#I’m either gonna have to skip my social plans and back out of something at my current job | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amphtaminedreams · 1 year ago

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The Fashion, the Thoughts and the Food (ARGH): 2023 Pt.1

Hiiii to anyone reading!

Isn’t this quite the surprise! A gap in posting which isn’t so vast that the context in which I framed it has had to be adapted several times since its inception! This was a 2023 part 1 post when I started and if this surfaces on the dashboard before June finishes (almost managed it!!!!) just consider me queen of organisation. I’m nearly finished with a piece of coursework on Prospect Theory and now I’m unburdened by THAT fucking torturous demand the somewhat constant sense of creativity-quashing confusion and fear is semi lifted.

Originally, ya see, I planned to sum up the last few months with just a winter outfits post but that time went by so quickly and was such a shitshow, that when I came to reflect, it turns out I made myself presentable and did something interesting with my life on far fewer occasions than I thought. The prospect of going full 2013 lifestyle blogger and using this post as a conduit for a more general overview of the first half of the year seemed more fun and in the nature of why I started this Tumblr which was just to do fun, creative stuff, lol. Trying to build a whole post specifically on one topic and making everything neat is so silly when I’m just a silly little girl doing this silly little blog. It’s not like this messiness was ever monetizable or is intended to be. I am far too insecure to ever need to assume that there is anyone following whatever it is I’m rambling on about. All I promise to bring to the table is the enthusiasm and lack of refinement that characterised the early days of social media back when Tumblr came under the same umbrella as Bloggr, lookbook.nu, Polyvore, WeHeartIt, etc., humble little hobby platforms that were recognised as such and not as springboards for a career because they were for FUNNN not to make money. What an era! You need time, consistency, likability and a bit of self-restraint to do anything serious online and I can promise you I only have about one of these traits even on the very best days. What I mean is that whenever I’m on Tumblr or Pinterest just scrolling freely and liking and pinning and seeing what catches my eye, when it feels like I’m treating this as a casual thing, it’s a lot easier, and so I really want to push myself to just post stuff like this even if it feels irrelevant and unstructured because it doesn’t need to have relevancy or structure for me to post it. You’ve been warned!

There is 0 need to post as if you have to consider where sponsorships are going to fit or whether you’re going to piss people off en masse when you don’t have much in the way of an audience and you don’t NEED to have to have either to justify posting something online in the first place, wtf. Capitalist interests are very predictable in the sense that they can't NOT gatecrash a good party when they see it, cannot possibly avoid the urge to make everythingggg people enjoy doing feel like it needs to be packaged as part of a slick business venture but like…if the photo dump can be re-popularised (though I am kinda convinced this was a thing Instagram started themselves on the DL to distance themselves from criticism in this vein), then let’s call this Tumblr page a mind dump. A vibe vault, if you will. I know, ew. I hate myself for that one too. Plus these are less so things I’m vibing with because I don’t have adequate levels of chill to simply "vibe" with anything anyway. Soo here are the first half of 2023’s Pathological Obsessions��, outfits, new fashunnn finds, places, media and some general sensitive thoughts.

Now let’s get into itttt.

The Fashionnnn Bit

*(if you’re here from the recovery tag maybe skip through this, use the find option and jump to the next “recovery” mention)

Starting with the fashunnn, because if there is a single kind of continuity on this blog it’s that. I’m gonna break it down into a few things. First, the designers I’ve discovered/rediscovered. Big shout out to Vogue Runway for entertaining me in that respect on the few occasions it decided to function properly.

But also!! also!! big question mark over why I can look at unlimited collections on the app but hit a paywall on the desktop site even when I’m logged in??? I’m emphasising this because I’m genuinely searching for answers here, lol, I’m not about to dish out my coins unnecessarily, not in this £1.65 for a bag of Magic Stars economy, ffs.

Back to the topic at hand though, I’ll structure the fashion section kinda like a Currently Obsessing Over post and cover a other few things as well. For starters, anybody whose style I’ve been appreciating recently-I can’t promise you I’m going to blow your mind with some obscure, undiscovered Instagram model you’ve never heard of, but I’m starting this tradition by gassing up Florence Given so I don’t think there’s gonna be much expectation of that going forward anyway, lol. Also, this section seems an appropriate place to get all the excitement out of my system about my favourite ethical clothing store drops. I like to think of it as a redirection of the excitement that usuallllyyy results in me spending money that I am otherwise incapable of reminding myself I DO NOT HAVE.

Lastly, the winter outfits that were the preliminary basis of this post will slot nicely in here. Let’s be real, as much as I’d like to think my using Tumblr is alllll about creativity, it’s clearly filling some kind of egotistical self-expression need too, lol. Ego hypothesis aside, though, I can confirm that I love to refer to “oooo potential for outfit post!” to justify the unnecessary Vinted and Depop purchases I make to myself whilst continuing to complain about being broke. But BOTH THINGS ARE TRUE AND IT’S NOT A CAUSAL RELATIONSHIP FFS. Yah, becoming aware that there are just as many gems on Vinted as there are on Depop did not do wonders for my savings goals, I have to say it. But it is ethical and cheap. Anyways, I’m just gonna sprinkle these outfit posts throughout the fashion section to dilute the vanity a bit.

*2023 purchases marked w/asterisk

-20th & 21st March 2023, Shoreditch->Beyond the Streets exhibition @ the Saatchi Gallery, outfit details L to R: mohair cardi from Collusion*, beret from ASOS*, faux leather blazer from NastyGal, faux fur coat underneath from Urban Outfitters, bag from ASOS, shoes from ASOS*, trousers from @niamho31 on Depop>beanie from ASOS, mini skirt from Minga*, cropped jumper from @alexnrx21 on Vinted, lace up corset top from @kyliemccabe99 on Vinted, & Doc Martens-

Currently Obsessing Over: Patou

-Top to Bottom: RTW S/S20, RTW S/S21, RTW F/W20-

I want to thank girlie Dakota Johnson for many things, one of them being introducing me to Patou (though her making Ellen publicly uncomfortable by drawing attention to the besties with everyoneeeee bullsheet takes no.1 on the achievements list).

-L->R: RTW S/S 22, RTW F/W21-

It’s what I can best describe as a combo between Simone Rocha, Brock, and Charles Jeffrey Loverboy with perhaps a touch of Erdem, slightly twee and coquettish but fresh and modern at the same time; a few of the collections have a bit of a street style vibe, and these are the ones which show Patou at its best. If you told me this was the wardrobe of an upper east side school girl growing out of her Blair Waldorf era and into her Virgil Abloh groupie phase because she decided her true passions lay in music production and used daddy’s money to buy an apartment in the gentrified Harlem, I’d believe you. Every cloud has to have some kind of silver lining, and the lack thereof when it comes to the invasion of a bunch of posh arseholes suggests there’s room for an accidentally brilliant style lovechild like this somewhere out there.

-Top to Bottom: RTW F/W23, RTW F/W22-

It was Alison Williams in a very Audrey Hepburn Patou look at the recent Met Gala that solidified, for me at least, they’ve pretty much got the monopoly on old timey socialite with 21st century polish. I assumed they were a new brand but doing a bit of Googling for this post exposed my lack of formal fashion education, lmao, because they’ve apparently been established for, like. decades, and have just been bought by LVMH who aren’t the type to take a gamble on a fledgling label. Feeling silly rn.

-RTW S/S23-

The LVMH takeover begs the question, whyyy are we not hearing more about them? I suppose Julia Fox having closed their most recent show is a sign they’re growing in influence/fattening their money pot at the very least, but in the meantime, the theme for the designers included in this post is obvs just gonna be undeservedly slept on labels lol.

-24th March 2023: hat from ASOS*, dress from UO, rollneck from charity shop, NastyGal faux fur coat from @emily170620 on Vinted-

Whatever Happened to Stella McCartney?

-Top to Bottom: RTW S/S22, Resort 2022-

Stella McCartney is one of those names everyone knows in the fashion industry but I’d say is rarely given the level of praise she deserves? Dare I say the collective sentiment is to kinda write her off as a designer condemned to 2000s irrelevancy? Is it because the association people make with the McCartney dynasty is now a brand of vegetarian sausages which aren’t even that bloody good? omggg, I can’t speak to the Linda McCartney mozzie burger but the sausages are nasty!!

-Pre-fall 2021-

Disgusting sausages aside, if we are talking the products of nepotism or powerful “connections”, some successes are more merited than others. If we can manage not to begrudge a specialist vegetarian chef her dues despite our awareness that the famous name has at least partially played a role in getting those human rights violating sausages in the freezer aisle of every Tesco, Sainsbury's and Asda near you? If we do that on the basis girly was onto a good thing by filling a necessary gap in the market? Well we OUGHT to talk more about Stella McCartney and make sure SHE gets her place in the freezer aisle next to the Carte Dior (comedy genius) too.

-clockwise L>R: Pre-fall 2017, Resort 2019, Resort 2017, RTW S/S18, RTW S/S17-

I say all this with the disclaimer that I too really fucking hate how dominated so many fields of work are by the importance of “connections” and the way that it makes pursuing a career in the things you’re actually passionate about the kind of pipe dream you relegate to the realm of those driven by delusional, childhood optimism next to the corpses of the princess and prima ballerina fantasies. I hate that if I had wanted to pursue a job in fashion or film the best I could hope for would be a decade as a coffee runner under Wes Anderson’s 2nd cousin’s son or sat in a windowless, underground LA office managing Lila Moss’ Twitter account for my entire adult life. But you know, the fruits of one’s rich and successful parent’s connections are better earned by some nepo babies than others and Stella McCartney is one of the good ones. Those M&S red diamond strawberries were not simply handed to her. Tossed maybe, which necessitates some kind of ability to catch, but not handed.

-clockwise L>R: Resort 2020, RTW S/S20, Resort 2024-

-Top to Bottom: RTW F/W18, RTW F/W17-

You don’t end up the creative director of Chloe solely because your family has money-there might be people equally as talented as you that didn’t have that stepping stone but I’d like to believe there’s no stepping stone strong enough to explain surviving CSM, successfully maintaining the reputation of a label pretty much renowned for being the epitome of understated elegance, and opening your own fashion house on the back of that. The other nepo babies could jump on their lil rocks all they like but they just haven’t got the upper body strength to deadlift their way onto the ladder. Stella stays hitting the metaphorical weights zone whilst the rest of them stay walking on the treadmill with me in complacency Kingdom. The fact there was a time when I used to actually run on treadmills? I could not BELIEVE. We’re out of the metaphor zone now btw-probs shoulda made that one a bit clearer.

-Top to Bottom: RTW F/W19, S/S19, Pre-fall 2019-

-Clockwise L>R: RTW F/W21, Resort 2023, Pre-fall 2023, Pre-fall 2022, RTW S/S21-

For one, she stands apart from other designers in that her brand has been at the forefront of ethical fashion from its inception. She was doing sustainable fashion long before using animal byproducts like leather, faux fur and suede was frowned upon, when animal cruelty for aesthetic’s sake was thought of as a talking point mostly adopted by fringe environmentalist groups, and where any public figure being able to leverage a major fashion house into abstaining from the use of animal fur was something unthinkable. But honestly, I’m really not hyping Stella up just for that but because she genuinely has been rolling out quality collections for years now.

-Top to Bottom, L>R: RTW S/S15, Resort 15, RTW F/W15, RTW F/W16, RTW F/W14, RTW F/W15-

-RTW F/W23-

I can see how you could stick her with the safe label but I do think there’s talent in being able to identify elements of the ephemeral, “out- there” fashion trends with actual staying power. Stella has been able to streamline those elements into something that works outside of the high fashion bubble, and looking back at the archives was a delightful browse through the volume of evidence proving that knack. I don’t know why the name doesn’t carry more prestige other than the tendency of the high fashion industry to dismiss anything that is somewhat attainable to the average person, but if consistency is enough to grant Chanel a pass to put out the sameeee thing everyyy season because it fits with the widely established image of the brand, welllll…on the other side of that coin, consistency born of a sustained, purposeful, and analytical observation of the trend cycle and a concerted effort to refine rather than regurgitate the insane amalgamation of buzz pieces that emerge from the ever growing roster of fashion weeks…that warrants way more recognition, no?

-Top to Bottom: RTW F/W22, RTW S/S23-

-3rd February 2023, Objects of Desire exhibition @ the Design Museum, Kensington: Corset & trouser co-ord from ASOS*, blouse from ASOS*, trench coat from charity shop, & Doc Martens-

-3rd March 2023: cardi from @alisi on Depop, skirt from ASOS*, beret & shoes from ASOS-

Antonio Grimaldi

-Clockwise L>R: Haute Couture (HC) F/W23, HC S/S23, HC S/S22, HC S/S19, HC F/W22-

For all my attempts to articulate what it is I like about collections from buzzy up-and-coming avant garde designers or prestigious labels known for intellectually driven, abstract pieces, I am no better at describing why stumbling across collections from the likes of Antonio Grimaldi fill me with joy. Pretty dresses give me a serotonin boost. Imagining myself as a princess in one is good for the soul, lol. I’m team Barbie not Oppenheimer. Does that sum it up for you? And as much as I feel duped being reeled in by Vogue sponsored content, on this occasion I’ll let it go because these creations are masterful and I’d never heard of the designer before they were featured.

-Clockwise L>R: HC S/S20, HC S/S21, HC F/W21-

-8th February 2023: skirt from Urban Renewal @ UO*, cardi from Collusion-

-23rd March 2023, Mike Nelson: Extinction Beckons exhibit @ the Hayward Gallery, Southbank: top from @kissmypeach on Depop, skirt from Ebay, waistcoat from @crisishawtline on Depop, coat from charity shop, shoes as before-

Gucci Resort 2024

I wouldn’t be surprised if we’d been through an AI takeover, another pandemic, and mass flooding throughout Britain by the time I get round to doing a 2024 collections post, so for the sake of making sure I cover my most pressing high fashion related concerns (I.e my opinions on runway shows I could only ever aspire to sit back row at in my very wildest dreams let alone own anything from), I thought I’d include the Gucci Resort 2024 collection from earlier this month in this post. See my expectations of greatness have been tentative since we lost my love, Alessandro Michele, under whose reign Gucci became my absolute favourite high fashion brand-I would get genuinely excited in anticipation of his collections every time Milan fashion week came around, which really is a little bit sad when you think about how far removed I am from that sphere of existence, but ya know, as a source of styling inspiration his maximalist, extravagant and wonderfully extra take on Gucci never failed me.

Don’t get me wrong, this collection isn’t on the level of anything Alessandro did in his last few years as creative director but I suppose that’s something that comes with the confidence granted by time at the helm and this slots neatly into his body of work as a continuation of that elevated blend of the decadent retro aesthetic with modernity. Soo it’s promising and as a stand alone collection, comparisons prohibited, I do really like it.

-13th February 2023, Making Modernism & Spain and the Hispanic World exhibitions at the Royal Academy, Piccadilly: trousers from the Ragged Priest*, corset from ASOS*, beanie from @rosiejg2 on Depop, linen shirt from ASOS*-

-16th February 2023: beanie from Primark, skirt, cardi & corset from UO*, faux leather blazer & coat underneath as before, tights from ASOS*-

Florence Given (me life? Or some style inspo anyways, forgive me the bad pun)

Look, I know she’s everyone’s fave white feminist to go in on buut she hasn’t done anything egregious enough that we can’t appreciate her style that I’m aware of, at least? She makes a lot of valid points, one of which is that we will absolutely slaughter women for doing like 1/4 of the morally questionable shit male creatives do before we cross the threshold of dismissing their work. That man probs doesn’t deviate from jeans and a t-shirt 95% of the time!!! But Florence is the besttt at the 70s bohemian rock vibe, a shining example of why I may allow it on this occasion if the next in an endless list of tik tok’s aesthetic crazes is piratecore (or have they been there done that already?), and an aspirational figurehead for all those of us who identify as members of the more layers the better agenda. To put it delicately, regardless of your feelings about her, with the acknowledgement maybe it’s not my place to give an opinion anyway, anybody who’s wondering how you combine the nomadic romanticism of Alessandro Michele’s Gucci/Etro/Erdem/Zimmerman/Johanna Ortiz with a little bit of that YSL glamour, we owe her one for the visual manual that her Instagram feed provides. You know, take some inspo. You don’t have to credit her. Level the playing field. Isn’t that what she did? Idk lol. It’s 2020 something. Expecting completely originality from anyone is a lot to ask. All I know is that there’s no harm in more popular feminist literature even it can be seen as surface level and her style is delicious, lol.

-13th March 2023, Lao Cafe in Covent Garden: jeans from charity shop, top from ASOS*, arm warmers from UO*, coat from @shikirajaydeen on Vinted, scarf from @jools560 on Vinted, coat underneath from UO-

-31st January 2023, @ Russell Cotes Art Museum & Gallery, Bournemouth: jumper from Bershka*, skirt from @semmoore on Depop, linen shirt from @alicialouwoods on Depop, hat, shoes and tights from ASOS*-

-10th March 2023, street art in Brick Lane: dress from the Ragged Priest*, faux leather blazer as before, coat from charity shop, tights from ASOS*-

You Better Buy, Bitch (as Karl Marx probably NEVER said)

Does it probably go against my principles to make purchase recommendations? I mean, I’d say probably, but let’s be real, being able to rave about something with minimal to no influence is a perk of the act of posting, for me at least, pretty much being an act of screaming into the void.

Pre-loved Faves

Given I’ve shown a bit of a Vinted bias in my last few posts, I thought I would stick to all the lush lil pieces I found on Depop recently. They were all still available last time I checked, which was a few weeks ago, so hopefully that hasn’t changed!

Make of these (and their potentially crappy quality given the sacrifice entailed when you want to include like 32 screenshots in one image with a pixel ratio designed for Instagram posts) what you will.

Ethical? Newness: Superdry

Any fashion company that has “it’s a start” as their rating on Good on You is practically saintly in the grand scheme of things hence Superdry’s tentative placement on this list.

What I want to know is when did their stuff get actually…a bit cute?

My adolescence took place at a time when Hollister, Jack Wills, and (this one was practically a mark of the elite, it’s exclusivity only bolstered by my head of year’s banning of those paper bags with the anonymous male’s six pack on them) Abercrombie were the height of fashion, accessible to only an exclusive few, and Supedry, whilst not quite held in that level of esteem, was also up there. I might only have been able to get a couple of Hollister sale tops but a Supedry branded T-shirt was marginally more accessible; for whatever reason, my parents tended to see their stuff as high quality investments rather than lumping it in with Hollister, Abercrombie etc. as part of a fad of the youth, lol . Anyway, the point is, I very much dismissed all those brands as crazes of a bygone era. Buuut, despite a niggling discomfort with the English owner’s seeming attempt to masquerade as a Japanese brand, it’s come to my attention that some of Superdry’s stuff (and actually, Hollister too) is a…bit of me? To be more specific, they do these retro style print sundresses which I have on my Karma wish list, my fondness for which is definitely in part attributable to their resemblance to Lana Del Rey’s early stage outfits. ARGH, her performing songs from the UV album in those psychedelic mini dresses were a cultural moment which still crosses my mind on the daily.

On top of that, their clothes fall within the upper regions of the high street’s price range which means they’re the kind of one-off pieces that are going to stay in your wardrobe for a long time and not end up in the fast fashion doom spiral that’s filtered through the local charity shops straight into a landfill 50% of the time.

The Ragged Priest

The latest drop I…girlies if I wasn’t BROKE already, this collection would be taking me there. I’ve gone on about my love for TRP ad nauseam already so I don’t think I need to add much more here.

Arcana Archive

Arcana Archive is an online Japanese clothing store which acts as a platform for small, independent designers to sell their stuff. It ships worldwide and despite a relatively more expensive price mark (I’m talking in comparison to a site like ASOS which operates on a similar business model), the pieces are really unique and quite experimental within the confines of current trends. But yeah, you really can’t get much more ethical than buying an independently designed piece and Arcana Archive cuts out the uncertainty by facilitating that through a streamlined medium.

Regal Rose

Behold their absolutely STUNNING new collection. I am sooooOooo obsessed with every jewellery line they put out. They have, quite simply, perfected the delicate to dominatrix vibe ratio lol, and have the most unique and show stopping collections of statement jewellery out there by a mile.

Very Important Face Paint

1. Tarte Shape Tape

Look, nothing is every going to be able to fully erase these dark circles. I got into a space where I was okay with them because they looked hot on Bella Hadid, lmao, but as much as I don’t want to be influenced by whichever TikTok aesthetic we’ve deemed “of the moment”, this whole clean girl thing got me pretty much back in that “would under eye fillers really be thaaaat bad?” headspace. What is a clean girl? Why does the Pinterest tag look like a white supremacist’s inspo board for the creation of a master race? I’m overrrrr the back and forth on how WOMEN’S FACES, like our GENETICALLY DETERMINED FEATURES, should look to be “on trend”! Holy shitttt, like I’m sorry that tinted moisturiser isn’t going to cover up a break out on my chin but we are not blank canvasses to be used as ad billboards for skincare products. I’m not getting under eye fillers because 1. in this economy? I think the fuck not! but 2. because the concept of getting a needle under my eye bothers me to my core. I really want to try and practice what I preach in that our uniqueness is what makes us beautiful but ARGH it’s such a difficult stance to take when it comes to accepting your own insecurities.

Soo let’s just call Tarte’s Shape Tape concealer the middle ground. I am under no illusion any concealer is going to get rid of my dark circles but anything that reduces the number of times people (usually men) feel the need to tell me I look tired is pretty much in the business of miracles. I have really tried EVERY other hyped up concealer from Touché Eclat to Charlotte Tilbury’s Magic Away concealer and this is the only one which makes a noticeable difference. It isn’t super easy to get in the UK which is the only drawback but I managed to get it on offer through QVC, as much as it pained me to do that given the deeply embedded association that exists for me between borderline sociopathic individual Lisa Rinna and the enterprise. But needs must.

2. YSL Touché Eclat Foundation

I won’t hold it against the Touché Éclat range that it was not capable of fixing my dark circles. Many greats have tried and failed and that is no mark on their greatness but a sign of my unfortunate genetics and terrible sleep schedule. And this foundation is gorgeous on every level; it truly is so smooth and glowy but simultaneously matte and blends into the skin like the milk I imagine cleopatra bathed in. IK I like a hyperbole but don’t let it be the reason you dismiss this stuff because it is goldddd.

3. Bybi Babe Balm

Truly got me feeling like a babe, this is the closest thing my dull, crusty ass skin will get to looking alive.

4. Urban Decay 24/7 Glide-on Lipliner

The only lipliner I have ever known not to bleed, and to retain its pigment for any substantial period of time. I haven’t tested it’s staying power past the 14 hour mark but I can confidently say it made it with only a slight fade to that time stamp.

5. NYX Dewy Finish Setting Spray

Very decent for the price and gives an amazing finish. The claims of its similarity to the Urban Decay setting spray is all that stands between me and further damage to my bank account because look, if I can get something slightlyy cheaper for only a slight discrepancy in quality I’ll take the L. Like all NYX products, it’s vegan and cruelty-free as well which is a personal must.

Food…for Thought (see what I did there)

*Hi, recovery people, it starts here!

See if I do this again, ideally, there’s not going to be a whole category for food lmao. And strap in, btw. This section is 90% of this post’s mammoth word count, I reckon.

I’m thinking in future I’ll break the things I’m about to mush into one up into:

A more specific “places” category which will go beyond restaurants, I promise, and actually include other must-dos around London and anywhere else I happen to visit!

A more specific purchases/recipes/general recommendation category.

And then keeping a thoughts section separate as long as what I’m about to address continues to be relevant and helpful. I’ll expand in a sec. It’s a topic I’m disproportionately afraid of posting about considering there’s not exactly anyone hanging on my every word, lol, but still. Ideally in time, a “thoughts” section will transcend the topic of the anorexia recovery experience, if I do manage to shake my 5 remaining brain cells out of their dormancy anyway. Yeahhh, I thought I’d just drop it in there, bite the bullet and reveal that recovery is this elusive “issue” I have some thotsss on before anybody reading thinks I’m about to go on some outrageously offensive rant which ends up being the thing that DOES catapult me to online infamy and gets all excited.

This potential future post structure is more for the sake of having a more clearly defined section to broaden my recommendation horizons beyond restaurants to museums, galleries, general activities/experiences etc. But like, on this occasion my food recommendations are prefaced with some thoughts n feelings because they give a little bit of context as to why a list of restaurants is the first thing that comes to mind whenever anyone asks what’s good to do in London aside from the obvious tourist traps.

I’ve gone back and forth on posting anything about this subject a lot, kinda unnecessarily really. Like I said, I don’t have a tonne of followers, nobody that I know irl follows me (maybe like one very close friend), and so it’s not like there’s any real ramifications of whatever I do or don’t choose to post about. The perception that I’m making a declaration to some vast audience I don’t doubt is just an extension of that internalised male gaze thang which makes everything in life feel like it’s an act of solicitation for other people’s opinions based on which I decide whether or not the crushing sense of shame I constantly feel atm is warranted.

Making my first post on the anorexiarecovery Reddit (which has the cushioning of anonymity that Tumblr obvs lacks) and just how much it helped me and on a more general level, how hearing from others who have recovered from a long-standing eating disorder has helped me, is the kick up the arse I needed to finally talk about it here. If feeling like you’re “sick enough” to accept help is hard, you can imagine openly identifying yourself as “in recovery” is even harder so please just gently let me know if you come across this on the anorexia recovery tag and there’s ways you feel I could have more sensitively addressed the issue.

Like a girlie is vulnerable, lol. I’m a whole mess, most likely even more unbearable to others than I was in the depths of anorexia. Even when you start the formal recovery process and have the intention to follow whichever course of therapy or program or treatment you’re receiving, thinking of yourself as actually in recovery and the acceptance of everything that comes with that, rather than seeing treatment as a means of learning how to maintain your control and your weight and basically, your anorexia, in a slightly less dangerous and mentally exhausting way, takes fucking ages. I hate being out of control. Hate it, hate it, hateeee it. And I know I know. Anorexia is more about control than about the food itself so that is probably an unnecessary addendum. But it’s a cliche for a reason, lol.

Saying traight up that you’re in recovery and identifying with other people who are feels like a very permanent thing and a huge change to your life as you know it. It’s solidifying that there is no going back now, allowing your body to do all the things with the acceptance that this is a process you cannot control, and that you can’t use anorexic behaviours to try and get that sense of (fake!!!) control back. When disordered eating of some kind is all you know, in my case a cycle of anorexia and binge eating that has gone on for as long as I can recall being aware of the fact that there’s a correlation between what I eat and how my body looks, it takes time to accept that recovery could represent anything but a fucking unbearable and embarrassing existence. I’m not the happiest with where I’m at in recovery right now but being willing to call what I’m doing right now that R word and affirming that this is a process of change rather than an adaptation of my mindset to a less outwardly concerning form is, from an objective perspective, really big! And I know I couldn’t have got here without being able to separate anorexia (I’m just going to shorten it to AN because it’s always felt a dramatic word for what has just been my way of life, if anyone can relate to that? lol) from myself, which happens when you can recognise that rather than everything you think is an inherent, unchangeable part of who you are being the cause, it is just something that’s been manipulated to become a fundamental element of a parasitic illness:)

This realisation has come from two different sources. Firstly, from the formal course of therapy itself (I’m doing MANTRA treatment for anyone who finds this and is in the same boat), and secondly, from spaces (I mean mostly online tbh but I have a friend or two in real life who have some experience) where others, whether still suffering from their eating disorder or fully-recovered, are voicing their own thought processes and feelings. We like to think of our thoughts as completely authentic and complex and as resulting from a reasoned conclusion, and we want to believe we do have control over our lives, so it only fees right to act in a way that aligns with these thoughts, but what you realise as you see the exact same sentiments expressed by others with AN is that a lot of the “thought” processes that fuel anorexia aren’t so uniquely yours after all. It’s one thing to be challenged about a single, isolated AN thought by someone you know pointing out that it’s not true and that it’s just the illness etc. because you can just defend its legitimacy and why you continue to act accordingly to yourself like “okay, that’s not rational and maybe sometimessss that’s a baseless, anorexia driven false belief but it’s different for me, this isn’t irrational. It’s true. I know this because I came to this conclusion myself and so in my case what I believe will happen if I don’t do X/Y/Z will actually happen”. The cognitive symptoms sound and look and adopt the same ways of thinking that you believe to be an inherent part of who you are. If you are a rigid, routine-oriented, stubborn, all-or-nothing, obsessive (reading the list of traits identified as signalling increased risk of developing AN was a bit of a self-roast I can’t lie) perfectionist then congratulations! You won’t notice anything out of the ordinary when those “thoughts” run through your head and you certainly will not think for one minute that they are textbook mental manifestations of an illness masquerading as your internal monologue. But maybe you will when you see just how routinely they appear as part of a more extensive, specific set of “thoughts” described by people who have also been diagnosed with AN. Big oh shit!!!! moment when you feel a little bit of the special snowflake armour melting away.

The sense of vulnerability which descends upon the realisation you can’t trust your own thoughts, not knowing which of the responses that come into your head where you’re put into a challenging food-related scenario is the AN one, the “wise”/recovery mind (I.e the truth), and which one is the most “you” and honours YOUR well-being in all of this, feels like presenting yourself to Simon Cowell on the X Factor stage circa 2007, at its peak popularity. Ya got the whole of the UK watching, Simon looks you up and down, and says “it’s a no from me”, and then him, Louis and Sharon all start bickering about whether or not he was too harsh and whether Louis is being too generous by affirming your star potential. Essentially, it feels like throwing yourself to the sharks with no clue which one is being honest about how tasty you are. Enough metaphors?

Basically, eating disorder recovery of any kind involves mediating between a LOT of internal voices who guide you with dramatically varying levels of empathy and none of them agree. Throw experience of binge eating into the mix and the “go on, you knowwwww you’ll feel better if you do eat X, Y and Z” sentiment that characterises your impulses and how similar that can sound to the things you’re taught in recovery about how to listen to your body and practice kindness to yourself ANDDDD then what is most likely the AN voice which draws on all that societal shaming we do of women having “too much” of an appetite and it’s just, FUUUUUCK. It is so FUCKING. EXHAUSTING to constantly have to distinguish one from the other. I never realised how exhausting it would be. It has really turned me into a foul person to be around at times, and that is the thing I hate about all of this the most. But hearing that other people have had these thoughts, that they aren’t an objective truth of life or the only option in your case, that disentangling them becomes second nature in time, is the reassurance I’ve needed to keep me working at it. To have evidence that these thoughts are a symptom, not a inevitable product of who I am, and that they therefore won’t always feel THIS crushing gives me hope to just stick out the extra mental stress that introducing a mediator to the internal argument creates.

Sooo it feels worth describing some of these thought processes on here in case, selfishly, it connects me with other real people who have experiences of their own to share, or less selfishly, it becomes one of the many many recounts of these thoughts that somebody stumbles across which pushes them across that same threshold of like (Kylie voice) realising thingsssss. Well, you know, realising oh shit, there are alternatives to how my brain is dictating to me I must live my life lest I self-implode in an inferno of shame and self-hatred. That’s the state I personalllyyy associate with the version of myself that has tended to precede a shift back towards restriction, probably stemming from multiple sources but that the AN voice whittles down to the single variable of numbers on a scale. Realising that being trapped by the all or-nothing rules or rituals and impossible standards isn’t something you just have to accept because it’s the only viable way to live your life, that it’s just that sneaky little anorexia MF drowning out the alternatives is one of the first steps laying the foundations for a wholehearted go at recovery.

The ability to disregard the AN thoughts doesn’t stick naturally past that initial lightbulb detection moment without a constant effort to identify and reaffirm that’s all they are but with the initial realisation comes a sense of relief. Underlying that initial commitment to recovery was the visceral sensation of detachment I had once I realised just how many of what I believed to be my OWN thoughts were cognitive biases symptomatic of anorexia and the impact of its resulting malnutrition on the brain. In other words, that what I perceived as my core beliefs were mental manifestations of problems attributable to an illness, like any that we so seamlessly identify when they present as physical ailments.

The possibility that the categorisation of these thoughts as symptoms entails, that an adherence to all the rules I developed based upon them and the misery they caused me doesn’t represent the best of a bad bunch of outcomes, that the anxieties attached to these AN thoughts aren’t legitimised by facts of nature akin to whatever it is Einstein said about gravity or the laws of motion, and thus are something that can be viably challenged, is the fundamental driving force to keep at treatment. When you’re seeing everryyy other person with shock! gasp! The exact same condition feeling exactly the same, coming to the exact same conclusions in a roundabout way, you realise...ahhh, I’ve been DUPED. SCAMMED! Like I said, we can buy into something irrational by perceiving it as a truth exclusive to our unique psychological, biological, and physiological makeup, our specific self-concept; it’s natural to want to think of ourselves as unique individuals whose decisions in life result from a sensible weighting of all these factors. Nobody wants to feel like they are pre-programmed to behave in a certain way. Our sense of self-determination gives our lives meaning and that feels all the more important when our other tendencies make the experience of being alive feel a bit scary or monotonous sometimes.

It gets harder, ya know Occam’s razor and all, however, to continue to give any merit to the anecdotal logic of these beliefs when the much simpler explanation is that they’re very cut and dry AN thought patterns just subtly tailored to include some of the idiosyncrasies of your internal monologue and thought style so they’re believable enough to you as a legitimate, reasonable, self-realised philosophy sustaining your behaviours. To live abiding by the principles formed from this “reasoning” process placates that instinctive self-determination drive.

What I’m trying to say in an overly convoluted way (this is what happens when writing about psychology usually involves the suppression of any creative flair or subjectivity as is the defining feature of an undergrad essay lol) is that talking about it, resonating with the experiences of others and how their symptoms manifested, it helps. It makes all the situations you put yourself in so much less scary when the trajectory you’re on in recovery, though requiring you endure thoughts and feelings that are intensely distressing in the moment, has ultimately helped people in the exact same position you are get to a happy, healthy place in the lives:)

Realising there’s nothing essential to your survival about these thoughts, that they don’t warrant an entire section dedicated to them (and hopefully, at some point in the future, will not get from me beyond how much better off I am without them!!!), is the beginning of a process which allows you to see the world in its whole again, and there’s so many recovery stories out there to support this. I look forward to being a much less self-absorbed person in my day to day life, lol, and being capable of meaningfully engaging with the expanse of vastly more interesting issues out there, even if this means opening myself up to a little bit more of that good old existential anxiety.

Getting to the point, then, this section exists to get these thoughts off my chest but in a way that is clear enough for anyone who comes across the tag to quickly be able to identify as similar to their own, and that gets across what I’ve found helpful in challenging them. It won’t usually be prefaced with all this context, lol! I really invite suggestions from others in the approaches they’ve taken to do this as well since you need as many tools to deconstruct AN logic as you can get your hands on, and I, for one, want my own toolbox to be full to the brim. I am to be the Bob the Builder of the anti anorexia agenda if you will, lmao.

For this reason, when I’ve managed to separate an AN thought from myself and isolate it, I’ve made sure to always note it down, trap that baby in a glass like a spider, and that’s that on how to do a perfect metaphor because I KNOW SPIDERS CAN’T HURT ME AND THERE IS NO REASON TO BE AFRAID OF THEM BUT IT FEES LIKE THEY’RE TARGETING ME, OMG. Yes, turns out spiders represented an eating disorder free life all along. To describe these thought processes on their own and just make them salient to somebody who is already trying to drown them out wouldn’t necessarily be helpful so I’m only going to address or articulate a thought when I have something to challenge it with, that I’ve picked up either through MANTRA, my studies, recovery advocates, or now and again that I’ve concluded myself and found to be reassuring. I can’t promise that the latter source will be of value but they’ve been important to me and maybe will trigger somebody else to apply that same (potentially questionable) reasoning process to their own circumstances and consider that new perspective. It’s rare but once in a blue moon sometimes this silly little brain of mine does strike something not quite gold but maybe bronze or silver, takes a dip in the pool of positivity, and shuts down the AN bullsheeet all on its own. I have to take stock of these incidences somewhere, lol.

On the basis it’s still pretty early days, there’s still a lot of AN thoughts I can’t quite convince myself don’t have some legitimacy, so when/if I do address them in a post it’ll likely only be one or two at a time as follows. Whether there ends up being too many to limit to a section in these seasonal update/summary posts because I go back to my typical lackadaisical posting schedule and end up having to just do an overall progress post at some point down the line we shall see but for now, I’ll get into it:-) on today’s agenda I wanna address:

The Spectre of Shame:

Yess, AN really be on some Mike Flanagan shit when it comes to convincing you that recovery is the catalyst for some unbearable onslaught of shame. Hinting at it, revealing flashes of if, hanging it over your head but never actually revealing it or what would be sooo fucking unbearable about this experience that there’s no available coping mechanism or approach to remedy the resulting pain.

Fearing my recovery body and other people’s reactions has always been a big hurdle in seeking treatment in the first place. Underlying it has just been this mental cacophony of potential responses. Notably, the idea that the people you care about will forget how ill you were at some point once you achieve a healthy weight and suddenly come to resent you for being “dramatic” about the whole thing and putting them through the things you did as a result of AN.

Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Shocker! It’s some more AN driven bullshit! And it is part of the way it sustains itself by making you afraid of throwing yourself into treatment. The truth is that the people that expressed their concern when you were sick, at first my primary motivation to give treatment a third (lol) chance, are affected by it much more they let on. Seeing you at your sickest is not the kind of thing your loved ones forget, and if anything they’re probably massively fucking relieved and grateful when they see you becoming more relaxed around food. I didn’t realise how exhausting it was for my family to watch me be completely consumed by my eating disorder because it wasn’t addressed routinely, it was only when other situational factors pushed everyone to the edge that it would all come out and I’d see how much anxiety about my health was being kept from me for the sake of not causing upset.

I get that openly choosing treatment feels a lot like walking into a crowded room of your friends, acquaintances, every last human being you’ve ever encountered, and inviting everyone there to hyper scrutinise your body. Ooo, is she gaining too quickly? Has she let herself go? Has she lost control? She’s weak. She’s sick, she has an eating disorder, but one that makes her more pathetic than us because we all want a whole ass bar of chocolate you cheeky lil bitch but why are you so SPECIAL you get to have one just because you’re sad!?

