#I think it must be because almost all the typing I do on a keyboard is at work

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Code to your heart

pairing: lee felix x amab!reader

genre: fluff, smut

word count: 12.5k

description: Felix pines over his oblivious coworker. But a new project at the office becomes a chance for him to get closer to his crush.

warning/s: swearing, time skips, masturbation, lots of mutual pining, mc and felix are both oblivious, oral, handjobs, cum swapping, kinda public sex, protected sex, bulge kink for a moment, dirty talk, praising, light bondage, lots of aftercare (lmk if i missed something)

a/n: i enjoyed imagining and writing this so much and i am so proud of it, i hope y'all enjoy this too!🥹🫶🏻

~check out my: Masterlist

How long has it been since you haven't moved from your desk? Four, five, six hours? You've lost track of time, your brows are furrowed, eyes red from lack of sleep, your bottom lip caught between your teeth, nimble fingers gliding over the keyboard.

You haven't gotten up to get your coffee refilled yet or to eat. You didn't even notice your cup was almost empty. But Felix noticed.

He notices everything about you. Like how you only come to the office Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays. Those are the days he looks forward to the most. Your favorite color must be black because that's mostly what you wear. You have a favorite pair of jeans, black with rips on your thighs. Felix's eyes always linger a little longer on your legs when you wear those.

You take your coffee black too, your eyes always closed when you take the first sip. Felix's face scrunches up when he imagines the bitter taste of it. You run your hand through your hair multiple times whenever you're frustrated, only to have it fall back into your eyes. You bite your lower lip when you concentrate.

Felix could go on and on, and does that make him creepy? No, he is just observant and you're his favorite person to observe.

You're oblivious to this, not even sparing a single glance towards your secret admirer. Somehow, you always turn your brain into work mode, tunnel vision only for the two screens before you as you type out your code.

Felix doesn't mind this dynamic (if you could even call it that), he's too afraid to actually come up and talk to you. Looking at you from afar is kind of comforting. It's safe. It helps him get through the day. Whenever he's stressed about an error or a bug in his program, he can just look up, face almost completely hidden behind his screen as he glances at you, working a few tables away from him.

After all, the two of you do different things so you don't really cross paths or communicate a lot. Felix deals more with clients whereas you just like to put your headphones on and code. It's a safe space, you get to listen to your favorite music, be in your own little world, create from scratch, every word, number, symbol and parentheses typed out with vigor and purpose.

It's lovely to do work that fulfills you but it's also frustrating and lots of times it makes you want to pull your hair out or punch through your screen. But, it's nothing a good cup of strong coffee can't solve.

And Felix knows this. He knows that whenever you start feeling frustrated, you get up to get more coffee. He's at his desk, looking at you losing your mind. You're running your hand through your hair, biting your lip, shaking your leg. Something's got you worked up and Felix has been gathering his courage for three fucking months.

He's gonna do it. He will get up, get your coffee from the machine and he will bring it to you, strike up a conversation, maybe ask you out. His skin starts itching from nervousness and he has to get up right now, before he chickens out again.

Felix shuffles hurriedly to the machine, before you can get up and ruin his plan. He puts his coins into the machine and punches the button for black coffee. He glances back at you, your back now turned to him and he gulps as he looks at the broad expanse of your shoulders.

This really is not the right time to think about your shoulders or your arms, not when he's already so nervous to even come close to you. The machine beeps and Felix grabs the coffee, his heart leaping out his chest.

"Lix, hi!"- he almost bumps into his coworker Jisung as he turns around.

"Oh, hi Jisung."- Felix curses him in his mind. Wrong timing. Jisung is a blabbermouth and now he's going to ruin everything.

"Since when do you drink black coffee? I thought even dark chocolate was too strong for you."- Jisung smirks, poking fun at the poor boy.

"No, this is not for me. It's..."- Felix starts and then you're next to him suddenly. Well, next to the machine. And you drop your coins in and punch the button for the black coffee. Shit.

"It's what?"- Jisung tilts his head.

"Nothing, I gotta get back to my desk."- Felix mumbles, almost skipping back to his designated place, embarassment settling in his bones.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stupid Jisung. Why did he have to come in the wrong moment? Stupid Felix. Why can't he just come up and talk to you like a normal person? He groans, hiding his face in his hands, his body shrinking behind his desk. And that stupid cup of black coffee staring at him, mocking his predicament.

He can't even bring himself to look up at you, he feels so embarassed, as if you can read his mind and know what his intentions were. Felix sighs, fingers gliding over his keyboard, you didn't even acknowledge his existence when you came up to the coffee machine. If you were interested in him even a little bit you'd probably strike up a conversation, Felix thinks. He sees you communicating with some of your colleagues, laughing with them and he wishes he was the one causing that laugh and twinkle in your eye.

-

It's been a week since Felix's lame attempt at talking to you and he's contemplating what to do again. Should he try the same thing? Should he just come up to you like a normal grown up and say something like 'hey, I think you're hot, wanna go out?'. No, there's no way he would ever do something so bold. With his luck, he would probably accidentally do or say something embarassing and you'd never talk to him again.

But his luck is about to change.

"Felix, I need to see you in my office."- his boss comes up to his desk.

"Oh, okay."- Felix nods, confused if he did something wrong. He glances at your desk, but you're not sitting there anymore.

He takes a deep breath in, preparing himself mentally for whatever awaits for him in his boss's office. What he least expects is to see you sitting in one of the chairs.

Felix stops in his tracks, legs turning to jelly, his heart beating hard against his chest, hands shaking. How to breathe? Because he feels like he can't remember the basic things his body automatically does.

You turn around and look at him, your eyes traveling from his feet to the top of his head and Felix feels scrutinized. Fuck, is his hair messy? Did he fuck up his eyeliner this morning? Does he have something between his teeth? Did he accidentally forget to change out of his pjs before coming to work?

Felix's feels like his last brain cells have just abandoned him.

"I'm sure you two already made acquaintances, Felix and Y/n."- your boss gestures between the two of you with his hands, smiling like nothing important is happening. Like you aren't just two steps away from him, and he can smell your cologne and it's making him feel dizzy.

"Yeah, sure."- you nod, a small polite smile on your face, your eyes unreadable. Felix's chest vibrates with nerves, excitement rushing through his veins. You've noticed him?

"Yeah!"- he says, a little too enthusiastic and then cringes internally at himself.

"Well that's good because we have a huge project coming up. I've been monitoring both of your work recently, and I've decided that coupled with the skills you two have, the time you put into your work and your results, you'd be my best people for this."- your boss says and is Felix dreaming? Is he dreaming? Because this can't be for real.

"These are the clients files, Felix you will take care of the promotion and marketing, Y/n you will take care of coding and implementing the product. Ofcourse, this isn't something only the two of you can do so I'm also assigning you a team. But I want the two of you to come up with ideas how to implement this because through your creative work, I can see you have a similar thought process."- your boss explains, giving you a folder of documents.

You seem unphased as you flip through the pages while Felix is literally melting into a puddle, he wants to scream, cry or claw at the wall, or possibly all of the above.

"Questions?"- your boss asks.

"When can we start?"- you ask, ready to tackle any task you've been given.

"As soon as possible."

-

Felix follows you as you make your way out of your boss's office.

"Wanna get started right away?"- you ask.

"Yeah, sure, I just finished the last assignment I had."- Felix answers, trying to calm himself down and hoping to all the gods that he looks normal on the outside.

You nod, making your way towards your table where you leave the folder.

"You want some coffee?"- you ask.

"Oh sure. With milk and three sugars."- Felix says and he swears you look disgusted for a moment before you turn around and leave for the coffee machine.

"Thanks!"- Felix calls behind you and you dismiss him with a wave of your hand.

Felix doesn't know what to do with himself. He doesn't know if you wanna work at your desk, his desk, or maybe one of the empty offices. He feels so awkward, scared that he'll embarass himself and look stupid in front of you, and he doesn't want to blow what might be his only chance.

He's startled from his thoughts by you putting the coffee cup on the table.

"Here, your coffee."- you say it pointedly.

"T-thank you."- Felix feels his face heating up as you stand so close to him.

"Maybe we should take one of the empty offices for more privacy."- you say, grabbing the folder and shrugging.

More privacy. Why would you say it like that? Felix starts freaking out as he reads between the lines.

"Y-yeah, sure."- he answers and both of you grab whatever you need from your desks before you walk into one of the empty offices.

As soon as you sit down, you take a sip of your coffee, your eyes closing like always and Felix steals a glance at you. He can't believe you're actually sitting so close to him.

After that first sip, you waste no time, going over the documents and requests of the client with Felix. The boss is proven to be right as the both of you start discussing the best way to approach this project, you agree on everything almost instantly.

For a few moments, Felix forgets how embarassed he is to be next to you as you keep your themes of conversation professional.

This is the first time you've actually taken a good look at Felix. Ofcourse, you'd say a polite 'hello' whenever you ran into him. You'd seen him at his table or walking around, talking to everyone, always wearing pastels, especially baby blue. When you're concentrated on your screen and he walks by, you see a bundle of blue just pass by your peripheral, leaving behind the sweet scent of his cologne.

You've also noticed that there's half eaten chocolate or candy on his desk always. You wonder if he has cavities with the amount of sugar he's eating, internally cringing at the thought of the artificial sugary taste.

You never noticed that he wears makeup, just a bit of eyeshadow, barely noticeable eyeliner and gems under his eyes. You never noticed that his face is full of freckles, reaching even up to his ears. You never noticed how plump his lips are, upper lip in the shape of a heart.

A thought runs through your mind; wow, he's really pretty.

Your heart skips a beat and you shake your head. No, you don't even want to entertain such thoughts. You don't want to start anything with anyone, you enjoy being alone and free, only having to care for your cat. Humans are complicated. You don't do complicated, unless it's a code. And even the most difficult algorithms are easier to you than people.

Business. That's what you're going to concentrate on. The task before you. You dismiss thoughts about Felix, almost ignoring his presence as you start working on a data flow chart.

Felix on the other hand, sweats profusely across from you. He's also working on his laptop but it feels awkward. He's used to yapping away with someone even while he works but you're so zeroed in on your screen that it seems like you don't even care that he's there.

How is it so easy to strike up conversation with anyone except you? Felix swears his brain turns to mush whenever he tries to formulate sentences in front of you.

"Felix? Are you listening?"- you wave your hand in front of his face, and oh my god you said his name. Felix perks up immediately, his neck and face burning up like a fucking forest fire as you stare at him.

"Um, you were saying?"- Felix fake coughs, trying to cover up that he was zoning out.

"I said I'm done with the flow chart. If you wanna look at it?"- you say, turning your laptop towards Felix.

"Oh right, sure."- Felix nods and you get up and sit next to him, sliding your laptop closer. Fuck fuck fuck. He can't do this, Felix has no idea how he'll take being so close to you, yet so far away.

"So, this is what I was thinking..."- you start explaining, and Felix listens, he really does but you smell so nice, your hair looks so soft and your knee bumps into his a few times. His insides turn into jelly but he makes himself listen. He can't afford to make a fool out of himself in front of you. He wants to impress you.

He concentrates and adds his input, and you stare at him as he talks, your eyes roaming all over his face. Just why are you looking at him like that?, Felix thinks as his heart beats out of his chest.

Your eyes fall to his lips as he keeps talking, and Felix sees your tongue dart out shortly and lick your bottom lip. Fuck.

"Anyways, yeah, so what do you think about that?"- Felix finishes.

"Sounds good. We're on the same wavelength. We should have a meeting with the rest of the team tomorrow. Jisung and Minho probably already went home. And I don't think Changbin is here today at all."- you conclude.

"Yeah, I agree."- stupid. 'Ask him out! Do it! Just say it!', Felix's brain screams at him.

"Looking forward to working with you, Felix."- you smile, a genuine smile, your hand reaching towards his.

"Yeah, me too!"- Felix beams at you, shaking your hand.

Something flutters in your stomach. Those damned butterflies! You get up as fast as you can, gathering your things because the office suddenly seems smaller than it did before.

"See you tomorrow."- you say, and turn around, speeding out the door before Felix can even react.

Felix sits there for another five to ten minutes, the smell of your cologne lingering around him, your voice still echoing in his ear, the feeling of your hand holding his still on his skin.

How can he recover from this?

-

The next day, you arrange a meeting with your coworkers. Felix wants to strike up a conversation that doesn't involve work with you. But it seems that being closer to you feels like you're even further away than you usually are, a few desks away from him and not acknowleding his existence.

You're concentrated on your coding, mostly talking to Minho and Changbin since they're programmers too. The three of you keep exchanging ideas and talking about things Felix doesn't understand as deeply as you do.

At the end of the day, you politely greet everyone and slip away like sand slipping away through his fingers.

And that happens every single day of you working together on the project.

Ten days later, Felix is becoming more and more frustrated, and today's been a particularly bad day all together and Felix makes mistakes the whole time.

"Are you even paying attention?! We're gonna be behind because of you."- Jisung rolls his eyes in annoyance.

"Cut him some slack, Jisung."- you chime in before Felix can even open his mouth and hey, what the hell. You stood up for him! Felix feels like he can conquer the world, climb the highest mountain, dive the deepest sea, fly up into the sky and probably land on the Moon.

"Sorry."- Jisung mutters. "I'm just on edge."

"We all are."- Changbin adds and it's true. The client keeps changing and adding requests, and he's too particular about everything, making all of your team want to pull their hair out.

"Next week, I'll be working from home only. So, we can just use Zoom for meetings, okay?"- you announce at the end of the shift.

Felix is disappointed. Now, he's not even gonna see you for a whole damn week. He hasn't been without you for more than 2 days in the last few months and he doesn't know how he'll survive working without getting a dose of you.

-

Felix chooses to work from home that week too. His roommate and friend, Chan, is out of town so he can sit in his living room freely and type away.

He's on his couch, munching on some gummy candy as he works when suddenly he gets a notification to join a zoom meeting. He looks at it and freezes. Your name is on the screen.

He quickly fixes his hair, already embarassed that he's wearing some dumb gaming merch shirt, it's too late to change it right? Is the apartment even clean?, he thinks and looks around. The frame of what you'll see seems fine so he connects to the meeting.

Felix fully expects to see his other three teammates but it's just you. You on his screen. In a plain white shirt, your hair still wet presumably from a shower, posters on the wall behind you, lofi music playing somewhere in the background.

Fuck, you look delicious, Felix almost starts screaming at the screen. How can you be that gorgeous without even giving it any effort?

"Hey, sorry to pull you into a meeting without warning but I just wanted to go through some of the things we talked about on Friday with you."- you say.

"Yeah ofcourse! Don't apologize. I was working anyways."- Felix says, moving his hand and accidentally rustling the bag of gummies next to him.

"Are you munching on candy again?"- you ask, with a knowing smirk and Felix swallows. This is the first time you asked him anything that has nothing to do with work.

"Well yeah. Sugar fuels me."- Felix shrugs, flashing you a bright smile.

"You'll get cavities."- you shake your head.

"That's a problem for tomorrow."- Felix says and you chuckle. His heart hammers in his chest, he can't believe he made you laugh, even if it was just a small chuckle.

"Well then, let's talk about today's problem."- and there it is, back to work again.

Felix deflates a little but there is still a spark within him, a spark of hope for anything blossoming between you, even if it was just a friendship, he would be happy to be by your side.

You work through your ideas together, and Felix sees you're ready to end the meeting so he panics and attempts to make you stay on the call a little more.

"Why did you take a week to work remotely?"- he blurts out. Fucking cringe. Why did he ask something like that?! You probably have your own private reasons and now he's prying into your life like some kind of desperate fool.

You look taken aback by the question and Felix wishes his couch would open up and swallow him, making him disappear forever.

"Oh, well, my cat is sick. So, I have to take him to the vet and be with him while he gets better."- you answer, and Felix absolutely melts.

"You have a cat?"- he smiles at you and you nod, returning a smile.

"Dimples."- you say.

"What?"

"My cat's name. It's Dimples."- you chuckle, your cheeks becoming a little rosy. Felix screams internally. You're not only handsome and intelligent. You're fucking adorable.

"Don't ask."- you wave your hand as Felix opens his mouth.

"Can I see him?"- Felix beams at you.

"Oh, sure. Let me get him."- you say and get up.

Felix catches a glimpse of your sweatpants, his insides churning at the sight. He has some time to look around the room you are in, and he leans in closer to get all the details imprinted in his mind. The posters hung on your wall, a cool lamp in the corner, a bookshelf full of figurines and well books, a guitar case on the floor.

Your bed, slightly unmade, with black covers and a black fluffy blanket.

"Here he is. Mister Dimples."- you appear suddenly, startling Felix as he backs away from his laptop a little.

"Oh my god! He's adorable!"- Felix gasps.

"Isn't he just the prettiest?"- you say, eyes shining as you look at your cat and nuzzle into him. Dimples meows, trying to get out of your grasp, obviously not having it.

Felix doesn't know if he wants to squish you in that moment or if he wants to be squished by you.

"Alright, he's not in the mood right now."- you chuckle, letting Dimples hop out of your arms. "But, I swear he's a friendly cat usually."

"He's not like too sick? I mean, he'll be okay?"

"Oh, yeah he'll be fine."- you smile, some kind of intimate atmosphere settling between you and your coworker. Your stomach does that butterflies thing again and you panic.

"Well, anyways, revise what I sent you in that document and then we can continue tomorrow."- your demeanor changes and Felix straightens his back and nods.

"Sure!"

"Bye, Felix."- you say and end the meeting abruptly.

Felix sits still for a few moments. Did he do something wrong? Did he cross the line somehow? Did he make you uncomfortable?

He sighs as he opens up the document and pops another gummy in his mouth.

So what if he gets cavities.

On the other side of the screen, you're taking a few moments too. Seeing Felix without makeup, dressed casually, with his hair unkempt made you feel some type of way. He looked even prettier than he does at work, if that was even possible.

It's hard enough to resist talking to him every day at work, but now that you've seen him in a relaxed state like that, your mind races.

Images run through your mind and you wonder how his soft lips would feel against yours. How pretty his legs would look all wrapped around your waist. How sweet his moans of pleasure would sound if you had your way with him.

Oh, what the hell is wrong with you?

-

Felix can't sleep that evening. Now he knows what your room and your bed look like. Now he can really imagine one of his many scenarios. One that involves the two of you in your bed.

In his half-asleep state, Felix feels hot as he imagines you on top of him, his hand sliding down to the tent in his boxers. He imagines you taking complete control over him, your kisses demanding, hands bruising and hips unforgiving.

He wants to surrender himself completely, let you touch him however you want, fuck him however you want.

His hand wraps around his leaking cock and he wishes it was your hand squeezing him, demanding sweet release from him.

He lets himself moan loudly, hand speeding up, lost in the thoughts of you, your voice, your smell, your touch. Felix cums hard and as soon as he comes down from his high, shame rushes into his brain. He can't believe he just did that.

-

Monday. That dreadful day. Felix is afraid of facing you, like you'd know what he did. He didn't touch himself to the thought of you only once, not even twice, he did so three times. The things he imagined were getting more visceral every time and when he walks into the building and sees you getting coffee, he is mortified.

He hesitates, almost tripping over his feet as he slowly makes his way to you. You sense a presence and turn around only to be greeted by Felix's shiny eyes and freckled cheeks. Your face heats up and you turn back to the coffee machine again.

