply softly “Just really tired.”

His footsteps come closer, his arms wrapping around you from behind while you do the dishes. “If you're tired, you should rest. The coolest business woman I know will have another revolutionary day tomorrow.” You set the sponge down laughing at his nonsense. He lets go of you as you turn to face him, his smile big and genuine. “I should leave too, I have so much work tomorrow.” he groans, resting his head on your shoulder. “Go home and get some rest. You’ve got a busy day ahead too.” your words were soft, hands dragging through his silky black hair. He steps back after a while, but not without giving you an affectionate look. You watch him take his jacket before leaving, the warmth of his presence still lingering on your body. Your fingers still lightly brush your shoulder where his head had rested, smiling to yourself like an idiot before coming back to the cruel reality that you will never have this man. Shaking your head you take on, you lied to him. How can you go to sleep when you have so much to work on your plate, countless nights of making sure people love comes true? 

Entering your home office you set yourself in front of the big screen, the ironic motto “love has no time limit” stuck up on your wallpaper. 

You open your emails, reading through all the praises and positive reviews, as well as tips on how to improve your app and some other comments when something catches your eye. Or perhaps, someone? It was right there, in the new entry registration inbox, a list of thousands of mails, but one that caught your gaze so fast. “mr.jungkook.jeon@mail.com”. You pause, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as your heart skips a beat. You know this mail, how can you not? It’s the one you did for him 12 years ago, back when you were 15. You bite your lip, hesitating for a moment before clicking on it. He’s made an account.

Your best friend, the guy you’ve crushed on for as long as you remember, made an account on your dating app. Why?

Your heart races as you stare at the screen, what should you do? A rush of emotions burn within you when you start scrolling through his profile. It was a new account, freshly made, 5 days ago.

His picture is the one you took back when you were on vacation, at a ski resort, the time he taught you how to snowboard, the next few ones being the ones from the time you were on a cruise in Caraibe. “Looking for someone who believes love isn’t a myth, try change my mind.” It catches your eye, his bio. Age, name, what he works and one stupid quote you can’t quite pick on.

You stare at his profile for about an hour now, not even realising how much of a stalker you are. You lean on your chair, wondering about what to do before a devious thought crosses your mind. “I can’t.” you firmly say to yourself, but your hand was already reaching for your phone. “I shouldn’t…” you bite your lip while installing the app on your phone, opening it just to be met with the criteria of making an account. It’s an overwhelming feeling, what are you about to do could change everything. Closing your eyes for a second you enter your mail and password. A new section pops up, the customisation of your new profile. 

For a moment, you sit there frozen, staring at the screen in disbelief. This is it. You’ve just created a profile on your own app, just to interact with Jungkook without him knowing. “This is insane, you are insane.” but you can’t help the grin that grows on your face. You enter your bio, scroll through some pictures that could not give you away, deciding on some random vacation pics instead of yourself, before finishing your profile with the quote who characterises you the best “Hopeless romantic”

You pause and read it over a few times, wondering if it’s good enough to pass and after a final check “It’s done.”, you press save and the notification on your computer immediately goes up, telling you that, well, You, just registered on Matchmaker. Glancing at your phone and then back at the screen of your pc, worry creeps in while searching for Jungkook’s profile. It felt wrong, but the good type of wrong. With a shaky breath you stare at his profile, the big button of “swipe right” right in front of you. You take a big breath and without thinking, your thumb presses the button making you close your eyes in disbelief of what you’ve done. The screen blinks for a second, the quietness settling around, the only thing that could be heard would probably be the thumping of your heart. 

Then, the screen lights up again, the iconic butterfly interface you made for your app showing up with a message. 

“It’s a MATCH!”

For a second you don’t move, taking in the fact that you just matched up with your best friend under an unknown identity.

“What have I done?” You think again, but there’s no going back now. So, you sit there, eyes wide, staring at the screen, a single notification appearing way too soon.

_______________________

Jeon JK - Lia huh? What makes you be such a hopeless romantic?

_______________________

As you read the message, your breath catches in your throat, and with a soft laugh to yourself you close your eyes, the silence engulfing you being only the tip of the iceberg. “Mr. Jeon, let the game of love begin.”

And with this, your little game of making your best friend fall in love with you has begun. But are you really ready for what’s about to come next?

[apollo-likes-writing]

LAPIS LAZULI (PROLOGUE)

Character(s): Kakavasha/Aventurine, Veritas Ratio/Lapis Lazuli

Tags: Angst, long fic, role swap!au

Word Count: 933 words

Summary: A role swap!AU where Ratio takes his rejection by Nous a lot harder than he did in canon and loses himself as a result, becoming one of the Ten Stonehearts, while Aventurine is not recruited by the IPC and is instead a scholar in the Intelligentsia Guild.