Again, AN, I BEG of you: shut the fuckkkk up. I know rationally that I wouldn’t for a second make that inductive leap about someone else who stated they were in their recovery. If anything I would be ecstatic for them knowing how good it feels to finally give your body all those things it has been gnawing away at you to give to it for so long, to experience that freedom. Think about the environment you’re in and the people around you. The people in my life are kind, and understanding, and if I’m judging their likely reactions by all their past behaviours, they’re likely to have the same thought process as I would about someone else just chowing down all that food that is so good for the soul. If they’re not, I don’t want them in my life anyway.

The shame comes from me and me alone. At this point, every time I do actually pay attention to what I’m craving and try and respond to that in a non-judgemental way, and accept that the absolute worst scenario in my head (omg wow weight gain, a never before witnessed human phenomenon!), I take a step backwards, and evaluate what power the actual worst case scenario consensus actually holds.

So people do think I’m greedy or weak or whatever. It’s the way I coped and still do sometimes to give myself that little serotonin boost through food, to eat every delicious thing in sight. It’s not a moral failure. Everyone has their ways of coping with strong emotions and for every way in which we give in to one self-soothing impulse, there’s some other coping mechanism we’re resisting. The idea that there is an empirically verifiable relationship between eating for joy and any kind of negative trait is a load of shite. I can’t help but think misogyny has a lotttt to do with it too. Like, can you imagine a show called Woman Vs. Food? Wolfing down everything in sight is practically celebrated when it’s a man doing it, or at the very least, just accepted as part of the male predisposition, much like a high sex drive. Horny, hungry woman=slutty slob in the eyes of society, lol.

How much/what you eat can’t inherently make you a bad person. The only adverse effect is probs that long term, it isn’t going to feel great for your body. In my case at least, I know my internal fluids be moving like Valhalla after a mad one on the carbs and salts lmao, soz if that’s tmi but nobody with anorexia said anorexia is actually glam or a B&W 2013 tumblr inspired serve in anyway. It’s 40% annoying gross body issues and 60% internalised shame, boring food thoughts, fear and the constant burden of calorie counting because who the fuck wants to be doing maths 24/7. Recovery in the long run takes a fucktonne of will power. JFC, it’s a marathon, it’s the 800m you got signed up to doing on sports day without your permission. So if you describe the internal conflict you go through with that, anybody who will still look at you choosing to eat what you ACTUALLY want at the end of the day and think that represents weakness…ridiculousness.

To stand on that stage and announce “I’m in recovery” and for that to be visible in some way or another (reminder that thinness isn’t a complete measure of sickness anywaysss!), isn’t something embarrassing. it’s a sign that it’s working and that I’ve hit the “oh my god what have I done” hurdle and actually jumped over it this time, and not been sucked back into AN. To learn to be okay with your new body, and be okay with others opinions of it off the back of that, is a part of recovery I feel I’m only just starting to be asked to think about in treatment as I enter the weight restoration zone. It’s defo revealing itself to be one of the strong walls of my AN’s lil fortress. That opinions about the way we look are important isn’t something that can be just shut down with science like those other AN “facts” are. One thing I loveee about my therapist is that she always brings the feminist perspective into it. Like, as women it’s drilled into us from the moment we’re old enough to comprehend there’s some implicit societal code that our worth is at least in part determined by the acceptability of our appearance, to the extent it feels like an inherent truth that we owe it to others to conform to beauty standards if we want to be treated with respect. Anorexia pounces on that and uses it as evidence as to why it’s not an illness, but something to be cherished, something you would be useless without. Treatment has focussed a lot on personal values and principles to aid that self/anorexia separation process so far and I think it will come in useful here too, again to break down the legitimacy of these beauty standards which reinforce AN fuelled beliefs, and tbh, are ever fucking changing anyway. Psychologically speaking, conforming to an arbitrary beauty ideal would never be a reproducible (see, it may have been some term 1 year 1 week 2 level terminology but I did get one thing out of my Research Methods modules) anyway.

I wish I wasn’t a fashion loving girlie:( I wish the phrase heroin fucking chic had never entered my verbal lexicon:( I wish I hadn’t fucking internalised the ideals of the 2013 EFFY STONEM LANA DEL REY ARTIC MONKEYS SOFT GRUNGE BRUISED KNEES SAD B&W GIF 90S AESTHETIC etc. etc. etc. Tumblr era and allowed it to mutate into the enduring ideal of what external standards would constitute my perfect self, the one that would have all her shit togetherrr and be okay. I wish it wasn’t an ideal which I still have to see reinforced every now again, when I engage with something I’m passionate about, minding my business browsing Vogue runway and seeing that YSL once a-fucking-gain seemingly came to the conclusion they’d maxed out their body diversity quota by hiring just ONE singular model who may be, like, a size 10 at a push in amongst the 30 other size 4/6 girls walking.

Maaaaybe that I feel this way, though, have such conviction about how harmful these standards are, will give me something positive to focus my energy on rather than wasting it paying any attention to these kinds of arbitrary societal ideals. We don’t have to accept that respect would be given on a shallow basis, and tbh doing what you can to fight that norm sounds a lot more fulfilling anyway.

Anyway, I look forward to adding some proper, professional logic to what I can only summarise as that brain fart as I cover it in treatment:-)

“This is the Best it Gets”:

The biggest lie AN will tell you.

It might mimic that harsh AN tone a lil but I find it necessary to remind myself “course this isn’t your best life. FFS, everyone knows what this disorder does to people. You know of people that have died from it. The number of people that have recovered happily is huge. The outcomes for the people who have maintained their anorexia into adulthood on the other hand are BLEAK. So why are you so special that you’re the exception to the actual, EVIDENCE based rule. Anorexia is horrible and it’s shit and it IS possible to overcome it. Get a grip.”

The way you think is not the result of you having been fundamentally and irreversibly changed as a person, and does not represent an irreparable apathy towards the goals and principles that used to motivate you in life. Not to repeat myself as I’m sure I am doing here but it has been so hugely validating to hear my therapist (whether she’s just very good at her job, speaking from personal experience, or both, idk! I want to ask but I don’t know if that’s appropriate or not? Thoughts?) essentially say “I understand. This doesn’t feel like something you’re suffering from. It feels like something you are deciding to maintain, that you’re choosing thinness over the people you care about. But it is hurting you the most and why would you choose that?” MANTRA is based on the idea of several factors coming together to cultivate an AN mindset, a combination of thinking style, personality traits, values, relationship styles, experiences, and emotional disposition. Of course these factors aren’t always possible to change but you can change the way they feed into your AN and develop methods of channelling them other than through the medium of restriction, towards achieving other, more positive and fulfilling goals. You’ve always had these traits and you didn’t always need AN to get by, right?

The belief AN is a choice, not an illness you can be inherently vulnerable for, goes hand in hand with the way eating disorders in general are misunderstood, including those that manifest in extreme obesity. You see it most with the people who will tell you to “just eat” and “why are you doing this to yourself!”. And then you feel like a fucking awful person. Why AM I doing this to myself? Look at what this is doing to people who care about me. Either I’m a fucking horrible selfish person OR I NEED this disorder to survive. I don’t think I’m the best person on the planet. But I don’t think I’m evil enough of a person to want to cause everyone pain if there was an alternative. It’s the last thing I want to do. So there must BE no alternative. This must be my only option. The result of this logic is the sense that there’s nothing beyond AN. Shame is the only thing on the other side of the coin it feels like you have no choice but to flip, it’s prospective existence a phantom in your head that you use anorexia as a shield against because it tells you it is your only defence. This is what AN does. The less you eat; the more you think about food, and the less capable you become of thinking about the bigger picture. The more rigid and black and white in your thinking you become. It’s eat nothing or eat everything, so even eating something sometimes can feel like opening floodgates. When you starve your brain of nutrients, you don’t have the cognitive recourses to think about nuance or develop solutions. Learning that was another intense lightbulb moment, and I almost physically felt things slot into place inside me, like I’d got a bit of myself back. The realisation that this, the psychological process underlying our conviction that anorexia is the be all and end all, is the ACTUAL truth, not the thought itself. That I continue like this isn’t the only way forward. That moment where I finally understood these thoughts weren’t organic, that they weren’t MINE, that they’re textbook AN biases, was really eye-opening. I just needed, still need, a little help to get the ball rolling and bring my rational voice back into the convo.

I might not know exactly what an alternative I’m comfortable with looks like though with each practical suggestion I try and can tolerate, that becomes more fully formed. And though I can’t predict exactly what the end result of that alternative will be, what I do know is at the very least it will take away a handful of minor inconveniences. Shopping in the little girl’s section for pants for example-the PARANOIA I get when someone even glances in my direction whilst I’m doing so that they might think I’m some nonce who just enjoys perusing the kid’s undies section. No more! Your body panicking when you eat a bit more of certain types of food and either A). Sending you into a food coma, and yes, that’s WHEREVER you are and whatever you are doing, sitting in a theatre show or the cinema and even more frequently, on public transport or B). Immediately demanding you go…expel that entire whole meal right now of your own volition or find yourself empathising with Will McKenzie in that episode of the Inbetweeners where his bowels took his A-levels for him. The COLD!!! I spent far too many days this past winter trying not to cry because I was that painfully fucking freezing. The circulation issues had the skin on my knuckles cracking open when I bent my hands FFS, I was out in the customer service trenches serving people with raggedy ass plasters all over my hands, getting dirty looks from the pensioner buying his 3rd pack of JPS Superkings of the day, I-

It’s such an unglamorous disorder, and yet we still romanticise the shit out of it. Well let me tell ya. I do not feel ethereal or delicate or fragile or any of those qualities that I probably internalised as being inherent to anorexia back in those tumblr 2013 days. I feel boring and grouchy and gross and self-absorbed and incompetent. Utterly useless except as a calorie counting machine. No wonder catwalk models always had such a rep for being airheads because depleting your brain of nutrients, as has finally happened this being the longest restrictive phase I’ve experienced, truly makes you dumb AF in ways you don’t actually realise. Like stuff just goes in one ear and out the other and I have become this truly chaotic, all over the place person which is incredibly frustrating because I used to be, and want to be, someone who makes every effort to be on top of their shit with everything, always. Unfortunately, your brain just loses the capacity to hold all the information you need in the right places or evaluate anything properly and your time management gets all over the place. Your common sense disappears and you don’t make the links that keeping up with the pace of daily life (especially true in London, lol) requires. Anything that isn’t related to your AN loses its importance and without the motivation to give other commitments your full attention, the considerations you need to make to fulfill them fall through the cracks. The worst part is that people get sick of your shit because it seems like you just don’t care about them. You either feel incompetent as fuck or wonder if you’ve actually always been like this which deep down you know you haven’t because you’ve never felt such frustration at the inability to actually execute all these plans you make. I don’t want people to worry, I don’t want to go back to a hospital ever again, I don’t want to be painfully cold all the time, I sure as helllll don’t want such irregular bowel movements or hot and cold sweats, crusty ass skin or purple hands. I want to live deliciously (sorry Florence Given antis), and I WANT to be able to romanticise my life and AN doesn’t provide the content the 2010s soft grunge corner of the internet would have you believing it does. It’s just exhaustingly mundane, uncomfortable, and awkward.

The best thing I’ve noticed since committing to a regular eating schedule, to give one example of a recovery commitment, is that the constant mental chatter has significantly reduced. Sometimes no thoughts head empty is the GOAL. I do not want my brain to feel like the store I work at on a summer bank holiday once all the other supermarkets have closed. There is so little space for anything else-I gave up reading the news like 2 years ago because anything outside of the ED perspective felt trivial and that’s ridiculous. Kourtney Kardashian could scream PEOPLE ARE DYING! In my face and I’d be like yah, whatever. But to be serious, and kinder to myself, the soundtrack to the past few years of my life has seemed to ricochet between 2 defaults: a shouting match at the Queen Vic fought not by Kat Moon and…some other Eastenders character (idk, it’s been a while since I watched, I forget the rivalries) but instead between advocates for all the different impulses and urges and rules and regulations, OR a droning, mundane static, occasionally permeated by calculations and conversions of calorie consumption to weigh gain in pounds. There is very little feeling in the anorexic experience. Pretty much just frustration, boredom and anxiety, fear of the absolute worst happening but you don’t know what that absolute worst even is and can’t really articulate exactly why it’s so terrible. Like the end of life seems to be spiralling towards me sometimes (thanks chronic anxiety and climate change and late stage capitalism heh) and I can’t get over how much FUCKING TIME I WASTE THINKING ABOUT FOOD. FOOD. There is nothing interesting about food unless we’re talking about how good it is. The best meal deals, sophisticated subject matter like that.

My intention in articulating these thoughts is because the more of their forms you encounter, the clearer the similarities in their underlying structure becomes, and the easier it is to recognise them as symptoms. Once we know symptoms are all AN “thoughts” are, and that it’s part and parcel for the distorted reality we experience to seem like absolute truth, it gets a lot easier to have faith that acting to contravene the rigid boundaries they’ve led to us imposing isn’t going to result in catastrophe. When we have evidence that treatment for any physical illness is effective and reduces symptoms, we trust it’ll ultimately reduce them for us too even in the face of short term unpleasantness we experience as a result. So the point of verbalising these thoughts is to affirm that they are something which necessarily become less intense each time we assess and challenge them.

To wrap this section up, I really, seriously welcome feedback from anyone in recovery coming across this. Like, I hope none of it is patronising, or comes across as if I expect anyone to read and be like “thanks girlie, ya cured me!” xoxo

I want the way I explained myself to be helpful. If not, it’s just a particularly self-indulgent ramble lol. It seems necessary to articulate an unhelpful thought pattern before I get into challenging it in order to highlight how textbook it is but ofc when I name or describe the thought, I don’t want to do that in a way that enables or reinforces anybody else’s similar belief. Any suggestions if this section has done that for you are welcomed.

On top of that, it goes without saying I’m extremely privileged to have won the postcode lottery in finally getting a long-term, holistic, person-centred form of therapy. I hate to say I’ve been unlucky in the past with what I’ve received because I know some people have had no help at all, but what I’m trying to say is that it does take intensive support to overcome this not just, like, realising things. It‘s a lot easier when you have someone you know knows what they’re talking about, and whose support extends beyond the scheduled hours you have with them. The AN voice doesn’t take a day off and so much damage can be done in just a week without the recourses to challenge it. Being able to reach out to someone who uses their knowledge to validate you and relieve that extreme loneliness that comes with feeling trapped inside your own head, who treats you as a whole person who needs pointers on how to adapt the knowledge taken from scheduled sessions to the complexities of your everyday life and doesn’t fault you for not knowing already, is so essential. You need that external voice to hold you accountable in actually translating the act of challenging your thoughts into action, but one that communicates with kindness and empathy because they know that otherwise it all starts to feel a bit too similar to the tone of AN. What I wish is that there was some kind of sponsor network similar to those attached to AA/NA groups/if there already is, it was more widely known of. Of course, a professional sounding board is the best you can get but any external, motivating voice that comes in conjunction with a thorough understanding of how deeply embedded an ED is and knows how difficult it can be to challenge what feels like the core of who you are, can help. I don’t like to sugarcoat stuff, so I say all this with the addendum that you can be as picture perfect a model of a recovered anorexic as they come and still be changed forever by the period you spent consumed by it, especially if that begins at a young age when your brain is still developing. I do kind of believe the echoes of any ED will always be there, and the framework the illness puts in place in your head to maintain itself never fully crumbles. Your perspective may always be through a slightly disordered lens. But that framework will become weaker and it will become easier for the objective truth to break through and storm the gates and ultimately be victorious against what becomes a very fragile, pathetic version of the disordered voice, to make decisions based on principles of self-care and compassion. Obviously, knowing all this stuff in isolation won’t always be enough. I can identify thoughts as a product of AN, know they’re not going to get me where I want to be in the long term, but honestly don’t always have the energy to ride out the fight or flight response that going against them entails. The self-criticism and shame is still quite instinctual at this stage. I’m at the point of slowly testing what actually happens if I make small transgressions of those food rules, tolerating weight gain regardless of how uncomfortable it is, basically debunking the existence of this spectre one bar of Dairy Milk Oreo or B&J’s Baked Alaska at a time. It’s kinda like the flooding stage of phobia-specific CBT. The trick is that in the meantime, whilst you’re distracted by all these difficult feelings, your brain is well fuelled enough to redevelop the ability to think in shades of grey, and remember the things about life you loved before you gave the illness your complete unyielding devotion.

I’m hoping in time, especially as summer comes to an end, it will be easier to deal with the physical changes. I adore the sun and the heat and the beach but at this stage in recovery, I think I’ll feel more optimistic once the seasons change and bring with them the opportunity to wrap up and drape myself in layers. Like, although I’m almost within the healthy weight range now, there are moments when the (unfair and unwarranted) recognition that I no longer have the body that I was unashamed of and how that has become unattainable again fills me with self-hatred and disgust. For a second maybe, there is a rush of emotions worthy of the fear I felt at the beginning of the recovery process. To bring back the spectre, that initial full glimpse of it is sufficiently horrifying to make it tempting to reach out for the AN shield again. But the longer you share a space with that entity, the more obvious it becomes it’s just a costume. You notice the faint lines where prosthetics meet the skin and the rings around the contact lenses, and eventually it’s like seeing the lady who plays the Nun IRL on the red carpet, like witnessing a Scooby Doo unmasking, where you realise the horror is in the all the attachments and that what lies underneath it all can’t actually hurt you. These feelings aren’t a one time affair, they occur enough to make you feel really shitty and overwhelmed, but they are transient and there is a sense of freedom that comes with this being a body which doesn’t involve depriving yourself of everything you crave and the fear of all the other devastating consequences. A rush of painful emotions far supersedes death by a thousand cuts if you will, lol. There was a time when the thought of gaining even one pound was unbearable and yet here I am. So I know that I can get through these surges of distress too, and I don’t plan to set unrealistic expectations of being perfectly okay with it on myself right now. I said to myself yesterday I probably won’t wear shorts again this summer. But that’s okay for now. Any day that solidifies my commitment to resist AN is progress. This body acceptance should become easier with the luxury of a private, safe space to fully process these feelings, without any unhelpful outside influence on how I reshape my self-image. The last thing you need when you’re trying the radical self-acceptance thing is the prospect of external chatter that comes with being exposed to everyone else’s judgements too, as is the case in hot weather when you’re like, socially obligated to get ya bum out. I need that chance to be okay with my recovery body as it is rather than feeling pressure to accommodate it to others expectations, which I know I shouldn’t and once I know myself better, hopefully won't feel the need to. Being able to challenge the worst case scenario of shame and judgement from others isn’t possible if I still haven’t got to a place where my confidence and faith in the objective, non-disordered, empirically viable truth is robust enough to not give the hypothetical judgements any emotional weight, to stay neutral and detached as AN goes into overdrive trying to adjust the marker at which this unbearable, worst case scenario will occur. It doesn’t like it very much when you reach the previously established threshold, the one that was once so terrifying you couldn’t bear the thought of any kind of change pushing you towards it, and realise…oh…soOoo my world hasn’t fallen apart. Shit. And you wonder what exactly it was you were so afraid of. Still, with each revelation, whatever’s round the corner of this next threshold is still scary. It’s just that with each one you overcome you have more faith that you can muddle through it as you have before. It’s not an instinctual faith but one you have to actively search for on difficult days where you reflect on your lowest point and grieve because it was something you feel you really suffered for and LORD knowsss, we all love to romanticise tragedy. But you keep doing that over and over again and you choose to try and cope, something that takes practice, and ultimately the idea is that you won’t need faith at all, that acting against eating disordered thoughts will just make sense. The CBT-ish part, the restructuring of the cognitive framework maintaining AN into one which makes looking after yourself the easy, sensible option (I.e your new default) rather than something that’s gonna lead to eternal pain and suffering over just how grotesque it makes you, (tehe feels good girls x) can only work as it should once you’ve also had that exposure to observe how-decisions less dictated by anorexia actually turn out, as in maybe there is no earth-shattering catastrophe to follow. You need to have built up a body of evidence that the resulting scenarios are ones you can withstand. You also need to be able to perceive life in its entirety, outside of the disordered tunnel vision you’ve developed, to remind yourself, and wholly comprehend, the richness of the experiences AN steals away. That isn’t always there for everyone, which is why I want to reiterate that recovery doesn’t boil down to having “enough” strength, but about having reasons to recover too and I’m privileged in that aspect.

But anyways….flooding, a sponsor, CBT? Did I just create my own treatment programme? Much to think about.

I don’t know how to round off such an intense section so I guess, here are some restaurant recommendations???? Which I felt compelled to include as a means of developing my budding Google reviews career (shout out to my one follower), and thennn onto some more lighthearted stuff, ya know, stand out films, TV, books etc. of the first half of the year. But maybe in future posts, assuming I continue to progress, I can start talking about some of the things I’ve gained in recovery to round up the thoughts section. It kind of sounds like a cliche that your AN tells you is bullshit that recovery is gonna improve your quality of life like of course they’re going to make this shit sound like a trip to Barbados, but just as accumulating other people’s accounts of anorexia symptoms delegitimises the truth you attribute to those symptoms, hearing the specifics of positive recovery experiences legitimises the idea that it’s something tangible. At this point I can already say I’ve got back into cooking, which I loved before my restriction got obsessive and health and balance and all that malarky was a goal of weight loss. SooOoo maybe I could share some recipes too. ANYWAY. Let’s get into my fave London eats, which I hope will also grow and evolve to include general London/travel recommendations as I regain the capacity to retain memories of experiences other than those revolving around food, lol. Unless I miraculously come into a large windfall of cash, the “travel” recommendations will most likely be limited to other UK places but on this occasion I can dip my toe into the “wAnDerrlustt” tag realm and kick things off with a few recommendations for Lisbon which I visited at the beginning of June. Having that goal of being able to write about these things in a few months time in a completely different mindset is definitively a good source of motivation. Being able to experience all these new places without the security blanket of my regular meal routines and advanced planning is scary but that spontaneity is part of what makes a trip away so exciting. Although on this occasion, being away and allowing myself to try everything I wanted didddd trigger a bit of a downwards spiral, in hindsight, that was a pretty good flooding experience and learning experience in general because like…I was bloated as fuck by the end and you know, 2 weeks later and I’m still here. Plus, all that boujie low calorie “healthy”, “high protein” food is costly! Gym lads must be broke, honestly. If I want to do enough to justify an exPerIencES section I have to start eating like a normal human being, right? And just buy the Chicago Town pizza and the regular Ben & Jerry’s on Clubcard (as hard as Gym Kitchen pizzas, Yorkshire Prov. soups, Oppo ice cream and Halo Top Cookies & Cream/Cookie Dough flavours slap and you can’t tell me otherwise). I’ve gotta get some CULTURE and replicate the (mostly) fine dining experiences I had at these bad boys, which are my London stand outs of the last few months.

Tavolino, London Bridge

Price Point: £15-30

Tavolino was fucking exceptional and thank god for that, because there is nothing worse than ordering a meat dish and it not feeling worth breaking the veggie streak at the end of it all. Their slow cooked lamb tagliatelle ragu was absolutely sublimeee, and so is the view, with the restaurant sat right on the Thames with the best view you can get of the City area. That’s the bit with all the skyscrapers that isn’t Canary Wharf, lol. When you’re sat with a beautiful dish of pasta in front of you and it’s all lit up, you almost forget all the moral corruption happening over there x

The service was also top tier. We had a waiter whose customer service performance was so elite you could almost believe they didn’t despise all other human beings which I feel at this point is an inevitability of working in a public facing job, lol. Like, he was super attentive but not annoyingly so to the point where you spend more time awkwardly swallowing your food as quickly as possible to feed back your enjoyment than you do actually eating it.

My pasta was a leeetle bit on the pricier side (by my standards anyway, though relative to other London restaurants it’s one of the affordable ones, if you’re just doing mains and either a starter or dessert for instance). My pasta was probs the most expensive on the menu at about £17, discounting anything including seafood or truffle which are both icks for me anyway. I think I should take that as indication of the fact that my dream of living off the King’s Road is ill-fated, if I hadn’t worked that one out already when my card got declined in the Waitrose there when I tried to buy an own brand soup.

2. Ollie’s House, Chelsea

Price Point: £10-20

Sooo one of the absolute best things about treatment is that the clinic I go to is situated in the South Kensington/Chelsea area, which is how I came across Ollie’s House and a couple of the other faves I’ll mention. I should mention that yes, this is an NHS service, the clinic just happens to be based in Chelsea. I do not share a therapist with any Made in Chelsea cast members so no, I don’t have any wild stories about seeing Jamie Laing have a breakdown in the reception because being an heir to the owners of the UK’s bestselling biscuit company has given him pathological aversion to rich teas, or anything like that, sorry.

-To clarify, that is a HYPOTHETICAL scenario. Jamie Laing’s family pls don’t sue me for misrepresentation, I’m a devoted fan of digestive biscuits, trust I’m a fan.-

What I do have is the location of one of the best all day brunch locations in London. Before you even get to the food, which constitutes a menu made up of Australian/Indonesian dishes (a fusion that produces reliably dreamy results and is arguably the only good thing to come out of rich Australians gentrification of that region), the interior itself of Ollie’s House is perfect. It’s spacious and airy, but also warm and inviting, full of plants and drenched in a colour palette inspired by sunset on one of Bali’s backpacker infested beaches. I should add here that I’ve never actually witnessed a Bali sunset but…a sunset is a sunset, you know. I’m gonna guess it’s the interior as a whole which gives the beach-y vibes, lol.

Then there’s my Nasi Goreng which was ARGH. Beautiful, gorgeous, incredible. Rice for brekky, what a concept. Again, super friendly servers, which always adds to the experience.

3. The Jam, Chelsea

Price Point: £15-30

If I had to name just one of the restaurants I’ve visited in London as most worthy of the “hidden gem” title, it is The Jam, without doubt. From the outside it’s nothing flashy and it’s pretty small but the layout is everythinggg! The tables are on balconies! Like little treehouse structures! It’s adorable! I mean don’t get me wrong, you don’t HAVE to sit at one of the balcony tables if you don’t wanna climb the ladder up there (like, if you’re gonna be very thorough in your mission of trialling their very reasonably priced cocktails…perhaps…don’t?) but it’s so fun and makes you feel a little bit like a child again. It kind of does the impossible by creating an atmosphere that’s as lively as it is kitschy whilst still maintaining a sense of intimacy at each table, and general aura of sophistication. Say the food was just…decent, the novelty of the layout would make it worth a visit maybe just for the drinks, but idk, I feel like you can never be TOO disappointed by pizza ffs. What makes The Jam one of my absolute favourites, though, not of just the first half of this year but probably all time, is that the pizza is fucking heavenly and HUGE on that note. Mine was nduja, salami, and burrata and holy shit it was good. Like I am a pizza QUEEN. A good pizza outranks pretty much any other dish bar a good burger. This is up there with Crust Bros in Waterloo and this lil place called Pizza Baracca in my hometown area. This is a niche one because it’s a little family run takeaway in an area where the tourist industry is DYING (something I’m guessing the, uh, multiple recent stabbing as on the beach have a little to do with) but if by some wild and quite honestly bewildering coincidence you ARE reading this, and you have plans to broach the Dorset region over the summer, here’s your Deliveroo back up. You’re welcome. Consider them bonus recommendations xo

4. The Yorkshire Pudding Burrito Company, Kerb Market @ Camden Lock

Price Point: <£10

Look, Camden Lock in general is not what it’s hyped up to be. It is always teeming with people, seemingly regardless of when you visit. But the food on offer at the Kerb Market despite the lack of sheltered, and frequently, actually available, seating, makes it entirely worth a visit; on a warm, dry day you’ve also got the option of walking a little bit further along the canal to find somewhere quieter to eat. There’s a few Kerb street food markets dotted about London, and the South Bank one is a lot closer to me, but it truly pales in comparison. Not only does it house the Mac Factory (truly my bestie back in 2018 when I was in UCL halls and there was a branch at Euston Square station less than 100m away), but it has the Yorkshire Pudding Burrito Company which I’ve always wanted to try. That I spent SO much money on food in first year and passed the second half of it in a binge cycle and in that time, never tried one? A tragedy, lol, because it meant I’ve I spent the last few Christmasses telling myself that the ones they sell at my hometown’s Christmas market would suffice only to chicken out on that aspiration because it felt like a waste to go for the imitation when the real deal was out there.

But recently, when I’ve travelled back up to London for therapy, I’ve been challenging myself and going through my Google maps list of all the places I bookmarked to eat whilst I was up there and couldn’t face the anxiety of at the time. My sister and I found ourselves in Camden recently for an art exhibition and on this occasion, it seemed like fate to test if it did live up to the expectations I’d formed over the years, which is a rarity. And guysss, the impossible occurred. It ACTUALLY DID. The meat was melt in your mouth tender, full of flavour, and the roasties and garlic and rosemary caramelised veg inside were exquisitely done. For it all to be wrapped in a fluffy Yorkshire pudding though like…ARGH. Otherworldly experience, truly. I know it was just that good because the lack of mint sauce didn’t bother me, and this was something which used to necessitate suppressing the urge to throw hands when I opened the fridge on a Sunday and noted it’s absence. Of all the cravings that stand in the way of going full veggie, a banging roast is one of them.

My last pro tip is that if you’re a caramelised biscuit fan, which it seems we all are atm (and I hope it’s a food trend that, much like Oreo filled/flavoured anything, salted caramel and “gold” chocolate, stands the test of time because I’m obsessed), follow up your Yorkshire Pudding Burrito company wrap with some Lotus flavoured ice cream from the Soho Ice Cream company. It is by far the most reminiscent of an actual lotus biscuit of the ones I’ve tried. There’s also a Chin Chin Dessert Club branch at the lock which is another magnificent way of tying a bow on top of what I advise you make a 3 course meal. If you want a YPBC wrap (I can’t type the whole thing out again, soz) or a Mac Factory pot but you also see something else you can’t resist trying, I say do starters too lol. You will spend more than you would at a sit down restaurant probs but look, if you’re a tourist doing the whole London thing, street food markets are an unmissable staple.

5. Badiani Gelato, various London sites (& Brighton!)

Price Point: £5-10

Anyone I spend any decent amount of time with will know I am an ice cream connoisseur. It’s a toss up with pasta for the one food I could eat forever. It is absolutely no surprise I have a list of every ice cream place I want to visit in London. I’m dedicated to the cause, whatever time of year, and no judgemental looks from McDonald’s staff for ordering a Mcflurry to go in December or tuts from the lunch lady at my secondary school for buying a Feast ice cream for lunch in sub zero temperatures has ever knocked my undying determination to satiate my yearning.

This pursuit continues to the capital and thus far, nothing has come close to Badiani gelato, another one I treated myself to for the first time after a therapy session given there’s one super close. I really can’t see anything tasting quite as good as their salted butter caramel flavour or their signature Buontalenti flavour (the Fior di Latte and white chocolate are fucking incredibleee too). Like listen, say heaven does exist. Say I don’t get to go there. There isn’t an Angel up in that cloud land who could whip up anything this ethereal tasting for God himself. Soo abandoning my disbelief in anything supernatural, if I’m allowed to stay as a ghost lurking on the King’s Road forever, I’ll be okay with that.

I’ve been enough now that I recognise some of the staff and they’re all really sweet and generous with the free samples too, lol, and there’s a cute covered patio area at the back too so you can sit in and eat. In the unlikely circumstance in which anybody with the same niche bucket list comes across this, this needs to be at the top.

6. Unity Diner, Whitechapel

Price Point: £10-25

Vegan cheese is usually pretty rough. I think most of us who eat both that and the real deal can agree. But whatever godly concoction it is Unity Diner drench their Philly Cheesesteak in is enough for them to deserve Vogue’s bestowal of the best Vegan restaurant in London award all on its own because they did the impossible: created something even more bursting with flavour than the dairy cheese on any similar dish I’ve had elsewhere.

Add to that the incredibly friendly, warm and informative service, the interior, the entirely sustainable business model and 100% cruelty free menu, and I hope this place stays open forever. If it becomes one of the long list of Veggie places in London that have shut down the last few years I will be absolutely gutted.

7. Bancone, Golden Square, Soho

Price Point: £10-25

Right off the bat, I do want to make clear that it is the Golden Square branch (not Covent Garden’s) of Bancone I’m hyping up. I’m sure this a statement that is going to absolutely devastate a restaurant which gets entirely booked up until 9pm on weekdays a fortnight in advance, lol, but yes, the former is very much in my bad books. It’s a policy which probably extends to both their branches but look, I got stung in Covent Garden so I’ll be damned if I favour that place. They charged me a £50 no show fee. FIFTY FUCKING POUND. Their most expensive pasta is probably half that price. Let me repeat myself: FIFTY. POUND. We are in a cost of living crisis here! And forgive me pls if I can’t wait for god knows how long for someone to pick up the store phone so I can try and reschedule because they don’t let you do it online if it’s not done days in advance or whatever. I was MAD mad. I sent a very strongly worded email. They did refund me but that I begrudge that I had to go pompous customer mode for that courtesy.

Moving on to the ray of sunshine, anyway, which is the Golden Square branch because I came here for a food love fest not a pile on. Yes, the silk handkerchief pasta is every bit as good as it looks and way more filling than you would think. Our waitress was also so sweet despite the fact she was stunning enough to make me reconsider the boy brow and resembled Dua Lipa. The internalised misogyny had me expecting a lil bit of snobbery and I’m mad at myself for that because I’m almost pleasantly surprised every time a pretty waitress gives good service and this is in spite of my worst service encounters being dished out by male waiters at 2 separate Big Mamma restaurants. Yes, I’m @-ing the guy at Circolo Poppolare who scoffed at one of our party for trying to order a dessert wine with her main (imagine mansplaining wine ffs), and at Gloria who stood glaring at my friend and I as we approached the midway point of what we were reminded was ONLY AN HOUR AND A HALF booking slot the second we walked through the door. He took my cacio e Pepe dish off me the minute I finished my last string of pasta COMPLETELY DISREGARDING THE BOWL OF SAUCE I STILL HAD! Sir, I am a broke student. You’re going to punish me for not being able to afford a multi-course meal by taking away the food I DID order before it’s finished.

This is really turning into a restaurant rant section, I’m sorry, but I have a lot of feelings about food. Did I mention? I can only apologise. At least you can skim read a post, it’s the people I’ll bore to tears with this shit irl I owe the apology to, whoopsies. The next 3 are short and sweet!

8. Miscusi, Covent Garden

Price Point: £10-20

What Miscusi does really well is balance a quick and casual vibe with stand out service and incredible quality pasta which far surpasses in taste what you’d expect from how affordable it is. It kinda works a bit like Crust Bros (or Subway I guess, lol, which would ofc be worthy of a shout out if it wasn’t like, the world’s largest fast food chain. There are more of them than MDONALDS?!) that although there are preset options the main appeal is the create your own option where you get to pick the pasta, sauce and toppings. I made mine pretty much identical to the truffle vegan pesto pasta with the substitution of the truffle for good old regular sautéed mushrooms because as I’ve said, my taste isn’t that boujie, lol, and it was delicious. Can’t fault it. A perfect pasta dish tbh.

9. Chrome, St.Christopher’s Place

Price Point: £10-15

3 words: Biscoff french toast. Need I say more?

10. Patty & Bun, various sites (cheating, kinda)

Price Point: £10-15

Okay so including Patty & Bun in a London eats section even though there’s one in Brighton isn’t the part that makes it’s inclusion rogue because, like, Badiani has a Brighton branch too and I always tend to think of Brighton as London-on-sea anyway. It’s just that their Smokey Robinson burger (caramelised onions, smoky peanut butter mayo, and then I think the optional addition of chilli jam which stays improving literally any dish ever) is probs what saved me dropping out of uni for the second time at the beginning of 2nd year one night. I was sick of anorexia, sick of how hard it was making the basic organisational tasks required of my degree and sick of the imposter syndrome that came with that. I did what I had to do: flaked on the night at Ministry of Sound I’d organised with friends, stuck on a horror, and ordered myself a burger and fries. I knew reverting to 13 year old Lauren’s coping mechanisms wouldn’t do wonders for my mood in the morning but I also knew that this fuck everything and drop out impulse was just a result of a build up of emotions, culminating in a minor panic attack and that I would be able to think more clearly in the clear light of day, lol. So yeah I can overlook Patty & Bun being a food experience occurring outside of the 2023 window. IT SAVED MY DEGREE. And plus, it’s the only burger I’ve had which rivals the Bournemouth special from Central Story-again, another niche recommendation but it’s blasphemy to talk about burgers without name dropping this place. Both make an unbeatable case for why peanut butter elevates everything. Idk what it is but it truly takes a burger to the next level. And wilder still is HOW its the inclusion of BISCOFF SPREAD in the Bournemouth special that makes it magical!? Can’t explain that one because it sounds like a monstrosity but trust me, it’s mind blowing. I could do an “according to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should fly. The bee, of course, flies anyway, because bees don’t care what humans think is impossible” Barry B Benson style monologue on the matter if anyone wants to challenge my statement on that fact. Like I appreciate that according to all accepted culinary boundaries, this crossover, I.e lotus, beef, cheese, onions, BBQ and chilli, should be inedible. But whoever the chef at Central Story is, they decided to go where most chefs wouldn’t dare tread and made something gorgeous. A true pioneer. It sounds so rogue but oh, feels SO right.

Now, to go international...

Lisbon, Portugal

I am aware that talking about an entire city as if it’s a cafe you could pop to one afternoon is very much giving Americans talking about going to “Europe” (sans further specification) energy but I only went for a few days and I feel like there’s soooOOo much there, we barely skimmed the surface; a “top things to do” list doesn’t feel warranted! I would LOVE to go back at some point in the near future to give it the rundown it deserves. It gets called the San Francisco of Europe, not that I knew that before, but now having been I resent it because the comparison does Lisbon a complete disservice. I see why the association is made; both are hilly cities with tram systems being the dominant means of transportation, and are situated on a waterfront. They also share near identical bridges. Again, I never knew but Lisbon has a near replica of SF’s Golden Gate landmark. Lisbon’s is smaller but built first by the same people responsible for the Golden Gate Bridge because Portugal’s dictator at the time found out about the plans for the SF version and demanded one too. Dickhead, diva behaviour. But shout out to the Uber driver turned tour guide who told us that.