"Morning."- you mumble, avoiding to look at him. Fuck, why does he look especially pretty today? His hair is in a half updo, there's little shiny stars around his eyes and lipgloss on his lips. It's all sparkly and sugary but his eyes shine the most as he looks at you. You can't take it.

"Good morning!"- Felix says nervously, why did you turn away like that? Can you actually read minds?, Felix is panicking again. Can you see what he's been thinking about all week? He catches a glimpse of himself in the glass nearby, he put in extra effort today and even wore his favorite baby blue shirt. He hopes you'll notice.

"You're getting coffee too?"- you say, grabbing your cup, still avoiding to look at him, cursing those damn insects buzzing around in your stomach.

"Oh, yeah."- Felix accidentally zoned out again. He gulps when he notices that you're wearing those damn ripped jeans, they're so tight. He can't help his curious eyes as they flit towards the slight bulge in the middle, and he feels something coil in his stomach, his throat dry.

"I'll be in the office."- you break his stare and he gasps quietly, looking up at you. Thankfully, you were staring at your phone with your brows furrowed.

"Okay."- Felix nods as you spin on your heel and hurry across the room.

When he walks into the office, he notices it's just the two of you.

"Where is our team?"- Felix asks, sitting down and opening up his laptop.

"Changbin will be here shortly, around 10 I think. Jisung has a meeting. Minho has to work on another project today."- you say, checking the schedule as Felix admires your organization.

"So it's just the two of us."- you add quietly, and Felix catches a glimpse of a shy smile as you stare at your screen. His heart jumps, almost too hard, like it's leaping out towards you.

"Good. Okay. That's good."- Felix's leg bounces up from nervousness. You're already typing away and his eyes fall down to look at your hands.

That's when he notices it, a hair tye on your wrist. Now, that would be normal if it was a black one like you always wore, but this one is baby blue.

Is Felix imagining things or did you wear it on purpose because you know that that's his favorite color? His heart can't take the thought of that.

"Good morning, suckers!"- Jisung breaks the comfortable atmosphere, as you and Felix work while listening to some lofi hiphop mix.

"Morning, Ji."- Felix greets his coworker.

"Morning."- you say, not looking up from your laptop.

"It's not even 10 and I'm already exhausted."- Jisung rolls his eyes.

"Bad meeting?"- Felix asks, sipping on his sweet coffee.

"Bad client. Was on my ass the whole time. They bombarded me with messages last night! And then they found more shit to complain about this morning. Like I didn't have a whole sleepless week because of their project."- Jisung huffs, his nose scrunched up in disgust.

"Ah, I'm sorry Ji."- Felix says, and Jisung waves his hand.

"Minho's taking me on a little road trip this weekend so we good."- he smirks. "I just had to vent a little."

"Ooh, a road trip? That's so romantic."- Felix sighs, leaning his chin on his hand. You look up at him from your screen, his eyes shiny as he stares into the distance.

"When are you gonna get some?"- Jisung smirks.

Felix's face becomes as red as a tomato in record time when he hears you cough on the left of him.

"Anyways, I revised the last entry our client made. Should be able to upload the numbers into the database now."- you break the conversation and Felix can see your cheeks becoming rosy.

"Great work!"- Felix says, he doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable and he definitely doesn't want Jisung talking about his non-existent sex life in front of you of all people.

"Thank you, Felix."- you smile, and Jisung looks up at the both of you.

Felix looks around, suddenly feeling like he's missing something.

"Oh! I forgot to bring my candy."- Felix whines and your eyes fall on his pouty, glossy lips. Images of you kissing that pout away run through your mind and your heart starts racing faster.

"Um... these are your favorite, right?"- you reach into your backpack and pull out a brand new bag of Felix's favorite candy. You have no idea what prompted you to do this but that damn bag of candy has been in your backpack for two whole weeks.

"Oh!"- Felix gasps, butterflies errupting in his stomach all the way to his chest where they flutter around his heart. "Yes, they are! You got them for me?"

"Well, yeah. I don't exactly have a sweet tooth."- you say, 'except for you', you think but bite your lip.

"That's... that's really nice of you. Thanks, y/n."- Felix is at a loss of words. "By the way, how's Dimples? Is he better?"

"Dimples?"- Jisung raises his eyebrow.

"My cat. Don't ask."- you shake your head and Felix giggles, and then cringes internally at himself.

"He was sick. And to answer your question, yes, he's good now. Back to normal. Zoomies and all."

"That's great news."- Felix smiles, feeling triumphant that he knows something more about you than your coworkers do.

Jisung observes the whole interaction, a knowing smirk on his face.

-

The project is almost done. Just a few more finishing touches. Felix fears that you'll go back to basically being strangers, passing by each other's desk when you go to get coffee.

The last week he's barely seen you, since you had no real need to come to the office. He's bummed and Jisung notices.

"Why so blue?"- he comes up to Felix. "Pun fully intended."- he motions towards Felix's blue sweater.

"I'm just tired."- the usual sparkle in his eyes is dim.

"It's y/n, isn't it? You've been ogling that man ever since the first day he walked into this building."- Jisung smirks. Damn him.

"What? I don't ogle. I... observe... and what's it to you anyways?"- Felix gets defensive, feeling embarassed that someone noticed his crush.

"Woah damn, I'm just worried about you. You don't seem like yourself these last few days."- Jisung points out.

"Sorry. I'm just worried... that we'll go back to being nothing. Not that we're anything special right now. But at least we talk. And I don't know, I- I like him a lot."

"Just like?"- Jisung smirks.

"Don't start, Ji."

"In my humble opinion, both of you are fucking idiots. Why don't you just talk to each other like normal grown-ups? If I never confessed to Minho, we wouldn't be enjoying our wonderful time together right now."

"Thanks, but no thanks."- Felix shakes his head making Jisung laugh. "I don't think he even looks at me that way."

"Oh so you're not just a coward, you're also blind."- Jisung snorts.

"Did you come here to insult me or comfort me?"- Felix smacks Jisung's arm.

"Ow! Both?"- Jisung rubs his arm. "You know what then? There's gonna be a party this weekend, more of a get-together actually. We will celebrate our project well done. That could be your chance to talk to y/n."- Jisung smirks.

"Ugh, I don't want to get intoxicated while trying to talk to him."- Felix cringes.

"Just two little drinks. To boost up your courage. What could go wrong?"

-

Everything. Everything can go wrong.

The evening starts out nicely, Felix put in even more effort to look pretty for you (even though you think he is beautiful always), his make up is sweet and sparkly, lips rosy and glossy. His outfit is cute too, hair in a half updo with a baby blue bow to top it all off.

You almost trip over nothing when you see him all dolled up like that, a bright smile on his face as he approaches you.

The two of you join Changbin, Minho and Jisung at a table. Everyone orders alcohol and everyone clinks their glasses together in the name of success and great teamwork.

There are more drinks sent to your table over and over again, you have no problems with that but Felix does. You're actually talking to him, probably buzzed from the alcohol and Felix tries to keep up with you, but he can't take all the alcohol well.

Pretty soon, the music seems distorted, the room is spinning and Felix's stomach churns.

You're talking about videogames you played in your childhood and as much as Felix enjoys this topic of conversation, he needs to tell you how he feels now.

"Y/n, there's something I have to- to tell you."- he hiccups, and you stop talking as you look at him. Felix swings a little, getting into your personal space and you can hear your heart hammering in your ears.

"Yeah?"- you say and he smiles a big dumb smile, his eyes closing as he starts chuckling.

Felix calms down after a few moments and opens his eyes.

"I'm-" - he starts and then his stomach betrays him as it rises up in his throat. And then everything is black.

-

Black covers. Posters on the wall. Figurines on the bookshelf. A cool lamp in the corner.

Felix squints as he looks around. No fucking way!

"Hey, you awake?"- your voice calls to him and he must be dreaming.

"What the hell?"- he whimpers as his head starts pounding.

You come closer to the bed and Felix looks up at you, still confused.

"You got shitfaced last night. Changbin left early. And then Jisung and Minho said they need to get something done but they never came back. I didn't really want to leave you alone so I brought you here. I hope that's okay."- you explain.

"Oh..."- Felix tries to remember what he did or said but his mind is blank. Then he notices he's wearing your shirt and he gasps.

"Oh my god... Did we...?"- he asks, heart pounding in his chest and your eyes widden, cheeks red in an instant.

"What?! No, no way. I mean not that I wouldn't want to... Just... Not like that... What am I even saying?"- you panic, and Felix can't believe what you just said.

"I'll go make you coffee."- you clear your throat. "Wait, I don't have any milk. Would you like a smoothie?"

"S-sure. Um... Did you change my clothes?"- Felix grips the blanket covering him.

"You puked all over them so..."

Oh that is so embarassing!, Felix curses himself as you disappear into the kitchen. How could he be so stupid and get so drunk that he didn't even remember anything?!

There is a lot he needs to process in this moment and he feels like his brain is not braining at all. He embarassed himself in front of you, he incovenienced you by making you take care of his stupid drunk ass, you literally saw him almost naked and not in the scenario he was imagining and now he's in your room. In your bed.

Everything around him smells like you and he's overwhelmed. Something stirs in his gut. God, please, not now!

"Hey, breakfast is done."- you appear in the doorway.

"Oh, I'll be right there. I just need to use the bathroom first."- you nod and show him where it is.

Your shirt is so big on him and he pulls it down even more, feeling exposed in his boxers. He makes his way to your bathroom and when he's done, he finds you in the kitchen. Your aparment is not too big but it's stylish and full of knick knacks that are just so you.

The sight of Felix in just your shirt makes your brain go haywire. His thighs look so plush and delicious, you just want to squeeze them.

"Um, do you have any pants I can wear?"- he asks as if he knew what you were thinking.

"Oh, right, sorry. I'll go find something."- you say, pushing the smoothie glass towards Felix.

"Thanks."- Felix whispers, he feels so awkward and his brain still can't wrap around the fact that he slept in your bed and that you made breakfast for him.

As he waits for you, he hears rustling to his right and he turns and sees your cat sniffing the air and checking him out.

"Oh, Dimples hello!"- Felix greets the cat, squatting down and beckoning him to come closer. Dimples shuffles towards him and after sniffing his hand, he immediately nuzzles into him.

"He likes you."- you say as you walk back in.

"I like him too."- Felix smiles up at you and you feel your face heat up.

"Here."- you give him some sweats to wear and he puts them on, having to tie them up tightly around his waist.

"So, how shitfaced did I get last night? I mean I don't remember anything, so I wanna know... What'd I say or do?"- Felix asks, already nervous. But it can't be that bad since you took him home and took care of him.

"Um... well..."- your face is beet red as you avoid Felix's eyes. Fuck, what did he do?

"You tried to... to kiss me."- you mumble and Felix freezes.

"Oh my god! Oh my god!"- he panics, his face falling into his hands. Felix wishes he could erase his entire existence in that moment. "I am so sorry! I don't know why I did that!"

"Really? Cause you also kinda told me that you're in love with me."- you deadpan.

Felix can't believe he fucked up this bad.

He feels like he could cry right now. And he probably will, his eyes are already watering and he buries his face as deep as he can into his palms.

"Felix? Are you crying?"- you ask cautiously, trying to look at him.

"No."- he says, his voice muffled. "Yes."- he adds, and looks up at you, a single tear streaming down his freckled cheek.

"Why are you crying?"

"Because I fucked everything up and I feel so embarassed. I literally dumped all my emotions on you and tried to kiss you. I would totally understand if you don't feel comfortable with me anymore."- Felix sniffles.

You stare at him for a few moments before you start chuckling. His eyes widden as he looks at you.

"You didn't fuck anything up. If I wasn't comfortable, I wouldn't bring you here, would I?"

"No?"- Felix shakes his head.

"Look, I turned you down becase you were drunk and I didn't want us to do something only to have you regret it in the morning. If I was ever gonna make a move on you, I'd do it while we're both sober, preferably."- you chuckle, your cheeks rosy again.

"You... what?"

"Even though I tried do deny it, I couldn't. I... like you too Felix."- you say. Felix thinks his hearing has gone bad or he's hallucinating.

"But, I would like for us to be friends first. I- I need time to warm up to people. If that's okay with you."

This is it. Almost seven months of fucking pining for you and daydreaming 24/7, you are the one to confess to Felix.

He can't help the huge smile spreading on his face.

"I'm totally okay with that! More than okay!"

-

As Felix comes to find out, you weren't joking when you said you need time to warm up to people.

It's been almost 6 months since he drunkenly confessed to you, and your relationship hasn't upgraded much since then. At times he feels like your cat likes him more than you do.

Yes, you hang out outside of work now but it is not that different to Felix than hanging out with his other friends.

He feels hopeless again, you never even talk about that day like it didn't even happen. Did you forget about what he said? Did you not like him as he likes you anymore? How does that just come up in a conversation?

Felix doesn't know how to ask you, he sits contemplating at his desk. He catches a glimpse of you, getting up and greeting Minho. He doesn't do it on purpose but he overhears a part of your conversation.

"...you know for our dinner party on Friday. I have a date for you if you don't wanna come alone."- Minho said.

"Oh, I'm kinda seeing someone so that wont be a problem."- you say. What?

"Ooh, I didn't know that! Who's the lucky guy?"- Minho smirks.

"You'll see on Friday."

What the hell? Felix's heart drops to his stomach. That's why you haven't made a move on him. You're seeing someone. He knows it's probably dramatic but at that moment he feels like his whole world is crashing down around him.

His vision blurs and he stands up abruptly, turning around and making his way to the bathroom quickly.

Much to his dismay, the bathroom is occupied and he's not about to cry in front of his coworkers. He runs into the first empty office and closes the door. Tears are already running down his cheeks, and he tries to calm himself down. He can't be caught crying like this at work.

To his horror, the handle turns and the door creaks open.

He slowly turns around, eyes already red from crying and ofcourse it has to be you.

"Felix?! Are you okay?"- your concerned face turns into a face full of confusion as you come closer to him.

"No, I'm not."- he shakes his head.

"What's wrong?"- you reach out to touch his shoulder but he avoids it.

"D-don't. You're seeing someone, I bet they wouldn't like seeing you touching someone else."

"What? What are you talking about?"- your brows furrow.

"I overheard your conversation with Minho. I didn't mean to eavesdrop but it happened."

"Oh that."- you sigh. "I was- I was talking about you."

"Me? Aren't we hanging out as friends?"- Felix asks, sniffling and wiping his tears off.

"Yeah but I thought we were clear with our feelings."- you say and Felix chuckles.

"Oh my god, I am so stupid."- he rolls his eyes in disbelief.

"Were you crying because you thought I was going out with someone else?"

"Maybe."- Felix says, embarassment settling in. "I didn't know if you liked me anymore."

"I guess I have to do something to convince you I do then."- you say, gently laying your hand on his cheek. You slowly lean in closer and Felix's eyes widden.

Is this really happening?

Felix's lips part and yours press your lips into his, they mold together like they were made for each other.

Both of you stay still for a moment, Felix's eyelashes and cheeks are still wet and you bring your other hand to his cheek and gently swipe your thumb over his skin. You start moving your lips against his, and oh my god, you are kissing him.

Felix melts into you, kissing you back with everything he has, hands grabbing at your arms to help him ground himself because at this point he feels like if he doesn't hold on he will float away.

You wanted to give him an innocent kiss just to show him that you do actually see him as more than a friend but the pent up emotions both of you had bubbling inside you started spilling out.

Your mind is racing, Felix's lips are so soft and plump, they taste like the strawberry lipgloss he wears, the candy he loves the most and the sugary coffee he drinks every morning. Under any other circumstances, this much sugar would make you puke but with Felix you couldn't get enough.

Your hand holds the back of his neck, other hand sliding down to his waist. Felix whines, lips parting more and you lick his bottom lip to ask for permission.

He lets you in and your tongues dance together as you keep tasting him, both of you are grabbing at each other desperately, Felix's hands gripping your shirt as you pull him in closer.

"Felix..."- you whisper on his lips before you lean in to kiss his jaw, his breathing gets shaky, fingers digging into the material of your shirt.

You're in a trance, he's intoxicating and you wonder why you haven't kissed him before. Your lips press below his ear and Felix whimpers quietly, head falling back to give you access.

You kiss the soft skin on his neck, his sweet perfume making your pants tighten.

"Y/n..."- Felix moans when you lick at his neck and bite down, sucking on his skin. Your hands grip his hips and you push your middle into his.

"Ahh!"- he moans, grabbing at your arms again.

You lean back and look at him, both of your eyes glazed over with lust.

Felix looks down at the obvious tent in your pants and gulps. You smirk and run your hands to the back of his thighs. He gasps as you lift him up on the table, his legs falling open for you to slot your hips between his.

"I want to make you feel good."- you whisper, leaning your forehead against his.

"Here?"- he swallows, glancing at the door.

"Right here."- you smirk, biting on your lip.

"Okay."- Felix is desperate, his hips are already lifting up towards you, his cock straining in his tight jeans.

You put your hands on his thighs, gently running them up and squeezing occasionally and Felix squirms. You unbutton and unzip his jeans, sliding them down slowly as he lifts his ass up.

His heart is beating so fast and he can't believe this is happening. He's been dreaming about you for so long, dreaming of giving himself to you, belonging to you in every sense of that word. He's more than ready to let you do whatever you want with him.

You hook your fingers in his boxers and slowly slide them down too. His cock springs up from the confines and you wrap your fingers around him, tip already leaking with precum.

Felix keens at the sight of your big hand wrapped around his cock and he ruts up into it.

"Someone's eager."- you smirk, thumbing his slit.

"Ahh- I'm sorry!"- he whimpers.

"Don't be, I think that's sweet."- you say, squeezing him a little.

"Mm..."- Felix grips at the end of the table.

You give his cock a few tugs, your other hand on his inner thigh, squeezing the flesh.

"Please, please, oh my god!"- Felix whines desperately pushing up into your hand. He's touch starved and thirsty for you, he can't take any teasing. You understand and drop down to your knees and he gasps as he looks at you.

"W-what are you doing?"- he whimpers as you gently fondle his balls, your other hand moving on his tip.

"I'm taking care of you. Just relax."- you whisper, leaning in closer and pressing your lips on the soft skin of his inner thigh.

Felix mewls, completely surrendering to your touch, his mind gone from the stimulation you're giving him. You cover his thighs with pretty love bites, hands working on his cock and balls. You think he looks so beautiful in this moment, head thrown back, tongue lolling out of his plump lips, fingers gripping at the table, his legs spread wide and his cock leaking just for you.

You need to taste him so you lean in and wrap your lips around his tip.

"Ah, fuck!"- Felix whimpers loudly, clamping his hand over his lips and glancing at the door.

You smirk around his cock and take more of him in your mouth. Felix's moans are muffled by his hand and you're not having it. You reach up and gently grab his arm tugging it down.

"I want to hear you."- you say, releasing him with a pop.

"B-but people-"

"I don't care. I want to hear how good I'm making you feel."- you look at him, eyes dark with lust and Felix whimpers, his cock twitching.

"Okay."- he nods and you take him in your mouth again, your hands roaming whatever part of his body you can reach. He gives in completely, leaning his body into you, lifting his legs up and pressing his heels into the table so you have full access to him.

You bob your head on him faster, no gag reflex as you practically swallow his smaller cock, the salty taste of his precum sweet on your tongue.

"Ah, y/n, I'm close!"- Felix whines, trying to push you away but you grab his hands, intertwining your fingers with his as you speed up even more.