Author’s Note: This was inspired by the amazing @havanillas with their role swap! AU! Check it out! Their mind is brilliant (and I am obsessed with the way they have drawn their differences). Also, I’m a nerd about crystals, not about space, so forgive me if there are any inaccuracies. I was also vaguely tipsy when I was writing the ending, so please excuse that. This will be multiple chapters, so let me know if you’d like to be on the tag list.

Main Masterlist | Fic Masterlist

A science lesson in the metaphysical properties of crystals and gems, if you’ll allow me.

I know, I know. You did not click this fanfiction for a science lesson. It’ll be quick, I promise. It would be perfectly understandable for you to click off this, or even send a hate comment stating “I DID NOT ASK FOR THIS!!1!1!!”

Still here? Great. I’ll continue.

Everything has a vibrational frequency: from the rocks in the ground to the leaves in the trees. You have a vibration. Your best friend has a vibration. Your pet gecko has a vibration. Hell, even the device you’re reading this on and the bed your sitting in has a vibration. You get the picture, yes? These frequencies are like a marker that interact with other markers to create different influences.

Things like crystals and rock - objects that have existed for thousands of years - are bound to have stronger frequencies (let me know if I lose you. There is a point to this, I promise) that interact with you differently. Amethyst, for example, helps with sleep and meditation; Rose Quartz is great for self love; Carnelian and Tiger’s Eye can give you a confidence boost, and Aventurine is good at manifesting luck.

So, what is Lapis Lazuli good for? What magical powers does Lapis Lazuli have? What funky frequencies does it fuck around with?

Intellect.

Intellect, wisdom, and the ability to communicate, to be specific. It was used by the Egyptians a few thousand years ago as makeup and medicine, and is the stone of many gods of wisdom in various mythos’. Interesting, right? Veritas Ratio was a man of intellect. A man of prestige and great wisdom who wished to communicate his genius to those more mundane in hopes of curing ignorance. An honourable cause, if any.

See how far he has fallen.

Lapis Lazuli is no longer a man of intellect. He drinks and gambles and throws his life away all for the purpose of forgetting. Forgetting THEIR rejection. Forgetting his own ignorances.

Forgetting his own genius.

The IPC ate him up. They picked him up by the scruff of his collar and swallowed him whole. They boiled him in their stomach acid and digested him into something functional. Something utilisable. Something mouldable.

He let them.

I told you this science lesson had a point to it.

The fall of a star is always so explosive, so why did he burn out so quietly? Perhaps the rejection from a star as mighty as Nous made the rejection of himself quite infinitesimal in comparison. When a red giant explodes into a supernova, it is much more noticeable than a white dwarf imploding in on itself to create a black hole.

That doesn’t mean that a black hole doesn’t have a presence. It is a presence of darkness, yes - practically invisible if it weren’t for the event horizon that drew the eye of the nosey - but a presence nonetheless. No matter how difficult it is to see, it is still ever-present, sucking in the warmth of stars and the things it kept dear until there is nothing left. It is a shell of what it once was. Just as Lapis Lazuli is a shell of what Veritas once was. Veritas Ratio has been sucked up by the black hole, warped and spaghettified until there is practically nothing left, leaving behind only the blinding horizon disk that is Lapis Lazuli. Anyone who dares to find him - the real him - only risks being sucked up and warped themselves.

It is not wise to try and find Veritas Ratio.

Veritas Ratio: the legend of the Intelligentsia Guild. A young prodigy with three pHds under his belt at the ripe old age of sixteen, only to achieve five more before twenty-five. He is the example set for all scholar’s who wish to make names for themselves. His name is whispered in hushed voices by students for support before their exams as if he were an Aeon they worship. In the eyes of the average mundanite, he basically was.

The duality of the esteemed Doctor Ratio is a fascinating one and the topic for debate for many of his former colleagues. These debates have never been made private (for who would care? He isn’t around to hear them anymore), so even the esteemed Doctor Kakavasha has heard of his story.