Having spent the same amount of time in San Francisco 5/6 years ago, though, I prefer Lisbon! It just has more spirit-I know that’s kind of an abstract concept to define but I suppose it has less of the typical American city sheen, where as shiny and new and exciting as everything is, a lot of it seems cold and impersonal, and you know there’s always some pocket of poverty just around the corner that’s been pushed out of sight for the sake of maintaining this image. Lisbon feels more organic and laid back and has a cool, unexpected balance of trendy, hipster-y (I don’t know what other word to use, lol, but I don’t mean hipster in the negative sense as it’s generally used nowadays) areas and eateries, street art and brunch cafes GALORE, as well as older, more traditional streets and architecture teeming with history and the vibrant energy of the local community. Last but not least, let me tell you something about Lisbon: they love a pastry. You’ll find pastelerias, source of the most delicious crossaints known to man, on most streets. Anywhere which counts sweet carbs as constituting a crucial part of the culture is somewhere I’m more than happy to be.

NOW. Seeing as I can’t dedicate a whole section to recommending Cadbury’s Twisted chocolate buttons or Magnum Billionaire ice cream, I’d better move onto the next thing-I don’t think I can quite justify raving about food purchases you can make at your local Asda. So tell your internal monologue to put its best Robbie Williams hat on because this next section has the working title of:

Let MeeeEeE EnterTAIN YOU!

Let’s talk about my fave distractions of this year:-)

Podcasts

I used to be a music girlie but now all I do is listen to podcasts. I feel very out of touch and uncool because I literally have no fucking idea what’s playing on the radio anymore hence why the prospect of going clubbing nowadays feels like a nightmare, but idk I just feel like I’ve never been someone who’s been engaged by music on its own and when I’m studying new content I find it hard to digest wordy stuff with pounding music. I do want to try and listen to music again but gotta find some way to incorporate it into my routine because I feel like such a fucking grandma at the ripe age of 24. Anyway, for podcasts, here are a few of my faves, ignoring the fact that I’m going outside the box of this post because it was supposed to be confined to things I’ve gotten into this year. It’s my first one though, allow me a little flexibility in this regard. There’s a lotttt of recommendations I must make.

Katherine Ryan’s Telling Everybody Everything: is everything Katherine’s husband says undercover tory coded? Yes. Am I almost certain he’s the kind of guy who admires Elon Musk on the DL? Yes. But I adore Katherine Ryan and could listen to her talk all day. I rarely disagree with her and it is a breath of fresh air to have someone who voices things that do depart slightly from the occasionally frustratingly rigid, moralistic stance of the people I follow. Don’t get me wrong, I agree with the online left’s consensus 90% of the time but I do hate how SERIOUSLY everything is taken and the pile-ons that result from an acknowledgedly uninformed, passing comment on an issue, and also the shaming that comes from being interested in something which giving attention to is deemed to contravene interests of that political stance. This is how we talk irl. Your friends don’t accuse you of being a morally defunct person because you have a simplistic or admittedly problematic view on some things. I feel like it’s possible to feel ways we know we shouldn’t and that we know rationally don’t align with our general philosophies and as long as it’s not anything prejudice driven, as long as those convos happen with the adage that we KNOW these opinions are a bit fucked, it shouldn’t be a criminal act to lightly discuss them in a setting free of consequence. I also kind of agree with her stance on comedy, in that there shouldn’t be anything off limits. Ofc, if there’s a pattern of someone making harmful and punch down kind of jokes, criticise them as much as you want. Don’t talk about them! Don’t make them a topic of conversation and bolster their audience! But if we start drawing a hard fast line between what’s punishable and earns an industry blackballing then comedy becomes completely predictable and that element of unpredictability is what makes it entertaining.

Stephanie Harlowe & Derek Lavasser’s Crime Weekly: I mean an interest in true crime may be exactly what I’m referring to when I talk about interests that contravene your expressed political stance because I see a lot of the people I follow online, who are pretty much as far as I know entirely left leaning, disapprove. But morbid curiosity is a human thing and Stephanie Harlowe, both on her podcast and YouTube channel always does it with the best intentions; the ridiculously extensive amount of research she does show an unparalleled level of commitment and intention to do justice (seriously, they have cases they spend about 6 or 7 hour and half episodes on), and even on the most infamous of cases you are bound to come away with a tonne of knowledge of the case that you were unaware was even out there. I also love the dynamic between her and Derek Lavasser, whose presence is a crucial element of what makes this a standout podcast given his actual first hand experience of investigating cases. I think the best podcasts are those that feel like sitting in on a conversation with friends regardless of how serious the topic is and in Crime Weekly, they always manage to uphold that vibe. Stephanie is very opinionated and I know a lot of people might disagree with that and think we should take a neutral stance when discussing true crime but honestly, if I wanted to do that, I’d read a Wiki page. This is how we talk about things irl. We give our opinions, we have feelings, we relate it to our anecdotal experiences-as long as the line between opinion and fact is clear and respect for the victims is maintained then I don’t see the problem.

Red Handed: I love Suruthi and Hannah. I want to be one of their best mates, lol. Pls girlies, let me be your friend. Again, I know there are probably people out there who would be firmly against any kind of true crime content which has a lighthearted tone but I genuinely do feel like all the laughs come from the dynamic between these two and never at the cost of the victims involved in the cases they’re discussing.

Sounds like a Cult: I loved Amanda Montell’s book Cultish and this is again a podcast where the dynamic between the girls is what separates them from all the other podcasts of a similar nature. I do want to know about current events and the serious stuff that’s going on in the world but there is only so much existential dread a person can take without a bit of levity framing it; Amanda and Isa take a serious subject matter and apply it to something which at face value sounds trivial but results in some genuinely interesting discussions about just how pathological our appreciation of certain fads and individuals truly is.

Books

How to Kill Your Family, Bella Mackie: So technicallyyy, this is kinda cheating again because I read this last summer, lol, but I continue to recommend it above and beyond any book I’ve read in the meantime because it truly is the perfect novel. It’s Gone Girl dark subject matter but in snappy magazine columnist format and that is a feat of genre fusion rivalling the Indonesian Australian blended brunch.

Boy Parts, Eliza Clark: an actual recent read, and the first knock out of a book I’ve read since How to Kill Your Family. Like, the narrator is a disgustingly awful human being, to the extent that has put me off reading books from the perspective of individuals who meet similar levels of awful in the past (for example, I could never quite get into Lolita). In this, though, it adds to the compulsion to keep going. It’s probs because she is awful in a way that never requires a suspension of disbelief, the kind of way I feel like we glorify in everyday life on a lesser scale, and so the satirical element feels very relevant. At the same time, it’s not so heavy on the satire that some of the left turns the narrative takes and how twisted things become is without impact. I’d say it’s a bit like the book equivalent of watching a Real Housewives of Beverly Hills episode where the women are at their most unhinged but with a more sinister undercurrent, like everything that takes place is referred to as if it’s an mildly scandalous everyday occurrence when in actuality it’s disturbing AF. Imagine watching back the episode where Brandi Glanville yells “at least I don’t do crystal meth in the bathroom all night, bitch” at Kim Richards with the foresight that not only was she on crystal meth but like, her and Kyle were actually in there carving up a body or something. All the dark stuff is woven into the protagonist’s co-occurring everyday mundanities that very accurately capture the worst parts of the mindset and social values of the present and the devastating realisation is like...it all fits, lol.

Television

House M.D (2004-2012): My brain cannot compute that Gregory House and Hugh Laurie are the same person. That thing people always say about standout performances “they brought the character to life”? Hugh DID THAT. He SERVED. His performance alone is arguably enough to make House a great show. But other than that, it’s the perfect blend of drama and levity and almost every series main with only a handful of exceptions is a character you truly want to see flourish. Plus, I love me a 40 min show; an episode of House flies by and I would say there are only about 2/3 throughout the 7 seasons I’ve watched so far I haven’t enjoyed, all of which were a bit too conceptual for my liking. Also can I just say? Wilson and House, one of the most engaging TV duos of all time. For them and them alone, I will condone the use of a word that is in all other circumstances cringe to me, to grant their relationship the title of the GOAT on-screen bromance.

The Missing (2014-2016): I do love a good Brit mystery drama, I do.

Search Party (2016-2022): so watchable, so ridiculous, funny as fuck, but also addictive.

Yellowjackets (2021-): A perfect show, truly. And I’ve just got to say...Christina Ricci’s Misty fills the Mona Vanderwaal shaped void in my life that Pretty Little Liars ending created.

Succession (2018-2023): Succession must be one of those shows that’s really annoying if you don’t watch it/tried watching it and weren’t a fan because anybody who does watch it never seems to shut the fuck up about it. But like, chill out, it’s ended now, and I feel like it did so in a way that was satisfying enough that we can put it to bed and appreciate it on reflection like a nice piece of art every now and again, lol. After Game of Thrones, the ending of which left me raging for a solid few months, I think we all breathe a sigh of relief at this point when a really hyped up show ends in a way that actually feels correct, and doesn’t violate everything we’ve been told about the characters right up until that moment.

Also...with Succession ending, I realllllly hope we can firmly put a lid on the idea of stealth wealth dressing or whatever you wanna call it because I don’t give a fuck if the clothes are expensive, they’re bland, I’m SORRY:( I don’t like subtle, if that isn’t obvious from the Alessandro Michele appreciation, lmao.

Black Mirror, Joan is Awful, 6x01 (2023): Okay so the fact I like, just watched this before writing this post would suggest it would be better placed in 2023 part 2 but I don’t want to acknowledge the horrifyingly fast passing of time so I gotta talk about it now while it’s fresh on my mind. Because what a delight!!! Apart from the movie that came out a few years ago and one or two episodes, Black Mirror hasn’t blown me away in a while. This was like, classic Black Mirror for me. Like left me with an appropriate level of dread so as not to trigger a complete existential crisis but enough to make me physically shudder. It was also, off the top of my head based on foggy memories of past episodes, the funniest episode to date. I never knew Salma Hayek had such great comedic timing and I feel bad for that. I owe her way more appreciation.

The Trashy Stuff..

Married at First Sight: I have never ploughed through reality TV like I have Australian MAFS. I started watching it with my mum and was so incapable of waiting til she was free to watch the season we were on I started simultaneously watching the previous season on my own. We haven’t even finished that season together yet but my solo venture sees me 3 seasons deep at this point. The dinner parties, man! I can’t look away. So much second hand embarrassment, awkwardness and tension that manages to permeate its way through the TV screen and yet despite getting my fill of that in day to day life, I consume that shit like I do carbohydrates in a binge episode, lmao. I won’t deny it probably falls within the vein of exploitative trash TV but you know what, it’s in an exploitative trash TV league of its own and if I go another 10 years down the line without being bothered to go on a date because I GENUINELY FEEL LIKE I HAVE NO TIME!! Sign me up. Producers exploit TF out of me. Give me the awkward recluse who just does not have the energy for the shit that interaction with a solid 60% of men entails edit if you want, though the driven career woman who is just above them all works too xoxo I’ll make the same argument I make about Big Brother and say that I genuinely do think there’s at least a pat of me which enjoys it from the psychological perspective, like putting humans in high-stakes unknown territory has our common pathologies spilling out allll over the place to observe in the bright light of day/the TV’s fluorescence but yes, ofc my engagement with it goes beyond educational purposes. It must be a known fact that I love watching some toxic individuals because it came highly recommended to me; whilst it shouldn’t be a good thing if my friends think it’s on brand for me, I’ll take that hit to any illusions I have of my refinement if’s what brought this show into my life.

Love Island: It’s in a similar vein to MAFs, but look, I have no shame in admitting that there are some summer days where knowing LI is airing later in the day is all that keeps me going. I need structure in my life. Time is a human construct but ITV2′s programme schedule is NOT and if this show airing at 9pm every night is all that’s set in stone I’ll take it. No speak of guilty pleasures here. Straight up pleasure. It’s trash, it’s staged, it’s shallow, blah blah blah, but it’s in this brief period when the annual summer season airs I feel a sense of NATIONAL UNITY that, for once, doesn’t stem from something a little too closely aligned with things you’d see or hear at an EDL rally. England is really lacking in things to feel patriotic about that don’t have some kind of murky colonialist past, lmao. So SUE ME. It’s giving judgemental. If you want to miss out on the top tier comedy going on this far this season (best cast in years I thinkkk) then that’s your loss.

Film

Maybe mentioning some of my fave movies in this post issss taking a slight shortcut by removing the need to include them in my eventual film list buuut anyways idk, I love going to the cinema and a post like this would feel compete without naming a few standouts. For the sake of emulating a film ranking post, assume all these would fall under God tier:

Barbarian, dir. Zach Cregger (2022): A bit of a creature feature and a wild ride from start to finish. Definitely has the qualities of a modern classic horror, relatively simple narrative but definitely layered and open to interpretation if that’s your kinda thing.

M3gan, dir. Gerard Johnstone (2022): I could definitely get a roasting for including M3gan on this list and by implication, that it warrants a God Tier ranking but like 1). I’ve gone on for sooOOo long now that I doubt anybody who has got to this point has the brain power left to process this controversial stance and 2). even if this does register, I am willing to die on the hill of it being a perfect movie anyways. There’s probably plot holes, nonsensical writing and bad acting galore, but if there was I didn’t notice it because I was having a WHALE of a time. Sign me up to rewatch this at the cinema over a night out any day. Hear me out…it’s all the issues and psychology debates about artificial intelligence and the singularity and attachment theory and the dark stuff that might entail, yes, on what is probably a very, very shallow level, a massively take on all that stuff I’m sure many will argue but okay, nerd!!!! Live a little! It’s of the moment! Isn’t horror supposed to take that thing we’re all really afraid and exploit the fact that we know, like, next to nothing about the science of it all to paint some utterly ridiculous worst case scenario!? For whatever reason I can think of 0 examples of this right now, but I’m sure there’s some smart video essays out there about it that will explain it in an intellectual, less indignant way, lol. Like maybe I’m just amalgamating a bunch of unrelated facts in my mind here and coming out with some bullshit false statement but I’m suuuure I have read/seen/watched a video about how the vampire craze within horror has some kind of origin in tuberculosis panic hundreds of years ago. Don’t quote me on that! The only thing I’m sure on here, that I take zero issue with being quoted on, in which I have no qualms saying, is that M3gan was WILD!! ICONIC!!! It’s Chucky for the Elon Musk girlbossgaslightgatekeep era. Giving campy halloween classic. I'm standing my ground on this one.

Bodies, Bodies, Bodies, dir. Halina Reijn (2022): Imagine Bodies, Bodies, Bodies being your English language debut and still managing to capture the most annoying aspects of the speech patterns we’ve (and when I say we, I mean American and English youth, and yes, I include myself in that lol) developed this well. Uncanny. Even more impressively is how Halina Reijn is able to set the scene to communicate that very particular chaotic energy that hangs in the air when you put a bunch of intoxicated people with a messy group dynamic in a room together. The kind that unifies a startup company’s christmas do for their employees with a teenage house party. Like everyone’s kind of wild and throwing their weight around and letting off steam. The suffocating weight of the school/office/retail/what-have-you environment is lifted and at first the mood is electric and people who usually can’t stand each other are laughing together, getting on like a house on fire. But you KNOWW, you just know, someone’s gonna unleash some uncomfortable truth at any second, pull it back like an arrow back through the bow, fire it straight into the target and send half the room feral. Halina brought that dangerous kind of excitement to the screen in a way I don’t think any other director has managed in recent years, besides perhaps Gaspar Noé with Climax, but this was a lot more fun. It isn’t quiteeee on the same level but Bodies, Bodies, Bodies does the same kinda thing that the first Scream movie did in the 90s in making a film that is equal parts horror to Pandora’s Box for this moment in history, putting all the worst traits of our collective psyche in the...spotlight? Strobe light? Glowstick light? It’s glowsticks that were all over the ad campaign, right? She even got the Y2K aesthetic craze nailed down there, didn’t she.

•Scream VI, dir(s). Tyler Gillett & Matt Bettinelli-Olpin (2023):

That segue, honestly. The stuff of legend.

Admittedly, I didn’t make the Scream/Bodies, Bodies, Bodies comparison just for that purpose. But it does round off the post in a very satisfying way so I’ll pat myself on the back for it regardless.

Speaking of legends...see, clunky when intentional...

I have to, of course, gas up this year’s Scream. Howwww there’s been soOoo many at this point and how they continue to be wonderful yet consistently on brand, when the brand in question could so easily go stale, is a marvel. It’s probably the franchise that got me into horror (or maybe Final Destination, it’s a toss-up) and if I’d watched something like the Insidious series first I don’t know if I’d be the horror fan I am today, possibly deprived of my beloved genre. Like I started watching them back when I still believed in ghosts and I was super sensitive to high levels of what they tend to categorise as “threat” or “suspense” which seems to be code for supernatural stuff. Now I’m a non-believer (lol) I love the supernatural stuff just as much when there’s a good story but I will always, and clearly have always, loved a good slasher, especially with a sense of humour. Scream is truly the prototype for that. It never misses.

Plus, side note, I love that they gave Sidney closure. It shows confident writing, which again is something the films always deliver on. Similarly, the casting of Jenna Ortega and Melissa Barrera as the series’ new protagonists makes perfect sense; a new Scream is an instalment that never disappoints.

Much like...this post?

Let’s just pretend that was an intentionally awful segue for the sake of continuity and not me having no idea how to tie a bow on this fucking ESSAY from me. Whoops.

But yeah!!

I guess that covers it all! She says after a post that supersedes the word count of your average dissertation, which is probably the crux of why I struggle with academic essay writing, lol. I love a waffle, cannot help myself. It’s a need that would ordinarily be satisfied through the medium of creative fiction writing but until I finish coursework anything requiring deep and meaningful thought is out of the question. One can only hope I don’t completely flop my degree and that by summer 2024, posts of this nature will be significantly shorter. In the meantime though, I do have a couple of photo dominated posts planned, including finally posting what we’ll call a master post of all the FW22 shows I didn’t finish covering, as well as SS23 which are actually of relevance to balance out the notion that it’s just a content dump (which it essentially is but idk, we all love a good runway photo set). Blame Tumblr’s stance on the female nipple which means fashion week posts are always delayed because I have to go back and photoshop out all the tatas. As welll as that I have an outfit post planned which is one of my faves I’ve everrrr done and basically another “sitting front row at” thang.

And to anybody who comes across this post on the recovery tag and reads that section, please don’t hesitate to inbox me. In fact, I’d love it if you did, regardless of whether or not it extends to anything beyond that. Like I said as well, constructive criticism is much appreciated, though I love hearing people’s recovery stories too. To anyone who identified with my ramble and is struggling too, I’m sorry you’re dealing with this and I’m sorry it likely feels as if no one understand. I do and lots of people do and even if it’s not fully fledged formal treatment there are recourses out there. Suggestions in that regards are very encouraged!

But yeah! In summary, love & hugs to all!:D

Lauren xx

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kyuuppi · 4 years ago

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“You lie to your best friend/crush that you have an OnlyFans just to see their reaction”

Ft. Sugawara; Nishinoya; Tsukishima; Oikawa; Kenma

Pt. 2

A/N: My bias is so obvious here LOL

KARASUNO

↳ Sugawara

➣ You are over at his house, the two of you idly watching a sitcom while browsing your phones and chatting in between; it’s comfortable, as times with Sugawara usually are.

➣ Every time Suga leans in to show you a funny meme on his phone or throws his head back in laughter at a joke from the show, you find your heart skipping a beat.

➣ He is beautiful, basically an angel in your eyes, but he is also your best friend and you don’t think he has any interest in you like that. Not in the way you do.

➣ That’s how you get the idea to test his feelings.

➣ Being the troublemaker you are (how else would you and Suga get along so well?) you decide to shake things up by casually mentioning you’re interested in starting an OnlyFans and asking if he thinks its a good idea.

➣ You expect either of two reactions: either he’ll be as supportive as usual, possibly advising you to be cautious with strangers online like the mother hen he is, proving he only sees you as a friend—or he’ll tell you not to, possible evidence that likes you.

➣ The response you receive is not quite what you were expecting...

➣ Once the words leave your lips his head immediately whips around in your direction, light brown eyes looking at you with a serious expression on his face, something you’d never really seen before. It makes you uncomfortable and you begin to regret all of your life decisions.

➣ Suddenly though, he is leaning into you, his arms coming up to trap you against the couch as you try to back away. Your eyes are as wide as saucers and face completely flushed as he continues to stare you down before speaking.

➣ “Even though I’m your best friend, I’m still a man, you know. You’re being awfully cruel right now.”

➣ You audibly gulp, suddenly feeling light-headed but he keeps speaking, close enough that you can feel his hot breath fan across your cheeks.

➣ “Asking me to watch the person I like show off in front of thousands of other men? Even I have my limits.”

➣ And that marks the day of you and Sugawara’s first kiss. ♡

↳ Nishinoya

➣ Your best friend, Nishinoya Yuu, is notoriously unabashed with his affections.

➣ The two of you have an interesting relationship—Noya has no qualms with expressing how pretty he thinks you are, borderline flirting with you at times, and you frequently return the favor.

➣ But you don’t take any of it seriously, of course, regardless of how much you secretly wish it were real. Everyone at Karasuno knows about Noya’s undying dedication to the volleyball club manager, Shimizu Kiyoko, and he confesses his love to her at least twice a day.

➣ Unbeknownst to you those professions became less and less frequent after he met you and now most of Karasuno thinks the two of you are basically dating

➣ The two of you are at the mall, a frequent hang out place where Noya can look at volleyball gear and you can browse manga at the bookstore, when you get the idea to prank your friend.

➣ “Hey, Noya? I’ve been thinking about finding a way to make more money but I don’t have time for a part-time job so I decided to make an OnlyFans—I already have a few subscribers.”

➣ Nishinoya nearly trips and falls flat on his face. You would have laughed if it weren’t for how he immediately grabs at your shoulders, staring at you with a mix of anger and fear.

➣ “Absolutely not! No one should be allowed to see your beautiful body like that but me!”

➣ You immediately fluster at his loud declaration, acutely aware of how other customers in the mall are giving the two of your strange looks as they walk by.

➣ “B-but Noya, we aren’t even dating—”

➣ “Then let’s start dating!”

➣ And what are you gonna do? Say no?

↳ Tsukishima

➣ Being friends with Tsukishima could be frustrating at times—a sentiment you and Yamaguchi frequently discuss when the blond isn’t around.

➣ Tsukishima likes to think most things are beneath him and he’s too cool to find enjoyment in activities most other friends enjoy, ranging from mini golf to video games. The man seems content to waste his life away studying and listening to music if it weren’t for you and Yamaguchi forcing him out of his room.

➣ Naturally, something like a prank war would be something Tsukishima would want no part of—not that that has ever stopped you.

➣ Usually, your pranks are failures. Either Tsukishima easily figures out what you’re doing before it can happen or he doesn’t give you the satisfaction of a reaction, chastising you for wasting your time pulling pranks when you have a failing grade in mathematics you’ll later beg him to help you study for.

➣ He still helps you though, he’s whipped

➣ Your newest prank however, you feel exceptionally confident in. Not only is it simple to pull off, only relying on your acting kills, but it also might answer your curiosity on whether you have a chance in getting your dearest Tsukki to see you as more than just a friend.

➣ The day you decide to do it the three of you are hanging out in Tsukishima’s bedroom as usual, you working on the math homework Tsukishima forced you to study while he reads a book and Yamaguchi sits in the corner reading a book.

➣ You had already discussed your plans with Yama beforehand, to which his expression looked suspiciously devious, like he knew something you didn’t know, as he proclaimed his support.

➣ You hear Tsukishima turning a page and decide to speak up.

➣ “Hey, Tsukki, have you heard of OnlyFans?”

➣ You hold back a snicker as you see Tsukishima visibly tense, his eyes widening behind his glasses for a moment before he relaxes. From the corner of your eyes you can see Yamaguchi smirking behind his comic, watching the blond closely.

➣ “...yeah, I’ve heard of it,” Tsukishima simply replies.

➣ “I’ve been thinking about making more money but I don’t have time for a part-time job so my friend suggested it. She said I could make over ten thousand yen a month.”

➣ “I think only the really attractive ones make that much.”

➣ You gasp, thoroughly offended, and Yamaguchi looks mildly annoyed by his friend’s response, already opening his mouth to chastise him for being so mean—but before he can say anything, Tsukishima is speaking again, still looking down at the book in his lap.

➣ “Don’t do it though.”

➣ “Why not?” You pout, refusing to look up at him when you speak.

➣ “...I don’t want the person I like to do those types of things.”

➣ You nearly choke on your own saliva, head darting up to stare at him in disbelief. Yamaguchi, for some reason, only smiles softly, looking unsurprised by the admission.

➣ “W-what? You...like me?”

➣ “Oi, shouldn’t you be studying? One more F and you’re gonna flunk out of the class, dummy.”

➣ You’re slightly disappointed by the change of subject but when you notice the soft pink on Tsukishima’s cheeks you can’t help but to smile the whole time you finish your homework.

AOBA JOUSAI

↳ Oikawa

➣ Oikawa is a busy guy.

➣ You were well aware of that before the two of you happened to be paired up for an assignment and got to know each other, eventually becoming close friends.

➣ Between volleyball practices, tournaments, magazine interviews, and appeasing a passionate fan club, Oikawa rarely has time for himself, let alone another person.

➣ Despite all of that, you could tell he always made sure to spend time with you, dedicating a few weekends a month to hanging out, just the two of you, and constantly texting you in the times the two of you couldn’t physically be together.

➣ From an outsider’s perspective, it was almost like the two of you were dating.

➣ But alas, you know the sad reality is that Oikawa is most certainly not your boyfriend and you have no idea if he has any interest in your like that…

➣ ...Which is why you decide to try to make him jealous one day to push him towards confessing his feelings, if they exist.

➣ The two of you are at a café, sipping lattes and gossiping about other students when you bring it up.

➣ “Y’know...I’ve been thinking of making an OnlyFans.”

➣ To your surprise, Oikawa’s eyes seem to light up, his lips curving into a smile of excitement.

➣ “Wow, really? Maybe I should make one too!”

➣ Oikawa immediately pulls out his cell phone and the color drains from your face as you realize your plan has completely backfired.

➣ “My fans are going to love this—hey do you think we can do a collab? The two of us in one pic would make us top creators for sure.”

➣ You can only nod numbly with a fake smile at Oikawa’s enthusiasm.

➣ Oh god, you’ve created a monster…

NEKOMA

↳ Kozume

➣ Unless you’re Kuroo, becoming friends with Kenma is a nearly impossible feat. Actually making him want to spend time with you alone, even more so.

➣ But somehow, you managed to work your way into Kenma’s tightly knit social circle more like a two point line segment of him and Kuroo and your evenings after his volleyball practice are usually spent in one of your bedrooms, playing Splatoon and Animal Crossing until your Switches die or your parents force you to come home for dinner—whichever comes first.

➣ You love spending time with Kenma, his quiet presence somehow making you feel comfortable—but over time those feelings of ease have shifted into something more akin to nervousness and excitement as you’ve come to develop a crush on the setter.

➣ Every moment with him, watching the small smiles tug at his lips when he wins a match or his cute, frustrated pout when he can’t figure out how to defeat a boss makes your heart flutter and it’s becoming more and more painful to idly sit by without expressing your feelings.

➣ A direct confession, especially to a boy with nearly 0 social skills, is scary, so you want to be sure your feelings are returned before you even attempt to share them.

➣ Thus, you’ve decided to take Kuroo’s advice.

➣ “Push him into a corner. Kenma will only act when he thinks he has to.”

➣ You take a deep breath to steel your nerves before you speak, eying him sneakily from behind your Switch.

➣ “Gamer girls and boys are kind of trendy these days; I’m thinking about starting an OnlyFans to make money to buy more games.”

➣ The only visible response you receive is a slow blink as Kenma continues to play his game, fingers tapping furiously on the keys.

➣ “Ah...I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

➣ “Why not?”

➣ There are a few moments of silence between you two, the room only filled with the SFX of your games as Kenma seems to finish his round. You recognize the victory music as Kenma pauses to finally raise his gaze to meet your own.

➣ “It's your body so I can’t tell you what to do but...I would feel really jealous of all your subscribers.”

➣ And just like that, Kenma returns his attention to the video game, unpausing and starting a new match, blissfully unaware of you struggling to calm your racing heart and flushed cheeks.

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delicrieux · 4 years ago

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☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 10: BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN

y/n is back in brooklyn for the holidays. thinking that a stream will make her feel less homesick for cali, she starts working on her famously titled hentai.free.srv. what was supposed to be a relaxing stream turns into a special delivery about two hours in.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 2.2k ─── ❥ req: Here's one... You know those apps for delivery like Domino's or whatnot... What if reader is streaming Among Us with Corpse, and reader mentions they're hungry and Corpse offers to order them food, and readers like no no it's fine... Then there's delivery at the door (Corpse ordered beforehand)

author’s note: fucky format is also back in town baby!!! also if you find any mistakes - no u didnt <3 thank u everyone for enjoying this story sm i literally cant believe how feral yall going strawberry cow was a nuclear explosion im still recovering tbh. got an ask a while ago and decided to incorporate it into myso. happy holidays everyone! myso will continue on monday!

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

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Indeed, being soft on any social media platform was the biggest disgrace and needed to be eliminated post haste. Moreover, it was a slippery slope - once you start flooding your timeline with cute imagery and heart emojis, what will stop you from posting inspirational Facebook quotes? Disgusting. If Rae were here, she would chide you (not you thinking about her as if she’s dead or something). For once in your life, you feel like you deserve it.

Alas, you hope this little chaos you’ve caused is enough to throw everyone off. The stans, especially. You know the hashtags, you’ve seen ARMY scourging for info online with the same fervor and ruthlessness 1 Direction fans hacked airport security cameras just to spy on the boys. If you had any dirty secrets online, they are out to the public now - thankfully, besides the Harry Styles stan account (with edits and all), you have nothing. Though, now that you think about it, exposed nudes would have been better than your Punk!Harry edit receiving almost a million views. God, your life’s a fucking mess.

Your fans aren’t the only ones out for info - you, too, are trying to decipher Rae’s message. Code: Barbecue Sauce. The two of you had come up with it roughly two years ago, around the same time when you promised that if you didn’t find significant others by the time you’re 40, you’ll just marry each other. It was one of the many rules found in your friendship codex. Barbecue Sauce signifies information - an exchange of information. And depending on how it ends or begins (”So I’m sitting there” alludes to Rae, “On my titties” alludes to you), secret data on that person is given away, usually free of charge.

But why? And to whom did Rae give away what? You had pestered her mercilessly and even sent some voice messages where you were crying. You were only crying because of a video of a grandpa smiling you saw on TikTok, but you are a snake, and so you put those tears to good use. If streaming doesn’t work out, you’ll just become an actress. Hollywood would love you. Your PR firm sure as fuck wouldn’t, though.

Rae was having none of it. She said you’ll figure it out eventually. Told you to channel your superior puzzle skills. You were quick to remind her that you can barely count to ten without having an aneurysm. Oddly serious, she admitted that she worries for you sometimes. Why only sometimes?! you demanded. She merely sighed. uttering under her breath something that sounded closely to “Boke.”

You leave her for barely a week and she’s already neck deep in the gay volleyball anime, hoodie and cardboard cutout and everything. Your life is falling apart.

But Brooklyn is nice. It had snowed when you stepped off of the plane. Thousands of snowflakes sprinkling into your hair, dotting your cheeks and nose. You missed this sight back in Cali. You missed your parents, too.

Home cooked meals, old sweaters, your old room and about 40GB worth of old high school pictures on your computer. You went through them all one night. Some were stomach churning, cringe inducing nightmares. You were especially fond of those. Texted some of your friends that were still in Brooklyn, met up, decided to bake. Bad idea, Rae was the resident chef back in Cali. Besides laughing till your stomach hurt, and almost burning down your kitchen, nothing all that significant happened. Somewhere down the line, at about 3 am, half-way through a cheesy rom-com you had the overwhelming urge to text Corpse.

That’s where the problems really started. God, you missed California, missed being in the same timezone with a guy you hadn’t even met yet, how embarrassing is that?! You missed skating around and taking pictures of the beach in the setting sun, sending it to him, silently wishing he was with you to admire the view.

You really want to call him. And to hang out with him. But for some reason, the thought of that springs up immediate anxiety and you shy away from asking. Him sending you cute good morning texts doesn’t help, either. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t know that you’re a blushing, stuttering mess each time you read “baby”.

Late evening. Your stream is already set up, people are slowly trickling in and you greet them with a grin and a soft “Hello! Hi hi!”. You did your best to make your room a perfectly chaotic backdrop - led lights, an embarrassing amount of anime merch and plushies. You always try to balance out your weeb side by dressing hot as fuck for your streams - today’s inspiration just so happens to be egirls. Mostly because you watched one too many egirl make-up tutorials on TikTok, and also because you’ve been listening to Corpse’s song all day.

Yeah, no, who are you kidding, you dressed up this way because you were hoping Corpse was watching your stream. You didn’t forget your cat headphones, either. You know he likes them. You want to make him suffer. Perhaps then, finally, he will ask you out, so you wouldn’t have to.

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“I feel like,” You start when you put away your phone, staring idly at the chat, “I feel like I need a new name for you guys. Calling you guys after two years of streaming is just... weird, no? I also don’t respect men so I don’t want to call you guys. Like, so many creator’s have, like, a name for their fans. Uhm, Cody Ko has the chodesters, Kurtis Conner has, uh, folks? Kurtis Town? Citizens! Markiplier has mommy issues--” You can’t help snorting, “So, I’ve been, like, thinking - I know, shocking! - so I was thinking I’m gonna name you cockroaches. Because you’re grimy little shits impossible to kill. And also then I can use the legendary Minaj meme ROACHES!”

Your stream enthusiastically echoes ROACHES, making the chat swim. Yes, if anyone would enjoy such a name, it would be your audience. You’re as equally proud as you are disturbed.

“Well, anyway.” Leaning back into your chair, you throw your arms out with a bright grin, “Big dick is back in town, baby! If you noticed the backdrops different, it’s cuz I’m in Brooklyn now. Don’t ask me when I will return to Always Sunny, I don’t plan that far ahead.”

While Minecraft boots up, you decide to answer a few questions.

r u dating sykkuno?

You want to smack your head into the keyboard, but as it is, you can’t exactly afford a new one, so you refrain, “No, Sykkuno and I are not dating, we are just good friends. Uhm, I’m not sure how much I’ll have to repeat this, but, we really aren’t, so if the roaches could chill - Oh my God, that sounds so stupid, I love it - uh, yeah, if the roaches could chill that’d be great.”

the roaches lmao sounds like we’re a sports team

“Oh shit, yeah it does, uh-- maybe I can make like, jerseys or something. That’d be cool, I think.”

how disappointed are your parents with the way your life turned out?

“My parents are actually not disappointed at all!” You say with a cute little smile, “Uhm, they’re both really proud, actually. They’re glad I found something I love doing and made a job outta it. Dad finds my Youtube videos endearing. Yes, they watch pretty much all of my videos, unless I explicitly tell them not to. And yeah, with all the fucks and thirsting for anime characters. Uhm, it was very embarrassing at first, but I mean, after a while, shame just...doesn’t exist anymore, I guess? Funny thing about my parents, actually, when they watch my videos-” You eye catches a comment, “Oh! No, they only watch my Youtube videos. They don’t know how to use Twitter, thank God. Uhm, anyway-- when they hear a name they don’t know, like, I dunno, Dabi, or something, they google--” You’re grinning by now, eyes crinkling, giggling softly, “--who that is, and buy me like, merch and stuff. It’s really cute.

can i be adopted by ur parents plz

will you and corpse ever collab?!

You were about to answer, though the man of the hour himself decides to do it for you.

Corpse_Husband: yes.

Okay, not to say your heart skipped a beat, but it totally did. With a pleased smile, you nod, like one of those bobble head toys sold at the dollar store. The motion is oddly reminiscent of Sykkuno’s own nod. Perhaps you had picked it up from him. The chat seems to notice.

pack it up, sykkuno

More questions pile about this mysterious collab you and Corpse are planning. Yeah, you’d like to hear more about it, too, since he single highhandedly decided one was happening right now. Corpse remains silent. Fine, keep your secrets.

“Okay, guys, oh, I mean, roaches, Oh my God--” You’re covering your mouth, giggling, “-calling all roaches, calling all roaches, calm down. Everyone grab a snack and a blanket I’m turning up the music volume so we can all chill. Entering chill zone. Entering chill zone. Roaches, prepare.”

we are prepared

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An hour or so passes and you grow hungry. It shows with the amount of cakes you had baked in your server. Currently, you find yourself throwing eggs at the wall of one of the renovated houses, your face scrunched in concentration and slight frustration. 24 of the 50 eggs have been wasted. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some chicks around here?” you had uttered under your breath, until, finally, a screech - the egg finally spawns a mob. Your mouth falls open, “Aww, look!” You approach it, so small, walking in zigzags beside you, “It’s a baby chicken! Die, bitch.” The baby chicken is no more as you swing your bedazzled (you have mods) diamond sword. You’re cackling by the time the dust settles.

y/n is a child murderer

“Roaches,” You address your fan-base, spurring another fit of laughter - you can’t get over the name, “I think I’m like, forgetting that eating in Minecraft won’t actually make less hungry in real life.”

take a break and go eat queen <3

“Fuck no, we starve and die like men. Now I actually really need another chicken.”

Another twenty minutes trickle by and you’re trying to lure back a panda from the jungle when there’s a knock on your bedroom’s door. Whipping your head to the side, you slide down your headphones. At the same time, your mom pokes her head through the ajar door, “MOM!” You scream, “Get OUT of my room I’m playing Minecraft!” But your yell has no actual bite to it, as you don’t manage to hide your smile. Your mom laughs, doing some sort of sign language and motioning for you to follow her with her head. That or it’s some sort of performative dance.

“I’m live right now,” You tell her, pointing at your screen. She knows this already, though, “do you want to say hi?”

The roaches spam the chat with friendly hellos. You mom, quite impatient now, waves you over.

“Sorry, roaches, mom needs something. Be back in a bit!”

Stopping the stream, you rush out of your seat and pleased she slinks into the hallway. “What’s this about?”

“Your pizza came.”