His legs start shaking, heart beating hard against his chest, his thoughts are swimming with only you as he looks down at you. You may be kneeling in front of him, but to him you look demanding and authoritative as you play with his body.

It's like your eyes full of lust, lips wrapped around him and hands squeezing the flesh of his thighs are ordering him to cum for you. Whines of pleasure keep spilling from his lips, body shaking as he spasms and cums hard down your throat. You swallow almost all of it, savoring the taste of him.

You lift up immediately and grab his head, crashing your lips into his, tongue pushing into his mouth so you can make him taste himself.

Felix moans into your lips, eyes rolling back as he swallows some of his cum mixed with your saliva.

"Fuck."- you lean back, looking at him darkly.

"Fuck indeed."- Felix nods, still breathless.

"What about you?"- he asks, looking down at the bulge in your pants.

"S'okay. Don't worry about me. Next time."- you say as you caress his cheek gently.

"Are you sure? I want to please you."- he says and you just want to eat him up in that moment.

"You already did."- you smile and lean in, capturing his lips, giving him a kiss more gentle than the ones before.

"You free on Friday?"- you ask and Felix nods fervently.

"Great. I'll pick you up."- you say and give him another peck.

-

Felix must be having some sort of out-of-body experience as he gets ready on Friday. He still can't believe what happened in the office two days ago and he can't stop thinking about it.

Every time he remembers the way you looked at him, the way you handled him and the way you made him cum, he wants to giggle and kick his feet. He feels so giddy as he puts his outfit together, thinking how after dinner you'll take it off of him, his face gets red just from the images running through his mind.

You pick him up at 6:30, he sits in the passenger seat of your car and you lean in immediately and peck his lips.

"You look pretty."- you tell him, your stomach swarming with butterflies but by now you've decided to just go with the feeling.

"T-thank you. You look handsome."- Felix smiles sweetly at you, his cheeks rosy.

God, he'll be the death of you.

You arrive at Minho and Jisung's shared apartment on time and as soon as Jisung sees the two of you enter together, he yells.

"Aha! I fucking knew it! You owe me money, Changbin."- Jisung smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at his coworker.

Changbin groans in annoyance at him but smiles at the two of you.

"You two finally pulled your heads out of your asses, huh?"- Minho asks and Felix smacks his arm.

"Please, shut up!"- Felix whines, both of your faces red.

Your coworkers/friends don't stop teasing you throughout dinner anyways but you don't care anymore. Your attention is on Felix only, and he looks so pretty tonight, so delicate and sweet.

There's a growing need in the pit of your stomach, burning a fire inside your heart. You want him so bad.

"Hey, you wanna leave?"- you lean in to whisper in his ear as Jisung talks about some funny mishap that happened on a date with Minho.

"Oh, you wanna go home already?"- Felix looks at you, disappointment flashing in his eyes.

"No, I wanna take you home. To my house, I mean."- you say, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Oh... Oh! Okay! I want to!"- Felix says, cursing himself for acting so eager like he's desperate (he is).

"Well, this was fun and all but we gotta go. I have somewhere to be in the morning and Felix is sleepy, right?"- you look at him and Felix plays along, faking a yawn.

"Y'all can just say you wanna go home and fuck."- Jisung smirks.

"I'm never coming to your dinner party ever again."- Felix throws a piece of bread at Jisung, face red in embarassment and Jisung just laughs obnoxiously.

-

As soon as the two of you walk into your apartment, Dimples runs towards you meowing loudly and butting his head into yours and Felix's legs.

"He's hungry. As if I didn't feed the little gremlin before I went out tonight."- you shake your head, a fond smile dancing across your lips.

Felix chuckles and follows you into the kitchen.

"You want something to drink?"- you ask, after feeding your cat.

"No, thanks."- Felix says, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. Why does he feel so awkward suddenly? You must be feeling awkward too, as silence settles between the two of you.

Felix screams at himself on the inside, willing himself to make a move but you beat him to it as you step closer to him, cornering his body into the kitchen bar.

"Oh"- he gasps a little as he looks up at you.

"I know I said this before but you look so pretty tonight. I love the sparkles on your eyes. And the bow in your hair. It's very sweet."- you compliment him like it's nothing and Felix melts, his face turning into a tomato.

"T-thank you. I- I dressed up for you."- he says quietly, voice wavering at the end.

"You did, hm?"- you smirk, bringing your hand to his waist, your fingers brushing the exposed skin where his crop top rode up.

"Yeah."- Felix nods, his eyes fluttering as you caress his face and hold his waist. He leans into your hand and you lean closer to his candy lips.

"Can I kiss you?"- you whisper, breath hitting his skin.

"Please."- he says, relief painted in his deep voice.

You crash your lips into his, wasting no time for an intro as you pour all your passion into it. Felix becomes putty in your hands immediately, opening his mouth so you can explore him with your tongue.

You keep kissing, hands roaming all over each other before you hear Dimples meowing on the right. You part, chuckling and looking at the little cockblocker.

"Let's go to my room."- you say and Felix shivers, nodding as you grab his hand.

Dimples makes himself comfy on the couch and you pull Felix into your room, closing the door behind you.

"Now where were we?"- you smirk, hands tangling into Felix's soft hair.

"You were kissing me."- Felix smirks back at you and you chuckle, leaning in to kiss his neck. Felix's arms wrap around your waist as he leans his head back into your hand. You craddle his head and bite down hard on his skin, sucking a love mark into it.

"Mm..."- Felix moans, pushing his hips into you.

Your kisses keep getting more and more heated, your hands sliding down his back to grip his plush ass. You both stumble towards the bed, your back colliding with the shelf next to it, the figurines displayed on it rattling from the impact.

"Let me..."- Felix whispers before he kneels down, hands on your jeans button. You nod and he opens it up, unzipping them and sliding them down.

Felix's hand ghosts over your bulge tentatively and you push your hips towards his face. He can see that you're big and his cock twitches in his pants as he squeezes you through your boxers.

"Take them off."- you say and Felix complies immediately, fingers hooking in your underwear. As soon as he pulls it down your cock springs out slapping his face.

"Sorry."- you chuckle and Felix groans as he feels precum pooling in the panties he wore for you.

Fuck, you're so big! Felix prays to all the gods that he can fit you in his mouth somehow. His small hand wraps around the base of your cock, the tip of his tongue playing with your slit.

You can't wait anymore, you want to fuck his pretty face and see him gag on your dick.

"Open your mouth."- you order and Felix's eyes glaze over with lust as he opens his mouth for you. Your hand holds his head as you slowly push in, just the tip and a little more.

Felix moans around you immediately, eyes fluttering as he starts bobbing his head up and down, taking more and more of you each time.

"Fuck."- you look at him, his plump lips wrapped around you, his lipgloss staining your cock.

You grip his hair and Felix whines around you pushing himself to take more as his hand works the rest of it, he leans towards you and gags, tears gathering in his eyes. He looks so perfect with his mouth full of your cock.

"Ah, fuck. Just like that baby. You're doing so good."- you praise him, and Felix knows he's done for. His cock throbs for attention and he starts moving faster, sucking you off with everything he has, taking as much as he can, gagging and crying as he gives it his all.

You're close but you don't want to cum yet. Not until you've fucked him, so you pull him off of you and he whines, tongue chasing after your cock.

"Patience, baby."- you smirk at the state of him. He looks completely disheveled, his makeup is ruined and his cheeks are red, eyes dark with lust.

"P-please..."- he coughs a little.

"Tell me what you want."- you lean down to look at him, your hand still tangled in his hair.

"Touch me, please."- he begs.

"Get on the bed."- you say, helping him up and he obeys, laying down on your fluffy blanket. You kneel between his legs, hovering over him and Felix is so excited, reality feels so much better than all his imagination.

Your hands slide on his body and you take his top off, fingers play with his sensitive nipples as you kiss each and every freckle you find on his skin.

You take his pants off and your eyes darken with want when you see what he had on under them the whole time.

"Do you like it?"- Felix asks, batting his long eyelashes at you as your finger plays with the lacy hem on his panties.

"I love it."- you lick your lips, hands grabbing his thighs so you can push his legs up and keep them open for you.

"You're so hard and wet just from sucking my cock, hm?"- you ask, palming him hard without warning.

"Ahh!"- Felix moans, hands gripping at the blanket, hips lifting up into you.

"Mm yes, y/n."- he whines and you smirk, gripping at his panties. Felix looks down just in time to see you ripping them in half.

"Oh!"- he gasps and you grab his cock, giving it a few tugs.

"I want full access."- you smirk, grabbing the ruined panties and throwing them somewhere behind you.

"You have it."- Felix whispers, mind racing from the thought that he's finally at your mercy.

His knees are pressed to his shoulders and you grab a bottle of lube from your night stand drawer.

"Stop me at any time, okay? We don't have to do anything you don't want."- you say, caressing the back of his thigh gently.

"Okay."- he nods and you open the lube bottle, coating your fingers in it generously, letting it warm up a little before you press your fingertips on his fluttering hole.

"A-ah, y/n!"- Felix whines as you circle your fingers on his entrance.

You slowly start pushing in, meeting a little resistence as you bury your fingers into him. His eyes roll back and his cock twitches as you keep pushing in.

"You're sucking my fingers in."- you say and Felix whines in embarassment, it's been too long since anyone touched him or talked to him like that.

He covers his face with his hands as you start moving your fingers and curling them to hit the sweet spot inside him.

"You okay?"- you ask, hand coming up to touch his.

"Yeah, just embarassed."- Felix answers, peeking at you from between his fingers.

"Of what?"- you ask, slowing your fingers down.

"Just embarassed for myself in advance because I haven't done this in a long time and I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing."- Felix says as he moves his hands away.

"You don't have to do anything. Just keep your legs open like that and I'll do all the work. Your task is to enjoy and let me hear how much you're enjoying."- you smirk and press into his sweet spot.

"Oh!"- Felix shivers. "O-okay... Ah, whatever you want, y/n."- his head falls to the side as you keep hitting that spot over and over again, moans spilling from his pretty lips.

His legs start shaking and his cock twitches as you add another finger, stretching his tight little hole as you keep pushing deeper and faster.

"Oh my god!"- Felix whines but before he can cum, you pull your fingers out and he fists the blanket in frustration.

"Why'd you stop?"- he almost cries.

"I can't wait any longer. I need to be inside you."- you say, grabbing a condom you took out with the lube.

Felix looks down at your cock and gulps. He hopes he'll be able to take it, he wants to take it. He wants you so bad that he is willing to work extra hard just fo fit your dick inside him.

You roll the condom on, lubing up again because you really don't want to hurt Felix, you want to see him get lost in pleasure.

You rub your tip on his hole and Felix mewls, holding the backs of his thighs and looking down at your tip teasing him.

"You ready?"- you ask.

"Yes."- Felix nods and you slowly start pushing your cock into him.

His eyes roll back as you stretch him and you look down, biting your lip at the sight of his hole sucking your cock in.

Felix's eyes are closed and he lifts his hand up, blindly reaching out for you. You immediately grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, your other hand squeezing the back of his thigh.

He's whimpering so you stop and let him adjust for a moment.

"You okay?"- you ask, leaning down to look at his face, his nose scrunched up and brows furrowed.

"Yeah, it's just... I've never taken a cock this big."- he admits sheepishly and your face heats up, and the blood rushes down again making you impossibly hard.

"Oh yeah? You're doing so well, though."- you smirk, pushing the rest of your cock slowly inside him. Felix whines, gripping your hand and the blanket. Fuck, you're even bigger than in his fantasies and his whole body starts shivering with anticipation.

He looks at you, his eyes shining and you start moving slowly.

"Ah, you're so tight baby."- you say, hips moving in a rhythmic motion and Felix whimpers at the way you talk to him.

He feels so warm and tight, stretching just enough to have you fit snuggly into him, his flesh molding around your cock like it was made for you.

"You're taking me so well."- you praise him again, hips moving faster. His cock twitches at the praise and you smirk leaning down to kiss his neck, collarbone and play with his nipples.

"Ah, y/n!"- he moans as you circle one of his nipples with your tongue. Your hand ghosts over his thigh to his neglected cock and you grab him, moving your hand in time with your thrusts.

"F-fuck, oh god!"- Felix stutters out, his hips jerking up into your hand.

"Feels good, huh?"- you ask, fucking him harder, your cock hitting his g-spot.

"So good! So good!"- Felix cries out, holding your hand in a death grip but you don't care about that. All you care about is making him feel good.

"Please, faster!"- he whines.

"Faster?"- you tease, slowing down a little, your hand squeezing his cock, thumb sliding over his slit.

"P-please... please fuck me faster, y/n!"- he begs with tears in his eyes and you comply, hips snapping into his ass faster and harder.

Felix is a mess under you, he can't think anymore, all he can feel is you everywhere around him, above him and inside him. His free hand grabs at your shoulder, he wants to feel you even closer to him. You lean down and kiss him, swallowing the moans that are spilling from his pretty lips.

You release his cock for a moment, pressing down on his stomach where there's a bulge showing.

"Ah, you're in my guts."- Felix whimpers as he looks down at your hand.

"You like that, don't you?"- you grip his thighs and start fucking him harder again.

"Like being filled up with cock, hm?"- you say, watching Felix fall apart when you talk to him like that.

"Yes, yes I do!"- he moans loudly, your hips snapping into his hard again, hand working on his cock.

"Good boy."- you praise and the sound that comes from his lips sounds almost animalistic as his cock twitches in your hand. He's on the edge of his high, you can see that.

"My good boy."- you repeat and that's all it takes for Felix to explode all over himself while moaning your name. The sight of him shaking while you milk his cock dry brings you to your edge and you finish inside the condom, your hips stuttering and cock buried deep inside Felix's ass.

"Oh god."- he whimpers when you slowly pull out, taking off the condom.

Felix's vision is blurred from tears of pleasure and he brings his hands up to wipe them away.

"You okay?"- you hover over him.

"Yeah. Just need a moment."- he smiles at you and you lean down to kiss his forehead, your lips lingering on his hot skin.

"Where are you go-"

"Just relax, I'm gonna bring you some water and clean you up, okay?"- you brush your knuckles on his cheek gently and he nods.

Felix feels blissed out, eyes searching around your room as his legs finally relax. He hears rustling in the kitchen and you talking to Dimples, and he smiles to himself. He could get used to this.

You come back to your room, this time leaving the door ajar. Felix looks at you as you gently clean him up, his hair and makeup is ruined and you chuckle fondly as you take him in.

"What?"- he asks sheepishly.

"You're adorable."- you say and his face heats up.

"Shut up."- Felix whines in embarassment, covering his face with his hands and you laugh, leaning down and kissing his knuckles gently.

Dimples walks into the room, meowing curiously at the two of you right as you slip under the covers with Felix, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into your chest. He sighs and relaxes into you, his eyelids fluttering.

Dimples jumps up at the foot of the bed and curls up next to you.

"Is that Dimples?"- Felix asks, voice laced with sleep.

"Mhm."- you mutter, moving his hair out of his face and leaning down to kiss his cheek gently.

"Go to sleep, baby."- is the last thing Felix hears before he drifts off into dreamland.

-

The whole next week both you and Felix are walking around the office on cloud 9, and Jisung's constantly teasing the both of you like the annoying little shit that he is.

But nothing can ruin Felix's mood when he comes to the office in the morning and finds his favorite candy waiting for him at his desk. He smiles and sits down, eyes searching for you.

You're at your desk, deep into your screen and Felix wants to get up and greet you but he gets a notification from you.

He clicks on the message and sees a link and next to it: 'download and play this game. it's rlly short, you'll love it (hopefully)'. His eyebrows shoot up in excitement as he clicks on the link.

It downloads fast since it's short and he clicks on the candy icon, realizing it's his favorite candy, the one you leave for him on his desk every day.

When the game opens up, it says 'made by y/n for felix' and his heart leaps out of his chest. He clicks on the play button and is greeted by a little 2D pixelated world bursting with cute pastel colors, and a little character that looks exactly like him. Down to all the details, the bow he sometimes puts in his hair, the sparkly make up, freckles, his favorite blue shirt. He gasps and starts moving with the character, jumping over obstacles.

Huge pieces of his favorite candy start rolling into the screen and he obtains the ability to double jump so he can avoid getting hit by the candy.

He manages to get to the gate at the end and when he clicks on them, the door opens up and a character that looks exactly like you walks out, a cat following behind you.

A bubble pops up and it says: "you've obtained a boyfriend (and a cat)! how do you wish to proceed?" and there are two options under it that say 'keep playing' and 'quit'. Felix clicks on 'keep playing' and the screen fills up with hearts, candy and Mister Dimples, all of it exploding before his eyes until it shows yours and his character holding hands.

Felix is melting and smiling brightly, his face red and you get up, making your way towards his table. Felix looks up at you and you smile at him, leaning down, one hand on his table and the other around the back of his chair.

"That- that was so cute! I don't know what to say!"- Felix almost cries, in disbelief that you actually made a game to ask him to be your boyfriend.

"Just let me kiss you."- you say, your hand coming up to hold his chin, tilting his head up.

"Yes, please!"- Felix whimpers a little and you smirk leaning down to kiss his sweet lips.

"Meet me in the empty office before lunch."- you whisper in his ear and Felix nods, his stomach exploding with butterflies.

-

Felix didn't know what exactly to expect in the empty office but he didn't expect to be bended over the table, hands tied with his own shirt, your cock buried deep inside him.

"Ah fuck! Y/n, oh my god!"- Felix almost yells as you keep hitting his sweet spot repeatedly.

"Shh baby, you don't want anyone to come in and interrupt us."- you say, your big hand splayed on his lower back as you press him down.

"No, I don't."- he quickly shakes his head.

"You want me to keep fucking you, right?"

"Yes, yes please!"- Felix begs desperately as you halt your movements.

"Then just be quiet for me and take it, okay?"- your grip his tied wrists.

"Mm, yes."- Felix moans quietly and you start fucking him hard again, hands grabbing at his plush ass, hips and his pretty waist.

Felix's hands are balled into fists, and he bites his lip, almost drawing blood as he tries hard to keep his moans in.

"I'm close, I'm close!"- he whines.

"You wanna cum for me?"

"Please, let me cum for you!"- Felix whimpers, tears sliding down his cheeks.

"You can cum."- you say and he explodes immediately, cumming untouched as your name spills from his lips like a prayer.

"What a good boy."- you praise him and feel him melt under you as you thrust harder into him, chasing your release and cumming into the condom.

You pull out and lean down, caressing his back.

"Lix? You okay?"- you ask.

"I've been fucked hard."- he says and you chuckle, fingers coming up to play with his hair. "But yeah, I'm okay. More than okay. If you could just untie me now."- he giggles and you smirk.

"Hmm, should I just keep you tied up like this?"- you tease and he whines.

"Alright, alright. I'm just joking."- you say, untying his hands and helping him lift up.

After you both clean up and get dressed, Felix grabs at your shirt and pulls you in closer.

"Wanna eat lunch together?"- you ask, craddling his head in your hands, fingers tangled in his hair.

"Yeah but before we leave the office, I wanna ask something."- Felix says.

"Yeah sure, anything."- you nod, caressing him as he wraps his arms around your waist.

"Did you wear the baby blue hair tye on purpose?"- you didn't expect that question and you didn't expect him to notice that.

"Oh... that... Well, yeah. You always wear baby blue and I liked looking at it while I was working from home or away from you. It was kinda comforting."- you confess and Felix's face morphs into a beautiful smile, his eyes sparkling more than ever.