The scholars of the Intelligentsia Guild have always been creatures of gossip, spreading rumours and half-truths wherever they go in order to foster attention. Kakavasha knows of these tricks and refuses to fall for them. To judge a book by its cover is as criminal to a scholar as blasphemy is to a priest. Honestly, these Guild members have such massive sticks up their backside that Kakavasha is surprised they’re not coughing up leaves. He, like many of his calibre, has looked up to the legend that is Veritas Ratio ever since he started his first degree at university. The man is only a few years his senior, but his reported work ethic and candid attitude has followed the Avgin throughout his own education and beyond. It’s safe to say that he idolises the man despite his unknowable reasons for his disappearance and recruitment into the IPC. Time changes everything. Perhaps time changed Veritas Ratio’s outlook in life and he found better prospects in an institution as massive as the IPC.

Despite this, Kakavasha wishes to find him, to hold an educated conversation with him, in hopes of receiving his perspective on his independent research project:

How to get rid of his divine luck.

—

Hope you enjoyed! Super proud of this. Reblogs appreciated!

Next Chapter

[distant--shadow]

The witch and the widow chapters 1-4 author’s notes

Ok, so first off I feel I gotta preface this by saying I am absolutely not a history buff. Kinda the opposite of one really. I was one of less than 10% of the kids in my year of 300 or so that didn’t take history at GCSEs, mostly caus a subject taught and based around names and dates etc is the definition of something not suited for my type of brain, also I hugely lost interest in it caus we moved past the fun trebuchet eras and all that real fast and it became of slog of me falling asleep in lessons caus I had a teacher whose method was putting on movies and shutting the blinds (I’d always fall asleep and he was later jailed for being a p*edophile, so that’s a thing.) Anyway, all that to say I’m not good at this shit, but as ive gotten older I have taken a bigger interest in queer history in particular, and that often if not always links into other areas such as fashion, women’s rights, religion,the arts, class, and race etc. (I’m still not good at names and dates though!)

They are outfitted and arsenalled - the stones of the wall - in a manner to rival any army; tapestries of red and gold perhaps once brandished on battlefield as banners promenading around death now retired and indoor-still-air-still as taxidermy giving colour between all of the shades of metal, burnished and polished and in some cases rusting, some still purposefully left blood-stained, swords and pikes and maces arranged in wallpaper patterns as though flowers or fans, sword-sheath beams spreading from chest-plate armour suns.

Let’s start with something easy and recent. The Baron’s armoury was inspired by a few castles I’ve visited, these rooms are always so bizarre to me. I don’t know if this is at all of the time/how they were decorated or a more recent thing, but either way it’s pretty wild but I do love the visual and metaphor of it. In this one castle I found out from talking about the carpentry to an attendant that the decorative ceiling work around the chandelier above the dining room table actually hid a trapdoor - and there was other hidden doorways for passages and to secret rooms in this castle, that’s not that unusual - but this particular trapdoor was to allow for the chandeliers to be switched out. Why? Caus they had them in multiple colours of glass, and the lady of the castle liked the chandelier to co-ordinate with her dress if they were having guests round. Aint that such a flex? Definitely some food for future thought.

Aight. Clothing. So anyone that chats fic/au to me or is in my server has probably heard me yell to go watch Kaz Rowe’s videos many times. As I’ve said this fic aint meant to be historically accurate but it does kinda straddle histories, one of which being our own; so women wearing trousers and the like at this time would still be a crime, and draw a lot of attention . Imogen in men’s clothing genuinely isn’t meant to be much of a gender thing but a thing of practicality, and she has mostly lived in the countryside or in the outskirts, so she does not get into the trouble she would should she go into the towns and cities (another reason to keep away past the potential noise, but this Imogen will happily don a dress or skirts if she needs to, she’s just usually working – and maybe it’s a bonus that dressing as a man acts as a sort of flagging for any women who might be interested lol.)

I guess here I should mention how I think this version of Imogen's powers and how they’ve manifested (along with everyone else being unaware of them) will have somewhat changed her disposition and personality, it is a lot more aligned with later campaign Imogen who has more confidence and empowerment, she hasn’t been ostracised for her abilities or particularly bombarded by them, think more like when she has her circlet on, she chooses to listen in (mostly), although of course she has still heard many terrible things (and her life has still been pretty brutal but that’s to be written still).

(it’ll be really fun in this regard getting to explore and explain this version of Laudna, but early days for giving much away on that yet!)