“My what now?” You echo, confused.

“Domino’s. You ordered pizza?”

“What? No? I was busy with the stream, I never--”

Thankfully, you had managed to grab your phone from your room before you exited. You almost choke on spit once you read the messages.

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You decide that it’ll be impossible to stream after experiencing what you had just experienced. You tweet out a quick apology to the roaches (God, that fucking name) and say that you had a breakdown but you’re okay. That is as a close to the truth as you managed to muster. It’s a sad sight, chewing and crying; your mom winced when she saw your state - disheveled hair and rundown eyeliner and everything. “D’aww,” She had muttered, caressing the top of your head, “don’t cry my little raccoon.”

If anyone was ever to ask you where did your chaotic nature come from, you’d answer with my mom. To make yourself feel better, you took a selfie - duck face and peace sign and the horrible 2000′s angle. Sent it to Rae.

looking hot, her message read.

thanks, was all you replied with.

You couldn’t just leave things as they were. Once you calmed down, you wanted to text Corpse, but how would you follow up the ungodly caps lock and screeching? Impossible. An idea sprung to mind, one that was brave. Taking the first step.

Instead of sending a text, you sent a voice memo.

“Thank you for the pizza, it was delicious.”

You voice still sounded a bit raspy. His reply was instant. Your heart skipped a beat. He sent a voice memo back.

“Glad you liked it, baby.”

He was going to be the death of you.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse social media au #corpse husband fanfic #social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse x y/n #corpse husband fic #reader #xreader #imagine #imagines #myso #make you say oh

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realcube · 4 years ago

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trying to be nice to their crush hcs

navi | masterlist | taglist

thank you to 🍦anon for this cute request!

characters: tsukishima, kyōtani, sakusa & suna

content warning: swearing & sexual references

kei tsukishima

♡ this is all yamaguchi’s fault （︶^︶）

♡ he found out tsukki had a crush on you bc he mentioned you a lot in conversation so yamaguchi interrogated him for answers then lo and behold, the beanpole had a lil thing for you

♡ you sit in front of tsukishima in homeroom while yamaguchi sits beside him so when you leaned back and asked him if you could borrow a pencil and he spat back a snarky remark about you being too irresponsible to care for your own pencils, yamaguchi hastily offered you one of his own before scolding tsukishima

♡ he explained to his clueless friend that being nasty to people isn’t a good way to get them to like you

♡ so perhaps he should be nicer :)

♡ honestly, tsukishima would’ve just looked yamaguchi straight in the eyes and went ‘no’, if it wasn’t for the fact you shot tadashi the sweetest smile anD PLAYFULLY BLEW HIM A KISS AFTER HE JUST GAVE YOU A DAMN PENCIL LIKE WTF

♡ after that, he decided to give up his current personality and pick up a new one

♡ jk jk

♡ but he had to binge a whole bunch of those youtube psychology videos that are like ‘psychological tricks to make people like you’ and ‘THESE 5 MIND TRICKS WILL MAKE YOU THE MOST POPULAR PERSON *EVER*’!!

♡ spoiler alert: he wasn’t the most popular person but perhaps that was bc he only went to the effort of using those tricks on you

♡ god bless him; he tries hard, he really does. (not his best, just hard)

♡ but you don’t have to be extremely observant to realise that he’s began acting different around you and of course, it confused you seeing tsukishima being nice

♡ what irritated you was how dismissive he was being of your questions though, as he was clearly trying to lead you to believe that you were crazy and he’s just always been a nice guy

♡ but as soon as he figures out that he angered you, he’ll instantly switch back to him normal self - draining his mind of the hours of phycology studying he did last night to just pretend like it never happened

♡ and if he’s feeling flirty, he might be extra mean to you （￣︶￣）

♡ also he makes a mental note to never take yamaguchi’s romance advice ever again 🙄

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you sighed, removing your hand from your bag after desperately rummaging through it in search of a pencil once again - deja vu. once you accepted that a pencil wasn’t going to materialise out of thin air, you peered over your shoulder and tapped the corner of yamaguchi’s desk, who wore a suspicious grin which you decided against questioning.

“yamaguchi, do you think i could borrow a pencil again? sorry, this is the last time, i swear. i’ll be sure to get some on my way home after school tod--”

yamaguchi dropped the line him and tsukishima had rehearsed many times beforehand, while clutching his pencilcase dear to his chest, “woah, (y/n). you’re so irresponsible. sorry, i can’t lend one of my pristine pencils to someone who is too forgetful to remember to buy some; what if you forget to return it to me?”

tsukishima cringed at how forced it sounded but he couldn’t help but admire yamaguchi's dedication to his role. this allowed tsukishima to swoop in, pencil in hand, “here.” that wasn’t in the script but he panicked! okay, now, eye contact.

you just sat there and stared at both of them with the most dumbfounded look plastered on your face. what just happened? why were they both acting like they were in drama class? and why are they both so bad at acting? they’re both passing performing arts for fucks’ sake!

kentarō kyōtani

♡ sorry but i firmly believe kyōtani is the sorta guy to be extra mean to ppl he fancies smh

♡ the rest of them just act (somewhat) like themselves around their crush but kyōtani is himself2 (himself^2)

♡ like one time yahaba found you trembling in your locker bc you had gotten mud on mad dog’s white shoes so he chased you through the hallways of the school, threatening to trek mud on your forehead

♡ yahaba took it upon himself to investigate as to why kyōtani was so rude to you and he got his answer as soon as he mentioned your name to mad dog and the boy’s face immediately flushed red

♡ so after practise, yahaba schools mad dog on how to get chicks (⌐■_■)

♡ in short, his advice was ‘good guys get laid’ and for kyōtani’s understanding, ‘good’ and ‘kind’ were interchangeable

♡ mad dog wasn’t completely oblivious to how he treated you and he was aware that he was far from ‘kind’

♡ although he usually doesn’t listen to people in general, yahaba seemed to know what he was talking about so he figured there was no harm in trying to be nice

♡ but ngl, he just spent the rest of the day wondering...what is kind?

♡ after a few messages back and forth with yahaba, he figured that the best place to start was by apologising for - y’know - chasing you around the whole school

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“oi!” kyōtani bellowed through hallway, paying no mind to the students that cast him dirty looks as his sights were locked on you. standing unsuspecting by your locker, stuffing your textbooks into your bag until you heard his deep voice echo through the hall, to which you visibly perked up and began frantically looking around.

he marched towards you, hands in pockets and when you noticed him out of the corner of your eye, you were more than ready to drop all your shit and bolt away. but he didn’t let you as before you were able to take off on your heels, he grabbed your shoulder and spun you around to face him - then he noticed your hands raised in defence by your face and your head hung low.

his heart sank and his grip on your shoulder immediately softened, “i’m not gonna punch you, idiot.” he spat, rolling his eyes and gritting his teeth, trying to appear angry in hopes you’d mistake his light blush for pure rage.

“i just wanted to say that i felt bad for chasing you through the halls yesterday - you didn’t stand a chance so i guess it was a bit unfair.” he said, frowning as you replied with silence so the duty fell on him to fill it, “and i got the stain out, anyway so.”

more silence. lovely.

suddenly, he puffed his cheeks out as his eyes snapped to meet yours and he roared, “ARE YOU GONNA FUCKING SAY SOMETHING OR ARE YOU TOO BRAINDE-”

“are you wearing eyeliner?”

and that was the true story behind why you missed last period, because you and kyōtani had a 30 minute conversation about eyeliner and make-up, then he convinced you to skip the rest of class with him so he could buy you ramen as an apology gift.

so yeah, he figured that perhaps he should try being nice more often.

kiyoomi sakusa

♡ he didn’t need someone to tell him to be nicer, he’s just predisposed to attempt to show kindness to someone he is fond of

♡ in his mind, showing kindness, respect and stripping himself of all his personality = the only way to be desirable

♡ (ofc this takes place before he meets atsumu tho lol)

♡ so it’s not the realisation that’s the problem for him, it’s the execution

♡ like how is he supposed to be nice without either sounding creepy or condescending?

♡ *cut to sakusa practising in the bathroom mirror* ‘your hand looks- no-’ he scoffs, flicking cold water onto his face, ‘your hair looks cool- pretty- nice?’

♡ *camera pans to sakusa laying in bed, staring intently at the ceiling while imagining vivid and scarily detailed scenarios about ways he could mess up while talking to you*

♡ *camera zooms in on sakusa’s face as he manifests a nicer version of himself*

♡ he might - depending on how insecure he is - watch one of those psychology videos or read a wikihow for help

♡ but other than that, he independently tries to alter his personality in order to gain your favour bc..true love ?

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you smiled as a basketball rolled up to your feet during gym class, followed by the sound of someone approaching you and upon raising your gaze, your eyes met sakusa’s unmistakable black ones. his face hovered only a few inches away from yours due to the fact you had both reached down to pick up the ball at the same time.

he quickly pulled himself away, tucking the basketball under his elbow as he adjusted his mask so it properly covered his face to ensure that you didn’t see the light blush slowly spreading across his cheeks. he then proceeded to blurt out what he had been rehearsing for the past few nights, “oh, thank you, (y/n). your hair looks lovely today, by the way.”

you giggled, holding your hands firmly by your side to avoid fidgeting and making it obvious that his sudden comment flustered you, “thanks, sakusa. and, if we’re handing out compliments today, i didn’t know you were good at any sport other than volleyball but you’re doing surprisingly well at basketball.” you joked, your lips slowly curling into a cocky smirk, “though, i don’t think you’d stand a chance against my team.”

god, you’re such a tease. you make it so hard for him to be nice to you. so, of course, your comment returned his ability to utter almost every sarcastic comment that comes to mind - screw being likeable. “you think so?” he quirked a brow, tossing the ball onto your lap then pacing backwards, “go on, then.”

rintarō suna

♡ it was probably those tips on social media that told him he has to be nicer

♡ and plus he saw terushima get all the chicks and he was just sitting there like ‘where are my bitches at? 🥺’

♡ anyway, all the guys on social media that had girls lining up outside their door always had one thing in common: misogyny obnoxious personalities !!

♡ and his whole personality was a sacrifice suna was willing and ready to make for just a crumb of cooch 🤲

♡ though you weren’t exactly his crush yet, suna thought you were the best person to carry out this experiment with bc he heard through the grapevine that you had a crush on him so perhaps this would make you happy

♡ he didn’t prepare much beforehand though which he immediately regretted as soon as he approached you bc admittedly, his game plan of ‘be self-assured but friendly’ was a bit vague

♡ so he basically just had to bullshit through a whole, awkward conversation with you while wearing a forced ‘bold’ smirk which, in reality, looked as though he had just seen tiddies for the first time

♡ hardly self-assured or friendly

♡ also, the fact you thought he was playing a prank on you must’ve drastically altered the results of his experiment

♡ at one point he says something extremely stupid you’d just quit playing along and just blurt out ‘wtf is wrong with you today’

♡ to which he’d be like ‘ahaha, nuthin much bbg, how bout you?’

♡ THE EXPERIEMNT ISN’T OVER UNTIL HE SAYS IT’S OVER OKAy?!

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you rubbed your temples in order to soothe the throbbing headache suna gave you simply by existing. like yes, you had a crush on him 10 minutes ago - but that was before he came up to you and started acting like terushima on dodgy medication. “oh and your skin is glowing bab--”

“jesus christ, rintarō, shut up!” you cried, gripping the edge of your skirt to prevent your self from delivering a swift punch right to his stupid face. he’s seriously gotten on all your nerves at this point; firstly, by spamming your phone in the middle of the night asking for homework answers (accompanied by cursed memes) as he actually managed to wake you up. secondly, by acting so oblivious to the fact you clearly had a crush on him and now, this!

heat rose to his cheeks in embarrassment as his creepy smile instantly fell right back into his resting bitch face, “this isn’t working, is it?”

“what’s not working?”

suna scoffed, rolling his eyes - his façade having evidently disappeared. “this.” he sighed, looking around as if someone was going to save him before his eyes finally settled on you and he was reminded of what he wanted in the first place, his sparkle was rekindled for just a moment which caused him to blurt out, “just fuck me already, i’m not asking for much.”

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fleursdemeduse · 3 years ago

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Remembrance AU: Day and Night

I only have 5 more planned parts before the "main story" is completed.

Warnings: Mention of Death ; Unconsciousness ; Unrequited[?] Love

Words: 3.5k

Sometimes, it was amazing to you how lucky you had been.

You remembered how warm the air had been when you had found the flower field. The breeze drug the long grass into graceful waves and the different wildflowers swayed gently. Trees framed the field except for the large weeping cherry tree that sat upon a small hill. No other flowers grew on the hill, but you hadn’t thought anything of it. It was so quiet there, so serene. The air tasted sweet. It was like a scene from a storybook.

You had immediately hunted down Techno and took him away from his farming to see the spot. Back then, you hadn’t known each other for long, but you had felt so close to him already. It was like you had already known each other for all of the lifetimes he had talked about.

“Isn’t it gorgeous, Tech?” He grunted out a quiet “yeah” and you grinned up at him. Back then, during the war, he always wore his mask. The pig skull strapped tightly to his face hid his features, including his eyes, but you didn’t care. His voice usually had enough inflection for you to know his expression. You giggled as you sprinted forward, towards the giant tree in the middle. “Follow me! I wanna watch the clouds.”

He had relented. Your smile could have rivaled the beauty of the field in that moment, and he felt himself falling for you even deeper. He’d never tell you, though. Despite how often you could respawn, he wouldn’t let himself be with someone he could lose. And he very much could lose you. You could just not come back one of these times, you could hate him for the things he’s done, you could see how Wilbur looked at you and turn that damning smile onto him. He wouldn’t prevent you from being happy.

You sat with your back against the bark of the large tree, some of the light petals shaking loose and drifting slowly down around you. He would remember this moment forever.

He had laid next to you, his hair a brighter pink than the flowers above the two of you and spread in a halo around his head.

“What’s gonna happen when this is all over?” He thought it over, watching the clouds mimic the flowers in their sluggishness.

“We move on.” You nodded, stomach flipping at the way he said “we” and not “I”. That had to have been progress in your friendship, no?

You sat there quietly, contemplative, while he took in the coolness of the shade compared to how hot the area in the trees seemed to be. This was a spot Phil would have loved had he been around. He could imagine a small cottage nearby and the overgrown field turned into a garden. The voices agreed with this thought. There would be cakes and bonfires on summer nights. He’d bring you with him to visit. Would you like Phil? You two were similar in a lot of ways. Even in past lives, Phil had a fatherly streak for himself, Tommy and Wilbur. Sometimes Tubbo and Ranboo were included in that equation. When would the teen show up? This couldn’t have been a timeline without him. Everyone else was here and the hybrid knew you’d love the kid just like you did the other two. He hadn’t interacted with him much in other lives, but the kid was nice enough. Maybe you’d-

"I can braid your hair for you, if you want."

Your voice had broken through the voices that had idly whispered in his ears. He considered it for a moment, chat now becoming louder.

YES!!

Please don’t let them.

What kind of braid do they want to do?

Are they going to play with it too?

Don’t turn your back on them.

The mask would have to come off.

Why are they so nice to us?

Do it.

What if they did a french braid? That’d look nice.

Their hands look soft.

What if they pull our hair?

Let them do it. They’ll be so proud of themselves.

Technoblade sighed and moved his head to your lap. “I’m not moving any more. You can do what you wish. I’m gonna nap.”

Your smile was electric and he pressed his lips together to fight the urge to groan at the sight. He almost lost that fight when your fingers carded through his hair.

“Can I take off your mask?”

“No.” His answer was immediate. “Work around it.”

You pressed your lips together. “Can I unbuckle it, at least? I don’t want to pull.”

“Do what you want.” He closed his eyes, feeling you mess with the strap before carefully laying it over the side of the skull, careful to not dislodge it. The extra effort you took to make him comfortable made his heart flutter in his chest a bit more than it should have. Did you do this with anyone else in their tiny rebellion? He had noticed Tommy had been walking around with a small braid framing his face lately and he had seen Wilbur with one pinned back in his hair when he removed his beanie a while back. Were they your doing? It was his turn, then.

He craved your touch more than he should have. It was much softer than his own and the contrast wasn’t something he experienced often. He enjoyed the fleeting touches you experimented with on him as you tested his boundaries. The random hugs you gave him when you were happy and forgot yourself for a moment. The times when you’d unconsciously touch his arm while you two talked. The friendly bumps when you two walked. He was happy to be your friend.

“Have you ever thought about how much worse our lives would be without each other?”

He took a moment to think the question over.

“Well, I figure mine would have been about the same. I’ve spent plenty of them without you before, so it’d have just been another to add on.” Your hands paused in his hair and the hybrid opened an eye to watch your lips tilted into a frown. He had never liked that expression on you.

“I suppose that’s fair.”

“I think having you in mine now is pretty nice.” The sentence left his lips before he could stop it. It was too sentimental for him. He wasn’t one to speak before thinking, but the way you lit up at his outburst made him happy he had too.

“I think having you in mine is pretty nice too, Tech.” Your nails ran lightly over his temple as you pulled hair back into the mess you were currently trying to tame it into.

“I’m not a dog, [y/n].”

“I never said you were.”

“Then stop scratchin’ me like one.” You laughed and he huffed proudly at the sound. “I do like spendin’ time with you, though.”

He heard you hum quietly, feeling the way his hair tugged as your fingers worked.

“You make everything quiet. Sometimes, I can see the past so clearly in my mind… it almost feels like it’s real and happenin’ again. But it isn’t. Only now is real. And when I’m with you, even the voices will occasionally take a break.” He watched the way your lips fell to a soft “o” shape. He sighed, feeling like if he didn’t go on, you’d say something contrary to him. He didn’t spill his guts like this. Not literally or metaphorically. But something about you made him want to go on and on. “You have this special power over everyone. It’s amazin’. I didn’t even know what to think when we met. I was ready to move on and never see you again, but you kept persisting. You just trusted this violent stranger who can’t handle social situations, and I’m here tryin’ to figure out what I’m supposed to do when I can’t even trust my own mind.”

Your laughter felt like you punched him in the gut and he turned his head to look up at you. Your smile didn’t look mocking, and when your amusement faded, the curve of your lips remained untaunting.

“You just trust me back, Tech. I don’t have any special powers aside from not being able to stay dead.” He felt your hand grip his arm and squeeze lightly. “I’m not going anywhere either. You’re right. I’m relentless. You’re not gonna get rid of me unless you tell me you want me gone.”

His heart felt like it was in his throat.

“And honestly?” His breath caught for a moment at the look in your eyes as you gazed down at him. He felt so naked under it, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. “I could see the worst parts of you and still think you are the most beautiful person I've met.”

“Bold of you to say, considerin’ I’m wearin’ a mask.” He mumbled, heartbeat suddenly picking up and palpitating as if he were in battle. It felt like you really could see him, all of him, despite the covering. He didn’t feel like he had, or even could, hide anything from you. Every scar, every expression, every thought. You had taken his admittance of the voices in stride, even talked to them directly sometimes. You weren’t afraid to touch him, to be soft with him. If he could spend the rest of this timeline with you, even if this was the only one you were in, he’d feel full.

Your smile wavered when you watched Techno reach up as if to remove his mask.

“What are you doing?”

“Showing you some of the worst parts of me.” He sat up, moving the item to his lap, before looking back at you. Seeing you unfiltered by the mask was a whole new experience. It was like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. His heart began skipping every other beat. What did you think of his face? Tommy, Tubbo and Wilbur had seen it plenty of times, remembered it in other lifetimes when he did have a humanoid face, but this was your first time.

The grin that pulled your lips bigger slightly alleviated his worries, though. And you reached forward, touching his face like you had Tommy’s a hundred times while whispering a quiet “Wow” he didn’t know if he should have been flattered by. He let you trace your fingers over the scar over his nose and brush your thumb over his lower lip before you pulled his mouth open. You examined his slightly-sharper teeth with a fascination he didn’t know felt more clinical or childlike. Your expression turned oddly serious.

“I was wrong.” His veins suddenly felt like ice as you pulled your hand away. “You’re no person, Tech. You’re a god and I am lucky to be in your presence.”

The ice melted just as quickly as it had formed and his cheeks suddenly felt like they were aflame. He had been called that hundreds of times, but the way it rolled off your tongue sounded like reverence. He swallowed and looked away. You were wrong about having no power over him as well. You shouldn’t have been able to play with his emotions as easily as you did. “You’re cruel, [y/n].”

He smirked at the sound of your scoff as you feigned indignation before turning back to you. He watched your eyes widen before you reached for his face once more. He let you.

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen you smile.”

He prayed you thought his was as brilliant as yours.

Being close to others was a good thing, wasn’t it? Even if you didn’t share any memories with them, you’d still be there for them, no matter what.

Tommy had crawled into your bed once more while you slept. He had done so plenty of times during the revolution until L’Manburg had been won back. Now, he had his own house he could sleep comfortably in. But he had a key to your house. So as long as he locked the front door whenever he snuck in, when the mattress dipped at his weight, you would always peel open an eye before pulling the covers up for him to crawl under. You would never be upset with him about breaking in just to cuddle and eventually fall asleep. You would never mention it after the fact either. He didn’t need to be embarrassed in front of the others and face the taunts from not being able to sleep properly when he was alone. He just needed comfort sometimes. The blond was, after all, still a child just swept up in all of this.

You curled around him, his gangly limbs tucked into his chest awkwardly as you tried to give him the most paternal embrace possible. You didn’t press him for details like you used to, just tucked the golden braid you had weaved into his shaggy hair behind his ear and smile sleepily at him in hopes he would smile back.

He wouldn’t, but you never expected him to.

“Hey Toms?” He hummed in response, looking at the part of the pillow tucked under your throat. “Did I ever tell you the story about how the moon did the sun’s work every night because he loved her so much?”

“No.” His voice cracked, but you ignored it, choosing instead to roll onto your back to look at the stars through your skylight. You felt him do the same.

“Well, when the sun found the moon, it had just been happenstance. He was drinking tea under the large cherry tree in his garden and she was so tired. She had not stopped working. Day was the only thing anyone knew. Her light and warmth were so abundant, she was barely hanging on from the exhaustion it exerted on her. And so she collapsed in his garden, unconscious. He brought her into the shade of his tree and the world darkened. Plants and people died in the absence of light more than they had before. However, when she woke up and when they locked eyes, the world finally felt like it was spinning. He had been so kind to her. How could she not love him? But she kept it from him. She visited everyday and they would share tea and talk for hours. She sat just outside of the tree’s shade despite how tired it made her.”

You watched Tommy turn his head to watch you speak from the corner of your eye.

“Eventually he asked her “Why do you come everyday when you look so tired? Why don’t you rest?”. “Because I cannot. I must cast light onto my children and help them grow.” She replied. “Why do you never leave the shade of your tree?” He laughed at her question. “Because I cannot. The light is too bright and I will disappear.” She took his answer and they moved on.”

The blond listened to the voices you used for each character, slowly closing his eyes.

“One day, when she collapsed again, she was still conscious when the moon stepped out of his shade once more to rescue her. The world lightened once more, but only dimly. He reflected her warmth onto everything. It was a soft light and the people marveled at his beauty. He decided then he would take on half of her work when they had tea because he too loved her, but kept it to himself. And from then on, whenever she would visit for tea, he would sit outside of the comfort of his cherry tree, and she would perch herself under it and let him show his brightness to the world. And they were happy.”

You looked back at him, trying to not giggle at how sleepy he looked.

“Tha’s a lame story.” He quietly slurred and you shrugged your shoulders a little, rolling back over to face him fully.

“I think Phil would disagree.”

“Phil?”

“Yep. That’s his favorite story.” He pouted a little and your chest warmed at how childlike he looked.

“Then I think…” His voice was becoming softer, trailing off. “I think it’ll be mine too.”

You listened to his breathing soften before evening out completely and you’d fall back asleep.

People trusted you so much and you didn’t know what you did to deserve it.

The pendent was cold in your hands.

A silver heron stared up at you with a lone emerald eye and you prayed it wasn’t made from the same friendship emerald that Technoblade had gifted him with.

“I got that from a friend a long time ago. His child, Love, actually had it for a while when his mother passed, but when his kid suffered the same fate, Psarocolius gave it to me. Said it was bad luck or something.” You snorted and rolled your eyes.

“Wow, Phil. What an amazing gift.” Your sarcasm was palatable. He bopped the top of your head with a gentle chop of his hand.

“Shut. It’s a way to reach out to Kristin.” You had been complaining to him about how left out you felt whenever everyone else was talking about their previous lives, hoping the older man would have some good advice for you. “That’s why Psar’s wife and kid died. There was no other way.”

“So your wife just killed them off? How cold.” He shook his head.

“Nah, mate. They asked her to. She still feels awful about it.” You paused for a moment.

“But isn’t that technically your job now?” You watched the way his lips curled into a smile.

“I do it so I can see her more often. It gets tiring doing everything, you know.” You definitely knew. “But talk to her about it. See what the deal is.”

You snickered at the thought.

“It can’t be that easy.”

“It is.”

Now, in the heat of her presence, the pendent was even colder.

“Hey, [y/n]. I was wondering when you were going to come around.” You swallowed, a little overwhelmed.

“You were expecting me?”

“Well, not exactly. But you were probably going to want to talk to me eventually.” She arched a manicured eyebrow at you. Was every god this beautiful? “Now, why did-”

“Why don’t I have any past lives?” You watched how her eyes widened for a moment, stunned, before her pink lips parted as she laughed. It was warm, motherly enough to match Philza’s naturally fatherly one, and so lovely to listen to. She rested a hand on your cheek when it slowly quieted and you were faced with looking into her eyes that looked like they held every answer in the universe. You felt a little dumb for asking it straight out and floundered to recover. To explain yourself. “I don’t have any to remember. I want to have them, to share memories with everyone else.”

There was a slow build at the front of your brain.

“Well, who’s to say you don’t?”

The pressure continued growing. Your head ached in the worst way possible.

“Minds are weird. Sometimes you just shove things down and make yourself forget.”

You suddenly thought of a servant who tended to a woman you didn’t know. Images of things that had happened or might have flickered through your mind. Possibilities playing in loops. You remembered watching heroes save the city and the zombie apocalypse starting countless times. Your skull felt like it was splitting.

“All you need is a nudge in the right direction, and memories will just come back.”

There was laughter with Drista and Kristin herself. Stories on a computer screen. Childish fights echoing over a Discord call while you watched on in silence. First love, second love, third. Faces that weren’t yours smiling wide back at you. Mellohi playing softly in the background as hands you had seen countless times before cooked dinner.

“It hurts so much. Why does it hurt so much? I just want it to stop.” Kristin pet your hair with her other hand. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes and she shushed you.

You saw different versions of Techno’s sweet smiles. You felt the varied intensities of Wilbur’s stares, warm and cold. You savoured the several kinds of laughs Tommy shared with everyone around him. Would you ever experience any of them again? You would. You had to. Techno was your best friend, Tommy your little brother, Ghostbur your companion. You could not abandon them when you promised to always come back.

Your vision blurred black around the edges as stars danced across your eyes. You suddenly felt so very weak.

The goddess of life and death’s voice was muffled in your ears as your hearing slowly faded. The heron necklace slipped from your grip, but the sound of it hitting the ground didn’t reach you. Neither did the crash of your fall. Her words echoed around you as you lost consciousness.

“You’ll be okay.”

It was only a matter of time before you found out why.

#RemembranceAU #dsmp au #dream smp au #dsmp x reader #dream smp x reader #technoblade x reader #tommyinnit x reader #platonic!tommyinnit x reader #philza x mumza #mcyt x reader #unrequited feelings #tw: death #tw: unconsciousness

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just-come-baek · 4 years ago

Text

body rhythm

Pairing: Taeyong x reader | mentions of Seulgi x Irene | mentions of Johnny x almost everybody

Themes: smut | fluff | dance!au

Word count: 14.8k

Summary: Taeyong and Seulgi participate in a nationwide dance competition. However, due to unfortunate scheduling, she has to drop out of it, suggesting you, out of all people, fill in. Taeyong isn't pleased with how things manage to fall out of place, but he is in no position to be whiny about it. For him, it's either learn to work with you or lose yet another time to his arch-enemy.

A/N it's my entry for song association event, I hope you like it, and also don't forget to check out other entries ^^ they must be all out by now lol

“Are you ready?” Johnny inquired as he set his fourth coffee of the day on his desk and plopped onto the swivel chair in a cubicle next to mine. It was a really long day at work, and we both had trouble sitting through the end of it. Heaving a deep sigh, I looked at the pile of documents that required my attention, groaning before I sprawled across my workspace.

“I thought it’s canceled tonight,” I spoke as I looked at my wristwatch, wincing when I realized there was still one more hour until Johnny and I could finally clock out.

A few months ago, our lovely firm, instead of giving us a well-deserved raise, had decided to provide us with a variety of extra activities. Though I’d rather get some monetary benefits, together with Johnny, we chose dance classes. Our company was paying for it, so we might’ve as well attended.

Ever since then, every Thursday, we would go to a dance class to sweat out all of the pent-up frustration. I didn’t have plenty of expectations, still bitter after the company’s decision, but the dance class turned out amazing. Seulgi was our teacher, and although she was a bit demanding, she was patient enough to teach us some sick moves. If that didn’t scream talent™, I had no idea what did.

“Well�� last week, she said she might be absent today, but I got a text from school that someone will fill in,” Johnny spoke matter-of-factly. I sighed, checking my phone, reading the same text message from the studio. I really didn’t have energy for dance classes, but there was no way Johnny would let me skip.

“Do you want to grab a drink after? I think I need one, or a few,” I proposed as I sat back in my chair, trying to let my eyes rest from the computer’s screen.

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Johnny asked rhetorically, smiling at me as if I just read his mind. It was almost Friday at this point, and we deserved a little treat.

Though it felt like an eternity, the clock finally struck 5 p.m., letting us leave our claustrophobic cubicles. Tomorrow we would come back for another dose of torture, but right now, we were free. Only for a few hours, though.

Quickly, I returned home to get my gym bag. Thankfully, I lived within walking distance from both – my office and the dance studio, so it wasn’t as troublesome to commute as it was for Johnny, who got stuck in traffic almost every day.

A few minutes before the dance class, I was already changed into my gym attire, waiting for Johnny. Though no one was texting me, I stared at my phone, furiously typing away. Moon Taeil, also known as my secret crush, was leaning against the wall on the other side of the corridor, and I tried every single trick my mind could come up with not to look desperate.

“At this point, he must think you hate him,” Johnny commented as he conjured in front of me out of nowhere. “You should hit on him instead of trying to bolt every time he approaches you,” he added, and I rolled my eyes at his yet another one shitty advice.

“Can you remind me why I don’t take dating advice from you?”

“Why are you attacking me? I just wanted to help. There’s no need to get so aggressive,” Johnny defended his case, not really answering my question. Johnny was a self-proclaimed love expert, but to me, he was more of a pathological playboy. Either way, he seemed to understand the secrets of flirtation to pick up girls whenever he set his mind to it.

“I am just trying not to be obvious,” I commented, stealing a glance at Taeil. It was a silly crush, and though Johnny encouraged me to go for it, I never decided to act on my feelings. Taeil probably didn’t feel this way about me, so remaining idle actually saved me embarrassment after an inevitable rejection.

“Speaking of which, I figured out why Seulgi is so resistant to my charms,” Johnny announced proudly, and I raised my eyebrow, waiting for the big reveal. Everybody in our group knew that Johnny was attracted to Seulgi, but every time he tried to approach her, she would brush him off.

“By figured out, you mean you stalked her, right?” I commented when Johnny handed me his phone, showing me Seulgi’s profile. According to what Johnny dug out in social media, Seulgi was getting married to Irene – her girlfriend of five years. “Huh,” I mused as I gave him back his phone, trying not to laugh at him. Seulgi was already madly in love with someone else, no wonder she could resist his charm.

“Call it whatever you want,” Johnny started, putting his phone away. “Just don’t hold me down when FBI finally recruits me for my impeccable detective skills,” he argued, and I laughed as I imagined him leaving our lovely company. That would be a shame; I couldn’t imagine anyone else sitting in the cubicle next to mine.

“The room should be open,” someone hollered, mentioning for us to open the doors and get inside. I had seen him a few times around the school, so I deduced he must’ve been our substitute teacher today.

Once everybody took their spot on the dance floor, the man cleared his throat. “Hello everybody, my name is Taeyong. Together with Seulgi, we run this school, and I hope we will have a lot of fun today with new choreography,” he announced politely with a practiced professionalism. Perhaps Taeyong didn’t seem as cool as Seulgi, but we had to give him a chance to prove us wrong.

Taeyong was intimidating. I wouldn’t want to be left alone with him. When he showed us a few moves, he was immensely focused on delivering one hundred percent. It was impressive and admirable, but at the same, Taeyong gave off a scary fierce aura. Though he was a great dancer and teacher, Seulgi was just better.

“I think I have a heart attack,” I panted, gasping for air. The new choreography required lots of jumping, and I didn’t expect so much cardio today. I wasn’t out of shape; however, after dancing to Taeyong’s choreography, I had some doubts.

“We should’ve skipped,” Johnny commented, bending over with his palms on his knees, supporting his huge body. Taeyong’s dance routine was too much for us, and we weren’t the only people struggling to breathe. Thankfully, next week Seulgi would be back.

***

“You’re not gonna believe this,” Johnny announced, craning his neck to look inside my cubicle. Heaving a sigh, I put my pen down, giving him my full attention.

This better be good.

“What is it? Who are you stalking this time?” I inquired, giving him the attitude. Johnny was spending too much time on his phone during working hours, but I couldn’t really frown upon it because I often caught myself doing the same thing.

“First of all, I thought we agreed to call it researching, not stalking,” Johnny clarified, and I rolled my eyes. “And second of all, it’s Seulgi. She and the other guy from the dance studio qualified for some dance competition. Check this out,” Johnny explained, handing me his phone.

Seulgi and Taeyong rocked the stage. Though I had nothing to compare their performance to, they just oozed charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and talent. Without any shred of doubt, they would make it to the grand finale.

“Wow,” I mused, not sure how to appropriately respond. I was happy for their success; after all, their performance was broadcasted during prime time on national television. At this point, Seulgi and Taeyong were celebrities.

“I can’t wait for today’s class,” Johnny added in excitement, hiding his phone away inside the pocket of his jacket. “I have to congratulate her.”

“Them. You have to congratulate them,” I corrected Johnny as he seemed to forget about Seulgi’s dance partner. It wasn’t a solo competition, so both Seulgi and Taeyong deserved praise. “And as if you’ve forgotten, Seulgi is not and will never be interested in you. You gotta let this one go, man,” I added, hoping Johnny would stop his relentless flirting with Seulgi. Though it was funny at the beginning, it was evident Seulgi would appreciate it if he stopped.

“I am all over her. Trust me,” Johnny reassured me, and I let out a shallow sigh, wanting to believe him. “Do you know Wendy from the HR department? I think I’m gonna ask her out. I am all over Seulgi,” he added, and it actually convinced me. Although Johnny didn’t seek anything serious at this point in his life, and when something didn’t go according to his plan, he would shake it off and forget all about it.

“Ok, I believe you,” I said, giving him a genuine smile. “Oh, and I was thinking… how about some beer and chicken after dance classes today? I’ve been craving them the whole day,” I offered, and Johnny enthusiastically nodded. It did sound like a solid plan.

Thankfully, this week Seulgi was back, and everybody appreciated it. Taeyong was a great teacher, but we were a group of beginners, and it was difficult for us to follow his routine. We just weren’t ready for such complex choreography.

Everybody had so much fun today. At first, we practiced some old routines, working on synchronization. Later on, Seulgi taught us a few new moves, which I recognized from her television performance. Admittedly, they weren’t as difficult as they looked. Maybe it was a little bold of me, but I was thinking I was doing a pretty good job today.

At the very end of the class, Johnny delivered a dramatic congratulatory speech, making people laugh out of utter cringe. It was a nice gesture, and Seulgi’s embarrassment was adorable. She would cover her blushed cheeks and turn around, hoping the ground could swallow her up. In all honesty, it seemed to be the only way to shut up Johnny.

Just when we were about to be dismissed, I heard someone calling my name. Surprisingly, it was Seulgi. She must’ve wanted to discuss something with me. Damn it, was she going to scold me for not improving? Or was it because I sat half of the song out? I just needed a short break; I had no idea it would get me in trouble.

“I am sorry,” I apologized even though I wasn’t sure what for yet. Seulgi would enlighten me in a second, so I cleared my throat to apologize to her once again. However, when she giggled instead of yelling at me, I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” Johnny hollered before he strolled out of the practice room.

“Am I in trouble?” I asked, and Seulgi smiled, shaking her head.

Great, it was a relief.

“Actually, I may sound crazy to you,” she started, fidgeting a little. It was strange, Seulgi was a strong and confident woman, but right now, she seemed rather bashful. “Would you like to participate in a dance competition?”

Her question took me aback.

“What?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around the topic.

“Let me explain,” she offered, and I reluctantly nodded.

By the look on her face, I could tell it wasn’t going to be a quick chit-chat. Seulgi had a lot of things to explain, so we decided to sit on the floor before she began her speech.

Patiently, I listened to everything she wanted to tell me.

Seulgi and Taeyong wanted to participate in a dance competition ever since they had decided to open up a dance school together. Last week they really thought they were going to achieve their dream. Unfortunately, as soon as they qualified and received the schedule, complications started to follow.

Maybe it was a little bit overconfident of them to think they’d make it to the finals, but it still made them anxious. Regardless of their talent, they wouldn’t be able to perform in the grand finale. Apparently, on the very same day, Seulgi was getting married.

At first, I wanted to interject that they could reschedule, but Seulgi beat me to it.

“It would be the third time we reschedule it, and I just can’t let that happen. I don’t want Irene to think I prioritize dancing over her. She means the world to me, and I’d quit a thousand times to get married to her,” Seulgi confessed, and I tried my best to contain my feels. There was something raw and pure about Seulgi’s love, and it moved me.

Seulgi’s proposition was genius in its simplicity. Together with Taeyong, she would perform, climbing up the rankings. And if by any chance, they would make it to the final round; she wanted me to fill in. Given I had been dancing at their studio for about four months I couldn’t comprehend why she chose me.

I was a rookie, for crying out loud!