"I love you."- he blurts out and then gasps as your eyes widden.

Your heart actually hurts from the love bursting inside you in that moment, and you grip Felix tightly.

"I love you."- you say, leaning your forehead on his and Felix visibly melts in your arms. You love him! He can die happy now!

You lean in, kissing the candy lips you became addicted to.

Who cares if you get cavities?

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg

(y'all I actually wanna make the game mc makes for felix ahsjslsl)

[paperstorm]

Thanks for the tags @heartstringsduet and @corsage! Have a slightly longer snippet than usual to introduce you to a musician AU I am in the very very early stages of working on. ([Band name] redacted only because I haven't settled on one yet 😂 My dumb brain that loves a pun keeps suggesting Strand and Deliver but that's too silly)

-

TK blinks. For a moment, he’s sure he heard wrong. “A tour?”

“Limited American, to start,” Billy says. “And then expanding to Europe if we can, depending on ticket sales.”

With another blink and a dumbfounded shake of his head, TK reiterates, “You want me to go on a world tour? When I literally just got out of rehab?”

Billy frowns. “Oh, is there like … more shit you need to do? With that?”

“I – not, there isn’t …” TK babbles, unable to adequately voice why he’s reacting this way, because really, Billy isn’t wrong. He finished his 30 days. It’s been two weeks on top of that, and he’s stayed away from anything stronger than a regular strength Tylenol for the headache he had last Thursday. He’s not on probation, he’s not being required to do another month in some kind of halfway house. The only thing on his calendar for the foreseeable future is rotting on his couch with a bowl of cereal and binging some sitcom he’s already watched a million times. He doesn’t really have a good reason that he shouldn’t jump right back into work, he just wasn’t expecting it to happen. He hasn’t even reconnected with his band, yet.

“I’m not gonna force you to do anything,” Billy tells him, folding his hands on his desk and looking at TK with a furrowed brow. “If you don’t think you’re ready, we can put all this on hold until you are.”

“But?” TK asks, sensing there’s a big one coming.

Sniffing loudly, Billy’s hands transfer to his keyboard. It clacks noisily in the quiet room as he types, and then he rotates the monitor so TK can see the screen.

The sight that greets him is a Google search of his own name, and as Billy slowly presses the down arrow on his keyboard, TK’s eyes travel over headline after headline – Musician TK Strand seen emerging from upstate drug and alcohol rehabilitation facility, and Lead singer of [band name] checks out of rehab; fans wonder what’s next for the group, and [Band name]’s critically acclaimed album dropped almost eight months ago, here’s why no one’s heard from them since.

He gets stuck for a moment on a particularly cruel one, questioning whether the band will have what it takes to pick up where they left off after a widely publicized relapse derailed what should have been their biggest tour to date.

“The most surefire way to shut all this up, is to get right back on the horse,” Billy says, in a voice that’s serious but not unkind. “You’ve still got an album full of new songs that your fans are dying to hear live, it’s just a few months later than it was supposed to be.”

“They don’t think I’ve got what it takes.” TK nods toward the computer screen.

Billy rotates it back toward himself so TK can’t see it anymore. “They’re wrong.”

“What if they’re not?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“I guess,” TK concedes, swallowing over his dry throat.

“There’s one more thing.”

“Okay.”

“The label suggested it, just so’s you know.”

“God, what?” TK groans, expecting the worst.

“If you agree to this tour, they want to pick your opener.”

“Oh.” TK frowns. It’s not nearly as bad as some of the things he was imagining. “That’s all?”

Pursing his lips, Billy asks, “You heard of Carlos Reyes?”

The name sounds vaguely familiar, but TK doesn’t recognize it well enough to be positive as he asks, “Carlos … wait, that song that’s been all over TikTok? That people are like hoedown dancing to?”

“That’s the one.”

“He’s a country singer,” TK says, stating what surely must be obvious.

“He is,��� Billy agrees without further explanation.

“I don’t feel like we’ll have a ton of crossover fans.”

“He is up and coming.”

“Does he even have more than that one shitty song?”

Billy turns to his keyboard again and shows TK the guy’s Wikipedia page. He’s a year younger than TK and handsome in that wholesome, good Southern boy sort of way, complete with a cross necklace glinting against his clearly shaved chest. As Billy scrolls to the bottom, TK’s gaze catches the information that the lead guitarist and bass player for Reyes’s travelling band are a married couple, and TK barely holds in a scoff.

“He has two albums and an EP,” Billy points out. “He just hasn’t really taken off much, until now.”

Annoyed, TK asks, “And the label thinks, what, we can’t put asses in seats anymore without some lame TikTok star? That I can’t?”

“He’s not a TikTok star, he’s a musician with a growing fanbase. And he’s got a reputation that is not, unlike yours at the moment, covered in shit,” Billy explains in a no-nonsense voice.

“Right.” TK huffs and slides back in his chair. “So, that’s what this is. I was high at a Grammy party three months ago and now my name is mud, so the label wants me to bring some Mouseketeer in a cowboy hat along to calm the shareholders down.”

“I doubt they’d put it exactly that way.” Billy exhales and shrugs. “But basically, yeah. That’s the long and short of it. Reyes and his band are good clean fun, whereas people are still circulating pictures of you almost puking on Ariana Grande, so they’re not willing to put up the money for the tour unless you agree to bring him with you.”

“Fabulous,” TK mutters. “What could go wrong.”

“For the sake of your future in this business, you better hope absolutely fucking nothing,” Billy warns, and it still isn’t unkind, but he isn’t joking.

Tagging @theghostofashton @birdclowns @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

@carlos-in-glasses @actual-sleeping-beauty @thisbuildinghasfeelings @herefortarlos @heartstringduet

@goodways @alrightbuckaroo @lightningboltreader @freneticfloetry

@liminalmemories21 @nancys-braids @whatsintheboxmh @bonheur-cafebonheur-cafe

@reasonandfaithinharmony @thebumblecee @never-blooms @lemonlyman-dotcom

@sanjuwrites @orchidscript @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng @honeybee-taskforce

@fifthrideroftheapocalypse @butchreyes @just-inside-her @firstprince-history-huh @captain-gillian

@tellmegoodbye @anactualcaseofthetruth @ironheartwriter @eclectic-sassycoweyes @ditheringmind

@emsprovisions @irispurpurea @nisbanisba @corsage @cheekgirl89

Want to be added or removed from the list? Lmk

[thepixelelf]

female ceo reader x tailor mingyu 1.1k words.

note: female reader (because the plot is based on how some men think women can't be taken seriously in higher up positions). this premise/idea is from The Duchess Deal by Tessa Dare. like pretty much all my fics, this is not a full story and more just a fun idea

[coincidence? I think yes] Letting out a guttural, defeated groan, you slump your head down on your keyboard. The keys press down, adding to the already incomprehensible email you were drafting to send to your personal assistant.

Seungkwan,

I need a husband.b,mfnhh7gy6untjjn 7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7nn7n7n

The first four words were stupid enough. Why should you need a husband? Just because your grandpa is a misogynistic prick?

7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7nn7n7n7n7n

And why should you need to get married of all things just so that he doesn't hand over "his" company -- that you practically resurrected from bankruptcy, by the way -- to your insipid cousin?

7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n77n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7

It's not like your cousin Yeongmin is married. He just happens to be the family's oldest male in your generation.

n7n7n7n7n7nn7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7n7

"Um--"

Seungkwan's voice makes you pop up, and you straighten your back to attempt to look put together even though it's arguable that Seungkwan is the only person who's ever seen you at your most bedraggled. He's probably the only person you'll ever let see you as anything beneath totally put together badass CEO who built themself up from almost nothing.

You smooth out your sleeves. "Yes?"

"There's a man at my desk," Seungkwan says, slightly confused. You're not sure why.

"Okay...?"

"Asking for you."

"Yes, Seungkwan." You nod, brows furrowing. "That's why people normally go to your desk."

His fingers toy with the end of his other arm's sleeve. "Yeah, but..."

"But?"

"He's wearing a wedding dress."

"Oh." You glance down at your computer screen, and the last words you typed-- well, on purpose.

I need a husband.

Weird.

"Do you, uh..." Seungkwan jerks his thumb towards the door he's only stepped halfway through. "...want me to send him away?"

"No, no." If a guy is coming to you in a wedding dress, he must want something. Badly. You've never heard of such a stunt, but you might as well hear him out. "Let him in."

Husband...man in a wedding dress... There's not that big of a difference, right?

Maybe you can offer him what he wants so badly. In exchange for something you want.

Seungkwan nods, still hesitant. "Alright, but you might want to put on some sunglasses."

You don't have time to ask him what the heck he means by that before he disappears out the door, and only seconds later, a blazing white fire barges in.

With all the floor-to-ceiling windows in your corner office, the afternoon sunlight is often a blessing. Right now, however, it bounces off approximately one million sequins, pearls, and crystals, and reflects so harshly into your poor eyeballs that you have to simultaneously raise your hand to cover your eyes and turn away.

"Oh my god." You may have just received snow blindness comparable to years of albedo exposure. "What the--"

"Miss CEO. Ma'am," Mr Say Yes to the Dress starts from behind the curtain of your fingers, voice loud, if a bit unsteady. "My name is Kim Mingyu, and I'm here to collect."

Lowering your hand just slightly, you allow yourself to see him from the shoulders up, which is lucky, since the dress seems to have a sleeveless sweetheart neckline.

Not bad. Broad, sculpted shoulders, a symmetrical face topped with fluffy black hair, something meek in his eyes -- despite having the gall to walk right into your office wearing the world's brightest hodgepodge of fabric and demand payment for... something.

"Collect?" you echo.

"Yes." He nods, and you see him shift to gesture towards the crinoline-filled skirt of the gown. "For the dress."

Instinctively, you look where he gestures, and you wince at the sparkles that stab your retinas. It's not that it's ugly. In fact, the handiwork must be incredible, if you know anything about anything. It's just so...much. Lace and pearls and sequins and rhinestones and floral embroidery.

"You must be mistaken. I never ordered--" You wave at the embodiment of Narnia's never ending winter. "--that."

"No, but Choi Yeori did."

Ah, now things are starting to make sense. You're closer to your cousin Yeori than you are her older brother Yeongmin, if only because you used to play murder mystery make-believe with her when you were nine and she was six. It's been a long time since those days, though. The only updates you get about Yeori's life now come from her public social media, and gossip columns. But there's one thing you know from both the past playtimes and the current Instagram stories.

Choi Yeori is a romantic. Always has been, always will be, you suspect.

From acting the femme fatale (as deadly as a six-year-old can be, which is surprisingly very) to the three engagement announcements she's since deleted from all her accounts, she likes to believe in stuff like love.

All the power to her, you say. Living in her beautiful world must be nice.

Well, except for when it's not so beautiful.

"Let me guess." You tilt your head at the boy-in-a-wonder. "The wedding's off."

Now that your hand is down, and your full attention is on him, Mingyu seems to shift uncomfortably under your gaze. His hands reach to pull the top of the dress higher over his pecs, since it's tailored to Yeori's exact size, not his.

He nods. "I spent countless hours on this dress--"

"I can see that." Otherwise he probably wouldn't be here.

"Everything is sewn by me, like she requested--"

"Of course." No machine could make something so ice queen from Sharkboy and Lavagirl-esque.

"And her payment was retroactively rescinded," he finished. "I can't get a hold of her, or any of her contacts, and I couldn't--"

"Find a single other person who would buy this amalgamation of sparkles, luxury, and fanfare?"

Frowning, Mingyu crosses his arms. "I couldn't think of who else to go to. I'm a one-man company. The cost of material on its own has almost put me in debt."

"Right, sorry." You roll your chair further under your desk and lean your elbows on the dark, lacquered surface. Your eyes glance once again over the dress. "But this could've been an email, you know."

He shrugs. "I got your attention, didn't I?"

You can't help but laugh. Yes, he's got you there.

Reaching into one of your drawers, you pull out your chequebook. "Right, well." You grab a pen and put it to paper. "What does my dear cousin owe you, Kim Mingyu?"

He rattles off the number, and you try not to sigh at it. Oh, Yeori... This time might really be too much.

You sign on the dotted line, and stand from your chair to round your desk. Walking up to him, you tear the single cheque from the book and hold it out.

"Here."

He's even more handsome up close, you note.

Just before his fingers can grip the expensive piece of paper, you jerk your hand back with a sharp bending of your elbow.

"Or," you say. "I could offer you even more than this."

Cautiously, Mingyu raises a brow. "Even more...?"

"You could take this money now--"

A moment happens where you curse in your head. You're acting cool and collected, but the idea bubbling in your mind is one of the most outlandish you've ever come up with. Are you really going to do this?

Mingyu eyes the cheque hungrily. That seals it. He needs money, and that's really the best thing you have to offer anyone, so why not someone with a pretty face?

You smile. "--or you could marry me."

[wonijinjin]

THE WEEKND SERIES: OFTEN - LEE JIHOON

author’s note: bringing producer woozi to yall, because he is the best.

synopsis: as shy as you are about your thoughts, a moment of braveness might earn you something you have been wanting for a long time.

word count: 0.6k | genre: fluff | pairing: woozi x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of food

the masterpost of this series can be found here.

“i am glad you are this interested in music.” your brother said while you were sitting next to him in his room, watching him make beats on his computer. “but if you really want to learn about it you should talk to woozi, he is the pro among us.” you knew what he meant, there have been many times when you watched woozi make music for fun, his talent was really unmatchable. “are you talking about me again?” the best friend of your brother stepped into the room, lazily dragging his feet across the soft rug. “who else, silly?” you replied before your sibling could have the chance, earning a knowing grin from him. “i am gonna go out to buy us some dinner, what do yall want?” he said while rising up from his spot in front of the keyboard. “whatever you guys choose works for me.” you blurted out, to which you got a nod.

soon after taking woozi’s order you were left alone with him, who had taken over the computer and started recording some lyrics. “is it hard to write lyrics?” you asked curiously, leaning closer to the screen to see what he was writing about. he turned to face you, looking directly into your eyes. “not if you have the right inspiration. for example someone you love, or just feelings you want to express but cannot with anything other than music. it is a real soul cleansing experience, really relaxing actually.” he answered without hesitation to which you got flustered; you have been trying to express the thoughts on your mind about him for quite a while now, amongst them many which were still unknown to you. “and what if i don’t know what i feel?” your question seemed to be catching him off guard, but he quickly regained composure. “show me your ideas. i will help.” his words were well emphasised, every syllable holding so much weight in the quiet room. your gaze was avoiding him, some type of unbelievable embarrassment coming over you as soon as you thought about him seeing your lyrics. you hesitantly opened your notes, letting him go through them. “you seem to have one person as the center of the lyrics. you must really love them, huh?” he smiled fondly while looking at your red face. “i do.” you whispered into the air. “how often do you think of the person in the lyrics?” he leaned closer, nose almost touching with yours. you gulped, but didn’t dare stay silent. “often.” he tilted his head. “is that so?” he laughed loudly, the air being filled with something even more beautiful than his music; happiness. “i think about you often too. when i eat, when i sleep, in my dreams, i do this every day, same cycle.” he stopped hin front of your face yet again, searching for your eyes which were pinned on the floor. “look up at me.” you did as he told. “i know these are about me.” he pointed at the phone in your hands. “i might be insensitive or unbothered, but i am a lyricsist, you know. i can tell.” you heard footsteps from the hallway knowing your brother was home. “we will continue this discussion about us at my studio while making this fantastic lyrics into a song, alright?” he winked at you before pulling away and maintaining a normal expression. “i have a few ideas. we ain’t gonna sleep at all tonight.”

[sungbeam]

BIRD HUNT — teaser

nonidol!choi line x f!reader

gotham city is a gutter running rampant with the ill, corrupt, and the insane. at times, justice and vengeance must be served by one's own hand... no matter the lengths one must go to do so.

▷ genre, teaser warnings. bat family au, vigilantes au, murder mystery au, action, suspense, humor, swearing, mentions of dead bodies, murder, grief, corruption

▷ taglist. open

▷ first ep drop. feb 2nd?, pst (or earlier if i somehow get more writing done)

series masterlist

TEASER BELOW THE CUT (APPROX. 800 WORDS)

"How do you know Ln Yn?"

Beomgyu whirled around just as Soobin settled into the desk chair, waiting. Beomgyu made a scoffing noise, eyebrows flying up to his shaggy bangs. "Where did that come from?"

Soobin shrugged. "You tell me." He slurped up a bit more milk from his cereal before adding, "You're the one who reacted like that in front of everyone when she said she was grieving her mother's death. You sounded shocked that she died."

"Well yeah, wouldn't you be shocked to hear someone else died within the past three days?"

"Stop trying to bullshit him, Gyu."

Both the brothers looked up at the voice who had just entered the underground space. Yeonjun strolled into the main area in a white tank top and sweats, hair sticking up in different places. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned loud and wide.

Soobin cocked a brow at him. "Nice of you to finally join us, hyung. How'd the 'date' go?"

"Great," Yeonjun quipped. "We're going on a second one soon. I think Felix almost sent me off with a kiss goodnight." He slumped onto the edge of the desk, eyes lazily taking in the images and information displayed on the many monitor screens. "This is our stiff, huh?"

Soobin sent him a look that distinctly read 'No, we're just looking at dead bodies for fun.'

"Yeah," Beomgyu replied. "The note the killer left is so familiar to me though. Have you seen it before?" He knocked his knuckles against the monitor with the note.

Yeonjun's eyes narrowed on the screen, before he leaned back with that bored look renewed on his face. "You're both idiots. It's from that one killing a couple weeks ago."

Beomgyu and Soobin traded looks. "What?"

Their eldest brother leaned down to reach the lowest drawer at the desk. From its depths, he fished out a large bag of chips and grabbed a handful to stuff his face with. "Y'know," he garbled and gestured vaguely with his crumb-dusted fingers. "Beomgyu, you know! You were there with me. It was that one lawyer guy who was found dead in his car beneath the bridge. That same note was taped to his windshield."

"Oh yeah," Beomgyu drawled, while Soobin shook his head with a sigh. The former then knocked his foot against the latter's shin. "Aye! You didn't even know it."

"Yeah, because I wasn't on that case," Soobin fired back. He finished off the rest of his bowl of cereal and set the empty ceramic in his lap before crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes, like his brothers', were lined beneath with heavy eye bags. Someone was supposed to be on patrol around the city right now, but neither of the three brothers were in any rush to get up. "So it's just one person going after these people then."

Yeonjun chewed his bottom lip. "Then we just gotta find the connection."

"Was the lawyer guy from a couple weeks ago Lee Sungjae's attorney?" Soobin asked.

Beomgyu grabbed a hold of the wireless keyboard on the desk and braced it upon his thighs. He pulled up an internet browser and typed in their inquiry. All three brothers made noises of disgruntlement; if the lawyer hadn't been Sungjae's attorney, then how were they connected? It was no secret that 99.9 percent of the population here in Gotham had some sort of shadow looming over their shoulder. It was almost impossible to get anywhere without the help of a corrupt figure, whether that be a mob boss like the Penguin or a loan shark with special strategies to get someone to pay up.

Either way, there would be lots of digging required.

"Let's start with Lee Sungjae and the lawyer's records,'' Soobin decided as he sat up in the chair. "We'll sort through phone records, acquire security footage of their movements, their texts, etcetera."

"I call none of those," Yeonjun said. When his younger brothers scowled at him, he raised both hands in feigned surrender with a giggle. "Fine, fine. You're both lookin' at me like I murdered your favorite puppy."