Her skirts are full and structured and plumed by many layers of petticoats that hide the movement of her feet across the wildflower lawn, causing her to appear to be drifting like the bees do from petal to petal, pollen dusting her pleats though ghostly her skin in contrast to the fine fabrics that she dresses for the part, black in mourning, still, bodice tight and sleeve leg of mutton, an ornate decorative layer of black lace laying over each yard of textured textile like spider webs on porcelain patterns, her husband's tableware collecting dust in the kitchen cupboard.

real impractical for how tending towards practical the Lady dares to be, hands on, too busy for errant hairs in piano key ivory and ebony windswept and loose from the high bun she pins in place with a cameo broach, a memento mori engraved in silver and inlayed with ruby eyes and tied with red ribbons. Her skin also proudly displays the age and perhaps trauma that her hair does, lines from laughter and furrowed brows and the feet of the crows that cry from the top of the chimney pots

A little note as to say that Laudna’s appearance is heavily influenced by Victorian mourning wear, with some of the clothes cuts altered to be a little bit more regency and earlier in places. (her  attire is a little outdated, further suggesting her distancing from society and fashion)

A couple of days ago Imogen happened upon a bird with an injured wing, crying helplessly and rolling in circles, feathers taking flight away from the bird that could not, settling around it as it panicked itself bald-

The bird could not live without the use of its wing, and it didn’t, whether that was by Prosciutto or a fox, only its feathers were left in a pile.

Imogen had gathered them into an empty burlap sack; taken them to one of the maids downstairs to clean, repurpose them for filling pillows.

Here’s a silly little easter egg for my p(r)oof reader. Last time he visited we was enjoying a cinnamon roll from the local bakery by the city river (as you do) and a cyclist hit a seagull. It was real distressing, the seagull was distressed too. A handfull of middle aged women stood around it not wanting or knowing how to intervene as its wing was twisted at a crazy angle and it flapped about in a pile of its own feathers, there’s still bird flu about so it is wise to not touch wild birds, and as bleak as it is I was saying to freshy that a wild bird who’s wings broken like that is gonna die, and probably slowly and painfully. Some man came along and lifted up the bird to take the bird off the path and laid it to rest behind an old bridge building, I think he must have mercy killed it too as the bird was already dead when we walked past 10 or so minutes later after finishing our cinnamon roll and giving a cautious glance. So there’s a nice happy memory thrown in there for him.

what appears to be driftwood breaches the surface, then another point, then another

the water belches

Ceviche scares, whinnying as he rears onto his back legs, the Lady leaning forward and clinging to his harness. Imogen stands in her stirrups, leaning across the gap over to the black stallion, grasping his reins and cooing

“All good, boy, all good-”

What had appeared to be driftwood lands on the surface with a slap, looking like the carcass of an old boat left to rot in the muddy bed of a dock, timber ribcaged and leathered skin cladding.

A femur surfaces, followed by a jaw.

Second easter egg for the p(r)oof is a quick one (I’m such a considerate writer, I know.) On a train ride to a loch we went to for a day out there is a stop that is on another lake/body of water, and right by the train tracks (which are at water height) there are 4 or 5 old ships stuck in the mud, most of them just the frames/structures of the old boats, mostly wood and some bits of metal, but they’re pretty big boats! It really looks like whale carcasses. I’ve always wanted to get of there and check it out, and we were gonna stop by on the way back but my health being what it is was giving me some grief that day so we missed 2 trains and then soon the daylight, so hopefully next time buddy.

There’s alotta meat and gore talk and Imogen being a vegetarian without the label for such is just another way of me playing round with all of her complex feelings about what the Lady might be doing, her feelings towards Angharad butchering and nourishing the women with these communal stews and all of that. I’ve been vegetarian myself for 20 years now, and it was all triggered by an existential crisis in my mid teens (still a huge fan of leather and blood though) – Imogen greatly cares about animals, struggles with the thought of anything being slaughtered, she is in some ways more empathetic than most because she knows those she does on so much more of a personal level, really feels how someone is reacting to a situation they are in, but also because of this she knows humans are often corrupt and vile and she is spared such thoughts from animals, only knows their instincts and the love and comfort and service they bring – and yet she will obsess over the Lady’s (potential) tooling on that saddlework leather that’s really fucking brutal if she thinks about it one way and beautiful if she thinks about it another hmmm what if everything’s not black and white.

Oh, and the stew is a homage to @picturesofthegoneworlds’ pre-campaign fic Intertwined which I am lucky enough to co-parent and her writing is hugely influential on mine.

There’s a few things being bread crumb trailed here that I can’t explain in the author notes yet, but I’m looking forward to when I can. One small detail I will give away is just a silly thing about the chapter headings. They are something of significance from within the chapter, given in its ‘proper’ name – maybe someone gets access to some books to do research at some point?

anyways, thanks @astoriacolumnstaircase for enabling me. will do another post like this for future chapters if folks find it interesting.