Finding a substitute dancer made a lot of sense, actually. Instead of dropping out, they could find a replacement. This way, Taeyong could still make his dream come true. And next year, together with Seulgi, they could try to defend the title.

However, once again, Seulgi read my mind and answered my question before I voiced my doubts. She must’ve really thought this through before approaching me. It seemed she had rehearsed all possible inquires and came up with perfect answers.

“All of our dancer friends either compete against us or failed during qualifications,” she declared, and I hummed in response. “Unfortunately, people who already attempted joining can’t fill in for other dancers.”

“That sucks,” I commented, and Seulgi dryly chuckled.

“I think you would be a perfect fit,” she started, and I held my breath, wanting to hear what made her think I’d be able to rise to the challenge. “Everybody can memorize moves, but you have a natural passion for dancing. I can see it in class. Maybe you can’t see it yet because dancing is a hobby to you more than anything else, but I can tell you have the it™ factor.”

I was speechless. Seulgi, the dance prodigy, was praising my dancing skills. I couldn’t believe my ears. What kind of self-indulgent dream was it? Why couldn’t I dream like a normal person? I had tendency to toot my own horn sometimes, but it was just too much.

“I bet with proper training, you and Taeyong could win.”

“Let me think about it, okay?”

“Sure, of course! No pressure!” Seulgi replied enthusiastically, giving me enough space to clear my mind and think about it.

“See you next week.” I waved at her, exiting the dance room. Absentmindedly, I changed out of the gym clothes and walked out of the building, almost walking past Johnny.

“Hey, what did Seulgi want?” Johnny asked, grabbing my wrist, pulling me out of trance.

“She wants me to dance in her place if she and Taeyong ever make it to the finals.”

“What?!”

***

At first, I was hesitant about this whole thing. I wasn’t a professional dancer, and I really didn’t want to contribute to them losing the competition. However, Seulgi really made a point that they would have to drop out anyway, so in some twisted way, my participation gave them a slimmer of hope for victory.

Once I explained everything to Johnny, he really insisted I should help them out, spitting nonsense about fame and recognition and how I couldn’t doubt myself and just go with the flow. Opportunities like this rarely occurred, and I ought to welcome them with excitement.

So I did.

Every Saturday and Sunday, I dropped by the dance studio for practice. Taeyong still intimidated me, but I could deal with it. Seulgi was always around me to nag him whenever he demanded too much from me. They balanced each other very well, and it was fun working with them. Even though each practice left me with sore muscled, I was still excited. It was tangible proof I was improving.

Seulgi and Taeyong smoothly went through the contest, winning each battle with ease, slowly climbing in the ranking. There was still plenty of work until the grand finale, but everything looked they were to make it to the very top.

Unfortunately, the closer to the D-day, the less time Seulgi had to help us during practice. With her wedding coming up, she had a lot of preparations to deal with. As a result, Taeyong and I had to practice the dance routine on our own.

“No, you’re doing it all wrong,” Taeyong yelled in irritation when for the nth time, I turned to my right instead of my left. “Do it again; five, six, seven, eight,” he added, playing the song from the very beginning.

To say I was frustrated was an understatement of the century. I was aware that Taeyong really wanted to win the competition, but he didn’t have to be a dick about it. With no Seulgi to supervise him, he was unbearable.

“I think I need a break,” I declared once I turned to the wrong side again before Taeyong managed to scold me for it. Even though he shouted something again, I ignored it. With a deep sigh, I walked over to my gym bag to get my water bottle.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Taeyong asked, staring down at me with his arms folded across his chest, his demeanor dominant. His eyes were drilling holes in my head, his jaw was tightened – it was evident I was driving him up the wall. It was just a matter of seconds before Taeyong would snap, lashing out at me.

“I am taking a break,” I answered quickly, ignoring his angry stare. I was at my limit. If Taeyong didn’t back off, it would be the end of the practice for today. One more mean word and I’d storm out of the studio. I was here voluntarily. I was doing him a favor, and I didn’t deserve this type of treatment.

“Is it a joke to you?” Taeyong carried on, and I rolled my eyes. Of course, it wasn’t a joke to me. But at the same time, I was sick and tired of his shenanigans. I wanted him to win, but not when my mental health was on the line. He was pissing me off, and I wouldn’t let him walk all over me. “I thought you decided to help us out, but you’re not trying at all.”

He did not just say that.

“What?” I rhetorically asked, standing up, poking his chest with my forefinger. “I am trying my best here. You’re the one who makes it impossible to have fun dancing. You’re making it a chore, sucking all the fun out it.”

“Then tell me what I should do for you to finally make some progress? We’ve been stuck at this part for two weeks, and you still haven’t learned how to turn right!”

“Then go ahead and find someone else who can put up with your shit. I’m out,” I spoke, bending down to pick up my stuff, ready to leave the studio. Unfortunately, before I managed to exit the practice room, the doors opened, and Seulgi walked in with a confused expression on her face.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” She asked in worry, trying to put two and two together. It wouldn’t be the first time Taeyong and I argued, but it seemed to be the most intense one so far. It didn’t sit right with her. “Please don’t tell me you fought again.”

Briefly, I summarized what happened, and Seulgi looked down at Taeyong disapprovingly. I was glad Seulgi took my side; after all, she knew Taeyong could be too demanding.

“I am a dancer, but why does it feel I am a couple counselor? You two really have to learn how to work together when I’m not around,” she scolded us, making her point. If this whole arrangement was to work out, we both needed to establish some ground rules and learn how to put our differences aside. “I have an idea.”

Oh, no.

There was something mischievous in her tone, and I didn’t particularly like it.

“Let’s finish for today,” she proposed, and I smiled, thinking it was a great idea. Taeyong and I needed some time to chill, and calling it a day seemed like an appropriate way to do it. “Let’s go out clubbing instead!” Seulgi added cheerfully, clapping her hands in excitement.

“What?” Taeyong and I asked in unison, a bit surprised by Seulgi’s statement.

“That’s my prescription for the two of you,” she started, and I rolled my eyes. Taeyong and I didn’t get along as well as she wished for us to, but it wasn’t that bad. We didn’t need to bond over a few drinks in a crowded club. We would do just fine if Taeyong learned to go easy on me. “I believe we all can benefit from clubbing.”

“How come?”

“First of all, it will remind Taeyong that dancing is about fun, not overworking oneself,” Seulgi spoke, and I hummed, agreeing with her. “Second of all, it’ll give you a chance to loosen up. Your moves are still a bit stiff during intimate parts of the choreography,” she added, and Taeyong nodded in agreement. “And I really need something to drink because wedding planning is stressful as fuck.”

Not even thirty minutes later, we were inside the club.

“It’s a very sensual song. And you two really have to work hard to convey emotions through your dance,” Seulgi started as she sipped her tropical cocktail. “You must feel comfortable around each other and just ooze longing and sexual attraction,” she added, and I almost choked on my drink.

Performing with Taeyong was going to be more difficult than I had anticipated. When Seulgi and Taeyong showed me the choreography, I was amazed. Absolutely blown away. The way their bodies moved in synchronization left me speechless, but at the same time, I was a little bit nervous because I didn’t see myself living up to their level.

I wouldn’t consider myself particularly sexy. It made me feel awkward when I thought how seductive the dance routine actually was. I wasn’t sure I could pull this off, but Taeyong still had a lot of time to teach me.

“Take her to the dance floor,” Seulgi elbowed Taeyong, almost spilling his drink. Unenthusiastically, Taeyong looked at me before standing up and extending his arm.

Drunken people were jumping around us to the rhythm, and I awkwardly swayed from side to side, staring at Taeyong. With godlike precision, he moved, getting lost in the music. One could tell straight away Taeyong was a professional dancer.

Upon noticing how stiff I was, Taeyong shook his head, yanking me against his lean body. “How about you take a five-minute break to get that stick out of your ass? You look like you have no joints,” he yelled into my ear, his breath tickling my sensitive skin.

“I’ve had too little alcohol,” I replied, but Taeyong wasn’t having it.

“When we perform on the stage, will you need alcohol to let loose too?” Taeyong challenged with a playful smirk, and I rolled my eyes, too prideful to admit he was right. I couldn’t participate in that competition drunk. We wouldn’t win if I wasn’t able to come out of my shell and show everybody I had a sensual bone in my body.

“No,” I yelled into Taeyong’s ear. “How do I let loose?” I asked, hoping to hear some words of wisdom from him.

“Mirror what I’m doing,” Taeyong guided, and I nodded, focused on my new task. I could do that. I had been mirroring Seulgi’s movements during our classes, and I was pretty good at doing it. I could copy Taeyong’s moves.

At first, Taeyong danced a few classic moves we usually did during our warm-up routine. It was easy, and I think I nailed it. Later, he wiggled his upper body, feeling the rhythm. With envy, I observed how his body executed every single move, owning it. I wish I was half as good as Taeyong. Next to him, I probably looked like a crippled kid.

Upon noticing my struggle, Taeyong began jumping around, throwing his hands in the air. He looked ridiculous, but I remained focused on my task, dancing as if I was his shadow. Our bizarre moves earned some attention from other people, but our eyes were trained on each other, slowly getting lost in our own bubble.

I was sober, and I was on my way to owning the dance floor. I couldn’t believe it was happening. Maybe Taeyong’s charisma overshadowed my poor attempts of showcasing mine; however, I was sure I made a big step in the right direction. Slowly, I was improving.

“How about we spice it up a little bit?” Taeyong shouted into my ear, and I cocked up my eyebrow, thinking what he meant by that. “Don’t be shy,” he added, yanking me against his body. Taeyong was so close I could feel his legs rub against mine. “Come on, sweetheart. Touch me, tease me, feel me up,” Taeyong snickered, getting on my nerves. Not only Taeyong was smug for no reason, but he also quoted the song, which I was slowly growing to hate.

Taeyong must’ve assumed I’d back out. Surely, he didn’t expect me to follow his instructions and actually run my hands across his chest, shoulders, and back while simultaneously swaying my hips, earning approving stares from impressed men on the dance floor. At first, he was surprised he talked me into it, but a second later, he smirked, resting his palms on my sides, slowly exploring the valley of my butt.

I had no idea I had it in me, but Taeyong helped me discover it. We were basically grinding against each other, and it somehow didn’t feel awkward at all. We were just two people having fun.

“I’m sorry I was so harsh on you,” Taeyong apologized, shouting in my ear. “I’m just stressful all the time, and I think I may sometimes take it out on you,” he added, and I looked at his face, which was dangerously close to mine.

“It’s understandable,” I replied as I wrapped my arms around Taeyong’s neck, finding it much more comfortable. Now with our bodies pressed together, it was easier to have a conversation. “I know how much you want to win this competition. I’ll try harder,” I promised, and Taeyong released a relieved chuckle.

Who would’ve thought an adult conversation would work better than shouting at each other?

“Thank you,” Taeyong spoke genuinely, and I pulled away, staring at his face. His eyes were trained on mine. No matter how many hours we had spent at the dance studio, his gaze still intimidated me sometimes.

“Ekhm, I need a break,” I said in a desperate need to break eye contact with him. The dance floor was crowded, and it was making me dizzy. I was getting dangerously hot, and it seemed like heaven to get back to our booth and finish our drinks.

“Of course, you need a break,” Taeyong teased, sending me a lopsided smirk. “It’s okay, though. We still have plenty of time to work on your stamina,” he added as he grabbed my hand, leading me out of the crowd. Carefully, we zigzagged around drunken people, trying to make it safely to Seulgi.

Unfortunately, by the bar counter, someone walked into Taeyong, almost knocking him down.

“I’m very sorry,” a man shouted, but I could sense the words weren’t genuine.

“Doyoung,” Taeyong spoke, gritting his teeth, staring at the other man. Taeyong’s grip tightened around my hand. I figured he didn’t particularly like Doyoung.

“Taeyong,” Doyoung sighed, checking Taeyong out from head to toe before his gaze shifted to me. There was something spiteful about his lingering eyes, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. For sure, there was some bad blood between two men, and I suddenly felt an urge to know more. Inquisitiveness got the best of me.

Taeyong and Doyoung kept glaring at each other almost as if it was a competition. The tension was so intense one could cut it with a knife. I cleared my throat in a poor attempt to break their stare contest, but they didn’t even acknowledge my presence.

“I saw your last performance,” Doyoung finally spoke, scoffing. “You’re getting out of it, and here I expected to kick your ass in the finale. I wouldn’t be surprised if you and your partner got eliminated next week.”

I thought I had seen Taeyong furious, but right now, I was proven wrong. The way he looked at me whenever I was a handful during our practice was nothing compared to the way he glared at Doyoung. Taeyong was scary, and I decided to not get on his wrong side ever again.

“I’d gladly kick your ass here, but I’d rather wait for the finale. You know what people say about prolonged gratification,” Taeyong talked back, and I gasped, trying to comprehend what I just heard. Taeyong was getting cocky, and it made me nervous. I was already stressed about the possibility of performing, and he just added more pressure on my shoulders.

“We’ll see about that,” Doyoung replied, focusing his scrutinizing gaze on me. “But I have to say I kinda look forward to seeing you cry again. The way I beat you the last time was spectacular.”

“Let’s go, Taeyong. Don’t waste your breath on him. He’s not worth it,” I exclaimed, pulling Taeyong’s hand, reminding him I was there the whole time. I couldn’t listen to Doyoung talk trash about Taeyong. If Taeyong wasn’t going to walk away by himself, I had to intervene and pull him aside. Doyoung was provoking him.

“And who is that?” Doyoung asked in a mocking tone, displeased by the way I looked at him. Though I didn’t know the back story, I took Taeyong’s side. At least, Taeyong didn’t try to humiliate his rival, while Doyoung had already tried a few tricks to tick Taeyong off.

“You’re right,” Taeyong said, looking at me. It was evident he was holding himself back, trying his best not to take the bait. “Let’s go,” he added, pulling me away from Doyoung.

“Who was that?” I asked as we approached our booth. Unfortunately, I didn’t get my response. Upon arrival, we noticed that Seulgi was sprawled on the table, giggling to herself.

“Is she always like this?” I inquired, concerned about how drunk Seulgi got in such a short amount of time. We were gone for thirty minutes tops, and she was barely conscious after drinking her and our drinks.

“Aww… there you are… my dear friends,” she cooed cutely, trying to attack Taeyong with cuddles. She was adorable, but it was kind of irresponsible to drink by herself when we were on the dance floor. Thankfully, nothing happened. We returned just in time to collect her and escort her home.

“I can’t believe my plan worked,” Seulgi grinned, pointing her finger at Taeyong. “You no longer have a stick up your ass,” she exclaimed at Taeyong, too drunk to realize she should be talking to me. “And look at you! You were having fun!” Seulgi yelled, extending her arms to hug me. “I am so proud of you!”

“I should take her home,” Taeyong reasoned, considering it the safest option. He could call an Uber for Seulgi or just phone her fiancée to pick her up but bringing her home himself seemed to be the most rational solution. “Will you be alright by yourself?” He inquired, and I nodded right away. It was sweet of him to look after me too. Thankfully, I barely touched my cocktail; I could get home safely on my own.

“Don’t worry about me,” I replied casually, sending him a reassuring smile. “Just make sure Seulgi makes it home safe,” I added, warming up at the way Taeyong hauled up Seulgi, carefully leading her out of the club. It made me wonder if Johnny did the same to me. Probably. He wouldn’t be that gentle, though. If anything, he’d throw me over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. Or just drag me out like a corpse.

“Give me a call once you get back home,” Taeyong demanded before we parted ways.

***

“You went clubbing without me?” Johnny dramatically asked after I told him everything that happened on the weekend. Despite my detailed narration, it seemed as if that was the only thing he caught on to. “How could you?”

“Relax, dude,” I rolled my eyes, shuffling around my desk, getting ready for work. It was Monday morning – it was about time we start our gossip routine.

“And I was wondering… would you mind helping me researching this shady dude? There’s some conflict between him and Taeyong. And I need to know what happened,” I started, wondering if Johnny would cooperate with me and put his stalking abilities to good use.

I was too embarrassed to ask Taeyong about Doyoung. Besides, I had a hunch he would either brush me off or scold me.

“Do you know anything about this dude besides his name?” Johnny pulled out his phone, no questions asked. “Please, don’t tell me that’s the only thing you know.”

“I mean… he’s probably a dancer,” I added with a sheepish smile, making Johnny heave a deep sigh. “He must be a big deal, though. Apparently, Taeyong lost a competition to him.”

“I’ll try to find some dirt, but it may be difficult given how little info you gave me,” Johnny declared as he began his thorough research.

It took Johnny five minutes to find the correct Doyoung. It was remarkable. If it wasn’t enough for the FBI to hire him, I’d gladly present them a recommendation letter. Quickly, I opened Doyoung’s profile on my phone, scrolling through his feed.

At first glance, Doyoung seemed to be a regular bratty internet star with an overgrown ego. His follower count was impressive. Studying his profile, I learned a lot about him. Unfortunately, it had no value. There was nothing specific about his conflict with Taeyong.

“How was your date with Wendy?” I asked Johnny as I gave up on my research. Whatever was the root of their bad blood would have to remain a mystery.

“It was fine,” Johnny started, but I could tell he wasn’t entirely honest. His disappointed tone betrayed him. “She left before the waiter brought the dessert. Apparently, she didn’t particularly like when I kept calling her Wanda.”

“Ouch.”

“No hard feelings, though,” Johnny shrugged it off, trying to focus on the positive aspect of their terrible date. “At least, I’ve had two slices of cheesecake. Besides, I’m kind of into Sooyoung from the creative team now. I think she is the one.”

“Every girl you’re into is the one,” I interjected, rolling my eyes, done with his antics.

“Oh, by the way, I’ve forgotten,” Johnny chimed in, staring at me in excitement. “Taeil asked me about you,” he revealed, and I almost spat out my morning coffee.

“What?”

“Are you still into him, though?” Johnny inquired, rubbing his temple in deep thought. “I haven’t heard you gush about him these days,” he pinpointed, and I wondered if my crush on Taeil was still as intense as it was a few months ago.

Taeil was insanely hot. I kept drooling whenever I saw him operate the printer. It was inappropriate to check him out whenever he bent down to change the ink, but I couldn’t help myself. Or whenever we met by the vending machine.

Good old times.

Right now, though, I rarely caught myself thinking about him. At first, I thought it was due to a hectic schedule. I was either at work or at the dance studio or getting shit-faced with Johnny on another wild adventure with him and his friends.

It was difficult to comprehend how easily my crush faded into thin air. Taeil was still sexy as fuck, but while I appreciate his looks, I wasn’t daydreaming how to get into his pants. At this point, I was just admiring his attributes in the most nonsexual way imaginable.

Apparently, the lack of response on my part was everything Johnny needed to confirm his suspicion.

“So what? Are you into Taeyong now?” Johnny asked boldly, and now, I actually choked on my coffee, thinking I heard him wrong. How did he jump to that conclusion?

“What?”

“Don’t get me wrong, but it kinda looks like you’re into him,” Johnny commented, playing with a pen. “You talk about him all the time with lots of passion. I think there’s something going on between you two. Is he single?”

“I talk about him all the time because I live to complain, and recently he’s the sole reason why I gotta vent,” I defended, but Johnny didn’t seem convinced. “And I don’t know if he’s single. I don’t really care,” quickly, I rejected all accusations, but in all honesty, his words got me wondering.

Was I attracted to Taeyong?

Surely, Taeyong was ridiculously attractive. He danced well, too. Unfortunately, we didn’t click much. There was passion between us, but it wasn’t romantically stemmed. We just kept annoying each other. I wouldn’t consider it sexual. We were just getting on each other’s nerves often, unable to properly solve our differences.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey,” Johnny teased, and I fought the urge to throw the stapler at him. “I bet fifty bucks you’ve imagined him naked, fucking you dumb.”

What the fuck, John???

I did not imagine Taeyong naked!

Not until now, at least.

“I seriously hate you right now,” I complained, deciding it’s about time I focus on work.

***

After Johnny had planted naughty thoughts in my mind, each dance practice was unbearable. My mind was running wild, coming up with different scenarios involving Taeyong and me in intimate situations. It was wrong on so many levels, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop.

After months of practicing the dance routine, we decided it would be best to make some changes to the choreography. Though it was still sensual as hell, with our hands roaming each other’s bodies, we found it crucial to accentuate Taeyong’s talents.

It was a strategic plan. While typically male dancers helped the female dancers shine, we put a little twist to it. Though our performance was still pretty balanced, Taeyong had a few crucial parts of choreography, in which he would snatch everybody’s hearts.

Seulgi didn’t object to our strategy. Well… she was never there, to begin with. Seulgi was a ghost, never present during our practice, always busy doing some last-minute wedding prep.

“Let’s take a five,” Taeyong hollered as he turned off the music, sending us off to a short break. It sounded weird when it came out of his mouth, but I didn’t complain. We’ve been practicing nonstop for the past hour. At this point, I was panting.

Lying down onto the floor, I rested my head on my towel, reaching for my phone. Quickly, I unlocked it to see a series of notifications from Johnny. He had sent me a link to a video, telling me in all caps to watch it.

Having left the earphones in the locker room, I played the video quietly through my phone’s speaker. It was a short film with Doyoung. It must’ve been his performance from last year’s competition. Jamming to the music, I studied his moves.

Doyoung was really good. I mean… it wasn’t professional expertise, but I could tell he had talent. His body control was impeccable, his hip thrusts must’ve impregnated plenty of women in the audience, but his shoulder rolls were just otherworldly. Along with the female dancer, they showcased quite the performance. From the beginning to the very end, I couldn’t look away, failing to notice Taeyong approach me.

“What the hell are you doing?” Taeyong shouted, tearing my phone from my hand, double-checking what I was watching. “Why are you watching this?” He angrily asked, locking the device, wishing for it to stop playing music.

It was difficult to explain.

I couldn’t exactly tell Taeyong that I asked my best friend to do research on Doyoung in hopes of finding out what was the root of their conflict. Though we had never found anything substantial, Johnny would send me more footage to check out. However, regardless of how much stuff Johnny had provided me with, I was still clueless.

“Why are you shouting at me?” I spoke, biting on my bottom lip. I was in big trouble, so it was only logical to play dumb.

Taeyong stared down at me, demanding a genuine answer. His jaw was tensed, his knuckles around my phone turned white. It was just a meaningless clip, but it got him fuming at me. Regardless of what I’d tell him, he wouldn’t like the answer. I figured this much.

“Why were you watching that?” Taeyong yelled, raising his hand, almost smashing my phone against the floor. Thankfully, he held back and gently put it on my bag.

It was incredible how much the video affected Taeyong. The movie worked on Taeyong like a red rag to a bull. One moment he seemed fine, but once he figured out what I was watching, he snapped.

“You really want to know?” I challenged as I rose to my feet, staring at him. It was my turn to raise my voice. If he kept shouting at me, I was going to give him the same treatment. “Ever since that night at the club, I was curious. You were basically throwing daggers at each other, and I really wanted to know what happened between you two. You never bothered to explain it, and I didn’t want to push you.”

“Do you have your answers now?” Taeyong exclaimed, and I rolled my eyes, agitating him even more with my fed-up behavior. He was scary right now, but I refused to let him intimidate me. “Or do you want to read my diary too?!”

I resisted the temptation of saying yes to his offering. Taeyong wasn’t the type of person to write a dairy. He was exaggerating, but I didn’t want to provoke him further. At any mention of Doyoung’s name, wrath took control over Taeyong, turning him into his destructive self.

“If it makes you feel any better, I know shit about him,” I confessed, throwing my hands in the air. “I wanted to know what he did to you, but I came up with nothing. And believe it or not, the way he treated you that night made me worry. You’re my dance partner, and I care about you a lot, and it really hurt me seeing you in distress,” I spat, not thinking about consequences. I was talking without filter, probably spilling too much information.

My verbal diarrhea confused Taeyong. His huge eyes were staring at me in astonishment. He was studying my expression, wondering if everything I said was true. Oh, no! My reckless words made him uncomfortable. He must’ve grown to hate now.

In embarrassment, I looked down at my shoes. I felt terrible, and I needed to come up with something clever to say to save my dignity and ease the tension. However, before I managed to voice my sincere apology, I felt Taeyong’s hands cup my cheeks as he surged forward and kissed my breath away. It was sudden, but I reciprocated the kiss in an instant.

Stress, anxiety, anger, sexual frustration, and probably many other factors led us to this very moment. I had been daydreaming about Taeyong’s mouth on mine for a while now. And when it finally happened, I eagerly swept my tongue across his lips, deepening the kiss. Though I had tried my best to withstand the tension between us, I wasn’t oblivious to it.

Taeyong already knew almost every inch of my body, so his hands naturally began roaming across my skin. Moaning into the kiss, he held me closer, keeping me pressed against him.

“Taeyong,” I breathed out as I pulled away, only for Taeyong to smash his lips against mine again, successfully shushing me. This time around, the kiss was even more passionate, making my knees weak. In a rush, Taeyong pushed me against the wall, pushing his thigh between my legs. “We shouldn’t,” I spoke, but my tone wasn’t convincing at all. I wasn’t even sure who I was trying to convince that it was a bad idea.

“Shut up,” Taeyong demanded as he tilted his face, sucking on my bottom lip. His hands were on my butt, kneading my flesh, trying to make me moan into his mouth. In all honesty, it worked. Maybe, I whimpered incoherent sounds, but it’s was just a poor attempt to encourage him to keep kissing me.

Regardless of how much he was to gift me, I needed more. I wasn’t going to stop until I’d take everything Taeyong was willing to give.

I craned my neck to the side, and Taeyong quickly caught on, leaving a wet trail down my neck. His lips were delicate, careful not to leave a mark, while his hips were grinding against me, letting me feel how stiff he already was.

“Legs,” Taeyong ordered, gently slapping my thigh. Obediently, I spread my legs apart, letting his hand cup my sex. It was ridiculous how horny he was making me. Once his raspy voice echoed in my ears, I fulfilled his wish, waiting for another command in excitement.

“Please,” I begged, needing more of him. Whatever he planned on doing to me, I needed it now. Whether he was to tease me with his beautiful fingers or fuck me raw with his cock, he better do it now.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he whispered against my skin, pressing feather-like kisses along my collarbone. His touch was driving me insane. His hands were everywhere but where I wanted them the most. This type of teasing should be illegal.

It was more than I could take, so I took matters into my own hands. I could play this game, too. With a mischievous smirk upon my face, I hooked my forefinger under the band of his tracksuit bottoms. Unfortunately, Taeyong quickly swept my hand away.

“You’re such a bad girl,” Taeyong commented before he captured my lips again, sliding his tongue into my mouth, knowing I’d talk back to him. “You have to do everything your way. Would it kill you if you listened to me at least once?” Taeyong muttered, staring into my eyes.

Yes, I was a brat. Taeyong wanted me to submit to him, and I would do it eventually, but not before I’d tease him first. What was fun in that?

“Don’t answer that,” he added, and I rolled my eyes. Though we barely hung out outside the dance studio, Taeyong learned a lot about me. Having an answer to everything was one of those things he had the pleasure of discovering.

“Just fuck me, please,” I said nicely, staring into his eyes, hoping it would be enough to make him cave. “I can’t take it any longer,” I added, rubbing my loins against his restrained cock, making him let out a guttural moan.

My plan was working. Slowly, Taeyong was giving in, probably taking his time to think about the consequences of letting me experience instant gratification. Orgasm would’ve been sweeter if he made me wait a bit more, but it was difficult for him to control his urges.

Without any doubt, Taeyong wanted to bury his cock inside of me as much as I wanted him to fuck me dumb. We withstood so many practices without jumping at each other – I should consider it foreplay.

“Fine, but I’m gonna eat you out first,” Taeyong spoke, and I almost lost it by just imagining his jaw going between my thighs. Swiftly, he knelt in front of me, pulling my leggings down to my ankles in one fluid motion. Having kicked off my gym shoes, I wiggled the fabric off my feet, sending it flying across the dance studio.

Taeyong ran his fingers across my panties, inspecting how soaked they already were. With a smirk upon Taeyong’s face, he pressed a chaste kiss against my skin above the waistband before he yanked the undergarment down.

“Beautiful,” he said under his breath before he surged his face, taking my clit between his gorgeous lips, making me tilt my head in pleasure. Frustration got me sensitive. Even the slightest touch got me purring in delight.

Taeyong licked and nipped at my entrance, and I run my hands through his hair, encouraging him to keep going. He flicked his tongue, and I buckled my hips, wanting more.

“I need your fingers,” I pleaded, looking down at him. Taeyong looked breathtaking, with my juices were dripping down his sharp jaw, with his lips turned into a satisfied smirk. He was proud of how he was making me feel. His glistening skin was the very evidence of his skillful moves. “Taeyong, please, I am so close.”

Though I didn’t expect him to, Taeyong listened to my humble request. His middle finger slid right it, making me purr in satisfaction. I could finally feel him inside of me, and it was heavenly. His palm moved quickly, working me up.

The first orgasm was building up. Taeyong was fucking me now with two fingers while his mouth was fiddling with my clit. If it wasn’t for Taeyong’s palm, holding me still, I’d buckle right into his face for more friction.

“I’m about to come,” I declared, shutting my eyes close. As tempting as it was to peek at the mirror on the other wall and check out the view of Taeyong eating me out, it was more than I could take. My instinct to squeeze my eyes shut and welcome the orgasm was too much.

Unfortunately, it didn’t happen.

Before tiny tingles of electricity could unite and explode, shooting through me like a lightning strike, Taeyong pulled away, denying me of my orgasm. It physically hurt when instead of a blissful peak, I felt nothing.

“What the fuck?” I barked angrily, ready to pull him by his hair against my sex and press him against me, so he could finish the job.

“We’re coming together, or we’re not coming at all,” Taeyong sternly replied, standing up. His lips were swollen from all the work he was doing, and they looked even more kissable.

“I’ve never pegged you for such a teaser,” I stated matter-of-factly, still a little bit butt-hurt over the way how smug he was about not letting me come first. Maybe I was a handful most of the time, but I didn’t do anything wrong to deserve such treatment.

“I’m not,” Taeyong chimed in, biting down on his lip. “There’s just something about you that makes me want to punish for your misbehavior,” he explained, and I got it where it came from. I wasn’t the best student he could work with. “Isn’t it the sweetest torture?” Taeyong challenged before he surged forward, smashing his lips against mine again, raising my thigh and giving it a gentle rub.

“Please, Taeyong, I need you inside of me,” I begged as I ground my sex against his rock-hard cock. I couldn’t comprehend how self-disciplined and patient he was; his budge was throbbing underneath his pants. It must’ve been painful for him, and he did all of that to teach me a lesson. “Fuck me, already.”

“Relax, sweetheart. I got you,” he softly spoke as he hoisted me up, pressing me tightly against the wall. “To be honest, I expected you to lose it sooner,” Taeyong added, and I hoped he was talking about my sanity. I endured more than enough; his teasing was too much.

“How should I fuck you?” Taeyong asked, looking around the practice room, seeking a perfect spot to stuff his cock inside of me. We didn’t have a lot of options, but I didn’t care. He could fuck me in the middle of the room, and I’d eagerly spread my legs for him. “Screw it,” he cursed, gently lowering me down onto the floor. “Do you mind?” Taeyong inquired, and I shook my head as I wrapped my legs around his hips, pressing him against me.

“Strip,” I ordered, and Taeyong smirked before he pulled his T-shirt over his head, revealing his lean physique. My eyes marveled at his beautiful shoulders and toned muscles. I had touched him more than I could count, but I never saw him bare, and when I finally did, I gawked.

“What about you, sweetheart? Come on, I am waiting,” Taeyong teased, and I took off my T-shirt. I was only in my sports bra, and Taeyong bit his lip, staring down at me, admiring my simple beauty. With no further comment, Taeyong leaned in, attacking my collarbone. It was hot how attentive he was, but right now, all I needed was his cock buried deep down my cunt.

Desperately, I reached to his sweatpants, palming his erection through the fabric. As soon as I touched him, Taeyong released a needy growl, rolling his hips into my hand, finally giving in to the pleasure. He lost his self-restraint, and now, he seriously needed to fill me up with his throbbing length.

“Take them off,” I breathed out, pulling by the hem of his pants. With a lowered head, Taeyong tsked before he yanked them down to his knees, wriggling out of them. Just as I expected, his cock urgently entailed my attention.

Though the thought of blowing him crossed my mind, I eventually decided not to entertain this idea too much. It was apparent Taeyong wanted to him inside of my pussy. I’d suck him dry on a different occasion. Hopefully, it would happen soon.

“Fuck me, Taeyong,” I moaned as I trembled when the tip of his cock brushed against my folds. I was embarrassingly sensitive after his ministrations, and he dared to tease me again. “Please,” I begged as I gave his length a few gentle strokes, aligning it with my entrance.

“Aaahh…” Taeyong growled, slowly pushing his dick inside of me. Inch by inch, he filled me up, stretching my walls. A lot of different sinful noises came out of his mouth as he began steadily thrusting his hips.

Taeyong’s stamina was no joke. It was hard to believe how long he could snap his hips without messing up his rhythm. His low voice mixed with my desperate moans echoed inside the room, creating a wicked symphony along with the sound of our sweaty bodies smashing against each other.

He was fucking me hard, and I was in seventh heaven. Taeyong was filling me up so good; I could come undone on his cock anytime.

“Taeyong,” I moaned his name as I watched him fuck me. Though it was hot to look at his cock disappear in my pussy, it was even sweeter to stare in the mirror. With my head turned to the side, I studied the whole picture how Taeyong was fucking me.

“I am coming,” I screamed as I felt the bliss approach. Taeyong was panting, struggling to maintain his tempo with the way my walls tightened around his sensitive cock. Once he hit my sweet spot, I was a goner. After a few thrusts, I came, digging my nails in his back.

“Fuck,” Taeyong cursed, shouting my name as he shot his load inside of me, collapsing on top of me. We were a breathless mess, our bodies sticking together, but neither of us minded. At this point, we were too spent to care. “You were incredible,” Taeyong whispered as he pulled out, rolling to the side.

“You weren’t that bad yourself,” I panted, giggling, still recovering from the mind-blowing orgasm. Thankfully, Taeyong didn’t pay much attention to my playful jab. “I meant it what I said,” I added, turning around to look at him.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Taeyong started, staring into my eyes, showing me his sincerity. “I just can’t help myself but get angry when I see him or hear about him,” he continued, and I nodded my head, letting him know I was willing to listen.

I didn’t expect that Taeyong would agree to vent to me, but when he did, I patiently heard him out. After all, I was pretty sure we were at least friends now.

“It all happened about a year ago. We were competing in the same contest, and he made my dance partner quit. Doyoung seduced her, toyed with her, and once the trophy was his, he dumped her. Because of him, I was disqualified, and she quit dance altogether.”

Listen to his story made me both sad and angry. Doyoung had been a dick to interfere like that – he must’ve known he hadn’t stood a chance against them in a fair fight. My blood was boiling in my veins as I put all the pieces together.

Sadness took over next. The way Doyoung had manipulated Taeyong’s dance partner was upsetting. The wound had been cut so deep, she couldn’t have forced herself to keep going. Doyoung had wrecked two lives, and it made my blood boil, too.

��We’re gonna beat him. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we do,” I spoke, reassuring him. It was impossible to tend the wounds, but the least I could do is help Taeyong win. For what he had done, Doyoung deserved punishment. If I were Taeyong, I’d not hesitate to beat him up.

“I hope so,” Taeyong muttered, reaching for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s still fine if we don’t. I’m pretty sure karma will get to him eventually,” he added with a sigh.

“I’ll work harder,” I declared, feeling an extra wave of determination wash through me. “I’ll try my best,” I said, and Taeyong smiled fondly, content to hear me say it.

“Thanks. It means a lot to me.”

For a while, we were staring at each other. It felt nice and somehow more intimate than all the fucking we had done. If we were in bed, I could do it all night. Unfortunately, we were still lying on the uncomfortable floor.

“Let’s get washed up before we get too sappy,” I added, trying to ease the tension. I really enjoyed it, but it was getting a little too much.

“I hope you don’t mind sharing the shower with me. You know… water bills are a bitch,” Taeyong spoke, and I giggled at his bullshit excuse, finding it incredibly cute, considering what we had been doing a few minutes ago.

“Of course they are,” I deadpanned, chuckling. Though his excuse was lame, I liked Taeyong enough to go with it. “Come on. Let’s go. I don’t want anyone to catch me naked.”

***

After that one time at the dance studio, Taeyong and I made it a regular thing. However, we kept it civilized. We wouldn’t jump each other’s bones in the open like animals like we had done the first time. Usually, we would go on small kind-of-dates, which consisted of picking up food, going to my or his place, and then rolling in the sheets.

We were having lots of fun. It was a perfect way to de-stress. After all, the finale was this Saturday, and we were nervous as hell. In all honesty, I was still scared, but these orgasms were numbing my anxiety.

“I think that’s it,” Taeyong spoke, and I smiled brightly, unable to contain my joy. It was the first time Taeyong ever approved of our performance. Most of the time, he was nitpicking, complaining about the slightest mistake, but finally, he was satisfied with it.

I was ecstatic; I never expected to live up to Taeyong’s approval. Through hard work and persistence, I managed to earn his eulogy.

“What should we do now? How about we order some food?” I asked, feeling in a celebratory mood. Maybe it was a little bit too early to drink to this small success, but it’s still worth a shot.

“We should do it again. We should dance it flawlessly at least a couple of hundred consecutive times before celebrating,” Taeyong seriously replied, and I rolled my eyes. Despite his painstaking nature, a couple of hundred times, it was a bit too much. Even for him. “Don’t give me that look. Let’s start again; five, six, seven, eight.”

Though usually, I’d complain and try to force him into a five-minute break, right now, I was oddly energized. We were dancing for the past two hours, and I was panting out of exhaustion. Nevertheless, the thoughts of finally mastering the choreography kept me going.

“I’m pretty good at this,” I confidently commented while roaming my hands across Taeyong’s shoulders before he twirled me around to the rhythm. I could tell that Taeyong was just waiting for an excuse to pause the music and scold me for making a mistake. However, much to his dismay, I executed every move impeccably. “I had a pretty good teacher,” I added, stroking his ego. The D-day was approaching, and Taeyong obviously needed an extra boost of confidence.