They remained silent.

"What, too soon?"

The basement headquarters suddenly erupted in a dull siren sound, and Beomgyu was swift to pull up a set of footage on one of the monitors. It displayed a section of the sky, a white spotlight circle cast against a massive, dark gray cumulus cloud with a distinct bat shape in the center—their call to action.

All three men were on their feet in an instant—keyboard and cereal bowl abandoned on the table, capes and utility belts clicked into place.

"Meet you losers there!" Yeonjun hollered as the cave filled with the revving roar of his motorcycle engine like a clap of thunder.

Soobin and Beomgyu hurried over to their respective cycles. "Hey, we're not done talking about Yn!" Soobin called to his younger brother.

Beomgyu flashed him a thin smile. "That's what you think!" And he sped away down the runway.

Soobin chuckled to himself, grinning. Then he revved his engine and launched himself after his brothers.

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @meosjinnn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @soonyoungblr @loveliestfelix @zhaixiaowen @justanotherkpopstanlol @w3bqrl @kangfication @fluorescentloves @haechansbbg @super-btstrash-posts @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @mars101 @rikizm

series taglist: @winterchimez @mosviqu @boba-beom @strawbrinkofdeath @baek-at-it-again95 @todosmash

[sloowoorants]

Thoughts After Watching Hannibal

About two months ago, I saw some Hannibal fan art on Twitter. It looked pretty cool, and I just so happened to have some free time, so I thought: why not watch the show? It's just a normal crime thriller, right?

I expected the type of show that's relatively light yet still intriguing, filled with sarcastic humor, starring a typical grumpy-but-genius protagonist. (This is vaguely the type of show that I’m generally into: Inside Job, Sherlock, House, Suits, Mr. Robot….)

I was so, so wrong.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for the bat-shit crazy fever dream of a show that Hannibal is: bizarrely artistic gore, incessant cannibalism puns, completely unpredictable romantic subplots, torturous sex scenes that feel like angry acid trips, a multitude of absolutely unhinged psychiatric conduct, esoteric cryptic dialogue which require five google searches and a whole thesaurus to understand, two lesbian murderers "milking" a guy for his sperm to inherent his family heirloom, long scenes of intense and unabashed eye-sex, clumps of dog fur sticking to sweaty bed sheets…and a literal fucking social worker crawling out of a horse, alive and breathing and everything, covered in whatever acrid substances come from a horse uterus.

I ended up watching all of Hannibal in a week, hastily devouring it in just a few sittings.

In no way am I a professional film analyst or critic, but after having stayed up for nights on end, every single one of them spent under my blanket binging episodes until devilish hours of dawn (and barely comprehending the plot from the sheer speed I was consuming the show at, but also from sleep deprivation), I have cultivated a skull full of thoughts on this blessed masterpiece, and I need to rant about it. Which is exactly what this post is.

I am going to separate this ranty-meta-ish thing (I think a “meta” is what it’s called? I’m not sure, I don’t use Tumblr a lot) into two parts: one, about the representation of morality in the show, and two, about the intimacy between Will and Hannibal. It’s not super well written, my grammar is a bit iffy, but I hope you still enjoy reading this, and remember to take everything I say with a grain of salt. After all, I am just some guy with unrestricted internet access, a keyboard, and a little too much passion for the media I love :)

Part One: Hannibal Lecter’s Morality

Hannibal loves art. There is no episode in the entire show where he doesn’t reference some artistic thing—He plays the piano, he plays the theremin, he frequents the opera, he draws, and he finds peace at the birthplace of the Renaissance, Florence. His love for art is why he kills, he transforms people he considers to be “inferior” and “ugly” and elevates them into art. He is acting out his own sense of justice, creating meaning from the meaningless.

In a way, he must have a certain degree of respect for his victims to do what he does. He could have just killed people and disposed of their body in a dumpster, but that’s not his style. Even if he doesn’t “care” about his victims in a traditional sense, there’s this unique honesty and attentive in his murders. Hannibal cares enough about his victims to make them art. And I’m not just talking about the way he displays their bodies, I’m also talking about his cooking, because a big part of art is also cuisine.

He follows a strict code of his own ethics, it’s almost like he’s acting out his “duty” to kill, to eradicate and transform the lesser “scum” of the world. To be killed by Hannibal is almost an honor, like being killed by God personally, skin to skin. Wouldn’t you feel a sense of divinity and fulfillment if God killed you with his own hands, knowing that he respects you enough to choke you himself, then turn you into an elegant display? Every kill of Hannibal’s is filled with passion – Which poses the question, does he kill out of hatred or not? When I think of violence fueled by hate, I think of sex or race based violence. But that’s not Hannibal. He kills victims he considers to be rude, yes, but is it a humiliation? Is it degradation?

This whole "elevate-swine-into-art" thing is also shown through the way that gore is generally portrayed throughout the show, and not just Hannibal’s murderers. It’s very interesting the way gore pretty in Hannibal. It’s often meticulous. It’s meaningful.

These murders are all aesthetically pleasing. For me, it creates a cognitive dissonance: on one hand, I know that these are painful, brutal murders, one the other, they’re kind of nice to look at, which makes me think—Have I ever for a second, while watching Hannibal, considered the crime scene to be beautiful? Have I ever viewed one of those scenes as art rather than gore? As an artist myself, do I understand Hannibal’s obsession with beauty? And if so, what type of person does that make me?

And I love the way this show makes us really think in Hannibal’s shoes, because of how unconventionally it portrays him as a villain. Usually, shows will provide villains with a backstory, but that doesn’t extend beyond just creating sympathy. In Hannibal, the villain is humanized. We understand him. We empathize. And what does that make of us?

Have I ever, in all seriousness, rooted for Hannibal instead of Jack Crawford? Have I ever thought someone deserved to die in the show? Have I ever looked at what Hannibal was cooking, and thought it looked delicious, despite knowing that its human flesh? Have I ever been annoyed at innocent patients of Hannibal, like Franklyn, because I viewed them from Hannibal’s perspective?

On top of that, Hannibal’s philosophy makes sense. I find myself agreeing to a lot of the things he says.

For example, this dialogue from S2e12 "Tome-Wan", when Will finds Mason Verger and Hannibal in his house, and Hannibal asks Will if he should kill or spare Mason Verger:

HANNIBAL: Murder or mercy?

WILL: There is no mercy. We make mercy, manufacture it in parts that have overgrown our basic reptile brain.

HANNIBAL: Then there is no murder. We make murder, too, it matters only to us. You know too well that you possess all the elements to make murder. Perhaps mercy, too. But murder you understand uncomfortably well.

Does Will only have the capacity for mercy because he has the capacity for murder? Does mercy only have meaning in the context of murder? Is our own compassion a reflection of our violence?

With that said, are the things that I believe to be evil still evil when I throw away my moral believes? Is morality only meaningful in my own perception? And if so, how much am I contributing to evil if I am the one judging it? Do I create the evil that I so adamantly detest? Does deciding what is murder and isn’t not murder require the ability to, and intrinsic understanding of, murder? Can the morality of life and death be so clear cut, separated into different categories?

These are the types of questions that the show makes me ask, which is part of the reason I love the show so much.

I also love how the show puts a dark turn on empathy. Empathy is way too often portrayed as one of the best traits of all time, many claim it to be the most important aspect of mankind, but Will’s empathy is what ends up making him go on a downwards spiral: He is drawn to the darkness because he can understand it. He chose to teach at the FBI academy because he gets to feel like a killer without actually killing.

It made Will miserable, being able to understand killers. It gave him all sorts of guilt and self-hatred and confliction, which was why he was so damn miserable at the start of the show. And on top of that, no one really cared about him, Alana only had a whole “professional curiosity” thing going on (yes, I know that Alana’s character is one-dimensional because Hannibal’s female characters are poorly written, but even with that in mind, I still think that a huge part of Alana’s affection towards Will was in fact just curiosity), Jack was constantly pushing Will past his limits, so the poor dude didn’t have any connections to anyone until he met Hannibal.

And after Hannibal clocks him immediately when they first meet with the whole “your  values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations” situation, Will experiences his first kill: Shooting Garet Jacob Hobbs. Ten. Times. Then he confesses to Hannibal that he liked the feeling of killing him.

But Will can’t let go of his morality, it’s the only thing he’s been able to hold on to this entire time. It’s his lifeline. He holds onto it so dearly because he needs to convince himself that he’s a good person, that he’s not a killer, and that he’s doing the right thing. Yet, he knows that letting that morality go would be so freeing. He wants to. Hannibal helps him let go of it, and we as viewers can’t help but be on Hannibal’s side, because Will’s corruption arc is so gratifying. We like it, deep down we root for it. And what does that say about our relationship with our own morality? Does our morality tie us down? Do we crave to be free?

Will’s killing style is different from Hannibal’s, though. He’s passionate, reactive, and he doesn’t care about the process of killing, or the display body (before you say “the firefly man”, I believe he was imitating Hannibal’s style instead of curating his own), as long as the person is dead. He kills them from a sense of righteousness, like a vigilante justice. Was it wrong for him to find a sense of pleasure in killing Garett Jacob Hobbs? Does finding pleasure in killing corrupt his righteousness? Is it worse to kill out of passion, or kill meticulously? Is Hannibal’s style of killing more respectful? Is Will brutal? Just because Will kills out of a more conventional moral judgement and Hannibal doesn’t, does that make him better than Hannibal?

Another way the show convolutes the concepts of good and evil is using religious symbolism.

For example, from S1e02, “Amuse-Bouche”:

HANNIBAL: Killing must feel good to God too. He does it all the time, and are we not created in His image?

WILL: Did God feel good about killing?

HANNIBAL: He felt powerful.

(Shocking that this line was from the literal second episode. This show got intense so fast.)

And Will’s quote from S3e02, “Primavera”:

WILL: God can't save any of us because it's...inelegant. Elegance is more important than suffering. That's his design.

Is God an artist? Does that justify what He does? Are we only creating taboo out of His works to comfort ourselves? What does it mean to view the world with a purely aesthetic vision?

It’s these quotes that really allow me to see from Hannibal’s perspective: To him, there is no ultimate purpose of the world, there is no end goal to achieve, just the creation of beauty, and that’s terrifying to think about. Even as an atheist, it’s hard to digest the belief that there is no purpose to anything. We spend our entire human lives looking for meaning. But Hannibal doesn’t see it that way. Life and death are just futile processes to create art, and there’s no bigger point behind it. The cycle of life is supposed to be art. In a way, he’s like the God (sounding like Hannibal here), giving people meaning by making them into art, just like how God designates meaning onto every creature he makes.

And the show has a lot of art parallels, not just with Hannibal’s murders. Here are some that I’ve noticed:

(Parallels, in order from left to right, top to bottom: Nude From Back by Picabia compared to a shot of Bedelia from the back, The Persistence of Memory by Dali compared to Will’s clock drawing, Le Double Secret by Magritte compared to how Will saw Hannibal after visual overload from light therapy, Ophelia by Millais compared to Bedelia sinking into the bathtub, Portrait of Pablo Picasso by Juan Gris compared to Will’s hallucination of himself falling apart in a mirror, Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan by Ilya Repin compared to the cliff scene.)

I’m not the only one that has noticed these. Here is cool blog that focuses on artistic references in Hannibal, they’ve also noticed some of the ones I noticed: The Art of Hannibal.

Bryan Fuller probably didn’t do these on purpose while directing. But it still unintentionally solidified this theme artistic divinity. So I think Bryan must, to some extent, understand Hannibal’s obsession with making art out of death, because of the way art is subconsciously woven into the show. I don’t know though, just food for thought.

Anyways. Will, at the end of the show, while being cradled in Hannibal’s arms, both of them covered in blood that appears black in the moonlight, says to Hannibal: “It’s beautiful.”

And all that morality fleets and becomes insignificant in the face of aesthetics.

To Hannibal, beauty is moral. To Will, morality is beautiful. Have the lines begun to blur?

Part Two: Hannibal and Wills intimacy

“For [Hannibal and Will], two people who have been wandering their whole lives through a world in which they have not really experienced any viable form of connection with another human being—because they’re two extremely unusual people—and then they meet.”

-Hugh Dancy quote from SDCC 2013

Hannibal loves will. He drew him and Will as Patroclus and Achilles. He was ready to run away with Will in S2. He surrendered himself in S3 just because Will rejected him. And lets not forget the little twitch in his face when Francis attacks will. And when this dialogue happened (S3e12, “The Number of the Beast is 666”):

WILL: Is Hannibal in love with me?

BEDELIA : Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you and find nourishment at the very sight of you? Yes. But do you... ache for him?

It is my belief that Will also loves Hannibal, although I understand that it’s not as agreed upon in the fandom as Hannibal’s love is. I think Will is just a little bit more reserved with affection, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love Hannibal.

But one thing is for sure—there is a lot of homoeroticism in the show:

So, whether you think the love is reciprocal or not, the show is still, to put it lightly, really gay.

Hannibal’s love for Will is dark, possessive, powerful. Will is the only one that is capable of understanding Hannibal, and Hannibal was willing to risk literally everything just for Will to connect with him. He goes to extraordinary lengths just to make Will a murderer.

But even throughout Hannibal’s ruthless manipulation, which Will eventually becomes aware of, Will still stays for Hannibal. Because deep down, Will was willing to give up his own innocence to have that connection. Because Hannibal was the only person that could really understand Will too, no one else would be able to accept his dark tendencies.

S2e02, “Sakizuke”:

WILL: I don’t know which is worse. Believing I did it, or believing that you did it and did this to me.

(I remember reading a really good post by endlessly fascinated on how Will was actually being manipulative by saying this quote. I can’t find it though. If someone finds it, please tag me!)

Will eventually grows just as obsessed with Hannibal, as Hannibal is obsessed with him. Proof: telling Jack that he wanted to run away with Hannibal, telling Hannibal that he can’t get him out of his head, and that his inner voice is starting to sound like him him, and the “where would I go?” when Hannibal tells him not to leave his side, and the “one could argue, intimately” when Chiyoh asks him how he knows Hannibal, and the “before you and after you” when Hannibal asked him where the difference between the past and the future come from…I could go on forever. Will has never felt so grounded before, not in the way when he’s with Hannibal, with him, Will can see his own reflection, and he’s never been able to see that before.

And oh, the love language between them is violence. Will tries to kill Hannibal (someone tell me how many times, I forgot), and Hannibal tries to eat Will and a plethora of other fucked up shit. But in my eyes, none of those were out of hatred. Both of them trying to murder each other is out of love, out of acceptance, and out of forgiveness.

S3e06, “Dolce”:

HANNIBAL: You dropped your forgiveness, Will.

HANNIBAL: You forgive how God forgives.

And, S3e03, “Secondo”:

BEDELIA: Betrayal and forgiveness are best seen as something akin to falling in love.

HANNIBAL: You cannot control with respect to whom you fall in love.

No one can control who they love, or who they forgive, which is why Hannibal forgives Will and stabs him in the same breath. He is forgiving, not letting go.

Will forgives Hannibal too. He forgives Hannibal way too many times, throughout all the manipulation of Hannibal. Think about just how much insanity he’s endured: drugged, gutted, encephalitis abused, hypnotized, framed for murder, a serial killer was sent after his family, had his brain literally almost eaten, and despite all that, Will still forgives Hannibal—it was not a conscious decision. We cannot control who we forgive.

If Hannibal is a fallen angel, then Will is God to him. And God is indifferent, sometimes even cruel. Like Hannibal said himself, good and evil has nothing to do with God. Will forgives Hannibal, but that doesn’t mean he still doesn’t want to hurt Hannibal; just like how Hannibal forgave Will, but still gutted him. In that moment, Will forgave indifferently, so he could get back to revenge. They both forgive like blades, they both forgive with pain.

Doesn’t God forgive through punishment? God will forgive you for your sins but you still have to go to hell, right?

Violence is a pillar of stability in their relationship, it’s how they understand each other, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, the smile on Will’s gut a permanent reminder of Hannibal’s hurt, and all of Hannibal’s scars a reminder of Will’s hurt.

I see all of their trying to kill each other is affection. Hannibal doesn’t try to eat Will because he hates Will, he tries to eat to immortalize him, to keep Will as part of him forever.

And through that violence, Hannibal helped Will let go of his morality. Will had spent forever trying to repress himself—Molly was a failed attempt to escape into normalcy. Will definitely thought about Hannibal those years Hannibal was in prison.

S3e13, “The Wrath of the Lamb”:

HANNIBAL: When life becomes maddeningly police, think about me. Think about me, Will.

Will definitely missed the hunger, the violence. We can see this though the passionate way he killed the Red Dragon. He probably held Molly’s gentle hands and desperately wanted to feel something more. To feel something dangerous. Something that could simultaneously revive and ruin him. Molly never understood him the way Hannibal did, and he will never love her the way he loves Hannibal.

He did think about Hannibal when life became maddeningly polite. He probably fantasized about what they’ve done, what they could’ve done, and the feeling of freedom when he’s with Hannibal.

And Hannibal waited for him patiently, staying exactly where he was three years ago. And when Will eventually pushed them off a cliff together, Hannibal showed no sign of resistance, and just let them fall.

“I think [Hannibal]’s feeling that embrace and that’s the first thing that he’s feeling, and even as he’s plunging into the Atlantic, he’s first and foremost thinking about the man he’s holding onto and the man who’s holding onto him.”

–Mads Mikkelsen on Hannibal’s thoughts during the final scene

Their violence is something that we as viewers may never comprehend, but we can all understand their intimacy. Isn’t it what we all want, after all, to be seen?

Anyways...

Hannibal is a great show! 10/10, would recommend. Although, the lighting kind of sucks. Bryan, if there is a season four, please make the show brighter, for the love of God.

Thanks for reading this! :)

[emborgor]

Why Are Humans (Almost) Always United?

Feel free to give constructive criticism! I'm a new-er writer and improving my writing would be amazing.

We know that there are several kinds of governments that can spring up, but in most HSO posts I see, there are no corrupt governments or corporations for the most part. There may be the occasional thing, but it surely isn't a human or allied alien.

We, as humans, are always divided on Earth, just look at the countries and warring we do. We can never agree on anything!

I see the lack of division explained in two ways: One, that humans decided that in order to present themselves to aliens they must become one, under one governing body. Two, that some disaster brought them together under one common cause, and one body controlling the information, studies, and actions regarding this cause was easier than many countries or organizations.

I want to see several human corporations racing each other (yes, like the space race) for money, honor, or to be the face of the human race.

Li rolls its eyes as it scrolls through the news.

"Is a New Government Imminent?", "Riots Against The Human Coalition!", "What is the New Political Trend?"

"NexusTrek Overtaking The Human Coalition's Technology", "NexusTrek: Who Are They Anyways?", and "Exploration and Diplomacy vs. Terraforming and Trade"

No matter how these articles market themselves, as opinion works or informative, the bias is obvious to Li.

Humans had to chose who the face of their race would be to meet with the interstellar community's diplomats.

The Human Coalition would doubtlessly do anything in their power stop NexusTrek. They have stayed in power for far longer than many, including Li, think is right through this method.

Yay!!! Needless conflict, censorship, and damage to our world! We *just* cleaned ourselves up for the interstellar community to see.

It could not understand why, exactly, we felt so caught up in the need to chose one representative. Just because everyone else had one governing body did not mean that they had to have one too. It was just so frustrating how people could not look past their own political views and corruption.

More opportunity would be good for this race.