“I must admit you were a piece of work. I have no idea what kind of sorcery is this,” Taeyong teased, staring into my eyes. We had practiced the routine plenty of times; we could probably perform it in blindfolds and not make a single mistake. “I must be a magician or something.”

“Don’t push it,” I warned him in a very non-threatening tone, making him smirk. “But it’s only partially your success. Seulgi told me I have the it™ factor,” I proudly said, cracking Taeyong up, messing the choreography. “Is it a student-has-become-the-master kind of moment?” I asked, laughing at Taeyong. For the dance prodigy, he was getting distracted way too easily. It was suspicious.

With a broad smile upon his face, Taeyong grabbed my wrists, making me look at him.

“How about we finish up for today? I have a surprise for you,” Taeyong said, and I cocked my eyebrows, biting my bottom lip. “Not that kind of surprise,” he added, rolling his eyes at me. “We might get it on later, though.”

“What kind of surprise then?”

“Wait a second,” Taeyong spoke, quickly jogging out of the practice room. In a minute, he was back with a garment bag in his hands. “Here, that’s for you. Seulgi came in the morning to drop it off for you,” he explained, and I pulled down the zipper. It was going to be my costume for the contest, and I was curious how it looked.

I was speechless. At first, I thought it was a joke. I wouldn’t be able to perform in that. However, the more I looked at it, the more sense it made. It was a simple white suit shirt, but when mixed with a leather body harness, high-waisted shorts, and boots, it fitted the concept beautifully.

“Do you like it? I thought it was too revealing, but Seulgi insisted you would look amazing in it. I mean… it fits the mood, but if you’re not comfortable with it, we still have some time to find something else,” Taeyong blabbered, and my heart swelled. It was very sweet of him to consider my comfort above anything else.

“It’s skimpy, but it’s fine. I like it,” I replied, having no idea where my confidence was coming from. A few months ago, I’d be anxious to even try it on in the confines of my bedroom. However, now I was planning on showing a lot of skin on national television during prime hours on the weekend. I must’ve gone insane.

“Do you want to try it on?” Taeyong challenged, pulling the hangers out of the bag.

“You mean… here?!”

“Come on, it wouldn’t be the first time you took off your clothes in the middle of the practice room,” Taeyong concluded, smiling at me mischievously.

“Pass,” I firmly rejected his dare, even though it felt tempting. “It’s not fun when I’m doing it alone,” I added, and Taeyong grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, more than ready to discard his clothes in a blink of an eye. “Don’t fool around,” I warned him, placing my hand over his before he managed to take his T-shirt off.

“You’re right. Let’s go to my place first,” Taeyong agreed, zipping the bag before he grabbed my hand, leading me out of the practice room.

***

On the day of the performance, I woke up with a terrible stomach ache. No matter how much fantastic sex Taeyong and I had, I was not mentally prepared to perform in front of the whole nation. I felt sick, almost as if my body was telling me to quit before I’d embarrass myself on national television. Stress was eating me from the inside.

“What are you doing up so early? Let’s go back to bed,” Taeyong purred in his raspy morning voice as he sneaked his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. “You need to be rested before the performance. Trust me, you don’t want a camera to catch you yawning,” he added, nuzzling his nose in the crook of my neck, breathing hot air against my skin.

“Thanks for giving me one more thing to stress about,” I deadpanned, heaving a deep sigh, staring at the ceiling. It was a mistake. I should have never agreed to Seulgi’s proposition in the first place. What the hell was I thinking? “I think it’s a bad idea. We should quit.”

Taeyong wasn’t in the mood for my nagging so early in the morning; he was having none of it. “You’re being ridiculous. We’ve practiced so much. We’re gonna win it with ease,” he declared, pressing a featherlike kiss against my jaw. “But for real,” he added, climbing on top of me, trapping me between his thighs, “we’re going to win. And even if we don’t, it’s fine. Really, if somehow we lose to Doyoung and his partner, I’ll just punch him backstage.”

“How can you say that?” I said with a sigh, running my hands across his thighs, finding it rather calming. “I know you said we should rest, but how about…” I trailed, and Taeyong smiled before eagerly capturing my lips, reading me like an open book.

“Say no more,” Taeyong whispered before his hands traveled under my shirt.

Unfortunately, Taeyong’s phone started buzzing on the nightstand before he managed to pull my panties down. With a groan, he extended his arm, staring at the screen.

“It’s Seulgi.”

“What are you waiting for? It’s her wedding day. Pick it up,” I yelled at him as I fell on the pillow, admiring his handsome face when he was talking to Seulgi.

“Please, not you, too,” he barked, rubbing his face in annoyance. Though I barely could make out what she was saying, I figured this much Seulgi and I were suffering from the same stress-fuelled illness. It was her wedding day, after all. Even if it was obvious she loved Irene with a burning passion, she wasn’t immune to pre-wedding anxiety.

Seulgi was talking her stress away, and Taeyong just hummed and nodded his head, registering her words. For some reason, the pressure didn’t seem to bother Taeyong at all. It was weird, but at least he was the voice of reason, which could help me and Seulgi cope.

“Breath in, breath out,” Taeyong spoke when Seulgi made a pause long enough for him to interject. “I know it’s a big deal, but there’s nothing to worry about. You’re getting married to Irene. You love her so much,” Taeyong reminded her, winking at me, expecting Seulgi to end the call soon. “Everybody’s a little nervous; it’s completely normal.”

It was beautiful how close Taeyong and Seulgi were. They had each other’s backs in all types of situations.

About ten minutes later, Seulgi finally calmed down. Taeyong’s reassuring words swept the anxiety away, and she was more than ready to get married to the love of her life.

Once Seulgi hung up, Taeyong threw his phone on the bed and secured my legs around his hips before he leaned forward, giving me a quick kiss. “Seulgi says hi, by the way,” he added, sneaking his hand under the hem of my panties.

“What?”

“What do you mean what?” Taeyong looked down at me, creasing his eyebrows in confusion.

“She knows?” I yelled, unable to comprehend how, on Earth, Seulgi figured out I was in Taeyong’s bed. She couldn’t know. She wasn’t even there when our romance bloomed. “How?”

“Yeah, is it a bad thing, though? You didn’t want to fuck me in secret, did you?” Taeyong challenged, not really answering my inquiry. Did Seulgi figure it out on her own? Or did Taeyong told her about us? And, the biggest question mark was: what were we to begin with? “Seulgi must have some sort of sixth sense. She was bothering me about the sexual tension between us since day one of your training.”

“I wouldn’t call it sexual tension per se, but there was something going on,” I replied, reminiscing how rocky our beginning was. “But I think we were interrupted…” I reminded him, and Taeyong with a playful smirk on his face dived right between my thighs.

***

The streaming should begin at 8 p.m., but we had to arrive before 5 p.m., so the make-up artists and stylists could prepare us for the performance. Sitting in that chair and waiting for all pampering to be over with was stressful as fuck. I tried to preoccupy myself with an idea of Taeyong, but whenever someone threw a question in my direction, I was being pulled out of my train of happy thoughts.

I wanted to get on the stage and be done with it. Unfortunately, whoever funded that contest didn’t think of the mental health of its participants when making today’s schedule.

Punctually, the show began its transmission at 8 o’clock. However, at the very beginning, the MC had to introduce all sponsors. Going through them took him about twenty minutes. Then, they interviewed some of the eliminated dancers, asking them questions either about their experience in the competition or simply who they thought would win.

Later, they decided to rewind the contestants’ moments in the show. At first, they showed Doyoung and his partner, and a few experts analyzed their performance, wondering what the odds of them winning were.

When the host announced the rewind of Taeyong’s and Seulgi’s stages, the jury only talked about the sudden switch up, confirming it was the first time it ever happened in the grand finale. It startled a lot of people why would Seulgi drop out, but Taeyong explained it in a brief interview.

“It was a crazy coincidence, but Seulgi couldn’t participate today because she is getting married today,” Taeyong revealed, and the audience cooed loudly, obviously supporting her choice. “I was stressed at first, but Seulgi found an amazing dancer to take her spot. She really chose well,” he added, and I looked at him, trying not to cry in front of everyone.

It was almost impossible to fish out a compliment from Taeyong during practice, but right now, he did it on his own accord, melting my heart with his words.

“Everybody is dying to know more about your partner,” the MC started, shifting his attention to me. I didn’t particularly like to be put in the spotlight, but before I managed to spit some nonsense, Taeyong butt in, rescuing the day.

“Although she doesn’t have much experience in dance competitions, I think she’s a great dancer. To think of it, she is my secret weapon,” Taeyong added, and I almost ran into his arms, feeling too overwhelmed by his speech.

“Alright then, let’s see what you got after a short commercial break,” the MC cheerfully announced before I bolted out of the stage as I felt the stress crept into my head.

“Calm down,” Taeyong softly spoke as he approached me, holding my hand, drawing circles with his thumb. “You’ve got this. Just focus on me,” he added, flashing me a reassuring smile before kissing my knuckles.

“Awww… isn’t it adorable?” Someone snickered, and I didn’t need to turn my head around to know it was Doyoung. He was like a venomous snake, trying to sneak into our subconscious and make us even more anxious. It couldn’t be fair play.

“Buzz off,” I barked as I didn’t want to let him tick Taeyong off. Taeyong was my safety pin, and I didn’t want him to go full rage on Doyoung. Their backstage battle would make it to the news, but I’d rather prevent it from happening.

“With Seulgi on your arm, I was giving you a five percent chance of winning,” Doyoung started, ignoring my warning. “Now, when she’s gone, I won’t even have fun beating you on the stage,” he added, and I almost surged forward to punch him. If it wasn’t for Taeyong, who held me in my place, I’d definitely rearranged Doyoung’s face.

“Don’t let him get into your head,” Taeyong whispered into my ear, and I nodded my head, sighing. Then, it struck me. Doyoung’s motive wasn’t to mess with Taeyong but with me. He knew I was the weakest link, and he wanted to guarantee his victory by making me doubt myself. His words rung in my head, but one look at Taeyong helped me relax. We had practiced it a thousand times; there was not a chance I would make a mistake.

“Come on. Let’s go. They’re calling us out,” Taeyong mused, pulling me towards the stage.

The silence filled the auditorium when we got on the stage, taking our respective places. I stole a glance at Taeyong – he was mouthing words of encouragement seconds before the MC announced our performance.

I can hear it callin'

Loving the way you wanna talk

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

Callin', something in the way you wanna talk

On two sides of the stage, we moved to the rhythm, telling the story of two strangers lusting over each other from afar. With hunger in our eyes, we tried to seduce each other with sharp movements, showcasing our attributes.

You got me sayin', you got me sayin'

How you doing? Tell me what's your name (Ey, tell me what's your name?)

What's your sign? Feeling like you are into me

Taeyong ran up to me like a man enchanted by the siren’s voice, rolling his body against mine. It was his moment to shine; everybody’s eyes were on him as he owned the stage with his overflowing charisma.

Baby, we're two distant strangers

I know you don't speak my language

But I love the way she's talking to me (Talking to me)

I can hear it callin' from where you are

Loving the way you wanna talk

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

It was a classic game of cat and mouse. Though our bodies were so close to each other, we moved in perfect synchronization, careful not to brush against each other. The chemistry between us was undeniable, and the feeling of yearning was visible from the very last row.

Max, max, max, we can have it all (To the max)

If you back, back, back, back, back it up (Back it, back it)I'll take you where you wanna, got the gas in the tank (Wow)

If you really wanna make it last (Git, git, git)

Finally, as the song slowly progressed to the end, we were showing intense frustration. We were portraying two individuals, yearning for intimate contact, who were hastily losing their minds over uncontrollable passion.

I can hear it callin' from where you are (Callin', woo)

Loving the way you wanna talk (Love the way you talk)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up (Yeah, yeah)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

The song was to end soon. The last chorus rolled in – it was our cue. After all teasing, we finally made the connection, ready to combust out of raw craze. After three minutes of painful longing, we were to reach completion.

I can hear it callin' from where you are (Callin', woo)

Loving the way you wanna talk (Love the way you talk)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up (Yeah, yeah)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

It was all or nothing. We were finally together, touching each other with fervor. The audience was eating our performance up – particularly when Taeyong showcased his flexibility and body control.

Tell me how you like it babe (How you)

I don't even know your name (How you, ey)

I love the way you're talking to me

It was finally time to finish our performance with a bang; we needed to show something spectacular, something Doyoung wouldn’t ever think about. As the singer began the last verse, it was my cue to run into Taeyong’s embrace. The second the last syllable rolled of the singer’s tongue, Taeyong caught me in his arms, and the lights went out to add a dramatic twist to our performance.

For a while, the audience was silent. However, a few seconds later, they roared in excitement, clapping loudly, showing how much they enjoyed our stage.

The MC was congratulating us, but I was too thrilled to register his words. I still couldn’t believe I performed on national television and didn’t trip and smash my face.

I had no idea how I found myself backstage, but there was a high chance Taeyong led me off the stage. I was too overwhelmed to do it on my own.

I even forgot that Johnny, together with Yeri – the love of his week, had backstage passes. I only remembered that when he wrapped his arms around me in a bear hug, congratulating me.

“You gotta quit that office job and start dancing professionally,” Johnny ordered, and I smiled, glad that he enjoyed my performance. “We both gotta quit. You’ll be dancing, and I’ll be a badass FBI agent.”

“You two were great,” Yeri politely said when Johnny let me go. “Thank you so much for letting me backstage.”

“No problem,” Taeyong replied as he grabbed my shaking hands. “Are you okay?” He asked, cupping my face, making me look at him. “You rocked the stage,” he added before he leaned forward to peck my lips.

Ignoring Johnny’s perplexed expression, I wrapped my arms around Taeyong in a comfortable hug. I hadn’t suitably introduced Johnny to the concept of me dating Taeyong, but hopefully, our interaction got the message across.

Emotions were slowly fading away, but I still needed Taeyong’s support. I was a rookie, and I had no experience with this type of stress. Something was calming about Taeyong’s aura; I couldn’t pinpoint what exactly, but I wasn’t going to question it.

“Anticipation is killing me,” I muttered against his skin. “Can he already go on that fucking stage?” I yelled, wondering why Doyoung’s performance didn’t start yet. I knew the MC was building up tension, but it was too much for me to handle.

“We could always skip,” Taeyong casually spoke, and I pulled away to look at him. What the hell was he talking about? I hadn’t agreed to help him out, so we didn’t wait until the end. “If we lose, we lose. If we win, your friend can accept the prize, can’t he?”

“Are you insane?”

“Maybe a little bit,” he answered with a bright smile, brushing stray hair off my forehead. “I just want to know the result already so we can go to Seulgi’s wedding and congratulate them,” he added, and I nodded my head. Though we couldn’t participate during the ceremony, the least we could do was to show up ridiculously late to the reception.

“Can they hurry the fuck up now?” I craned my neck, trying to find Doyoung and his partner. They were arguing about something right behind the curtain. Everything seemed they weren’t in the right headspace.

“I don’t think I want to see their performance,” Taeyong whispered, tightening his grasp on my waist. “How about a quickie in the dressing room? What do you say?” He proposed, and I smacked him, telling him to behave. It was tempting, but we really shouldn’t. I wouldn’t walk up that stage with messed-up post-sex hair.

“Get a grip,” I added, gently elbowing him. “Let’s just hit the snack table. I am hungry,” I spoke, pulling him away when the MC invited Doyoung and his dance partner onto the stage.

While munching on snacks, we stared at each other fondly. In some weird way, we were helping each other cope with anticipation and stress. Though it was tempting to check out their performance, we decided it was for the better if we didn’t.

They performed to “Hips Don’t Lie,” and it was almost impossible to turn my head around to check out Doyoung’s sick moves. Having considered all the videos I had seen of him, I was sure he looked gorgeous.

“What about a little peek?” Taeyong questioned, unable to control his urge to see his rival’s performance. “I thought I could endure it, but I can’t,” he added, and I nodded, giving in. Instantly, we ran to the nearest screen to watch their stage.

It was everything I imagined. Their moves were executed with precision and grace, but entertainment-wise, I was bored. They had the skills, but something about the general concept didn’t fulfill my expectations.

No matter how great of a dancer Doyoung was, he just could not pull this song off as the original artist did. Regardless of how hard he swayed his hips, it just didn’t live up to its potential. Though I wasn’t educated enough to give an honest review, it felt meh.

The audience in the studio whistled and shouted once they finished their performance, giving them a round of applause. With genuine smiles, Doyoung and his partner bowed before they ran off the stage.

Now, only thirty minutes of aggressive advertising, and we would know the winner.

“Is it too late to agree to that quickie?”

“You should’ve said so earlier,” Taeyong answered with an innocent smile as he reached to hold my hand. “The best I can do is cuddles,” he added, leading me to the couch, letting me rest my head on his shoulder. “It feels nice.”

“It does, but it doesn’t take my mind off things like a quickie would.”

“Don’t even try. I am not going on that stage with a boner in my pants,” Taeyong warned, peeling my hand off his thigh, pressing a delicate kiss against my knuckles.

Though it wasn’t as preoccupying as sex, it was still nice. And most importantly, it took our minds off the unbearable anticipation. A staff member actually needed to gently shake Taeyong’s shoulder to remind us that the MC was calling us to the stage.

Taeyong’s hand didn’t leave mine once we were waiting for the big reveal. It was fine if we lost. Next year, Seulgi and Taeyong would definitely make it to the top.

When the MC announced the winner, a few confetti bombs exploded. The audience roared in excitement, but I had no clue what was going on. Uncertainty was over – one of us won.

Stress, anticipation, and anxiety slowed down my reactions. However, I figured it would be weird if Taeyong picked me up and spun me around in his arms if we lost. It could only mean one thing – we did it.

We won.

Taeyong’s acceptance speech was short and simple. He thanked everyone who succored him discover his passion for dancing, who supported him throughout his dream, who directly helped him get this far, and me.

When I was handed the microphone for the first time that evening, I basically rephrased Taeyong words. Maybe it wasn’t my dream, but it felt damn good to assist Taeyong in achieving his. It was a bumpy road, but overall, it was all worth it.

The MC handed me a statue after shaking my hand, congratulating me once more. Taeyong, on the other hand, was gifted a huge check for 20 thousand dollars.

“Let’s go,” Taeyong whispered to me, running off the stage with me.

***

It was shortly before midnight when the Uber parked in front of the hotel where Seulgi’s and Irene’s reception took place. It was beautifully decorated with lights and flowers, making it look like a magical castle.

Though the security didn’t want to grant entrance, one of Seulgi’s aunts recognized Taeyong and told the man to let us in. She was nice enough to help us out, but she still found some time to glance disapprovingly at my stage costume. I wouldn’t be surprised if she gossiped to her entire family I was a prostitute.

As soon as we walked into the ballroom, Seulgi noticed us. She was sitting by the table, eating the wedding cake with Irene. In an instant, she rose from her chair and ran up to us, throwing herself on Taeyong’s neck.

“You won! I knew it!” She shouted as she gave Taeyong a bone-crushing hug. “Irene and I sneaked out for a while to watch your performance. You smashed them,” Seulgi added before she turned to me, congratulating me too.

“You were amazing,” Irene approached us, sending a polite smile. Unlike Seulgi, Irene was much calmer and collected.

“You are finally married,” Taeyong spoke, beaming. “You better have everything recorded. I gotta know every embarrassing thing that I missed,” he added in a teasing manner, earning a playful jab from Seulgi. “I bet you cried during your vows.”

“Congratulations,” I chimed in, breaking their friendly banter before it properly started. It was Seulgi’s wedding day, after all.

After we caught up, Seulgi and Irene walked off to the dance floor, leaving us by the table alone. For a while, we admired them. They looked absolutely stunning in their white suits, dancing, basking in happiness.

“Do you know where the gifts are held?” I inquired suddenly, looking around.

“Why? Did you have time to get them anything?” Taeyong asked before he stuffed his mouth with a chocolate glazed strawberry. “Or are you thinking of stealing some?”

“I just want to give them my part of the prize,” I started, making Taeyong choke on the fruit. “Seulgi’s the rightful winner, and I think it’s only right.”

“Are you sure? It’s a lot of money.”

“Yeah, I know, but I really want to do that,” I replied, fiddling with my fingers. “I don’t need this money, so I want to give it to her.”

“You’re so hot right now,” Taeyong said, making me turn my head in embarrassment. “If that’s what you really want to do, do it. But remember, you earned it.”

“I am sure.”

“Then let me spoil you with my prize,” Taeyong offered, staring into my eyes. At first, I thought he was joking, but when his gaze didn’t even falter, I understood how serious he was. “Well… look at that. What are the odds?” Taeyong spoke as a familiar melody echoed within the walls of the grand ballroom. “It’s our song. Shall we dance?”

Having glanced at Seulgi, who whispered something to the DJ, I smiled at Taeyong. Though I was sick and tired of Love Talk already, it was kind of our song. We had been listening to this song too much, and regardless of how good it was, the prospect of it being our anthem terrified me.

“One last time,” I gave in, accepting Taeyong’s invitation, letting him lead me to the dance floor. Despite having mastered the choreography to it, I just wrapped my arms around his neck, slowly waltzing to it.

“That’s nothing like we practiced,” Taeyong pinpointed, and I chuckled, shaking my head. “I don’t mind, though. It’s comfy,” he added as his hands found purchase on my hips.

“Seulgi doesn’t look pleased. She didn’t expect us to perform, did she?” I whispered into Taeyong’s ear, hugging him closer. “Also, it can’t be our song. We have to change it; the sooner, the better,” I complained, but Taeyong just chuckled into my ear, humming softly.

Instead of giving me an actual answer, Taeyong decided to sing it.

“I love the way you're talking to me.”

#taeyong smut #neosmutsongs #neosmutcollective #nct smut #taeyong #lee taeyong #nct u smut #nct 127 smut #nct fluff #taeyong fluff #dance au

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missinghan · 4 years ago

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falling for the first time ⤖ bang chan

❖ genre : hogwarts au; fluff

❖ word count : 2,1k.

❖ warning : explicit language

❖ summary : your plan of putting all effort into avoiding bang chan as much as possible has been going smoothly for almost seven years until he asks you for a dance at the Yule Ball. or alternatively, your families hate each other but wait...has he always had those golden flecks in his eyes?

❖ author’s note : here’s the song they’re dancing to 🖤

one.

The once cold ballroom has waited for eons it seems, for a real heart to beat a new rhythm into the matter that made it.

Meanwhile, you too have been waiting (for two-ish hours) in the corner with your cup of root beer abandoned at a table for your dance partner. You’re currently half-clutching your dress and half-panicking because Chan wouldn’t miss an event as extravagant as the Yule Ball. He’s not the type to be sour over little things either just because he didn’t win the Triwizard Tournament. Or perhaps someone else just happened to ask him?

A blood-curdling shriek bursts your eardrums.

Jeongin gives you a nudge with his elbow from behind. “Grilled scream-cheese?” he asks with a mouthful of gluten and carbs, a plate of a sandwich with a (literally) screaming slice of cheese slapped in the middle.

“No, my appetite is ruined,” you say, pushing it away slightly and heaving an audible sigh.

The Ravenclaw boy makes an alarming noise—something similar to ‘uh-oh’ and swallows the big bite from before as fast as he can. “Where’s Chan?”

You only shrug, “Don’t know. Don’t care.” If only you could do that with the train of thoughts that have been going in and out of your ears for the past a hundred and twenty minutes.

“Y/N, you look troubled,” he purses his lips, frowning at you.

“I’m not,” you voice in denial, trying your best not to come off as snappy. No, you will not give up your facade that easily. You won’t leave Chan’s ego nor Jeongin to rest without a fight by saying that you actually want to dance with the heathen!

“Yeah right, let me-“

“Don’t. What if he’s already asked someone else?” You momentarily shudder at how sad you sound. The root beer shouldn’t have hit you this hard. “I mean look at him, he’s Bang Chan. I’m pretty sure those girls from Beauxbatons have been eyeing him up and down since the Tournament.”

Jeongin lets out a huff of laughter in disbelief. “Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

“One of you guys could have asked me. Or I should have paid Jisung to be my partner yesterday. I just, I don’t know, what am I saying? I’m confused.”

Your friend is officially done with your bullshit so he decides for himself that he will now set down his food to make your first and last Yule Ball arguably unforgettable. “Honestly? I can lie and say I would dance with you if you weren’t so full of pride. But truth is, none of us asked you to dance because we all know how badly Chan wants this opportunity. Wake the fuck up! He’s been planning this since forever. I’ll go look for him, wait here,” he points a finger at you before running off, leaving your heartbeat pause awkwardly like a broken record.

The ballroom feels significantly colder now.

“Miss Y/N?”

Ah, perfect timing. What’s another way to phrase ‘being an absolute idiot at a ball’? Oh right, it’s ‘talking to your professor five minutes before the first dance while your friends are socializing left and right’.

“Yes, Headmistress McGonagall?”

Your professor peers around when she realizes that you’re all alone. “Are you and Mister Bang ready?”

“R-ready?” Suddenly, you feel out of place.

“Well, of course. It’s only traditional that the three champions start the first dance!”

“Oh.”

two.

Only the celestial bodies above can know how melancholy you are. But you’re met with a sky without stars tonight.

With your head on your elbows, lips pressed into a straight line, your gaze falls from the endless canvas of darkness to the hustle and bustle of students leaving the Great Hall to head back to their designated dormitories. A sigh. You definitely don’t need to know what they’re going to do for the after-party. Ryujin used to show you an article on this peculiar machine called ‘a laptop’ that the more you sigh, the faster you age. If Chan keeps doing shit like this to you, you’re gonna be all old and wrinkly by the time he comes here.

If he is going to show up at all that is.

The moment you peel your eyes away from the overcrowded main gate, a broad figure is shuffling himself through his drunk Quidditch teammates, sloppy couples, and burnt out professors. He dashes through the empty hallways to reach the spiral staircase, skipping three steps at a time, risking the chances of falling on his face just to get to you.

Pulling himself to a halt at the last step, Chan sees you all curled up against the balcony railings and feels a pang of guilt wash over his innards like a wave. You’re pulling your legs toward your chest, defeated eyes gazing into the space ahead while your hair falls to your face messily. Like you’ve gone through the depths of the Fourth Dimension, struggling through dark matters and a rite of divinity at the end of the line. All for him.

You’re beautiful.

And the amount of affection that’s piling upon his rib cage? Astronomical.

Your gaze is averted away; even with a slight scowl, sloppy clothes and messed up hair, you still flare radiance. He thinks that if a meteor shower is happening right now, you can still outshine it. “You came,” you mention.

For once, Chan finds himself at a loss for words. “Y-Yeah,” he manages to swallow. Yeah? What the fuck, Chan? Is that all you’ve got to say?

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N. Yeji accidentally mistook one of Minho’s potions for her allergy medicine so I gotta take care of that before coming,” he scratches his forearm awkwardly, head hung low with guilt. “I didn’t know it would take that long…”

“Oh.” Wow, jealous stinks. This isn’t pre-school, you’d better snap out of it. “Let’s head back. I wanna check on her before passing out.”

“She’s fine now, sleeps like death. Chaeryeong is there too, you know, just in case.” Chan feels perplexed as he tries to coax anything but the ‘head back’ option from you.

You tilt your head. “And...?”

“I’m afraid you owe me something?” A slow smile begins to outstretch upon his facial muscles, deepening the dimples on either side of his cheeks that you adore the most. “A dance, I believe,” he makes a thinking face while striding toward you.

Coldly, you stand up to dust your dress. “I don’t want to.” You’re not having it, he can tell. But does Bang Chan ever give up?

“A bet is a bet, Y/N.”

Chan’s hand fishes inside the pocket of his trench coat to take out his wand. His hand delicately gives it a swift flick; once, and twice followed by a low mumble from his lips. Immediately, light pulses from the tip of the wand before shooting upward, disintegrating into a million bits as though a starry night is embracing the both of you. He does the same action again to cast a different spell. Music laces through every fiber of air without effort, like honey being poured into your ears.

“It’s just one bet,” he pouts with a hand fully extended toward you.

You should have realized how good Chan looks tonight. A black dress shirt that’s buttoned below appropriate, matching trench coat, silver accessories lining his fingers and ears with naturally tousled hair from running here. He looks so gorgeous that it almost suffocates you, that it almost makes you want to hiss ‘fucking unfair’ out loud.

Enchanted by his poise and grace, your body reacts without the consent of your mind. You seize up when you unknowingly place your hand on top of his, the touch sending electricity down your spine. A simple response has become all too complicated for your brain to process.

You grow breathless the moment he grabs you by the waist and pulls you flush against him. “Yeah, a bet so you’ll leave me alone,” you remark sarcastically to ease your nerves.

“Look, it’s not my fault that the Goblet of Fire chose me to participate in the Tournament,” Chan chuckles lowly, eyes crinkling into crescent moon shapes while he sways you to the soft melody. Dots of light continue to float around weightlessly, reflecting the golden flecks in his eyes. He’s ethereal in the worst way—the way that isn’t healthy for your heart.

But you soon slap on another scowl when you realize he just reminded you of why you’re even here in the first place. If only you weren’t so salty about Slytherin winning your team over at the final Quidditch match before the holiday occurs. Let’s just say you weren’t exactly in the best mind state after getting your ass kicked in your favorite sport.

And Chan wasted no time to slip in between the line of comical humor and your ultimate torment. Which results in—if you get to attend the Triwizard Tournament, he will leave you alone for the rest of your life; but if he is the chosen one, he gets a dance with you at the Yule Ball.

It’s really not all that bad if you think twice about it. Dancing with Bang Chan, the Slytherin’s Quidditch team captain, the student with perfect academics and conduct for six years straight, and now one of the Triwizard Tournament champions this year.

Music threads through the atmosphere and lifts away gravity. You can’t count how many times you have stepped on his toes due to nervousness because you’re too much of a coward to look him in the eye. But he’s the only thing you can seem to focus on right now.

“Besides, don’t you think this is a good opportunity to get rid of the tension between us?” Chan asks honestly, and this causes you to perk up.

“What?”

Lights are twinkling with every step as Chan spins you around gently, your dress billowing out prettily as your heels click against the cold concrete. After that, he swiftly pulls you back into his arms and you exhale in relief like you were meant to be there all this time.

“Don’t act dumb, you’re terrible at it. I know the only reason why you’ve been avoiding me since first year was because of our families’ stupid grudge. ”

Your eyes are cast downward, sadness glinting in your round pupils. “Either way, my parents wouldn’t like to see me talking to you. And look at what we’re doing. It’s going to be catastrophic if they find out.”

“Well, they can’t just magically appear now, can they?” Chan leans a little closer to lock his eyes with yours.

And you break it seconds later because you’re an absolute coward for a Gryffindor. “We’re attending a magic school. Anything is possible.”

“Did they even tell you what the actual problem was in the first place?” he huffs out in faint annoyance.

You shake your head. “I don’t think they’d even remember.”

“Then would you stop giving me that look as if I just shooed your owl way every time I said ‘hi’ on my way to class? Have you ever thought about my feelings? About us being civil for once? Like friends? Or even more so?”

“I-“

“We’re not our parents, Y/N.”

Your heart becomes all erratic at his words. It’s nothing like those fully-fledged, tear-jerking nor cheesyass confessions that you’ve gawked at one too many times, but it makes your heart flutter and stirs up those cliché butterflies inside your stomach. This can’t be compared to the Yule Ball—it’s even better than that. Because it feels as though you and Chan are the only presences that graze the surface of this land. There’s no one to judge, no fingers to point, no gossip spreading like wildfire.

It’s perfect. Almost.

“Us...it’s not- it can’t happen. It’s not supposed to happen. It’s not possible, Chan.”

Wordlessly, he stops, moves both of your hands to his shoulders, and wraps his arms around your torso. The sound of your heartbeat against his is so in sync they just drown out the music completely. Time is frozen in place, leaving you to hang on the edge with him, hanging onto this single moment as thin as the red string of fate. You’re waiting for him to do something, say something.

Just then, Chan cracks a wry smile and pulls you closer by the nape of your neck, resting his forehead comfortably on yours. “We’re attending a magic school. Anything is possible.”

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demonsigh · 4 years ago

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the hunt

rating: lime/mature pairing: male vampire x gender-neutral reader features: touch starvation, safewords, biting, aftercare, cuddling warnings: blood, fear, being chased, dizziness length: 4240 words

Feeling isolated and craving physical intimacy, a college student agrees to be hunted and bitten by a vampire in exchange for a post-meal snuggling session. Based on this prompt submitted to @monsterkinkmeme by @the-color-of-sound-is-space

You were supposed to meet him at 11 PM, in the middle of Bartleby Park. Vampires were nocturnal and uncomfortable in the sun, so the hunt had to take place at night. But did it have to be this late?

It wasn’t as if you were getting tired. You were something of a nocturnal animal yourself nowadays; college tended to do that to people. But the park was pretty creepy this late at night, eerily empty and unnaturally quiet.

You checked your phone again. 11:10 already. He was late. Had he been held up? Or could he have overslept? That thought wrung a quiet chuckle from you — a sound not at all reassuring to hear in the dark silence of the park.

The “he” in question was a vampire named Roland that you’d met on the internet. You were meeting up so he could suck your blood.

For whatever reason, college towns tended to attract vampires. It probably had something to do with the vibrant nightlife, and the bars that never closed, and parties that only ended when the sun rose. Or perhaps it was the rich history of such places, in the old stone buildings and the musty library books. Or maybe it was just the students themselves: curious and open-minded, over-educated and sheltered and a little bit reckless.

In the modern age, most vampires obtained their food in the modern way: in bags, from blood banks or speciality clinics. But there were those who still swore by more natural methods. Many believed that feeding from the source provided physical and mental health benefits. For others, the desire to stalk, and chase, and bite, was simply too strong to resist indulging. Luckily for all, it was not as difficult to find a willing human victim as one might expect.

You discovered a message board that was dedicated to this macabre economy. Vampires would make posts looking for “prey” — humans willing or eager to be bitten. An arrangement would be made for a night of thrilling and dangerous roleplay, where the vampire played the part of the seductive predator, and the human, the helpless victim.

For most of the humans who posted on this forum, being prey was a kink. They enjoyed the thrill of the chase, and the pain of the bite. It was foreplay to them, and the evening inevitably led to sex after their partner’s more pressing appetites were sated.

You became a little obsessed with this message board. You didn’t think you’d mind being bitten; there was something kind of sexy about it. But you weren’t really trying to get laid. What you really wanted was some quality aftercare, a perk that was frequently offered, requested, and discussed on this forum.

College had become something of a lonely experience for you. You hadn’t meant for it to happen, and you weren’t sure where you’d gone wrong. In your freshman year you’d made an effort to be social, starting a number of casual friendships, but none of them really stuck. You were still close to your high school friends, and you talked to them online all the time, but somehow the number of people with whom you had any physical interaction had dwindled down to zero.

It made you lonely in a deep, nagging way. You wanted a hug. You wanted to hold someone’s hand. You daydreamed constantly about these things, setting up elaborate scenarios in your mind that led to someone safe and warm holding you for hours at a time. You felt like these fantasies were reaching a boiling point in your mind. And one night, after drinking several beers by yourself, you made your own post on that message board. You would let someone bite you (hunt optional), in exchange for an evening of snuggling (sex optional).

And that was how you met Roland. He wasn’t the only vampire who replied to your post, but he was the only one who lived within easy walking distance. You agreed to meet at one of the campus cafes and discuss possibilities over coffee.

You recognized him immediately, although you were pretty sure he didn’t recognize you. He was in one of your classes. You frequently spied him from across the lecture hall, tall and good-looking and unapproachable. You’d always thought there was something a little otherworldly about him, but he mostly just looked like another student. You’d had no idea that he wasn’t even human.

And it turned out he wasn’t as intimidating as he looked. He actually seemed pretty nice, even a little bit shy. He’d never fed straight from the skin before — drinking nothing but bagged blood since he was turned — and he wanted to try it at least once. He wasn’t trying to get laid either. Like you, he was much more interested in the aftercare, hoping for something like a cooldown hug once the deed was done. That suited you just fine.

The plan was this: You would meet in Bartleby Park at 11 PM. The exact location didn’t matter, he said; he would come find you. This statement gave you an unexpected thrill. Perhaps the hunting part would be more fun than you’d thought. You would run, and he would chase you. If you screamed, all the better — although this did make a safeword necessary. You chose “cardboard,” the first word that came to your mind, which made him laugh. When he finally caught you, he would bite you on the neck and drink your blood. Then he would take you up to his apartment for first aid and spooning. Simple as that.

Only he wasn’t here yet. It was 11:20 now, and you were still alone. Maybe he was having trouble finding you. Or… was he backing out? That thought stung. You suddenly realized just how much you’d been looking forward to this, and the idea of going home tired and alone made you feel more depressed than ever.

A branch snapped in the trees nearby, and your head whipped toward the sound. Your eyes scanned back and forth across the screen of dark leaves, trying and failing to uncover the culprit.

“Roland?” you whispered. You hadn’t meant to whisper, but suddenly you were having trouble finding your voice. Your phone buzzed in your hand, making you jump. It was a text message from your friend:

“How did it go?”

“He’s late, I’m still waiting,” you typed in response.

“Ok… Text me again in an hour or I’m calling the cops.”

Your friends had basically all agreed that this seemed like a bad idea. You were starting to wonder if they were right. You didn’t know Roland at all… even if you knew where he lived and where he went to school. Even if he was cute and he seemed nice.

And even if Roland was fine, Roland wasn’t here. It was late, and the park was deserted. Who knew what other weirdos were prowling around out here.

You were starting to feel genuinely anxious. Beneath the trees, the park was dark, the shadows unaffected by the dim light of the street lamps. What was the safeword again? Cardboard? That was it, right?

There was a rapid noise in the grass behind you — tff tff tff — like something rushing towards you in long leaps. That was the last straw. You launched into a flat-out run, heart hammering, breath coming in gasps.

A pair of cold, hard arms wrapped around you from behind, jerking you to a stop. You screamed at the top of your lungs, and then, almost in the same breath, shouted, “Cardboard cardboard cardboard,” all in a rush; sure that the word would mean nothing to this person; that you were about to be hurt or worse.

But cardboard was the magic word. The arms disappeared from around your chest, and in a flash he was standing in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice rough, “are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

And of course it was only Roland, the very person you had agreed to do this with. He was staring into your face, expression distressed, hands gripping your shoulders.