Maybe more perspectives would protect us from our own greed.

Xe gestured for a keyboard and typed in a search query, "why do aliens have one ruling body?"

The limited information they had access to was still enough to answer its question.

They did not have one. Not all of them. Several had divided themselves based on ideology, but that was millennia ago. Since then, the different ideologies had moved to their own planets and colonies. Some of them evolved separately! To what extent, xe did not know.

Would those few they still appear similar? Would they be a new race now? How did they handle their integration into the intergalactic community? Nothing it could find answered these burning questions.

Xe could only hope that the information she had collected would aide NexusTrek's PR team.

[noroi1000]

❝𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮-𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐢❞ Chapter 08

Satoru-Sensei | ←Previous chapter • Next Chapter →

Summary: Gojo is old and lonely? That's what Kugisaki thought. But that was the day they found out that Gojo Satoru actually had a girlfriend.

A/n: I just saw in my notebook how many drafts I have completed and I realized that I need to share more often... I also loved writing this because I got into Kugisaki's personality so much lol. I'm always an attention-seeking author... What do you think about this story so far?

"Itadori-senpai, please help." the blue eyed teen whispered into his phone.

He stood in front of the slightly open door to their classroom to see his sensei sitting in his chair with his feet on the desk, smiling as he did something on his phone.. His fingers move on the bottom of the screen, clearly showing that he is typing something on the keyboard.

He waited a moment and then chuckled and started writing again.

He was texting someone. That was for sure.

But it's the first time they see their sensei smiling like that. He's never smiled so much into the phone! At least not in front of them!

"Nantō-kun? What happened?!" His Senpai asked quickly.

"Sensei is texting someone and still smiling! More and more!" He said with a more scared and squealing voice.

"What?! Is this really happening?! What a smile that is?!"

"This is not the smile with which he smiles at us!"

"Huh?!" he groaned. Suddenly the younger boy heard a quieter voice. “Kugisaki, Gojo-sensei is..."

Soft voices could be heard in the room they were in. The teenager waited for his senpai's response.

This is the first time he's seen something like this.

Is it possible that their sensei had a girlfriend?!

"He's acting like he's texting a woman!" Itadori said to the girl.

"Eh? I haven't heard of him having a girlfriend in three years! We have to check that! Where is he?!" He heard her voice closer to his senpai's phone. "Are you talking to Nantō? Nantō! Where are you?! Where is he?!"

"In class... I'm next to him and he's still smiling like that!" He said and hid so that his Sensei wouldn't hear or see him.

Can he really hide from him??

Yes. Because right now he wasn't paying attention to anything else but the phone. Because he was getting messages from you.

A moment later, the two older students ran there and knelt in the corridor, looking at their Sensei's cat-like and goofy smile.

"Oh shit! This smile is really different from the smile he always has! Judging by the smile and the slight color of his cheeks, as well as the speed of his texting, he is texting with a woman!" Kugisaki said, very analyzing his expression.

It seemed as if all his thoughts were humming.

"We have to help him!" she said, turning to the two boys next to her.

"Kugisaki-senpai... How can we help him?" Nantō asked.

"He is almost 30 years old! And he doesn't have a woman! If not now he will be alone forever! We have to help him so he doesn't drive that poor girl away with his weird talk!"

"What should we do? Or maybe Sensei doesn't text with a woman? Maybe he already has a girlfriend?" Itadori said.

"I've never seen this man with a woman! He doesn't have a wedding ring, which means he's not married! For a moment I was disgusted with him because he probably chose women with his appearance! But now I know there's something wrong if he's behaving like this! This is typical behavior of a man who texts with the woman he loves!"

"How can you be so sure?"

"Pfff! Years of practice and studying the behavior of lovers! Every woman deserves a guy who has a face like this when he texts her! Even though when I think it's my former teacher it makes me cringe! I'll help this poor guy not destroy his possible love of his life! Sensei!"

She stood up and quickly entered the room, automatically drawing his attention.

"Oh, Nobara. Do you need anything?" He asked and placed the phone on the desk and gave her a small smile.

"Don't write strange jokes to women! And also don't act like a complete macho! You must remember that you cannot lie at all costs! Don't show that stupid side you have right away!"

"What are you talking about?" he asked with a questioning look on his face.

"About the woman you're texting! You finally have a chance to not be old and lonely, so don't ruin it!"

"I'm sorry about her, Sensei! She takes the possibility that you might be texting some woman too seriously!" Itadori said.

"We don't want to interfere in your private matters." Nantō added nervously.

"Ah, do you mean that I'm texting someone?" he asked, pointing to the phone and sitting up straight, taking his feet off the desk.

"It's a woman, right?!" The girl asked.

Her pride will suffer if it turns out that he has not written with a woman. Did her intuition fail?

"Yeah." he said, but before he could continue, she started talking.

"If you don't want to be old and lonely, listen to my advice and she will be yours! With the way you act sometimes, you might just embarrass her! Listen to me and everything will end well! Even a wedding! I know how to give relationship advice!

"So far, she hasn't managed to find a boyfriend and because of her, neither me nor Fushiguro has one." The pink-haired man whispered to the brunette next to him.

"Eeeh? Really? I wanted to ask her for advice, but I think I'll give it up..." he muttered in response.

She heard it.

"You idiots won't have a girlfriend any sooner than I have a boyfriend! There's no way I'd let you do that!" She screamed at them. "But Gojo-san is different! Can't you see this lonely, rejected heart? If I don't help him, he will be lonely for the rest of his life!

"You know... That wasn't nice..." Gojo said, his mouth hanging open in embarrassment.

"So tell me the details! I'll help you! Just trust me!" she said with a big smile and pointed at her with her thumb. "I will do everything to get you married this year!

"Actually, Nobara... She's already my girlfriend." he said calmly and stood up, walking around the desk and leaning against the furniture.

He moved his phone closer, looking at your next message. He left the device and crossed his arms over his chest, watching the girl's facial expressions.

Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened.

"Huuuuh??!!!!! Since when does Sensei have a girlfriend?!" She screamed.

"For two years!" he laughed and waved one hand.

"Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhh???!!!!!!!" she screamed loudly, causing the boys behind her to cover their ears.

"Why are you screaming so much?!"

Everyone turned to look at Fushiguro who entered with Nantō's brother.

"He has a girlfriend!" She pointed to the white-haired man and they both stood on the other side of the room.

They started talking. And at that time, Hokusei saw their teacher's phone turn on and vibrate, signaling the arrival of a message.

He turned his head to look at the screen and smiled slightly.

And then he saw his student looking intently at his phone. It was as if he wanted to see who he was texting.

His hand turned off the phone and, looking at him under the blindfold, he hid the phone behind his body, shielding the messages from the teenager's watchful gaze.

To avoid recognition, his face was turned the other way. But his eyes watched carefully as Hokusei's red eyes looked at his hand moving the phone.

So that he doesn't notice anything.

Their sensei is hiding something, isn't he?

Taglist: @mc-reborn ; @yihona-san06 ; @yerinsshi ; @erisfayred ; @tohsri

[sirhamburrger]

𝐢𝐢: 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐫 (𝐧.)

𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐫 (𝐧.): 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨���� 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦, 𝐝𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐚𝐤𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐚 (𝐧.) [𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

word count: 1191 || prev || next

“so, i take it the meeting with akaashi went well?” hitoka says almost slyly, as if she's trying to elicit some kind of flustered reaction from you.

you feel your face heat up at her tone of voice, even in the cool of your air-conditioned apartment. it's always been like this - the second you show even the slightest interest in a guy, they pounce on you like predators do their prey, and dissect you like a biology experiment.

which isn’t great for you at the moment because keiji akaashi… is kind of cute.

you simply frown, averting their gazes. “he's a nice guy,” you say evenly, not looking up from the fingerboard of your guitar as you position your hand in the correct chord shape. just thinking about his nervous demeanor on monday morning makes you want to giggle a little. “a little too quiet for me, though.”

“maybe you made him nervous,” alisa suggests mischievously, feeding you a handful of koshu grapes. mouth full of pink fruit, you glare at both your blonde friends. “i wouldn't be surprised if you did.”

knock it off, alisa,” you grumble, swatting at her head with your free hand, which she dodges immediately. 

“not the face!” she gasps dramatically. “how am i supposed to make money without it?”

“nothing some aptly applied concealer can't fix. plus, you've still got the rest of your body!” hitoka says brightly.

alisa’s about to bite back with a quick remark, but her demeanor quickly changes as she seems to have suddenly remembered something important. “hey, isn't he the guy from fukurōdani?” she says suddenly, to which hitoka nods. “they pissed levochka off to no end,” alisa adds, shuddering at what must be some horrible memory of a nekoma vs. fukurōdani match.

“he was a pretty great setter back in the day. he played with bokuto for two years,” the former karasuno manager explains.

“kotaro bokuto? from the jackals?” you say incredulously. “they couldn't be more different!” hitoka and alisa laugh at your surprise. you can’t even find it in you to be embarrassed at the fact that the msby player was one of your hyperfixations a few months back.

distracted as you laugh along with them, you play a wrong chord. it rings out discordant in the still night air, and you let out a tiny noise of annoyance.

it's only now that you realise it's ten minutes to midnight, and the numbers on the tabbed fingerstyle score seem to swim between the lines with how tired you are. you've been trying - and failing - to nail this section of the piece for what feels like hours, and now you're positively despondent. the deep-seated ache in your muscles caused by your poor posture does little to lift your spirits. you touch the fingers of your left hand together, feeling the hard calluses.

almost unconsciously, you think of akaashi. you hope he's not as fatigued as you feel right now. you reach for the cup of cold coffee on the tabletop, yawning, only to have your hand batted away by a disapproving alisa. she tsks at you as she stares down at the concentric brown rings lining the inner surface of the cup. 

“hey!” you protest, grabbing at her hand. she's got the advantage of her longer arms, though, and sets it aside quickly. 

“you drink way too much coffee,” the japanese-russian model huffs. “that cannot be healthy.”

“yeah, well, my job doesn't exactly demand much of me in the physical aspect,” you retort, strumming idly at your guitar. “i bring money in as long as my hands can type on a keyboard.”

an abrupt snore from hitoka startles you both, and you exchange smiles as you look at her peaceful, sleeping form. “i think your music lulled her to sleep, solnyshka,” alisa chuckles.

little sun. she calls you that all the time, and you miss her saying it whenever she's away. 

as she hoists hitoka into her arms, you almost forget alisa's due to leave for switzerland in a week's time. it's for some kind of fancy photoshoot with her new agency, and she'll be there for the next few months. she'll go back to her busy life, and you and hitoka will go back to your own. 

what a rat race the modern world is.

“you two should go to bed first,” you tell alisa. “i’ll be staying up a little while longer.”

“if you're not in bed in the next fifteen minutes, i will drag you by your feet into your room and tuck you in,” she threatens.

you nod, your lips curving up in a small smile. “dobroye nochi, alisa.”

“dobroye nochi.”

“dobrobabada gnocchi?” a sleepy hitoka murmurs, causing alisa to gasp dramatically at how her native language has been butchered. with a wave of her hand, they disappear round the corner into the guest bedroom they share when they stay over at your place. their giggles and whispers die down after a few short minutes, replaced by loud snores. so much for making sure you sleep on time.

you bring your hand up to the neck of the guitar again. settling your fingers in fifth position on the fretboard, you prepare to pluck the first note -

and then your phone pings loudly. 

five times.

your concentration broken, you mutter a quiet curse and snatch the device off the coffee table. the sound of the notification tells you they're messages from an unknown number. 

damn right, you think irritably, saving his contact name in your phone as simply “keiji akaashi”. he’s so polite about it somehow, that you find it hard to stay mad at him. 

hitoka, though? you can't believe she gave him your phone number without even asking. you huff to yourself as you type out what you hope is an acceptable reply.

the sound of light rain pattering on your windowsill gently pulls you out of your dreamy thoughts, and you look out over a moonlit tokyo. stepping out onto the balcony, you take a seat on the rattan chair.

the lone plant on the balcony, a little olive sapling, collects rainwater in its pot. an earthy smell wafts towards you - petrichor. a sliver of nature in this concrete jungle. it smells like warmth and love and home.

there are different kinds of quiets you like; comfortable, warm silence as you watch a chick flick with alisa and hitoka. tranquil autumn days when you wake up to spectacular showers of golden leaves. peaceful afternoons spent in the quiet of your room, typing away at your computer.

but this? this is your favourite kind of quiet. 

secretly, you're excited to see akaashi again. he's smart, he's sharp, and he's cute when he's flustered. if you close your eyes, you could picture perfectly his deep blue eyes widening in surprise at just about anything you said. 

they were pretty, just like the rest of him.

you don't remember how long you sit there, or what time you drift off exactly. what you do remember is your very last thought before succumbing to a deep, peaceful slumber -

i wonder if he likes the smell of petrichor too.

[m.list]

author's notes:

this chapter was almost named accismus (a feigned refusal of something earnestly desired), but i think i'll save this word for a later chapter instead heh

i love the idea of reader knowing alisa from some kind of fashion magazine she used to be a columnist for

can i make reader a language nerd. please.

bokuto's my absolute fave and i dragged him into this mess of a fic because why not! we'll see what happens with him later on

likes, comments, follows and reblogs are greatly appreciated :) don't hesitate to correct any factual discrepancies or ask questions about this fic!

© sirhamburrger 2024

[catiecat1320]

Chapter 5 of 11! [MasterPost]

I don't know why Tumblr was being stupid so this is really late

80% Dialogue let's go...

Read Below🔽

“Stop,” Sonic hummed, and the piano’s stilted song ceased at his instruction. Twitching fingers hovered over black and white keys before falling into Shadow’s lap, almost relieved. Almost. He looked up hesitantly, waiting for the verdict. It was bad, wasn’t it? “It’s not bad,” the blue hedgehog says, answering Shadow’s unspoken question, “because I know you’re going to ask. You’re just thinking about it too much. Loosen up, okay? It’s… you’re all coiled up like a spring, but springs don’t do anything until they’re released, right?”

“I…” This wasn’t making any sense. Silence seemed to echo off the walls as Shadow struggled to form a response, his ears folding against his head. Bigger rooms like these were better for sound quality, but right now he wished he was back in his little house. The familiar environment would do good to calm him down; this studio was too empty for his liking. “I-I don’t get it. What do you want me to do?” He sighed, dragging his fingers violently along the keyboard, filling the air with sound. He slammed a few chords for good measure. If only improv was as easy as this “Just let it out!” Sonic exclaimed. “You’ve got so much potential, but it won’t get anywhere if you don’t let it go.” If he was like a spring, then he must have broken right then: tension snapping, pressure releasing, akin to an explosion. “That’s what I don’t understand! You make it sound so easy, but… but—” Shadow scrunched his fists tight, claws poking his palms.

Inhale, exhale. Breathe. When he lifted his head, apology on his lips, Sonic… he was looking at him weirdly. A mixture of unease, worry, and something else was painted on a usually relaxed face, his head angled in a way that made him look like he would fall over. Panic seized Shadow in an instant— had he offended the idol? But Sonic just laid back on the piano lid with a muffled thud, azure quills splaying out in a star. “Talk to me,” he demanded. “…What?”

The dancer glanced over like he didn’t just make a completely off topic request. “I said what I said. Talk to me. Go on, what’s frustrating you?” This guy. He really was difficult. “I— why? Aren’t we here to do something? Why do you want to talk about my feelings?” Shadow seethed. He swore he was going to have a stomachache from everything that Sonic constantly stirred up in his gut. “Communication is vital to a healthy relationship, as Tails would say. I think,” the idol replied, “It’s me, isn’t it? You can’t stand me and my weirdness.”

Anger came to a screeching halt as heat rushed into Shadow’s cheeks at the nonchalant accusation. Was it true? Maybe. Okay, definitely. But he hadn’t expected to be caught with such taboo thoughts. “I-It’s not—” he tried. “Don’t lie, I know it. I can feel how annoyed you are.” The blue hedgehog rolled over to face him, peach lips quirked at the corners. “It’s okay.” “It… does it not bother you?” Shadow muttered. A chuckle sounded, vibrating through the hollow piano. “Should it? I’m well aware of my tendencies. It’s just how I am.” Maybe the worry of offense was unfounded, seeing as Sonic acted like he couldn’t care less.

But did he actually not care or was he just masking it? Why, why, why was he so confusing? Spending time with him was like trying to solve a puzzle blind— Shadow didn’t even know where to start. “Just how you are… Except I don’t understand how you are.” The pianist blurted. Might as well. Sonic knew just where to pull to unravel him, didn’t he? While Shadow was struggling to figure out a single clue to what made him tick, the idol had already turned him inside out. “The way you act. The way you talk. I don’t understand it…” “Would it help if I told you about me?” Sonic interrupted, sitting up, bright eyes sincerely staring into ruby. “I want you to trust me, but I suppose I haven’t given you much to start with, huh?”

This conversation wasn’t following any logical order. And Shadow didn’t like that. He… wanted them to be friends? That’s what trust entails, right? Chaos, he was so random. What is he supposed to say to that? He’d… he’d like that, if he was being honest with himself. But to be friends… He must have zoned out pretty badly, because the dancer reached right over and flicked his nose, startling him. “Shads?” Shadow blinked. “What…what did you call me?” “Ah. I like giving nicknames to people, if that’s okay with you.” Sonic smiled. But it was different from his usual grin, Shadow noticed. Softer, like an apology. “Anyway… what do you say? You and I, getting to know each other better?” That’d be nice. But… “Why? Why do this?” …he preferred knowing everything before accepting an offer, especially since the last time he didn’t look deeper, it ended with this. Absolute chaos.

“Like I said, I want you to trust me.” A pause, and a breathy laugh. “I suppose me and my usual way of making friends isn’t going to work with you, is it? You’re special, and not in a bad way.” Sonic drummed his fingers on his leg in thought. “You like to know things, so we can start there. Um… I don’t know how to explain everything, but I do know me. And starting somewhere is better than leading you blind, I suppose.” He held a hand out across the fallboard and repeated, “What do you say?” Slowly, Shadow reached up. Hand met hand, eyes met eyes in a silent deal. Okay, it said. I’ll trust you. “Awesome!” Sonic pulled back abruptly, accidentally yanking the pianist forward, the action punctuated by a loud crash of multiple piano keys pressed at once. Both hedgehogs winced, emerald eyes flicking to the door then back. “Oops. Hope we didn’t interrupt anything. Anyway! What do you wanna know first?”

“Um… How… how many friends do you have? Like talk to. Regularly.” Shadow stuttered, trying to sort through his thoughts. Questions… he had so many, yet some perhaps shouldn’t be asked. He’ll start simple, he decided. “A lot. I don’t know if I can count ‘em all— I make friends really easily. It’s my natural charm, heh.” Sonic swiped a finger under his nose almost smugly. “Hmph. I thought you said you were difficult.” “Wha—” Cheeks puffed up in feigned offense, though emerald eyes twinkled with humor, betraying his amusement. “I didn’t think you had it in ya to crack a joke.” Shadow shot him an unamused look, to which the dancer only laughed. He had a very particular laugh, the tones of which seemed to shift slightly with the occasion. It was… bubbly, for lack of words. Kind of cute, like a child. He started to say something, but Sonic held up his hand for pause. “Wait. If you’re asking me questions, I wanna ask you questions, too.” “Oh. Okay.” “Um…” The dancer tapped his chin in thought. “What’s your favorite color?” “That’s the most basic question I’ve ever heard.” “I’m not prepared, okay?” Sonic pouts. “Just answer it.” “…Blue. Like the sky.” “Oooo… I like blue too, but my favorite is red. Everyone thinks it’d be blue, though…”

………………………………

The next hours flew by in a blur, and neither realized the amount of time that had been snatched away until a knock sounded on the door. “Boys?” “Ames! What’s up?” Sonic called, stopping Shadow short. “Nothing much, just here to tell you two that I’ll need to lock up and leave in maybe 20 minutes, so hurry with whatever you’re up to.” Amy spoke from outside. “Although, I haven’t heard any piano playing, so I’m assuming you’re getting chatty in there. Again.” “You know me!” The dancer chuckled. “We’ll pack it up in a moment!” “In a moment. Sure.” Amy quietly scoffed. “You better not be in there when I come back!”

“We won’t! See ya!” Shadow slid the fallboard over the ivory keys as he listened to the pink hedgehog walk away. “Sonic?” “Hmm?” He hesitated for a moment, though he wasn’t sure why. “How do you know Amy?” “Oh! I met her at a ballet class I took one time!” Sonic answered happily. “I didn’t see her much after I dropped the class, though. We stayed pen pals, but it became kinda hard after I no longer had a permanent address. I gave her my number, but we drifted apart more than I’d like to admit.” He smiled absently to himself. “When I came back here, I took the chance to find her again, and now here we are.” “You two are really close,” Shadow remarked, thinking back to the few interactions he’d been privy to. It didn’t seem like they'd been apart at any time. Or maybe it’s just the way Sonic is.

“Mhm! She’s awesome! She’s sweet, really talented, and really patient. Which makes her a really good teacher.” He replied, gesturing enthusiastically. “I don’t get how she teaches little kids that stuff. Ballet kinda sucks, in my humble opinion. It’s so stiff and there’s like ten bajillion things you gotta remember and it’s so unnatural. I hate it. Impressed by all ballet teachers, honestly. Especially mine. Oh Chaos, my ballet teacher probably had an aneurysm trying to corral me. I wonder if Amy has any students like I was.”

“…Do you like her? Amy, I mean.” “Of course I do! Is that not obvious? She’s such a nice person! I—” Sonic stopped in the middle of his sentence, smile frozen on his face. Suddenly, it feels like someone replaced all the air in the room with gelatin. “Oh, wait. Are you asking…?” Was he? Shadow didn’t have an answer for him. He had no idea why he asked that question— it was as if talking to Sonic made him say things as impulsively as he did. Panic crept up his spine, and it took every bit of willpower not to shake as it built on top of itself, expanding rapidly. Before he could find something to say, something that would smooth this situation out, make it better, make it better, Sonic began to giggle. It’s high pitched, like wind chimes, which only grows louder. Warmth floods Shadow’s cheeks, dying it brilliant rose, though he isn’t sure what’s happening. Is something funny?

He supposed humor was better than other options. “You… I don’t— I don’t like her like that,” he assures, and there’s a tease to his voice that makes Shadow’s face burn deeper. He flops over dramatically like he’s dying, which he might as well be with how much he’s wheezing for breath. Some lungs the idol has. “I— heh. I don’t like hers, y’know? Women are awesome, don’t get me wrong, but I prefer men. Yeah?” In a blink, his demeanor turns serious. “And if you have a problem with that, get out. I mean it.” The cogs in Shadow’s brain decide that they’re not going to turn and he just blinks in surprise, unable to process Sonic’s words. He… what? “No. No, I don’t have a problem with that,” he finally stammers, waving away the awkward silence. “I just… you’re…” “I’m gay,” he affirms, his smile flashing a glimpse of a fang. “Rainbow and all that jazz. You sure you don’t have a problem? You look like you do.” “No. No, no. I just… didn’t expect that?”

“Why, do I look straight?” Sonic joked, but this time there is a hint of seriousness beneath the crack. He’s pushing for an answer, an answer Shadow couldn’t give. Fear grips his gut and he wraps his arms around his middle tentatively, unsure what to say. But Sonic wasn’t going to take silence this time. As he swung his legs over the edge and hopped off the piano, he kept his glittering eyes fixated on the striped hedgehog, waiting. “No…” he finally settled on, praying that the idol didn’t hear the uncertainty in his voice. “I just haven’t met anyone… like that, I suppose. So it’s surprising.” “Really? Not one? I think you just don’t know you have.” Sonic responded, walking over to the door. He popped it open and stuck his head out before leaning back in to look at Shadow. “There’s a lot more of us than you may think.” The pianist silently nodded as he picked up his bag, embarrassment still warming his face. He hoped it wasn’t too noticeable. He’d never really thought about this kind of thing before. He didn’t know how to feel about it.

He’d never had a reason to care about love— romantic love— before. But now, looking at Sonic, so unashamed of his identity, Shadow felt uncertain. Should he care? …Where did he fit? “Hey.” Crimson eyes looked up to the speaker, who gazed back gently. It’s like he could read Shadow’s mind. “Don’t think about it too much, ok? You’ll know when you know. And if you never figure it out, there’s a place for that too!” There was? This was a whole other side of the world, he realized, one he never cared enough to notice. He’ll have to learn about it. “Ok. Thanks.” “No problem!” Sonic piped, bouncing out the door. Before he dashed off, though, he cocked his head at Shadow, mischief spreading across his features. Oh, boy. He did not like that look at all.

“And Shads,” the blue hedgehog sang, his voice only describable as flirty, “You’re kinda hot, by the way.” Nothing could have prepared him for that. Fire bloomed in his cheeks, rapidly swallowing his entire being as he choked on his breath. “WHAT?! Come back here, you, you—you can’t just say that!!” But Sonic was gone, distant laughter in his wake, probably reveling in the victory of turning Shadow on his head yet again. In his place at the door was Amy, bemusedly looking at the furiously blushing hedgehog. At this point, his face would be permanently tinted red.

[phonkscribes]

itd be funny if self aware reader catches Wesker writing fanfiction (write this pretty please)

Also I'm becoming 🦷 anon now

-🦷

Hello 🦷 anon, and I too think it'd be funny if the reader were to watch him do that.

He's typing away, fingers fast on the keyboard as he glances over at his second monitor. The secondary mode of Evil Resident open to the character selection screen. Wesker thought that his weekend ought to be devoted to updating the newest chapter of his reader insert fic on Ao3, then spend some sweet time with his beloved main as a reward. This scene in particular is one that his fellow fans have been waiting for, it's the third time he's writing it where you happen across the reader all by themselves. Of course he might've written in himself, but what would his friends think? Chris follows his account, eating up chapter after chapter because the fool can't write a decent fic to save his life. Typical. He didn't understand your character as well as he did.

It was one of the reasons why Wesker was so on the fence for allowing him a morsel of his work. As he types away, he pauses to glance over at you, a sigh falling from his lips. The build up is being dragged on for far too long, there isn't a good place to introduce you into the story that doesn't feel out of place. He worries that if he does it so suddenly, it'll break immersion. You furrow your brows, not liking your little pest to look so worried. He's far too young to be developing wrinkles now. What could possibly be making him feel so troubled?

"Is something the matter?", you ask, a little irritated with his prolonged stare and pout on his lips.

"Hm? Oh... it's... it's nothing, I can assure you", he replies, getting right back to work with his typing.

You're not convinced, and perhaps he knows that. Your eyes peer through the screen as you stare at his surroundings, various posters and figurines were casted in his background, many of which happened to involve you. You're no fool, so you can assume that whatever it is he's doing must also involve you somehow. If only there were a way to shift the monitor to face the other. You fold your arms, shifting yourself from the border that occupies you to instead glance at the reflection of light in his shades. Words appearing backwards as the cursor blinks before he hits the backspace key.

"What are you writing?", you prompt him further, determined to get an answer that satisfies your liking.

"... It's a project I'm working on", which isn't technically a lie.

You can see the way his blue eyes avert to the side, so it must embarrass him. You're able to put two and two together, especially when you briefly see your name flash once or twice in the white light on his shades. The longer you stare, the more nervous he becomes, wondering why you're almost glaring at him with that intensity. A chuckle sounds from either side of his headphones, making him shiver as you smirk. At this point it's rather obvious, so you aren't sure why he's trying to hide it.

"You're writing about me, aren't you Albert?", your hand holds your chin as your eyes crinkle a tad, "Planning a confession, dear? Or perhaps you're living out a fantasy you cannot fulfill"

He frowns, flustering at your words as he switches tabs to access your monitor. He knits his brows together as he hovers the mouse over the exit button on the screen, putting you behind the door of character select so that you can't see him write out exactly that. Even if Wesker can't see you, he knows you're laughing at him, finding it rather amusing as he brings his hands to his eyes, pushing them under his sun glasses to blush in shame. As much as he loves to hear you tease him and the sound of your voice is enough to make him so happy, he really does need to finish this.

"Seven minutes. Seven minutes and then I'll be able to play with you", he sighs, a groan heavy on his breath as he cracks his fingers.

The sooner he gets to work the sooner he can make you take damage for interrupting him, in his own way of punishing you. Were you trying to make him angry? Not that he could ever be mad at you... for long. As he gets back to writing paragraph after paragraph, he's satisfied with his length of five pages, although an idea comes to mind. Wesker shifts back to your game, and relinquishes you from your character select prison.

"Hello again dear, took you long enough-"

"Before we get started, could you... look over it... please?"

You raise a brow, having half the mind to scold him for interrupting you, but deciding against it. This is a first, given that you don't typically see him anyways when he's writing and most often he does not involve such writings in your conversations while in the game. Well... you suppose you could, given that it is about you, after all. He also happened to ask nicely, so there's that too.

"Fine. Show it to me", and he carefully scoots the monitor inwards for you to read.

You don't quite understand the context of what's going on given you're cutting into the story rather than starting at the beginning. Wesker waits with a straight face to hear what you think, hoping that it isn't so cringey that you refuse to talk to him for good after reading it. However as you motion for him to scroll on your behalf, you're amazed at how well he's able to understand you. It's as if you're right there yourself, talking with this 'why enn' character. In the chapter you seem to be infatuated with them, drawing your hand out to their face with intimacy. He's described how your hand feels, how you look at that person with a hunger to your gaze. Is it odd that you're beginning to blush yourself?

The pacing is fine, quick where it needs to be, but long on the details and information that matters and is enticing. Although the reader isn't someone whom you'd be so taken with if you're honest. They're not your type, but you don't voice that to him. When you reach the end of all five pages, he moves the monitor back to its original position so that you're facing him.

"Wh- What did you think?", he stammers, determined to get anything he might've done wrong right.

"That line where I depart just as the gnat", which was what you called his partner in the game, "came to save them... I wouldn't say that"

"I see, I'll change that immediately. Is there anything else?"

"You... you must really love me...", you let it tumble out, surprised at your own words before you frown at his face as it begins to change. Determination blossoms to barely contained excitement as Wesker nods, restraining a smile on his face as you wave him off.

"Whatever. Are you finally free now? I feel like I've been here for ages", you huff.

Love… really… such foolish emotions are beyond you. You’ve never loved anyone or anything in your life and you aren’t about to start now for some… boy! And yet… here you were, heart hammering out of embarrassment. It’s second hand you’re sure. You’d assume your programmed smirk when he typed something extra in his author notes. You’re able to decipher it through the backwards text appearing on the screen.

Sorry this chapter’s a little late. I had some help from a friend of mine’s. Please enjoy the sixth chapter!

The moment he toggles back to you, he notices you staring again.

“Is something wrong?”

“No- not at all”, you answer, loading into the level select as he gets ready to play as you.

[liquidlizards]

so it goes

pairing: lizardhat

summary: when she reluctantly calls black hat as a last ditch effort for a ride home after an online date goes horribly wrong (she ends up having to stab him with a dinner fork), demencia finds out that her boss thinks more highly of her than she was led to believe.

rating: nothing truly explicit, but there is some spice! a piping hot pile of sexual tension!!

(ao3 link)

Demencia eyed the blistering oranges and reds beyond the gloam of the night sky, snubbing out her Newport on the sidewalk with a stomp of her boot. She sneered at the laughter coming from inside the restaurant and reached for the pack in her purse, fingers searching for the last smoke at the bottom. She sure as hell deserved it.

Thinking back on the past 24 hours gave her whiplash, and she desperately longed for an ice cold shower along with an ice cold beer to cleanse the lousy memories away until she had no recollection of them. How could she possibly think that Evil Singles™ was a good idea? Its infamously seedy reputation only spoke of B-list henchmen seeking out a quick fuck in the shadows of the night and nothing else. She was under that disreputable impression up until an alright-looking lackey calling himself “Torpedo” messaged her and opened with an actual goddamn courtly question about how her day was going and how if she wouldn’t mind him saying this but her eyes looked absolutely dazzling in her profile picture, did she have a map, because he was getting lost in them. Right away she knew that was bullshit because nobody in their right mind would look at that clouded yellow haze in her one eye and call it dazzling, but she gave him points for trying.

Demencia presumed that she was acting out, but she never really knew for sure if that outweighed the curiosity. Veiled by a thin layer of almost drunken stupor, her hands hovered over the keyboard, clenching the air. What she did know for sure was that as soon as he gushed about how lucky Black Hat must be to have her on his crew, she lost it and typed out an invite to a local restaurant. Their crab cakes are killer, she told him, you’re totally gonna flip out. If you don’t like them, I’ll probably have to take you out again another time ;)

She thought that was funny, because in the end, she was the one who totally flipped out, when he brought up her devilishly frustrating enigma of a boss and how fortunate he was to call her part of the team. All she could do was flop around like a fucking fish out of water and pathetically ache to type out, Oh, he definitely is. Lucky to have me, that is. In fact, he tells me every day how absolutely positively friggin’ lucky he is to have an ace like me. I kick ass and take names, just how he likes it!

But she knew she would be lying to Torpedo, and to herself. So she thumbed through the unruly file cabinets of her mind and decided to rebuff with talk of seafood and good-natured, flirtatious jibes.

Now that she considered it, there was only one historical recording of verbal praise from Black Hat, and she only knew this because it was dated and stamped in her diary as something of a milestone for her. She kept it under her mattress with a padlock smacked on top of it. Lately, she’d been dreaming about a place where Black Hat acknowledged her and Flug’s work more often, one where weekly progress reports came in and their grueling efforts were recognized. Christ, not that they weren’t paid generously, because they were, as generously as Black Hat could manage. He was just as much a bloodthirsty mogul as he was a bloodthirsty hellion. And contrary to popular belief, she was a woman who cared about her career. She knew she did a good job— she knew she knocked it out of the park and then some— but sometimes Black Hat’s taut, gruntled nod just wasn’t enough.

Demencia knew she was on the team for a reason. She supposed she would’ve been kicked to the curb if she was shit at what she did. It’s just that she could never tell what he was thinking, and that truly pissed her off. She wanted to hop inside his head and pull his thoughts out like one of those never-ending magician scarves. He puzzled her, mystified her. He was a paradox of destruction, 6 feet of ancient eldritch in designer slacks and shiny shoes, and she longed to open him up like the dusty book he was. A biblically ghoulish entity like him had to have some secrets, maybe even a weakness. Everything was a show to him; he was a theatrical individual. So perhaps the truth was closer than Demencia thought, laid out in the most obvious of places.

She herself even put on a show, diamond-studded in nature, where on the outside she played the part of the silly air-headed henchmen who could kill you in the blink of an eye, unruffled by the world around her. Whereas on the inside, she longed for everyone to like her, to commend her triumphs, to fall into raptures about how she was the best in the field, Black Hat being the first to do so. Flug would say that was called "mental illness," but she could put a pin in that for later.

Demencia wasn’t afraid to admit this to herself, but somewhere deep in her bones she had a thing for praise, and hearing it from her own deathly delectable demon boss would absolutely send her careening hornily across the whole town. Settling for the next best thing— a seemingly pleasant, nice evil guy she found online who complimented her from the get-go— she expected to get totally worshiped tonight. If they hit it off, that is. A girl had needs after all.

That obviously didn’t play out the way she had hoped. She sat down and the slimeball immediately looked down her shirt when she reached for a breadstick. He didn’t even try to hide it. Not that Demencia wasn’t used to people ogling her— in fact, she quite liked it— there was just something about this guy’s leer that put her on edge. Like she owed it to him to sleep with her just because he planned to buy dinner. A real creepshow. The moment he grabbed her thigh under the table she had him in a headlock, her other arm burying a fork in his back. So much for hoping.

Reality came rushing back in a jolting wave when her gaze suddenly caught the golden headlights of Black Hat’s antique 1920s Ford Model T. She squinted past the brightness to see two floating eyeballs and a sharp row of teeth glowing in the dark like a beacon of malevolence. His silhouette seemed to pulse against the shadows, a phantom of his own design, the one and only manipulator of the murky blackness called night.

Black Hat shifted into smoke and appeared on the other side of the car, the click of the door sounding foreign in the breezy undercarriage of the moon. Holding it open for Demencia, he stood solemnly like a royal guard, unreadable as always, waiting for her to make the next move. He looked to be in no rush, and Demencia gathered that getting in was her choice.

Dressed to the nines at 11pm at night, Demencia couldn’t help but let her eyes rave over the tightly tailored suit vest wrapped around his torso, or the way his thin legs looked alarmingly alluring in the pale gleam of the street lamps. She gulped and took a step forward, trying not to trip.

His car hummed and so did Demencia as he extended a hand to help her over the curb of the sidewalk and into her seat. He watched her the whole time, eyes flashing, hand squeezing hers so lightly she thought she imagined the firm, steadfast press of his fingers to her palm. Then she blinked and he was next to her in the driver’s seat, pulling out of the parking lot and into the night without a word.

Demencia never prided herself on being a quiet person, but that night she sat there, unashamed, unbothered— a little bit smug— that her prim and proper eldritch boss had to slip out of his cute little PJs and nightcap to come fetch his wayward crony. Flug didn’t answer his phone, and she sure as hell wasn’t trekking two miles back to the manor on foot, so she called Black Hat. The lizard had his number on speed dial, always expecting to play Russian Roulette because she knew how much he hated technology and being inconvenienced, but knew how much he liked driving his car. Demencia found she didn’t even have to beg for him to come. Through the receiver, she heard he was already out of bed and on the move. She was surprised, to say the least. But she didn’t question it.

Even though she was trying to appear apathetic towards him, Demencia wanted Black Hat to ask her what happened, if she was okay. Flounce and fawn over her like they were two teenagers going steady and some douche catcalled her at the bar so he had to teach him a lesson, even though she could handle it herself, and she did. But he stayed quiet, and so did she. Yet, she didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on her fishnets, her thighs tan and powerful beneath the wispy black fabric. A shiver carried down her spine, her face growing hot. His gaze didn't come in the form of a leer, heavy and expectant. Instead, it engaged her, drew her in, tugged her forward like it had his own magnetic field. She supposed that very well could be a possibility.

A couple minutes into the drive, Demencia came to the conclusion that she couldn’t handle this balmy, soupy silence they created between the two of them, pressingly intimate. She felt like the air was charged—almost wired— which made her mind wander to places it probably shouldn’t, fantasies she had yet to unlock. She reached ahead to click on the radio.

Black Hat broke out of his hardened layer of stillness and shot forward, like he was a toy action figure and someone just gave him a fresh new pair of batteries. “Demencia, you imbecile, my mobile is connected—!”