“I’m okay,” you wheezed. “It was just… scarier than I expected.”

He was slowly shaking his head back and forth. He looked appalled. “Fuck, I am so sorry.”

You didn’t understand why he was apologizing like that, until you suddenly became aware of the wetness on your cheeks, and the ragged sound of your breathing. Were you crying? God, how fucking embarrassing.

“I’m sorry,” you said, rubbing tears from your eyes with the backs of your hands. “Jesus.”

“No no,” said Roland, “don’t apologize. I think I overdid it. ...And I was pretty late, that definitely didn’t help.”

He was looking around now, frowning into the dark woods, and rubbing your shoulders absently. You were hyper-aware of his hands. They were like ice but every pass of them over your shoulders sent a rush of warmth through you. You felt extremely relieved that he was here, even though he was the reason you’d been so scared in the first place. You wished he would hug you — the desire for this was almost overwhelming — but you felt too dazed and embarrassed to ask.

His eyes met yours once again, and his hands slipped from your shoulders, finding their way into his pockets instead — the exact opposite of what you wanted.

“Uh…” he said. “Do you wanna just skip this part and go straight back to my place?”

A wobbly laugh escaped you, and you nodded weakly. “Are you still gonna suck my blood?” you asked.

“Do you still want me to?”

“Yeah.”

He smiled at that. It was a small, almost shy smile, but enough to give you a good look at his fangs. They looked shockingly white and sharp in the dark.

He started to walk in the direction of his apartment, then paused; and looking back, expression uncertain, he held his hand out towards you. You hesitated for just one second. Then you placed your hand in his, and his cold fingers closed tightly around yours.

“Is this ok?” he asked.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Your heart was racing again. When was the last time you’d held someone’s hand? You never wanted him to let go.

Neither of you spoke. You wondered if he was feeling as nervous as you were. You’d thought that the scary part was over, but what about what came next? How badly would it hurt when he bit you? He’d never bitten anyone before, he said. How would he react to his first taste?

When you tried to picture it, all you could imagine were his lips pressed against your skin; and his hand cupping the back of your neck, holding you still. They were not unpleasant images. You felt your face heat up, and you were suddenly grateful for the darkness and the cold night air.

It was a fairly short walk. His apartment was a big single-room studio: TV and sofa in one corner, bed and bookcase in another. Rounded doorways branched off into a kitchen and a bathroom. There was a large white-curtained window in the west wall, and moonlight poured in through the glass, illuminating the plush carpet. It was cozy and uncluttered. Roland watched you look around, then looked around himself.

“Maybe in the kitchen?” he asked. He caught your eye, then glanced quickly away. “So we don’t get blood on the carpet.”

How practical. You followed him into the kitchen, forcing yourself to take even breaths as you went. Vampires were supposed to have excellent hearing. Could he hear how fast your heart was beating?

“Want some water?” he asked, opening a cupboard as he spoke. You peered over his shoulder, tickled to see that the only dishes he seemed to own were drinking glasses; no bowls or plates in sight. What would he need a plate for, after all?

He moved around you to fill the glass with water from the sink. He seemed to be avoiding eye-contact, and you wondered again if he was nervous. Somehow the thought made you feel more at ease. Boldly, you opened his refrigerator to examine the contents. Blood bags, and nothing else. Lots of them. Stacks upon stacks, in neat little rows. You couldn’t quite believe it, even though it was exactly what you’d expected to find.

You didn’t know what kind of face you were making, but you were afraid it wasn’t good. You turned toward Roland and found him watching you, expression careful; glass of water forgotten in one hand.

“Yeah…” he said.

“Nothing for me?” you asked, grinning, attempting to break the sudden tension.

He grinned back sheepishly. Then he pulled a little juice box out of the pocket of his jacket. It was the kind of thing they gave you after donating blood. You both began to laugh, and a warm, giddy feeling spread through you.

Roland moved closer and patted one of the countertops. “Hop up here?” he asked. You obliged, although it was more of a scramble than a hop. Roland began pulling more small items from the pockets of his jacket, and setting them on the counter next to you: single-use alcohol wipes; a few band-aids; a little roll of gauze, and a roll of medical tape. It became clear to you that he really had intended to bite you in the park, and he had come prepared.

He was standing very close now, almost pressed against your bent knees. You longed to close the distance. You didn’t move. Roland’s movements also grew slower, more hesitant. Stalling.

“Are you nervous?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he admitted.

“Why?”

He looked you right in the eye, finally. His expression was serious.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

“I don’t think it’ll be that bad,” you replied, although you weren’t sure whether you actually believed that.

He frowned, and his eyes travelled down to your neck. He was biting his lip, and his fangs stood out starkly against his skin.

He handed you the glass of water. You drank it. Then you took his hand and gently pulled him closer, spreading your knees wider so he could stand between them. He swallowed visibly.

“I’m nervous too,” you told him.

“I know,” he said, in a hoarse almost-whisper. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Safeword?”

“You can just tell me.”

You were both almost-whispering now, leaning in closer and closer. It felt an awful lot like you were about to share your first kiss.

With one hand, he pulled the collar of your shirt away from your neck, while his other hand slid up to cup the back of your neck. Your heart was hammering with excitement and fear, and his cold fingers felt good against your flushed skin. He lowered his face against your neck, and almost before you knew it his fangs were piercing the skin, creating thin twin wounds that ached immediately. You gasped and grasped handfuls of the fabric of his jacket. Honestly his teeth didn’t hurt much more than a needle, but somehow the reality of it stunned you. He was really going to drink your blood. In that moment, for the first time, you really believed that Roland was something other than human.

His lips closed over the wound. His mouth was wet and unexpectedly hot, and his tongue moved rhythmically against your aching skin as he sucked and swallowed your blood. He made a low sound deep in his throat — the type of contented groan that a good bite of food might inspire. You had to hold your breath to keep from responding in kind.

This was erotic. You couldn’t help thinking of it that way. Your grip on his jacket tightened, and you forced yourself not to squeeze your knees more tightly around his waist. You wondered if he felt it too. Was this exciting him at all? Or was this just a meal to him?

You couldn’t have said how long this went on — it was probably minutes, though it felt longer — but eventually he stopped drinking and pulled away. Somehow a piece of gauze was already in his hand; he pressed it to your neck, holding it firmly against the bite. You stared at each other, both breathing unevenly. His cheeks, so colorless before, were now flushed.

He cleared his throat and licked blood off his lips.

“Are you okay,” he asked, voice rough.

“I’m ok,” you said, although you actually felt a little dizzy. You felt around for the juice box. “Was that enough?”

He nodded his head and grabbed the juice box, pressing it into your reaching hand. He seemed a little dazed. He tore open one of the alcohol wipes, and while you drank your juice he disinfected the bite marks. You hissed at the stinging pain, and he grimaced in sympathy. Then he taped a fresh strip of gauze over the bite.

“It didn’t hurt that bad,” you reported between sips.

“Good,” he said. But he was starting to look unhappy again, frowning as he watched you sip your juice. Your heart sank a little in your chest. Maybe he hadn’t enjoyed this as much as you had.

“Are you ok?” you asked him.

He didn’t respond at first. And then he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against him. You bit back a huff of surprise. He was no longer cold — drinking your blood had warmed his whole body.

“What is it?” you whispered.

He heaved an enormous sigh next to your ear. “You just looked so scared in the park,” he said. You could feel the vibration of his voice against your chest. “I feel really bad.”

You didn’t feel bad. One of his large hands was pressed against your back, warm and reassuring, and the other was cupped around the back of your head. Your chest was pressed flush against his, and he was warm and solid and worried about you. You gave up trying to resist the urge to touch him. You put your arms around him, and squeezed your knees tighter against his waist, pulling him even closer to you. You let your head fall forward to rest against his neck, but as soon as you closed your eyes, the room began to whirl around you.

“Um,” you gasped. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Oh,” he said, a little catch of surprise in his voice. He pulled away. “Um. Let me, uh...”

Carefully, he slipped his hand under your knees, and gathered you up into his arms. You threw your own arms around his neck, shamelessly clinging to him as he carried you out of the kitchen with no apparent effort. He paused in the doorway and looked down at you.

“The bed or the couch?” he asked.

“The bed,” you said against his chest, hoping that this was not too bold. He didn’t seem to think so. He carried you across the room, careful not to jostle you, and gently laid you down on top of the comforter.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

You nodded your head. You were quite cold, actually; another effect of the blood loss.

Roland stood and went over to a small closet, where he retrieved a stack of thick, warm-colored blankets. He shook them out and draped them over you in layers, and their warm weight made you feel better almost immediately.

“Thank you,” you said.

“No problem,” he replied. He stood by the side of the bed, unmoving. He seemed to be struggling for words. “Um… Do you still want to…”

“Yes,” you said emphatically, and you peeled back the blankets to make space for him.

He looked self-conscious, but he didn’t hesitate. He crawled under the blankets, and carefully pulled you into his arms, settling your head against his shoulder. His body was still warm with your blood, and you pressed into him eagerly.

“Is this ok?” he asked.

“It’s perfect,” you said. You placed your hand flat on his chest, then sighed happily, which made him laugh. He laid his hand over yours, curling his fingers around it.

That was almost too much. Your chest felt fit to burst with it. You kept waiting to wake up, sure that you must have dreamt this whole thing. You still couldn’t believe he’d drunk your blood. His teeth had been inside of you. And as much as that weirded you out, it kind of turned you on too.

You suddenly remembered that you were supposed to text your friends back. You shifted around, and Roland loosed his hold on you to let you pull your phone out of your pocket.

“I’m letting my friends know you didn’t murder me,” you explained as you typed. You’d meant it as a joke, but you regretted the words as soon as they were out of your mouth. “I’m sorry,” you hurried to say, turning in his arms to face him, and wincing at the pain in your neck. “I didn’t really think you would…”

He shook his head before you could say anything else. “It’s ok. Biting someone…” He ran a hand through his hair as he thought. “Well, it’s an inherently violent act. Some people get carried away. Your friends weren’t wrong to be worried.”

“I feel safe with you though,” you said.

“Oh. Good.” He ducked his head, and his cheeks turned the pinkest they’d been all night. Your heartbeat stuttered in your chest. He was really adorable… You hadn’t expect that, watching him from afar. You pulled closer to him, putting your arms around him and laying your head against his chest. He tucked the blankets more snugly around your shoulders.

“This is really nice,” you said.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“How did you like biting me?” You forced the words out before you could lose your nerve. You hoped you weren’t making it awkward, but you had to know.

Roland didn’t answer at first. Then he let out a breath, and slid one of his hands over his face. “Not gonna lie,” he said. “It was way better than drinking bagged blood.”

“Oh, good!” you said, laughing. “I’m glad. I was worried you didn’t like it.”

“I definitely liked it…” he said, still covering his face. “You taste amazing.”

You felt your face turn bright red. There was a double-entendre in there somewhere, although you guessed it was unintentional. I’d like to taste you next, you thought wildly, and once again, you found yourself wondering if you were the only one whose mind had wandered into the gutter tonight.

He seemed to sense your sudden discomfort, if not its source, because he uncovered his face and said, “I’m sorry, that was a super weird thing to say.”

You shook your head against his chest. “I liked it too,” you admitted. “When you bit me.” Then, still more softly: “I wouldn’t mind if you did it again sometime.”

You heard him swallow. “I’d like that.”

You lapsed into a warm silence, untroubled and comfortable, and you basked in his presence like a cat in sunlight. You were aware of every part of him that was pressed against you: his chest rising and falling beneath you, and his hands pressed against your back, and his legs tangled with yours beneath the blankets, chaste but intimate, and ripe with potential.

You definitely wanted to kiss him. You opened your mouth to float the idea, but you were overcome by an enormous yawn. You suddenly realized you had no idea what time it was. It felt really late, but maybe you were just tired out from all the excitement.

“Was I falling asleep?” you asked.

“A little,” he admitted.

“I should probably get home,” you said, but then made no move to get up. You heaved a huge sigh. “I don’t wanna go yet though,” you complained, “I’m so cozy.”

“Do you wanna stay here?”

You lifted your head to look him in the eye. “Stay the night?”

“We don’t have to do anything weird,” he said, turning pink again. You stared at each other for a moment. Then he gently pushed your head back down to his chest, so that you weren’t looking at him when he said, “I don’t wanna let you go yet.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. As if you weren’t already convinced. “I won’t throw off your day? I mean your night?”

You felt him shrug. “I was just gonna do homework.”

That drew a surprised laugh out of you. You’d almost forgotten that Roland wasn’t just your weird vampire hookup. He was your classmate too.

“Do you know that we’re in the same class?” you asked, playfully accusing.

“Yeah,” he admitted, with a bit of a laugh in his voice. “I recognized you when we got coffee.”

That surprised you. “I thought I was the only one,” you said.

“I noticed you sitting in back sometimes.” His hand was still resting against the side of your head, and his fingers moved absently through strands of your hair. “I thought you looked cool.”

“Good,” you said, which made him laugh. You grinned against his chest. “I want to stay. Can I?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice soft, and he wrapped his arms more tightly around you.

#exophilia #monster romance #monster boyfriend #vampire boyfriend #monsterkinkmeme #sighs writing

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falling-pages · 3 years ago

Text

A bird? A bird: Hikaru x Haruhi

in which drunk Hikaru is a mood.

Hikaru Hitachiin x Haruhi Fujioka

Enemies to lovers, non-host club au, aged up au.

TW: Drinking

The disgust lingered in the back of his throat like iron, like a bad pill you swallow but not fast enough. He fumbled the chaser to his liquor, and now he was stuck with the gross aftertaste. The refuge of his office, where he gulped down air like water, could only last so long. He couldn’t even go out in the common area, break room or restroom without having to see her--and for that, for taking away his freedom and social butterfly antics, he hated her.

Every time he saw her cute little snarl and tight little bun and stiff black skirts enraged him, filling his blood with a heat he didn’t know how to deal with. Despite her short height, she held her nose in the air as she worked, the only way she could look down on everyone like she so desperately craved. Always propping up her law degree, well this and actually that, ruining any jokes he made with a deadpan stare. She messed with his head, distracted him from his work, and for that she must go.

As much as he had tried to get her fired--and he had tried--nothing made the boss budge. He tried pulling rank, as the head of the software department; he tried using his parents’ names; nothing worked.

She’s doing a stellar job, the bossman had said. And, she’s our lawyer. If we did fire her for no reason, she would sue us into the ground.

I do have a reason, Hikaru retorted. She annoys me.

It wouldn’t hold up in court, but it seemed good enough for him.

Hikaru inhaled deeply through his nose, grounding himself by gripping his desk. Surrounded by all his trophies and achievements, he still could only think of her. He had to handle this, or else he’d go insane, but he had no idea where to start.

Kaoru. Kaoru would know what to do.

He rose from his chair, taking one last look behind him at the stained glass city through his clear glass window. Despite it only being mid-afternoon, the city was pulsing and alive with color, birds dive-bombing for food, vendors hawking at passersby, tourists mixing and bumping into natives. Tokyo was loud, and crazy, and alive, where he knew he belonged and longed to be. Even nature was straining at its leash for the workday to end, eager to celebrate the Friday night.

He turned back and shut the lights off in his office, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walked. His department was rather quiet, having given his employees the afternoon off. If Haruhi knew, she would chide him, but they were so far ahead of schedule that he couldn’t risk them burning out.

Once up the stairs and around the corner, he heard his brother’s voice laughing and chatting and speak of the devil, she’s here.

It shouldn’t have surprised him. Karou and Haruhi were surprisingly great friends; he tended to mellow her out, help her unwind from the stick up her ass. He just had that calming effect on people.

As soon as he saw her, Hikaru spun a 180 and turned right back around the corner, and Haruhi would have let him, but Karou intervened.

“Hika! Come over here!” he waved, a bright smile splitting his face. “Haruhi was just telling me how much she liked you!”

Haruhi seethed, switching to a guarded pose as soon as she saw him. “I certainly was not.”

“Oh, right, my bad, she was telling me how much she liked your latest game patch,” Kaoru apologized, but it was the furthest thing from sincere. “Tell us about how you came up with it. Haruhi would love to pick your brain.”

Hikaru smirked, testing the waters as he approached. “Is that true, Fujioka?”

She frowns, pushing her bridge up her glasses up her nose. God, those glasses. She looked so dumb in them, making her eyes seem so wide, so innocent, so...pretty. All he wanted to do was pluck them off her face and laugh as she jumped for them, reaching and whining.

“I mean, it’s original, for sure,” she said. His cheeks warmed at the praise, even as she squirmed. “And it should market well, and you didn’t infringe on anyone’s copyright this time.”

That wasn’t my fault. He took the compliment with a grain of salt, biting back, “Still in the whole get-up, I see. Not much for casual Fridays?”

As amber eyes raked down her body, Haruhi concealed the shiver that ran down her spine. “No, actually, because I didn’t go to law school to wear jeans every day at work.”

“You didn’t go to law school to become a smartass, either, but here we are.”

“OKAY!” Kaoru exclaimed, jumping up between them. “Friday afternoon, yeah? Any big plans for the weekend?”

Both instigators ignored him. “That’s the uniform, you know. We tend to be pretty laid back around here.”

“Lawyers can’t be laid back. Laziness and a laissez-faire attitude is how we get sued.”

Hikaru stretched, rolling his eyes. “Woah, woah, pardon your French.”

Haruhi shook her head, and a few mismanaged strands of hair fell from her bun to brush against her neck. Her pink lips perched in contempt, and she looked so fragile, squinting behind her thick-framed glasses, that he couldn’t help but notice how tight her shirt was, tucked into a pencil skirt that hugged so tastefully over her--

“Hika!” Kaoru suddenly exclaimed. “Honey wants to know if we’re still down for drinks tonight.”

His saving grace. “Oh, my God, yes,” he moaned, salivating already at the thought of tequila burning down his throat. Washing the week away was just what he needed, especially with the way this conversation was going.

And then Kaoru did the unthinkable: With his award-winning smile, he turned to Haruhi and asked, “Would you like to come?”

Hikaru could have strangled him.

But God heard his prayers, and the resident buzzkill shook her head. “Thank you, but sorry. I don’t drink.”

“No surprise there,” Hikaru murmured.

Kaoru definitely heard that, but if Haruhi did, she didn’t react. He shot his twin a look, a be polite etched into the lines of his brow.

“Sad,” Kaoru said. He bent over to pick up his work bag, stuffing his bento within and waving to Haruhi. “Maybe next time? We can go out for boba or something.”

Haruhi smiled--Hikaru didn’t think he had ever seen that before. It did something to him; suddenly, he felt as if his body was shaking, like his throat was full of needles, like he had taken one too many to the head.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she said, and the smile disappeared when she looked at him. She gave them both a quick nod. “Have a great weekend.”

“Thanks.”

“See you Monday!”

Hikaru waited until they were out the door before punching his twin in the arm, hard enough to make him yelp.

“Dude, watch it,” Kaoru snapped, brushing over the mussed fabric of his cardigan sleeve. “It’s cashmere.”

“Stop flirting with her.”

Kaoru stopped in his tracks. A cloudy sky obscured the smirk on his face. “Woah, what’s got you so worked up?”

Hikaru kept stomping towards their subway stop, too lost in his own anger to notice who he had left behind. “‘M not worked up,” he retorted. “But you’re dating Kyoya. You shouldn’t be flirting with a girl.”

Kaoru skipped to catch up, joining him as they descended the stairs. “Kyoya said it’s fine if I flirt, as long as I come home to him every night.”

It took everything in Hikaru to keep him from shoving his brother into the sad, drab gray stone walls. He couldn’t put a finger on the irritation nettling just below his skin, or why the first layer of his heart seemed to simmer whenever he caught them talking to each other. All he could figure out was that it burned, and it made him hate her even more.

When he stayed silent, Kaoru knew he was right. He preened as he dug around for his subway card. “Boba isn’t a date.”

“Of course it is.”

“Then maybe you should ask her out on one.”

By then they were at the platform, waiting for their train. As the whistle signaled its approach, Hikaru very seriously considered pushing Kaoru onto the tracks.

“Tch. Over my dead body.”

“Then you can’t be jealous.”

“I’m not--”

Hikaru threw a punch when the train approached, distracting him and allowing Kaoru to live to see another day. As they hurried on, Hikaru couldn’t get his mind out of the gutter--or off her.

Jealous. Pshhh.

-- - -- -- - -- - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I dunno, senpai, she just….she makes me feel something. Whenever she talks to me it’s like my hands are on fire, and my head hurts, and I feel like….like she’s stabbing me. There’s something going on in my chest, like a, like a--a bird. There’s a bird or a butterfly or something with wings in my stomach, and I don’t like it.”

Hikaru knocked back a shot and signaled for another one, eyes bleary as he tried to find the bartender. There were three of them, or maybe that was just how blurry his vision was, but he didn’t care; as long as one of them saw him and passed him another round, he’d tip them the moon.

Mitsukuni watched his friend wave to no one, the effect of one too many fireballs in the span of just two hours. He hadn’t seen Hikaru this hammered since college--and now, at 27, it just looked more like a cry for help than an occasion to let loose. And without Kaoru, who had already gone home with Kyoya and the rest of their friend group, on babysitting duty, Mitsukuni was the one left to make sure he got into a cab.

“A bird?” he asked, watching as Hikaru swung his head in confirmation.

“A bird.” A bartender came back with another shot, handing it to the redhead and giving Mitsukuni a questioning look. He waved at him, confirming he was the babysitter, and the waiter turned back around.

“Tell me about that.”

Hikaru gripped his cup, tonguing at the rim like a sippy cup. “It’s fluttering around, Honey. It’s--hiccup--like, moving. Whenever I see her or talk to her my heart just begins to pound.”

Mitsukuni bit back a smile. His vodka cran lay forgotten on the bar, but this experience was just too amusing to violate with alcohol. “And what do you think that means?”

“Means she’s gonna kill me.”

“Kill you?” His eyebrows shot up. “Why is that?”

Hikaru slurped the shot, spilling some down his chin, and Mitsukuni was fairly sure it was just plain water. “Because. She’s mean, senpai. She looks at me like she’s studying, like she’s gonna slice me in half. Like...I dunno. Like I mean something to her.”

Mistukuni twisted his wedding ring, inching closer to the discovery. He’s almost there, almost recognizing what the rest of the friend group has known for months. “And if you mean something to her, why does your heart flutter?”

“Acid reflux.”

“No, Hikaru.” He gently swatted the other man’s hand down before he could ask for another drink. “It sounds like the beginnings of love, to me.”

Hikaru gaped, not a thought behind those eyes, until it hit him like a wrecking ball. His fist fell to the bar, thudding, but he felt no pain. Only existential dread and a rocketing realization.

“Oh.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh, fuck.”

If you like what I write, please considering buying a coffee :)

#ouran high school host club #hikaru x haruhi #hikaharu #hikaru hitachiin #haruhi fujioka #enemies to lovers #ohshc

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janetbrown711 · 4 years ago

Note

🥺 Writing ask abt eah with apple and darling "You're not a machine or- or some thing, you're a person, and I'm sorry anyone ever made you feel otherwise"

Apple was getting ready to go home for a party- a birthday party to be more specific. Her birthday party if you really wanted to go into detail.

It was May, the beginning of summer. Not that summer truly meant much in Ever After High- it was a year-round school after all, but it did mean a little bit of time would be allotted for students to spend some time at home and relax.

However, Apple was not relaxed- not in the slightest. It was only a little while ago Darling had broken her curse and they realized they were each other’s destined true loves. It had only been a few weeks since they started dating officially and now Apple was going to have to go home and see her mother for the first time outside of video calls since the Dragon Games. Not only that- Her mother was planning on hosting a giant birthday gala for her- and she let her invite her entire class as well as half of Ever After just for fun.

Sure, this meant she was able to continue to hang out with her friends and be herself for at least the night, which she’d enjoy, but it also meant things could easily slip- especially if someone thought they could get something out of outing her to her mother. Darling tried to assure her no one would be that cruel, but Apple feared otherwise. Goodness knows Ever After High has no shortage of mischievous students. Kitty, Duchess, and Faybelle to name a few.

And goodness knows her mother wasn’t exactly the understanding type either.

At least her friends would be there... and Darling. Darling usually made everything feel a lot better. Though... perhaps tonight that wouldn’t be best. She had to act like nothing happened- that she wasn’t gay. Oh god... this was going to be a long break.

“Got everything packed?” Raven asked, a trunk of clothes levitating in dark purple magic next to her. Apple sighed and rubbed her forehead.

“Yep,” She faked energy and enthusiasm. “All ready to go to my mom’s.” Raven cringed.

“I know it’s gonna suck, but hey, we’ll at least be here for the night. That’s something, right?” Raven placed a hand on her shoulder.

“It... is,” Apple said. “But you know how it is. She’s all ‘follow your destiny- be popular- be pretty or else’ and blah.”

“I kinda know the feeling, yeah...” Raven sighed. “But hey, technically you do have destiny on your side. True loves kiss and all that.”

“True,” Apple chuckled a little, going to the window and whistling for birds, who quickly went to her trunk of clothes and lifting it for her. “But...”

“I know, not that easy,” Raven admitted. “Not everyone is blessed with parents who were already destined to be evil so they really don’t care if your bi or not.”

Apple snorted. “Yeah.”

“You got this. And remember- if anything should happen, Briar, Darling, and I are totally willing to take you in for a spell,” Raven reassured. This did very little to comfort Apple, though she appreciated the effort.

“Thanks,” She decided to say, though the thought that she could possibly be kicked out of her own home scared her more than when Raven decided not to sign the Storybook of Legends- which was why she was determined to keep her secret, no matter what.

“Well- my dad’s waiting for me. I’ll see you at the party,” Raven said, checking her mirror phone.

“I’ll walk with you,” Apple said. Raven nodded, and together they made their way down the many, many flights of stairs. The girls didn’t say much, as Raven was busy texting, while Apple was doing her best to practice her happy face before they finally reached the bottom, where Darling and Maddie were waiting for them.

“Apple! Raven! There you two are,” Maddie beamed at them, and Raven chuckled.

“Hey Apple,” Darling smiled giving her girlfriend a peck on the cheek. Apple smiled.

“Hey,” She said, before scanning around.

“Relax, the limo is outside, we’ve one last moment to ourselves,” Darling said, holding her hands.

“We’re literally right here,” Raven rolled her eyes playfully.

“Oh hush,” Apple rolled her eyes.

Maddie gasped. “You kiss Darling with that mouth?” she giggled.

“Whatever. I’ll see you two at the party,” Apple snickered, and Raven and Maddie took their cue and headed out.

“You ready?” Darling asked, pulling Apple away from the stairs.

“Not in the slightest,” She admitted with a pathetic laugh.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. I’ll be right beside you the whole night if needed,” Darling said, tucking a loose strand of Apple’s hair behind her ear.

“That’s what I’m afraid of... I want to be with you so bad, but if she were to find out...” Apple didn’t need to finish the thought. She sighed.

“I know,” Darling sighed. “Just- know no matter what I’m on your side, and what we have is very, very real, and she can’t take it away from us, okay?” Darling asked, Apple nodded, leaning and the princesses shared a quick but passionate kiss.

“I know. I’ll see you tonight,” She said, giving her a hug, which Darling quickly returned.

“Should anything happen, just call for me and I’ll be there in a heartbeat,” She promised.

“My knight in shining armor,” Apple smiled at her.

“You know it,” Darling winked and teased. Apple gave her another quick hug before forcing herself to let go and go to her ride.

Not to Apple’s surprise in the slightest, her mother wasn’t there to pick her up, just the usual dwarf or two. The birds dropped off her luggage in the trunk of the limo and Apple took her seat. Once they started going, she immediately slumped and tried not to think as her mirror phone blew up with texts from Briar and her other friends in support and details about how great this party was going to be.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity of being driven, she finally arrived at her castle, and walked right inside, the dwarves taking care of her luggage for her.

Not to her surprise once again, her mother wasn’t there to greet her. Instead, there was a table with some flowers and a single slice of apple pie (long cold by now) waiting for her, with a note that read:

“So happy you’re here my little apple dumpling. So sorry I couldn’t be there to greet you, but I’m very busy planning tonight’s party.

Hugs and Kisses,

-Mummy”

Darling hated when her mother babied her, but she wasn’t ready to face her quite yet, so she took her mother’s absence as a mercy more than the blatant neglect it was. Apple took the pie, tossed it in the nearest garbage, before stopping by the kitchen, grabbing an apple, and heading off to her room to pass the hours away until the party.

No place like home alright.

Her phone was still blowing up from texts from Briar, but Apple figured she’d just wait until Briar passed out to try and answer them all- goodness knows that girl sends 50 texts that could easily have just been four, though she said it “preserved the tone that way”. She loved Briar, but she could be a lot at times.

Apple sighed as she entered her room and flopped onto her overly fluffy bed and pondered if her mom kept any poisoned apples around so she could just skip this whole mess and wake up whenever Darling would be able to get past her mother’s guards and they could just run away into the sunset. Or if she could jump out her window and Darling could be there to catch her...

A girl could dream.

Eventually, she just decided to scroll social media to pass the time, making sure to like any and posts wishing her a happy birthday, though deciding not to comment. Sure it was highly unusual, but she simply did not have the energy today.

She was probably on her mirror phone for hours, when there was a knock at her door. Apple took in a deep breath, putting on her happy face, before opening and finding out her mother was on the other side.

“Apple darling, how was the ride home?” She asked, not waiting for Apple to invite her in.

“It was great mom,” She said, closing the door behind her.

“Good, good,” Her mother nodded to herself, before turning and looking her up and down. “Are you wearing that to the party?”

“No, Lizzie Hearts actually designed me this dress I’ve been dying to wear-”

“Oh, that’s good. Can’t have you turning another year older in that old thing,” She said, gesturing to her dress. Apple only nodded.

“You excited for tonight? I’ve spent all week planning for you,” Snow grinned, going to her tablet and tapping a few things.

“Yep! Totally hexcited,” Apple gave a thumbs up.

“You going to start on your hair soon?” Snow asked, not looking up.

“Yep yep,” It was getting harder for her to be enthusiastic.

“Good,” Snow nodded, turning off the device and looking back to Apple, thinking a moment before smiling.

“You’re growing up so fast my little apple, darling,” She said. “Time really flies when you’re away at that school.”

“I guess, yeah. Though- it’s almost hard to tell with all those tests,” Apple joked. Snow laughed.

“Professor Rumplestilskin keeps you busy?” The queen said.

“He’s just like you described,” Apple confirmed. Snow chuckled.

“Older I bet, though. Goodness knows that old miser has probably only gotten worse with age, unlike some people,” She grinned. Apple nodded once more, not really knowing how to respond.

Snow White paused. “Something on your mind, my little dumpling?”

“Nope! I’m absolutely perfect,” Apple internally panicked, quickly putting on a cheesy smile.

“Good, but do know if anything’s wrong, don’t be afraid to tell me, alright? One of the dwarves can handle it,” Snow patted her head.

“I know, mom,” Apple really hated it when she babied her.

“Right,” The queen nodded to herself. “Well then- I’ll let you get ready now. I really do hope you’ll like this party- All of Ever After is coming in your honor,” She said, beginning to exit.

“Yipee,” Apple said halfheartedly.

“Hate to go, but a few things need to be finalized. Hugs and kisses darling, see you later” Her mother blew a kiss as she headed out.

Once her mother was out of earshot, Apple flopped onto her bed, grabbed a pillow, smushed it against her face, and groaned.

This was going to be a long, long night.

.o0o.

Despite everything, Darling was glad to be home. Sure, her parents didn’t exactly know about the fact she was the white knight and she had to constantly make sure Daring didn’t accidentally spill the beans, but other than that her family was fun to be around- which was more than she could say for other families in Ever After. After all, her parents knew she was gay practically from the moment she was born- as a girl “prince charming” practically set it up from the beginning.

What they didn’t know was that she was dating Apple, meaning that Daring had failed and wasn’t Apple’s destined Prince Charming, but that she was instead. That was a secret she didn’t have to worry about Daring sharing because despite him realizing his destiny was likely with Rosabella, he was still deeply embarrassed by the whole thing.

Still, it was an unspoken agreement between the Charming siblings not to speak a word of what happened at the dragon games- not until Apple was ready to tell her mother anyway.

But despite all this, she was still happy to be home, as it meant she could return to her familiar backyard and practice sword fighting with her brothers in their favorite hang-out spot, where their father used to make them practice “saving damsels in distress”. It was a nice little spot that the siblings spent years building and crafting to perfection, with chairs, hammocks, some of Dexter’s favorite books, swords and dummies for practice, and a few mirrors to suit Daring’s vanity, as well as an elaborate bell system that reached back to the castle in case their parents needed them but didn’t want to go searching.

However, the one downside of the nook was that there was terrible cell reception.

“Darling, you have got to relax and stop stressing about Apple, the party isn’t for several hours, take a mirror and nap on the hammock. I know it works like a charm for me,” said Daring, admiring himself as he advised his baby sister. Darling rolled her eyes.

“Honestly, I’m surprised you aren’t panicking as much as I am. I swear you and Rosabella have been texting constantly ever since the whole ‘winter in summer’ fiasco,” Darling pointed out, deciding to somewhat take his advice and sit in the hammock.

“I took his phone while we were in the car, it was driving me insane,” Dexter patted his pocket. Darling snorted.

“Don’t encourage him, it was rude,” Daring shot his brother a glare.

“Alright, calm down you two,” Darling rolled her eyes. “though- if you want we can settle this the old-fashioned way.”

“Uh-uh. No sword fighting- not today anyway. Mom said we have to stay ‘clean and pristine’ for the party tonight,” Dexter said.

“Lame,” Darling groaned, refreshing her mirror phone once more, but not getting any better results than the fifty times she tried before.

“Darling, you seriously need to relax. Apple’s dealt with her mother her whole life, she’ll be okay for a few days,” Dexter said.

“Easy for you to say,” Darling rolled her eyes, trying again but still getting nothing.

“Yeah bro, don’t underestimate this whole thing. You know how the Queen can be,” Daring pointed out.

“Okay, you got me,” Dexter huffed, putting a bookmark in and closing his book. “I’m just trying to get you to relax.”

“You know what’d relax me? A good sword fight,” Darling’s eyes shone mischievously.

“I’m not gonna fight you- I always lose and always end up bleeding somehow,” Dexter shook his head. “Plus- mom said no fighting.”

“Daring?” She turned to her eldest brother.

“No can do Darling. Gotta stay handsome for the party, keeps away the suspicion,” He pulled out his mirror once more, checking out his own reflection again.

“You guys are so lame,” Darling groaned.

“What time even is the party, anyway?” Dexter asked.

“I think the palace doors open at 5, but that’s if you’re insanely early and-”

“-And everyone knows it’s best to be fashionably late as opposed to early,” Daring interrupted her.

“I’m gonna go get ready,” Darling decided, swiftly getting off the hammock.

“Isn’t it a little early to be getting ready? It’s only 3,” Dexter pointed out.

“Mom’s probably going to make me scrub the dirt from my nails like- 50 times before the party so we’ll see how long this takes,” She sighed. “The plights of being a girl.”

“You say that like Daring isn’t right there,” Dexter snarked.

“He makes a good point, Darling. I should be getting ready too,” He said, putting away his mirror.

“Dex, you coming then?” Darling asked. Dexter sighed, putting his book away.

“I guess so,” He said, and the Charming Siblings left their nook to head back into the castle.

After that it was hours of priming and preening, Darling barely had the time to check her phone as the handmaids chatted her ears off about gossip she couldn’t have cared less about, which was made worse when her mother came in and started talking about gossip amongst the royals about who was dating who and fashion trends or whatever. Darling was hardly paying attention, having never cared about these types of things.

It wasn’t like she disliked getting dressed up and doing her hair and painting her nails and such, it was just- when the maids and her mother did it, they hardly ever asked her what she wanted and Darling could never really get a word in on such matters. Hell- the most her mother had probably ever listened to her was when she came out, and when she begged her to let her go to Ever After High and stop being homeschooled. Other than that, she was pretty sure nothing got through, as her mom had a clear preference for Dex, and her dad had a preference for Daring.

Whatever, she had her own way to cope. If she could just get her phone...

“Aaaand, done. Oh now don’t you just look gorgeous,” One of the maids said, placing the final touch on her dress. Darling snapped back in the moment, taking a second to admire the dress they put her in, nodding briefly in approval, quickly walking over to check her phone.

No texts from Apple.

She was probably just getting ready too, Darling had nothing to worry about.

“So...? What do you think?” Her mother asked.

“It’s a lovely dress, thanks mom,” Darling said, not really looking at her, sending Apple a quick text.

“You teens and your mirror phones,” Mrs. Charming rolled her eyes. “I’m going to go looking for your brothers. Don’t mess up that hair.”

“Got it,” Darling still didn’t look up. Her mother sighed before leaving. Darling then thanked the handmaids for their service, then went down to the foyer to wait for everyone.

Apple still hadn’t replied to any of her messages. Darling shouldn’t have been surprised- it was her party and knowing the queen, she was probably keeping her busy or having her change a million times. She should just... attempt to relax. They’d be at the party soon enough, and Darling could give Apple her gift and keep her safe and happy and loved.

The gift Darling had gotten her was separate from the “family present” her parents had made for Apple. It was a necklace and a pretty simple one at that. It was gold, and had the engraving of an apple on the front, but on the back, there was a little rainbow. Darling hoped it was subtle enough and that no one would ask any questions, but she really wanted it to be special to her.

Darling had fallen for many girls throughout the years, but it was easy to say she cared about Apple the most.

Eventually, the rest of her family came down the stairs and it was time to go.

“You ready?” Dexter asked. Darling shook her head.

“I’m a Charming, I shouldn’t be this nervous,” She hugged her arms.

“It’ll be okay. You’re a lot tougher than you think- Apple too,” Dexter reassured. That did help a little.

“Thanks, Dex,” She said.

“No problem. Let’s just go and try to have a good time,” Dexter said, clearly trying to hype himself up too.

“That can’t be too hard, right?” Darling joked a little, stepping into the carriage.

“I hope not,” Dexter said, following suit, and the Charming Family was off.

.o0o.

Apparently, it could be that hard.