The catchy chorus to ABBA’s “Dancing Queen” erupted through the bass, Flug’s modern modifications to the car slapping them both in the eardrums with a rhythmic shock wave.

A beat passed, and suddenly all former claims to Demencia’s night flew out the window and she was slapping a knee, wheezing as Black Hat struggled to switch off the bluetooth while keeping one eye on the road. It was definitely a hilarious sight to behold. Black Hat, The Black Hat, supreme super villain who caused worldwide famine and brought on wars, cursing and fumbling with his radio’s settings while a beloved 1970s Europop disco hit he pretended not to like blasted through the speakers. Demencia likened the view to a giant, flailing butter knife.

He wailed, smacking the touch screen with his fist. “Why are you laughing? This is modern pop music at its best!”

She yelled over the piano. “This song is almost 50 years old.”

Her boss garbled out another string of obscenities before huffing and flopping back into his seat. Demencia muffled a giggle behind her hand, her forgotten cigarette in the other. She went to take another drag, but it was abruptly plucked from her grip by an exasperated Black Hat and thrown from his claws out the window.

“Dude, what the hell?” she spluttered, dramatically throwing her hands up.

He grunted, turning down their street. “I don’t want you stinking my car up and killing yourself. Flug told you nicotine reacts horridly with that reptile DNA nesting inside your body. You’re an important asset to this team, and me, for that matter. Plus, your breath positively reeks of rancid tar fumes, it’s truly disgusting.”

Demencia froze, blankly watched as the manor grew before her eyes, the garage door opening up with a squeak, the row of candles on the cement floor flickering to life. Black Hat refused to pay for electricity outside his house, not that he used it much inside. His Victorian, borderline Gothic Revival tastes traversed over the whole expanse of the estate, but she found it to be quite endearing.

She sat rigid, staring at the dancing flames, paying no mind to the casual insult. Her brain was still stuck on how he admitted that she was, in fact, important.

Important.

Important.

Important.

The word spun around her head and she outstretched a hand to grab it and bring it closer to her heart. She beamed at him, her whole body brimming with warmth, her grin stretching from ear to ear. The way he said it had left her thrumming, pure giddiness shocking her system, rendering her dizzy.

Black Hat narrowed his eyes at Demencia and leaned back to hold her gaze, but she caught the corner of his lip twitching up in amusement. “What, why are you looking at me like that? What’s got you all smiley?”

With a sly look painted on her face, Demencia laughed. Her shoulders relaxed and she noticed her legs parting on their own, knee bumping into Black Hat’s. He didn't move it. “Oh, nothing, it’s just that you need me. You, horrible destroyer of worlds and ABBA enthusiast, need me, hottest hitman on the block. No take backs, I heard it clear as day, dude.”

A different look crossed over his face suddenly, eyes hooded under the brim of his hat. They flicked to her lips, then back up to meet her stare. Almost immediately, Demencia ceased her giggling, heart thundering against her chest like a tidal wave being pulled by the moon. Held in the small space between them, it was the only sound.

Black Hat pushed his knee more firmly against hers, voice gravelly. He said it as if it were obvious. “I do. I do need you.”

Demencia caught the double meaning in his voice, breath hitching in her throat, thighs squeezing together. His teeth glinted in the dark and he lowered his head in a way that made her think he'd been wanting to do it the whole way home, lips ghosting over her temple. Her whole body was tingling, aching.

 “My dear, you are simply a powerhouse.”

The fire in her belly burned white hot, the redness of her cheeks traveling down her neck to her chest, heaving up and down. A wave of boldness swept over her, and she took hold of the reins with ease. “Maybe you should show me how much you need me.”

Black Hat, chuckling darkly, hooked a claw in Demencia’s shirt and tugged her close.

[devleader]

Hot take: There's nothing inherently wrong with testing implementation details I'm sorry if you spit out your coffee when you read that, but hear me out before you smash a novel out on your mechanical keyboard to fight me on this. My approach to testing software boils down to one fundamental: Building confidence in the changes we're delivering So if you're preparing your debate points, just know that this is the perspective I'm grounded in. How we build confidence can and will look different from situation to situation. When I build parsers, I almost always go straight to TDD. I don't even love TDD, but I treat my system like a blackbox and test inputs and outputs. I am constantly rearranging the guts of my parsing logic and I just want to make sure I get the right stuff out based on what I put in. When I build bigger or more complex systems, this story changes. Quite a bit. Just because there are different scenarios I need to consider. "But you must test against the API, not the implementation details!" When I'm writing code, there are some things that aren't known on the API but they're behaviors I expect. And if I need confidence on those things, you can bet your butt that I'm going to write tests to give me that confidence. Some things that I can't just "test against the API" of the method I'm calling: - Does my call to an external service handle exceptions properly? - If necessary, does that call handle retries accordingly? - Before we go roll out a deployment worldwide to hundreds of thousands of servers, are we sending the right telemetry? - Do we have the right logging in place for helpful debug information? ... There are countless scenarios I've encountered where it's been helpful to test implementation details. "But then your tests become brittle! You can never change the code now!!!" Look, you're changing the code without the coverage and breaking all sorts of expected behavior because it wasn't "against the API" so there were no tests. Now if you made it this far before you rushed to the comments to rage: - No, I don't think this is the only way to test - Yes, I would (generally) prefer system/integration tests since they've become very cheap/fast to run - No, I don't think any one type of test is superior to all of them - Yes, I do mix all sorts of testing into my codebase - Yes, I refactor code non-stop - Yes, there are absolutely times I have to blow away tests when I rewrite the guts of something But along the way I'm deciding where I need to build confidence with all of the tools at my disposal. ---- 📨 Sign up for my email newsletter! 🗣️ Share with your network! #Coding #Programming #SoftwareEngineering #Testing

[hitsuzenhusbands]

ohhh i havent posted properly in forever. heres a ~2k fic as an apology

aod has rlly grabbed me by the throat for the past few days, so. that resulted in. this!

yknow when ray is on eddie’s floor and she finds all of the victims files and one is a woman who was hanged on dannys floor. do you think about that because i think about that.

tw/cw for death, blood, gore, hanging, etc. etc. etc. pretty canon typical.

-

The grating shudders as she falls back against it, a sharp inhale of surprise and pain filling her lungs with shards of air. She groans, digging her hand into her opposite arm, grinding her teeth in a desperate attempt to ignore the pain reverberating through her arteries and the thick, wet blood gushing through her fingers. The scythe, she imagines, had made quite the gash, but how deep she wasn’t sure. She can’t bear to look at it—to face what might be nothing but ragged flesh dripping from the bone of her forearm, held only in place by her other hand. Bile bubbles in the back of her throat at the thought of having to peel her dismembered limb off the grimy floor of this rickety elevator, but she swallows it down. 

She doesn’t care where it leads to at this point, as long as it’s away from that thing.

She almost couldn’t tell what it was at first—all she could see was a flash of black, white, and red before enough light filtered through the cracks of the rundown buildings to catch the metal of its weapon. By then, it was too late. She was too busy running and tending to her cut arm to picture a face to match the ear splitting laugh that followed her all the way to the elevator.

An exit awaits her, she hopes. She sees, through a blur composed of tears and agony, a wide, open door with a promise of freedom. Dirty concrete replaced by lush green grass, buzzing lights giving way to blue sky—

A man at a desk, glasses crooked on his nose as he peers intently at the computer in front of him. 

The blood loss must be getting to her.

Nevertheless, she steps forward, linoleum tiles immediately clicking beneath her. The man, still, seems unbothered, mindlessly tapping his mouse as she approaches his desk. Eyes straining beneath the dim lights, she figures she’s in something akin to a doctor’s office, but no matter how harshly her heart pounds against her ribcage in a plea to get out of here and her distrust rises with the hair along the back of her neck, she’ll take what she can get—even if that only amounts to a frightening lobby and a man too engrossed in Solitaire to acknowledge her.

“Excuse me?” Her voice is hoarse, words catching in her throat and tearing at her larynx. 

It’s only now that he sees her, eyes darting quickly between her and the screen before he hastily switches to another tab—a chart, maybe, or a form. The brightness of it compared to the rest of the room is making it difficult to tell. “My apologies! How can I help you?” He says, proper and practiced. Perfect customer service, as though he’s done it a thousand times over. As if to prove this point, he begins typing halfway through his sentence, keyboard clacking incessantly, the sound ricocheting against her skull.

“I…Need to see a doctor.”

“For what, may I—?” He’s turned to look at her, finally. Pressed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the tip of his finger and swiveled in his chair, only to catch sight of her wound. How he didn’t hear her blood dripping steadily against his bleach-scented floor, she doesn’t know. “Oh. Oh dear.” Concern only crosses his expression for a moment before he’s offering her a warm smile and standing from his chair. Without a second of delay, he guides her past the desk and down a hallway, hand gently placed on her unharmed shoulder until he gets her into something of an operating room and convinces her with a soft gesture of his hands to sit on the center table.

She does so, as if she had any other choice, and watches intently as he rifles through his drawers. Lightheaded as she is, she still catches sight of the jars lined up across the countertops, contents she can’t quite identify bobbing within them.

“Here we are.” He’s back, with his sterile smile and gleaming eyes. He sets his supplies on the table before he gets to work. She looks away when he wipes the wound clean, willing herself not to vomit. “So, what’s the story?”

God, if only she knew.

“I…A man, I think, chased me.”

He hums knowingly. The sound is just enough to draw her attention away from the stinging of the needle piercing her skin. She feels his fingers delicately wave her back together, pressing her flesh back into place. “Must have been a serial killer.”

The way he says it—so simply. Yes, of course, it must have been.

The string snaps cleanly. He wraps her with bandages so that she can stand to look at it without heaving, which she does as soon as he steps back, carefully flexing her arm and testing her limits. It’s stiff, naturally, and spikes of pain still flood her nerves, but at the very least the man before her isn’t trying to kill her this time.

“Would you mind if I performed a proper check-up?” He asks once he’s done. “Just to make sure you’re all set.”

She hesitates, drawing her arm into herself and resting it on her legs. There is something about him, something she can’t place. The way he holds himself stark upright, hands neatly folded in front of him, nothing short of a smile across his face. He tilts his head ever-so slightly when he speaks, his sentences carefully chosen and never anything but comforting.

It’s almost disarming. “I really should be going—”

“Please, I insist!” He raises his hands slightly. “I would hate to find out a patient of mine walked out of my office possibly injured.”

He could be right. In truth, the only thing she can feel is the pulsing of her arm—who knows how many bruises and cuts sprawl across the rest of her,  bleeding and infected. “Alright.”

The delight he finds in this is unreserved, as he clasps his hands together and carefully begins his examination. It’s nothing out of the ordinary—he looks into her ears, puts a stick on her tongue—and as expected, she’s perfectly fine.

“I didn’t happen to introduce myself, did I?” He announces suddenly, hammer hovering over her knee. She shakes her head. “Must have gotten lost in the whole arm-almost-got-cut-off business.” He chuckles to himself at his own joke. The hammer lightly knocks against her leg. This is extremely unnecessary, she finds, but a moment wasted resting in safety is better than a moment wasted with a murderer on your trail. “I’m Dr. Danny.” 

She goes to tell him hers, only to stop the moment he rises to his feet and places the hammer on the table with a sharp metal click. He leans forward towards her, lightly dragging her hair away from her face before he jabs his fingers into her cheek and forehead and pulls her eyelids apart. “Hey—”

“I wanted to be an ophthalmologist, you know.”  Her attempts to pull away are futile, stalled by the iron grip he has on her head. Still, she pulls—nearly knocking her skull against the slab when he lets go and gives her the opportunity to scramble backwards, cursing her injury for the flaring pain that crawls across her skin and buries itself in her veins. “So that I could gaze into as many eyes as I wanted. But that didn’t work out.” He taps under his right eye, a faint smile fluttering across his lips. “Besides, it’s so difficult to find the eyes I’m looking for, anyway.”

“What are you talking about—?”

“But you—” He continues, like he didn’t hear her. He’s taken a stance at the edge of the table now, hands pressed into the corners while he stares directly at her. “They’d be perfect, if only…”

She has to get out of here. It doesn’t matter anymore, how much kindness he has shown her, how many stitches are in her arm, how many will snap—she’s got a will to live, goddammit, and whatever is wrong with this man won’t stop her. She pulls her legs up onto the table in a burst of adrenaline and kicks back until she can slide off of it. He startles, apparently confused by her sudden fighting spirit, but she doesn’t let that stop her from bolting towards the door, dashing just past him, wrapping her fingers around the frame, and—

-

Daniel Dickens is a scientist at heart.

That is to say, he takes great pleasure in experimenting. 

His collection certainly has benefited from it. Not just in his method of preservation (a whole month was spent once, researching formaldehyde exclusively) but in his method of collection. 

He prefers something simple. He goes right for the eyes, mostly, and whatever happens after that is left up to fate—or rather, the person themself, whether they spend their time applying pressure to the wounds or flailing aimlessly around his room, destroying as much of it as they can before collapsing.

Stabbing is effective. Messy, though. Then again, not as messy as immediate eye removal, but he’s never been one for dish washing, and visible knives tend to disturb his patients before he can begin the procedure.

Guns, chainsaws, scythes—he can’t stand the thought. To think he might miss and hit his trophies makes him sick.

But this.

This is worth experimenting with.

The newest sacrifice isn’t exactly any more interesting than the rest. Her eyes are blue, yes, but dull. They reek of stagnation, contentedness with a normal life, of days and nights that repeat over and over so much so that this sudden change in routine has only awoken in her a desire to go back. Still, he admires that flare—that flicker of a survivor's instinct that burns deep within her and sends ripples into her otherwise unbecoming eyes.

And he thinks, perhaps, with this, he can make them exactly how he wants them.

She runs from him, as most tend to do, but she barely gets a foot out of the door. He grabs the rope tucked into his lab coat and pulls it tight around her neck, dragging her back into the operating room enough so he can push her against the floor, fraying threads cutting deep lines into her throat already. She’s drowned out by the force, instead mindlessly grabbing at him.

But this isn’t it. This isn’t how she will die—with eyes that barely spark at the prospect of escape.

He releases it enough for her to gasp, a wheeze that pierces her lungs and stuns her long enough for him to tie the noose. As a precaution, he shuts the door before he hangs it just above a desk chair tucked against the side of the room, his own breath catching in his throat at the prospect of what he’s about to do.

She struggles beneath him as he picks her up, half-dragging her kicking and screaming until he can pull her onto the chair and situate her head within the neck hole. “My mother,” He says somberly, tightening it in spite of her cries. “She did this to herself. I only wonder…If the despair she felt may be shared by you.”

Her neck doesn’t snap. Instead, she claws helplessly at the knot, kicking and gurgling. 

Her eyes don’t change.

Once she goes limp, they’re just as they were—dull. Ordinary. Unremarkable.

Hypothesis disproved, he sighs to himself before delving his fingers into her sockets and removing his prize, some sort of nostalgia stirring within him.

[maxemilianverstappen]

I’m not a fan of Charles but I don’t mind him. I also don’t see a WDC for Charles in near future and I doubt Fred will make a big difference everyone hopes for👐🏻I know Charles is young and have a lot of years to win but it’s crazy for me how Ferrari ruined his reputation in nearly two years, people rather put him in same calibre with Carlos and George(both an ok drivers but nothing special or outstanding to me) rather than Max/Lewis.

Some people are looking at the statistics and seeing the number of wins and all other jazz and making a list mostly based on that. I don't give a damn about that kind of "outlook" at the sports. Charles is talented and it is highly acclaimed both by his peers and by the gurus in the industry. What a keyboard warrior might say or think about him, actually about any of these drivers, do not matter at all.

As I said before, talent and hardwork is of course, the first ingredients of a champion, but also that guy needs to be at the right place at the right time and also the right car.

Seb, for example... Since 2012, almost every year there was heavy rumors about how Mercedes wanted to sign him, how they had a pre-contract or whatever. He possibly got offers from them, but chose his path differently. Which costed him the opportunity to get another two or three WDCs in theory. He was never an "average" driver as some people tried/still try to paint him as.

Charles isn't an average driver either. He has some weaknesses, but that's due to him trying to compensate for the car and taking greater risks.

I don't believe this "if he is a great driver he should adapt" thing. I don't think after 20 sth years of doing some shit you can find the same edge in every set up and in every type of car. Lol, you can't "that" easily change your second nature and hope to be equally as good as before.

Even Max and Lewis and Seb struggled in different amounts in cars that they didn't find to their liking. But everyone immediately screamed "they should adapt". Look, I am not a Chirlie either, but, cars make champions, too. Maybe more than the drivers' talents and hardwork can ever.

Seb tried so hard in 2020 to drive a car with no rear end (which was his preferred balance) so, out of anyone, if Seb couldn't find a way to be faater, then sorry but nobody could because that guy's work principles parallel no one's. That car suited Charles's style, so he drove it well. Later years, the car's rear got more stable and had more understeer, which didn't suit him. Even then, he drove those cars to poles. But Ferrari has always sucked at race interim since Seb and Kimi's times, mostly because they have never solved their tyre use issue. But whatever.

What I mean is, to show your talent, you also need the machine that reacts to you the way you want it to. When Charles gets a car like that, he is no less than Max or Lewis or Seb or Nando or other WDCs. But stars must align as Ferrari must suddenly decide to stop clowning and live up to their "image".

I am not holding my breath about Ferrari getting their ahit together soon, but if Charles really can't win at least one WDC, it will be such a waste of potential.

[lesbxdyke]

So today I got two new comments on fics of mine.

(related but neither of the fics listed have anything to do with sex of any type)

This is to do with something I've spoken about before.

Quite a few years ago at this point, I wrote a Clexa fic. Other than my novel, it remains the longest thing I ever finished. It was a story about abuse, about recovering from it. And I wrote it because I was struggling to come to terms with my own abusive relationship. It is, in my opinion, not my best written piece, in terms of technical skill, but it is one of my pieces most full of bits of my Soul. Because (as I often made the point of saying in the notes) it was a greatly greatly GREATLY scaled up version of what I had experienced to help me process through what had happened to me.

I made a decision in my writing to have the proxy character forgive the people that hurt her. Because, at the time, that had been what I was aiming for. I was aiming for forgiveness, because I believed that would help me move on. (I've long since changed track on that point, but as I said, this fic was quite a few years old)

I had always planned for, in the next chapter, there to be some violent revenge. Because I understand narrative payoff, and because part of ME still wanted that revenge.

But people didn't want to understand cliffhangers. And went on the attack. I was called a rape apologist, I was told I must have deserved what happened to me, I was told all manner of triggering things. I didn't want to finish after that. Luckily, I was able to see my therapist, who encouraged me to finish because writing it had become an important part of my healing. So I did.

And now, so many years later, someone has decided that it's not okay that I've moved on with my life, and has decided to try and decimate my self esteem a second time. And they almost did, Honestly. Because these messages came on the back of a family emergency and on the morning of some medical tests I was needing. Exactly the worst time, right?

I'm lucky, I guess, because I have people on side who have spent most of the day sending me messages of support.

I know that what this person wants is for me to stop writing. And they nearly got their wish. This morning, I was ready to never touch my keyboard again. But fuck them. Fuck EVERYONE that said those horrible things to me. I will keep writing, because I love doing it. And I will not let you make me afraid to get messages from AO3. Not again.

If you're following me and you think it's okay to leave comments like this for people because you disagree with what they've written or how they've written it, block me. Right the fuck now.

(also I've deleted both of these reviews. I don't need that shit staining my fics)