Once they arrived, Darling was greeted at the door by some gruff-looking dwarves who grabbed the family’s present out of Dexter’s hands (Darling kept her gift in her purse) and they were formally announced to the party room before being asked to quickly move aside for other guests. Say what you would about Snow White, but she sure knew how to get things done quickly and efficiently. Darling then went to go and try and greet Apple, but more dwarves said she couldn’t greet the princess until later. She briefly made eye contact with her girlfriend, who sent her a silent distress call she wished she could answer, but alas, she had to wait and try to party with everyone else.

Of course, it was nice to mingle with her fellow classmates, but they literally just got off of campus just a few hours ago, so outside of complementing everyone’s outfits, dancing a bit, and taking a few photos, there wasn’t much they could do. Piper and Briar did their best to keep things lively, but something about Apple being forced to sit on a throne the whole time away from everyone else really sucked the energy out of the kids, who wanted nothing more than to mingle with her.

However, after an hour or so, Snow White allowed for the festivities to “officially begin” and Apple was allowed down, though she was quickly overwhelmed by hugs from her friends, which made Darling chuckle as she waited patiently for her turn.

“You looked like you were going to die of misery if you had to sit there a moment longer,” Darling said as she hugged her.

“You have no idea. My mother says adding cushions to a throne looks unprofessional so that’s just solid metal baby,” Apple joked tiredly.

“You’re doing great, Apple. You got this,” Darling whispered. Apple hugged her tighter.

“I know she means well, but sometimes I seriously want to strangle her,” Apple joked.

“I know the feeling,” Darling sympathized as she let go so no one would be suspicious. Apple then continued hugging and catching up with other guests, while Darling waited steadily for her to finish. Apple finished, and swiftly- though subtly- returned to her girlfriend’s side.

“So... wanna dance?” Apple offered.

“Oh you know I’m a dreadful dancer, that’s not fair,” Darling shook her head as Apple grabbed her hand and dragged her to the dance floor.

“The way I remember you totally beat Chase in that dance-off,” Apple pointed out.

“Everyone knows Chase is just about the worst dancer ever after, and we won only because he slipped and fell off the board,” Darling rolled her eyes, but it was too late, as Apple had already gotten her near the center and began to dance.

“C’mon, it’s fun,” Apple said, her eyes shining under the party lights. Darling sighed in defeat and awkwardly began to dance with her. Apple chuckled a little bit, but reassured her that she was doing great, and soon enough, she loosened up enough to the point that she was actually having a good time. Though of course, this became easier when she saw Apple was having a good time. Perhaps she had been worrying for nothing. Perhaps everything was going to be alright- they’d find ways to reach each other and take care and know they were loved and everything was okay and was going to be okay.

After an hour or so, once again, the dancing was called to a brief pause, as Apple was dragged off to open her presents while the rest of the party continued, though Snow White did allow Briar, Raven, and Darling to join her. She went to her seat and began unwrapping box after box of presents, each more elaborate and fancy than the last, and Snow White hovered nearby making comments about them, thanking the families who gave them. Books, jewelry, dresses, tea sets, and all sorts of things were unwrapped one by one, only to be quickly taken away by dwarves, and Darling felt a twinge of guilt for getting her something so minimalistic and small.

However, after the last one was taken away, Darling took the small box out of her purse and handed it to Apple.

“A... personal gift? That’s highly unusual,” Snow White commented, and Darling internally panicked.

“I think it’s a sweet signifier of a good friendship,” Briar commented nonchalantly, though a bit on the nose. Apple smiled at Darling sweetly before opening it and gasping.

“Darling, it’s beautiful,” She said, admiring the engraving.

“Rather small isn’t it?” Snow raised an eyebrow.

“I paid for it myself,” Darling said, trying her best not to give the queen a dirty look. Apple then flipping it over and touched the engraving of the rainbow with her fingers slowly.

“Oh Darling, it’s absolutely beautiful,” She said softly.

“A... rainbow?” Snow raised an eyebrow, and Apple quickly turned it over.

“What’s suspicious about a rainbow? Rainbows are pretty,” Raven tried to defend it, and Darling realized she probably just made the biggest mistake of her life.

“Rainbows can mean a great number of things,” The queen said, looking at Darling.

“Rainbows are also just... pretty,” Raven continued to try, but she wasn’t as good as Briar.

Snow White thought to herself a moment, before ordering for the festivities to continue and for the cakes to be brought out and to begin serving it to the guests. However, after saying that, she turned back to Apple.

“Apple, darling? A word,” She ordered, walking out of the ballroom.

“Oh god- Apple, I’m so, so, so sorry-”

“No, Darling. Don’t be,” Apple stood. “I... I think I can handle this.”

Raven and Briar exchanged a look.

“Are you sure, Apple?” Raven asked.

“I... I think so. Briar, keep the guests entertained. I don’t want anyone to stop partying for my sake, okay?” She asked.

“If that’s what you want,” She nodded, before hugging her. “Just be safe.”

“I will,” Apple hugged her quickly.

“What about us?” Raven asked.

“If your mother so much as raises a finger-” Darling started, but Apple stopped her.

“I... I think I can handle this. She’s my mother, right? I’ve dealt with her before. I-i have facts and destiny on my side,” Apple said, trying to hide her nervousness.

“Okay... if you want to handle this alone, we’ll let you. But- if you need help, but say the word, alright? Raven and I can be there in a flash,” Darling said. Apple smiled a little, before frowning.

“I have to go... I’m sorry- she’ll get mad,” Apple turned away.

“Good luck,” Raven said.

Good luck. Right.

Apple took a deep breath before exiting out into the hallway.

.o0o.

She wouldn’t admit it, but her heart was pounding in her chest. She was terrified to confront her mother, but she had years of pretending everything was fine under her belt in preparation for this very moment. She entered the hallway to find her mother pacing ever so anxiously in her long and elegant white dress with her usual red cape. However, once Apple entered the scene, her mother’s pacing stopped.

“Why did that girl give you a present?” Her mother asked.

“Because I’m important to her and she wanted a way to show that to me,” Apple replied matter-of-factly.

“Important to her how?” Snow raised an eyebrow. Apple got a bad feeling in her stomach. She didn’t want to say- she didn’t have to-

But well...

“Important to her how, Apple?” The queen demanded.

“W-well... you know how I got poisoned at the Dragon Games?” Apple said.

“By the Raven girl, I presume?” Snow raised an eyebrow.

“Mostly her mom, but kinda- that’s not important. What’s important is that it was the apple- like from our story,” She explained. “You know- the ‘true love’s kiss will break the spell’ apple?”

“Apple, I know my own story,” She gave her a look. Apple tried her best not to crack under it.

“Well, I was poisoned and in a coma, and Daring tried to kiss me and- well... it didn’t... work,” Apple said.

“What? What do you mean Daring didn’t work? He’s supposed to be your destined prince, how can this be?” Snow demanded.

“I-i don’t know- well... I do kinda know...” Apple whispered.

“I demand an explanation,” Snow ordered.

“Well- after Daring’s kiss failed everyone was kinda just gonna give up, but Darling was there, and she had this crazy idea, a-and... wellllll...” Apple didn’t finish.

Snow White paused.

“You mean to tell me that... princess broke your little curse?” She asked, seething with hatred.

“Y-yes,” Apple nodded.

The queen paused again.

“And what happened after?” She said coldly.

“W-well for awhile nobody would tell me what happened out of fear of how I’d react, until Darling eventually told be during the whole ‘snow in summer’ fiasco and well- then we... started... dating..?” Apple said that last part quieter than the rest.

“This is absolutely ridiculous- do you seriously expect me to believe all this?” Snow crossed her arms. Apple blinked.

“Mom- it’s the truth,” She stated. Her mother laughed.

“That’s impossible. The Storybook of Legends would never say such a thing,” She said. “The girl must’ve simply done CPR, gotten the piece dislodged from your throat or something.”

“Mom, that’s not what happened- you know how the curse works, ‘true loves kiss’. Darling Charming is my true love,” Apple argued, getting angry now.

“Don’t you dare address your queen with that tone,” Snow snapped. “The amount of disrespect you’ve had today is outrageous. First the complaining, then the lack of focus, then the lies? I am your mother, but I am also your queen, and I expect the utmost respect, is that understood?”

“Mom, for the last time, I’m not lying! I’m in love and am dating Darling Charming. She broke the curse and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life,” Apple asserted, tears now threatening to spill.

“What absolute ludicrous. I will not take such blasphemy. Such a relationship is impossible. Go to your room until you’re ready to tell me the truth,” She commanded.

“N-... No.” Apple put her foot down.

The queen paused.

“No...?” She asked, her eye twitching.

“No. I’ve already told you the truth, so I’m not going anywhere,” Apple glared at her.

“No daughter of mine would speak to me with such blatant disrespect,” Snow White was aghast.

“Mom, whether or not you like it, me and Darling are destined for each other, and there is nothing you can do to change that. Even Principal Grimm agrees with me- Principal Grimm!” Apple exclaimed.

“Do not raise your voice at me, young lady.” The queen threatened.

“Then listen, for goodness sake,” Apple threw her hands in the air. “I’ve told you nothing but the truth, and you refuse to believe me! Why? For some- stupid outdated idea?”

“I’ve had enough of this attitude- go to your room. Now.” Snow ordered again.

Apple didn’t move.

“I won’t ask again, Apple. Go. To. Your. Room,” She stepped forward, causing Apple to take a step back.

“G-go ask Principal Grimm if you don’t believe me,” Apple said, trying her best not to crack. Snow slowly walked towards her daughter, until Apple was backed against a wall. The queen grabbed her face.

“There are hundreds of street orphans far more worthy of your destiny than you are. Do not forget this.” She quickly let go, before walking away, while Apple stood there, dumbstruck.

Eventually, her knees gave in, and she collapsed into sobs, and Darling burst through the door, and Darling immediately wrapped her in a tight embrace.

“It’s okay Apple, it’s alright, I’m right here,” Darling did her best to soothe.

“She doesn’t believe me- sh-she said- sh-she s-sa-said-”

“It’s okay, Apple. I know... she’s wrong. She doesn’t believe you,” Darling tried with all of her might to squeeze the sadness out of her, but nothing was working.

“Sh-she said hundreds of o-orphans are f-far more worthy,” Apple hiccupped, and Darling’s heart broke.

“Apple, she had no right to say that. You aren’t some... machine, you’re a human person. She had no right to ever treat you or make you feel that way,” Darling soothed, but Apple continued to cry, which she couldn’t blame her for.

This sucked.

“I love you Apple, you know that, right?” She asked. Apple nodded her head.

Good. At least she knew that...

“If you need somewhere to stay, I’m sure my parents or Briar’s or even Raven’s wouldn’t mind, okay?” Darling said. Apple nodded again. Darling kissed the top of her head.

This really, really sucked.

“It’s gonna be okay, Apple...” She practically whispered.

“Y-you promise?” Apple looked up at her weakly. Darling wiped some of the tears from her eyes.

“I promise... maybe not today, or even tomorrow, but I promise, someday it’s gonna be okay, alright?” She asked softly. Apple nodded slowly.

“Okay...” Apple rested her head on Darling’s shoulder.

“Do you wanna go anywhere?” Darling asked. Apple shook her head.

“I wanna stay here... with you,” She said hoarsely. Darling nodded her head.

“I can do that,” She said, stroking her face softly, wiping more tears away.

And she meant it. She’d stay right there until Apple felt better, no matter how long it took. Apple knew it, Darling knew it. And despite everything, that did make Apple feel a little bit better.

She was loved. Perhaps not by her mother, but if she didn’t love her, that was her mistake.

Her mother was wrong.

What she and Darling had was love, and nothing could change that.

#my fics #ever after high #dappling #darling charming #apple white #eah #snow white #snow white eah #long post #tw homophobia #tw abuse #the charming siblings #dexter charming #daring charming #tw abusive parents #homophobia

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kangaroo-sniper-imagine · 4 years ago

Text

Scout, Demo, and Sniper with inexperienced reader

- i combined these two cuz they both had the Aussie on them. NS/FW stufff ahead so caution -

Scout

Jeremy may act like he’s God’s gift to women, but let’s be honest, aside from some trysts and a girlfriend he had for three weeks in the tenth grade, homeboy ain’t got no experience either

He wants so badly to be a good boyfriend! He tries so hard to be nice and to be a gentleman to you, often times putting on such a fake persona that you have to remind him that you like Jeremy because he’s a loud, fast-talking jack ass from south Boston. Not those words exactly, but you get the idea

Tries the classic dates like fancy restaurants and romantic movies, but chances are if you liked Jeremy enough to date him, you probably hate that stuff too. Good dates are outing to parks, watching action movies, going to bars, etc. fun, not stuffy dates.

NS/FW

Jeremy has SOME idea of what he’s doing, but its more so getting himself off than trying to get his partner off. It takes some re-learning on his part to figure out that sex is supposed to be mutually fun. If he suck at it, tell him! Boy needs to learn!

He gets that you have almost no experience, and that just adds to the pressure for him; he’s already so insecure and this is just another are he has the potential to disappoint you in. First time together is gonna be real awkward and slow, as neither of you wanna fuck up

After the two of you get more experienced with each other, oooooooooh boy, Jeremy is insatiable. Partially because he’s never had a steady s/o who lived in the same building as him. He is always dtf; like, come in while he’s regaining one of his (dramatized) wins, give him a “look” and he’ll stop talking mid-sentence and follows you to wherever for a quickie

Jeremy’s favorite position is probably doggy style. He gets to give all his love and also gets to hide his face of he starts to feel embarrassed; its easier to have the macho sex god persona if his partner can’t see his face all flushed and pinched in concentration

Demo

Tavish has had plenty of date mates, but when he starts his relationship with you and learns that he is your first ever boyfriend? Fuck, it might as well be his first relationship too (the Scotsman is soft lbr). He knows that each relationship is different from another, even minusculy, but since you have no reference point, he’s gonna start from square one and work your way up to normal relationship things

By that I mean this man has, like, an itinerary. Week one: holding hands, Week two: eating meals together, etc. Tav is THOROUGH! He wants you doing lame couple things and wants you to be comfortable with them asap. He’s like one of those high school girls who are like “we need to be dating for six months before we can kiss.” It’s not that he isn’t ready, he just wants to make sure you are

Dates with him are weird and varied. One night he takes you to a nice bar, the next date is helping him set off about to expire explosives. A very lovely evening of him playing piano with you, then it’s Loch Ness Monster hunting. Suffice to say that your dates are never boring.

NS/FW

Tavish sets the relationship at a slow pace so that you’ll feel comfortable; introducing sex into the relationship is no different. He’ll let you know when he’s comfortable with it and is fine waiting until you are ready for it and won’t do jack shit without your permission.

When you are ready, be prepared for the cheesiest seduction ever. You’ll walk into Tavish’s room one day and there’s a trail of rose petals leading to the bed where the Scotsman lays, naked, with a rose between his teeth and a heart shaped pillow covering his junk; candles EVERYWHERE. It takes every ounce of willpower not to laugh (plz laugh, Tavish is trying so hard to make you relax before doing the do)

Despite the fact that the man likes his drink, Tavish refuses to fuck drunk. Sleeping with you is an honor, and he 1. Doesn’t wanna not remember it, 2. Doesn’t want to do something dumb while he’s drunk and hurt you, 3. Doesn’t wanna do something embarrassing in front of the gang while trying to seduce you. He’s a good boy who knows better

Sniper

Mick has had plenty of short term date mates, considering his job keeps him moving around. Before Teufort, he never bothered trying to keep a serious relationship because he would be gone by the end of the month. Then our favorite Aussie meets YOU and the whole game plan changed. He couldn’t be a “love ‘em and leave ‘em” man anymore, and he didn’t want to be with you. You’re special

Mick’s not 100% sure exactly what dating him would entail. You two go out to the local bar to drink, you spend your meals and down time together, you haven’t moved into the truck camper yet but you sure do spend a ton of nights there. Mick doesn’t have domestic experience so he tries to do what his parents do and what they told him to do, so it’s a lot of laundry together, movie nights at the local drive-in, reading the same book and talking about it, etc. Mick skipped right into the “old married life” kind of relationship

The Aussie is happy to take things slow with you, considering THIS kind of relationship is new to him too. You’re a special person the Mick wants to keep in his life

NS/FW

BAAAAAAAAAAAAAABES, I KNOW everyone’s like “oh, Sniper is an awkward loner with social issues” but listen darlings; Mick is a businessman, he used to have to talk to tins of people to get jobs; had to have connections, had to be charismatic, he to be willing to hang out in seedy bars and joints to eat gigs. What I’m saying is, aside from Spy, Sniper is probably the one who can manipulate the room to his advantage best, cuz he’s been doing it since he started. The point of this rant is to say SNIPER CAN GET IT! Homeboy’s got tail game! You cannot change my mind! He’s probably had more quickies than a rabbit hutch; he’s attractive as hell and knows how to talk to people to get what he wants and how to clock people at the bar who wants to get laid too! He came, he saw, he didn’t call he next morning. Okay end of rant and back to the original purpose of this point

So! Mick has plenty of sexual experience, and rather than see you as some sort of delicate flower, he sees it more as an opportunity to let you experiment ON him. Whatever you wanna try, he’s done it like 9 times. You wanna do some nasty shit? Okie dokie than, he’ll get the “Camper’s a-rocking, don’t come a-knocking” sign up and clear his schedule. Aussie knows what he’s doing

Plz bring up riding to this man, he’ll fucking propose to you. He thinks riding is the best position because he has all the access to your fun areas, he’s able to bury his face into your chest or neck, and its minimal movement for him

#tf scout x reader #tf2 demoman x reader #tf2 sniper x reader #team fortress 2 x reader #tf2 x reader #tf2 scout #tf2 demoman #tf2 sniper #tea fortress 2 #tf2

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thisisgonnafuxkinkillme · 4 years ago

Text

Teaching You to Drive

Yagi Toshinori/ Small Might/ All Might x gn!reader

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead x gn!reader

Warnings: None, maybe a little tiny bit of fluff

Aizawa Shouta

You had been putting this off for quite a few years now, and at this point you were much too embarrassed to do anything about it. You were reserved to bus stations and Uber rides, succumbing to the fact that you probably would never learn to drive.

Aizawa hadn’t noticed this fact about you, though. For the first date or two, at least. Once you slipped up, mentioning you were waiting for a ride to come get you, he immediately went into teacher mode.

“Wait wait wait... y/n, do you know how to drive?” He asked sharply. You inhaled as you realized you’ve been caught red handed.

“N-, well, um, I have my permit, but-“

“Absolutely not. Y/n! No,” He scolded over the phone. You cringed, but was grateful he couldn’t see your ashamed facial expression.

“Don’t plan on anything this weekend. I’m picking you up and you’re learning how to drive.”

He hung up, refusing to hear any excuses or objections you may have had.

—-time skip—-

At 9am on the dot, Aizawa was outside of your house. You were still sleeping peacefully when you heard him honking his horn. You sigh, pulling the pillow over your face.

About two seconds later, Aizawa was sitting on your windowsill, aggressively knocking at your window.

You opened it.

“Get ready. Now. I’m waiting.”

Just like that, he was gone again. You closed the window, sighing. You did not want to do this right now. Ugh.

You picked out something casual,

And just hurried up and met him out there. You knew the longer you waited the more you’d probably have to pay later.

He was sat in the passenger seat, his seatbelt on and arms crossed over his chest. He raised an eyebrow as you approached the car. On the wrong side.

You seriously weren’t ready for this.

“Are you ready for this?” He asked as if readying your mind. You couldn’t help but shake your head and laugh.

“Lose that attitude. Now. You’re ready, whether you know it or not.”

“Alright, now, what do you do first?” He asked, semi rhetorically. You put your hands on the wheel nervously.

“Wrong. Put on your seatbelt.”

This was gonna be a... trip. To say the least.

He gently yet firmly guided you though your mistakes and nervousness all while making sure you both were safe.

Everything was going fine until you saw a squirrel run in front of the car, stomping on the break a lot harder than you meant to. You both flew forward, your head nearly shattering the windowshield. Thank God for that seat belt.

“Come on, now. You can do better than that. Listen, it’s okay to want to not kill something, but be more careful before you accidentally kill yourself, too,” said Aizawa in his monotone voice. You nodded.

After a long day filled with vigorous practicing, Aizawa finally got back in the driver’s seat.

“Alright, baby, now let’s go do something fun. You’ve done really well today, and are making great progress. Keep it up and I’ll buy you something nice, alright?” He offered, his smirk barely visible. You smiled, accepting that challenge.

Toshinori Yagi/All Might/Small Might

Toshi knew you liked to be babied, so he never really questioned why you’d always ask for him to pick you up for dates or doctor’s appointments. He just thought you wanted to spend more time with him (which you did).

That was until one day, you had to buy spray paint and they had to check your id. You pulled out your wallet, showing your drivers permit. Toshi didn’t say anything, as to not embarrass you, but he made a mental note to ask you about it later.

“Hey, darling, I want to ask you a question,” he mentioned a few days later over a phone call.

“What is it?”

“Well, I noticed you have your driver’s permit, but... um... do you have- do you, um, well, can you drive?” he eventually stammered out. He didn’t want to hurt your feelings or make you feel small or stupid. (Which you did)

You sighed deeply. That alone was all the answer he needed. Before you could say no, he asked, “Do you have any plans for today at all?”

“No, but...” you started shyly.

“Don’t worry, I’m not working today. And no, you’re not wasting my time, sweetheart. I’m on my way. Get ready for me, okay, honey?”

You were silent for a few seconds. You clutched your heart.

“I love you, Toshi.”

“I love you more, baby. I’ll be there in 5 minutes. See you soon.”

The phone clicked, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Then, the fear set in. Shitttt...

You were already waiting outside of your front door when he pulled up. He playfully tossed the keys at you, and as nervous as you were, you missed them, and they fell to the ground. You swiftly retrieved them as you slouch into the driver’s seat. He watched you intently yet casually, not letting you know how nervous he was too. Sure, he taught the kids at UA, but that was hero stuff, stuff that is just second nature to him. It’s something that you can’t really get wrong, either. As long as no one dies and you win, you’re winning. But with driving, there’s so many laws, social rules, and even if you follow all the rules, someone else could always cause you to get in an accident.

Plus, you’re you. There’s a big difference between teaching students and teaching someone you love. You’re scared of hurting their feelings, or frustrating them, or confusing them.

So far, all you knew what to do was to put your seatbelt on. You looked at him, eyes pleading for step by step instructions.

“Alright, just put the key into the ignition, and we’ll get started.”

You nodded, fumbling for a moment. You turned it, the engine purring. Now the nerves really kicked in. This is real.

God I’m gonna kill us, fuck I can’t see him dead, it’s gonna be my fault, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die

Your brain rushed through horrific images of car accidents, blood, guts, and gore. And it’d all be your fault.

“Honey, is everything okay?” A hand met your shoulder. You looked at him silently.

“I can’t do this. I can’t...” you started sobbing. Toshi turned the key and removed it, the engine stopping. He rubbed your back gently, his fingers brushing along your spine.

“Shhh, shh... it’s okay. Tell me what you’re thinking, baby. It’s going to be okay...” he cooed in your ear.

“I just don’t want to kill us... I don’t want to die.. I don’t- don’t want you to die...”

“Oh, honey... I’m gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

“It’s okay to be scared. But I promise you, you can and will do this. I believe in you.”

You took a deep breath, wiping the tears from your face. Your boyfriend kissed you on the cheek, dropping the keys into your hand.

“Are you ready to try again?”

You nodded. The engine started back up once again, and Toshi took a moment to show you where to position your hands on the wheel. Then, you placed your foot on the accelerator.

Way too hard.

You both flew forward. Startled, you stomped on the brake.

Toshi tried his best not to agree that maybe you *would* actually kill him today. Instead, he gently instructed you on how little pressure is really needed to make the car move at a normal speed.

You began again, this time doing much better.

“Good job, baby. Keep going, you’re doing so great for me,” he praised quietly. You blushed, the little compliments hatching into butterflies in your tummy.

You of course made mistakes, I mean, this is your first time ever operating a car. Ever. So that’s to be expected.

Overall, you were making quite a good bit of progress, especially after driving for just a few hours. Finally, after a good couple of hours, Toshi offered to take you home.

“Only if you promise to come cuddle!” You jokingly tease.

“Oh, absolutely. Count on it.”

And you did. When you got home, you dramatically flopped onto the bed, arms open and eyes needy. He pulled the blanket aside and pulling you close.

“I’m so proud of you, honey. You really did a great job.”

You thanked him with a kiss. And another. And another.

#toshinori yagi #yagi mha #aizawa shouta #all might hc #mha yagi #small might #toshinori x reader #yagi toshinori #yagi toshinori x reader #aizawa fluff #aizawa headcanon #aizawa shota #shouta aizawa #aizawa x reader #aizawa sensei #all might x reader #small might x reader #mr aizawa #mr Aizawa x reader

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kaitycole · 4 years ago

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you broke me first (part 2)

Summary: You and Oikawa dated all three years of high school, that is until he broke up with you out of nowhere. Then three years later, you open the door of Iwaizumi’s apartment to find Oikawa there.

Word Count: 2825

Rating: Angst. Pinning. Mentions of anxiety. Talks of a break-up

Pairing: OIkawa x Female Reader (past tense), Iwaizumi x Female Reader

A/N: Fingers crossed I’m capturing these guys right lol I think maybe it’ll have one more part, I'm not sure. Let me know your thoughts though!

Also, I’m thinking of having two different ending, let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!

Song Choice: you broke me first by Tate McRae

Tag List: @yatoatyourservice

When Iwa finally gets back to his apartment, Oikawa is sprawled out on the floor on his phone. Shaking his head, he simply walks passed him, grabbing two beers from the fridge. He just knows he’s gonna need some.

“Oi. Here.”

Oikawa takes the beer, clinking it against Iwa’s before taking a sip. While the two of you were gone, Oikawa practically dissected all the posts on both your social media profiles. He came up empty, either you weren’t dating or weren’t making it public. It’s driving him crazy to not know, while he wasn’t expecting you to be here, he’d be lying if he said seeing you didn’t stir something up inside him. Didn’t make him rethink the last three years, comparing them to the three you spend together.

“How long as you in town?”

“A week.” He makes eye contact with Iwa, “But I’ll find somewhere else tomorrow.” Iwa shakes his head in protest, “Just stay in the spare room.” “Is Y/N okay with that?” Oikawa raises an eyebrow, trying to see how he react; but he’s stoic as usual.

He nods, “As long as you don’t act like shittykawa, I’m sure things will be fine.”

A few beers later and Iwa’s phone goes off, he excuses himself to take it. Oikawa leans back on the couch, trying to not think about you but failing.

------

It was just like every other day, an early chilly morning before school. You and Oikawa were sitting on a bench close to the school, he had just finished up a brief practice. He enjoyed this time with you, before the campus filled with tons of students especially his “fan club”.

“Oh, I brought you something!”

“Oh really? What is it, princess?” You pulled out a small bag and handed it to him: milk bread.

“Y/N, you’re the best. I love you.”

Your face turned bright pink.

“Oh, I…uhm…well, no, I love you.” He shrugs, “Wasn’t how I was planning on telling you.”

It made your heart skip, he had been planning on telling you that he loves you. And instead of some grand gesture or in some super overthought way, your dork of a boyfriend told you after getting milk break.

“You are such a dork.” You pulled him close and kissed him, “I love you too.”

There had been great days in Oikawa’s life; most of them included volleyball, but this day topped all of them. He draped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side and kissing the top of your head.

“Say it again?”

Your face turned even redder, it extended to the tops of your ears, “I love you, Toru.”

Oikawa could’ve died right there and he’d have been a happy man. You and volleyball are all he needed in life and luckily, he wouldn’t have to choose one over the other, right?

Two years and three months later, he had to choose one and it wasn’t you.

------

Iwa comes back into the living room, “That was Y/N. She’s back at her dorm.”

“When did she start calling you Hajime?” His voice is full of regret and Iwa instantly picks up on it; his heart sinking.

“I’m not really sure, sometime during our first year here I think.”

“You two are together, aren’t you?” Oikawa asks, not really wanting to hear the answer. His eyes are closed and he feels like he’s going to be sick.

“Yeah. We are.” Iwa rubs the back of his neck, he never intended to keep this from his best friend.

“How long?”

“Three months.” There were several days within those months that Iwa had dialed Oikawa’s number just to hang up or not bring it up. He wanted to tell him, there was nothing keeping him from it other than himself; there was just some mental block.

“Guess you picked up all the piece, eh?” Oikawa stands up, chugging the beer on the table before grabbing his bag. He tries to think of where he can go because he can’t stay here. He doesn’t want to hear about how Iwa was there to catch you when he had left.

“It wasn’t like that. We…she didn’t even talk to me that summer or the first few months of school.” Iwa hates thinking about how you were back then, remembering just how broken you were when Oikawa left.

“Then enlighten me.”

“You broke her, shattered her, destroyed her.” He runs his fingers through his hair, “You were it for her and when you just left she fell apart. I honestly thought she didn’t come to university until we had a class together the second part of our first year.”

When Oikawa first left, Iwa assumed you’d need a few days to adjust, but it was after a few weeks that he tried reaching out. You ignored him. He eventually swung by your job at a local convenient store, only to find out that you had quit. When he went to see you at home, your mom had been the one to tell him of the break-up and that you had gone to stay with your aunt in Tokyo for the summer.

Iwa sits down, elbows on his knees with his head in his hands. Oikawa drops his bag, he didn’t realize how hard the break-up had hit you. With him going abroad, he thought it’d be easier for you. Though it hadn’t been easier for him either.

“I felt horrible, she’d become my best friend through high school and there she was and I didn’t know the slightest thing about her anymore. So, I sat next to her, made study plans with her, invited her to meals; anything that I knew she’d agree to and not see as unnecessary like parties.” He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

Iwa tells Oikawa about how you’d practically jump each time your phone went off, praying that it was Oikawa. How you flinched every time someone brought up volleyball or when people would eagerly ask you if you knew Oikawa when they learned where you went to high school. Or that you missed two days of classes when she learned he had injured his bad knee again and that it was almost a year later when you actually gave Iwa a sincere smile and laugh.

Iwa doesn’t look up Oikawa as he recounts the last few years; part of him want his best friend to feel guilty and miserable, but the other part of him feels guilty for wanting that. He recalls the time when you called him first to make plans that didn’t include the library, studying or a lecture.

He laughs, “You know she came in here about a year and a half ago now, randomly telling me she hated all my furniture and over the next four months, she had completely redecorated the apartment.” Oikawa smirks, that sounded just like you.

Oikawa continues listening to Iwa. Learning that it may have taken you a bit longer than expected, but you learned to be happy again. That a day came where you could hear his name again without cringing and how one random night you brought up a memory of the three of you out of the blue. Oikawa isn’t sure if the ache in his chest is still from hearing about how you were or from the proud smile Iwa sports talking about you.

He stands up, once again picking up his bag before nodding his head towards the hallway. “I’m beat.”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Iwa stands up, motioning his friend towards the guest room.

In three separate beds lay three individuals, minds all filled with a mix of worries, regrets, and memories. In the room at the end of the hall is Iwa, trying to convince himself that laying in the middle of the bed will prevent him from missing you. It’s been months since he’s slept alone; even before an official relationship, you slept in his apartment. It started by innocently crashing on the couch after a long day to Iwa saying you could keep a few things in the spare room until the start of your third year of university, about six months ago, when you found yourself in Iwa’s bed, cuddled to his side.

It’s not until his head hits the pillow that he finally realizes why he couldn’t tell Oikawa about the two of you; he never wanted Oikawa to think he liked you during high school. He didn’t want his best friend to try to tear apart every memory, wondering if Iwa had ever tried to sabotage the two of you. He didn’t want him feeling that all his advice through your relationship was in hopes to break you two up. Because that wasn’t the case, although he couldn’t pin point when he had fallen for you, he knew without a doubt that he didn’t look or think about you in that way during your time with Oikawa. All Iwa wanted in the world was for you and Oikawa to be happy.

Just down the hall, Oikawa finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed thinking about what Iwa has just told him. He didn’t want to imagine you the broke mess he learned you had been, it’s what got him through the last three years. It was the immature reason why when he got on the plane, he didn’t glance back. He falls back on the bed, his face in his hands as he lets out a groan. This isn’t what he expected when he came to visit, he thought he and Iwa would hang out, talk about old times, and just have a good time; seeing his ex-girlfriend aka the only girl he’s ever loved was not part of his plans.

He doesn’t like that Iwa was the one who helped you get through the break-up. He doesn’t like that you were completely destroyed. He doesn’t like that three years ago he took the coward’s way out and broke up with you. Seeing you just brought up all the feelings he’d been burying for these last few years, reminding him of all the reasons why the two of you fit together so well and why he fell in love with you. And he definitely doesn’t like feeling like he’s too late because all he wants is to beg for you back. He groans again, wanting for just a moment that he could turn off his thoughts.

Across the city you’re in your college dorm room, laying on the uncomfortable twin mattress that creaks every time you roll over to adjust. Even when you move as slowly as possible, it squeaks and you feel awful for your roommate; even though she’s assured you that she can’t hear a thing. Tonight isn’t going how you originally planned, you woke up this morning thinking that you’d spend the night at Iwa’s, wake up early to him cooking breakfast and then rush to campus to work on your project. But with the slight turn of events, you probably won’t eat until lunch and be early to your group project.

There’s a pit in your stomach, thinking back to the moment you opened the door to see your ex-boyfriend standing there; looking way too good for someone that you wanted to hate. You smack your hands to your face letting out a low groan as your mind wanders. You have worked so hard to get over Oikawa; to be able to breathe and live again after he just left you. His sun-tanned skin, soft brown eyes, all have your stomach in knots and you don’t realize just how long you’ve been holding your breath until your phone vibrates.

Oikawa: You awake? (2:34 am)

Oikawa: It’s Oikawa Toru (2:34 am)

Oikawa: I’m so sorry if you’re sleeping (2:35 am)

Your stomach twists more, surely this was a coincidence and not the universe sending you a sign, right?

Y/N: Did you just send your ex a ‘you up’ text? (2:39 am)

Y/N: Classily Toru (2:39 am)

He sharply inhales, the use of his first name leaves him shocked. All night you had avoided his name altogether, going to the lengths of talking to the wooden table, but here you were using his first name. He has two favorite sounds: a volleyball smacking his hand and the way you say his name, especially his first name. You stare at the text, mentally kicking yourself for the slip up, but it felt comfortable.

Oikawa: I didn’t mean it like that (2:41 am)

Oikawa: Just wanted to talk (2:41 am)

Your hands shake as your thumbs hover over where the J and D are located. Could you? Could you just talk to Oikawa? Act as if he didn’t carelessly toss everything in the closest airport trashcan as he walked towards his gate three years ago? Could you talk to him like you did back when you first met and had become friends? Before you have time to type anything, it buzzes again in your hand and your chest constricts.

Oikawa: I know this is three years late (2:45 am)

Oikawa: And this won’t mean much at all (2:45 am)

Oikawa: Wait, I’m going to call. Hold on (2:46 am)

His hands start to sweat, feeling clammy as he tries to calm his nerves. You start to slightly panic before practically jumping out of bed and rushing into the bathroom. The light blinds you momentarily and the door clicks shut just as his name pops up on your screen, your phone buzzing repeatedly.

Taking one last breath you swipe the screen, putting your phone to your ear, “Hello?

He picks up on the shakiness of your voice, hoping his will sound more still, “Hey.”

Your stomach is all but completely knotted up as his voice fills your mind. It’s soft, like it usually was right before school in the early mornings or when he answered the phone right after he woke up. But you pick up on how it shakes just like yours, wondering what has him so nervous.

“Y/N, I am so sorry.”

“It’s…” he cuts you off.

“Wait, please let me get this all out.”

You nod, instantly realizing he can’t see you.

“An apology won’t ever be enough for what I did. What I put you through. But I am so sorry.”

Tears gently fall down your face, you wanted those words for years. Dreamed about hearing him call and apologize, saying that he made a mistake. Here you were, squatting on the floor in your dorm bathroom at nearly 3 am getting exactly what you wanted all those years ago, but is it what you need now?

“I know and I forgive Toru.” You feel winded, wondering if you really did forgive him. You know that you did, you had years ago because it was once you did that you started to feel better.

There’s a wide smile on his face, “Thank you, Y/N. Could we maybe get together? To just catch up, that is.”

“I have a project tomorrow, but I’m free Sunday.” You bite your lip nervously, but feel your stomach untwist only to fill with butterflies? Are you allowed to get butterflies with an ex? Maybe they were more like moths.

“Sunday. It’s a date then.” He catches his words just as they leave him, he leans against the wall feeling like an idiot. You were dating his best friend, he needed to word things more carefully, he didn’t want to come between you and Iwa.

“Yeah. A date.” You don’t think twice about the term, it was just an expression.

What you also didn’t think twice about is that the room Oikawa is in shares a wall with Iwa’s. The exact wall that Oikawa is leaning up against and the same Iwa who heard just enough of the conversation to feel heartbroken.

This was part of the reason when he tried telling you where Oikawa had been planning to stay, he didn’t correct your when you said girlfriend even though he knew that wasn’t correct. He was going to stay with his sister, but his nephew was sick and he didn’t want to risk it. The same way Iwa didn’t want to risk giving Oikawa an in with you. He trusts you, more than anything, but that doesn’t stop his insecurities from creeping in convincing him that he’s not worthy of anything; especially not someone like you.

When he asked you if you were still okay with dating him, it was more for him than you. He needed to know that he hadn’t been some last stitch way for you to hold onto Oikawa. That you had picked him for him, you had picked Iwaizumi Hajime and not Iwa-chan Oikawa’s best friend. And now at 3:10 am, those same insecurities wrap around him as he can’t help but wonder if your relationship is on stolen time.

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xmagicxshopx · 4 years ago

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💋 Often 💋

Genre: Slice of Life, Comedy Rating: M (smut) Warnings: strip club, oral (f receiving), protected penetrative sex Pairing: stripper!jungkook x reader Notes: AU fic. Not idol!jungkook. Single quote marks ‘ ‘ are for thoughts and double “ “ are for talking. Additional Notes: This is a project and collaboration by myself, @katebacks and @taevjim Mine is based on the song Often by The Weeknd

Summary: She asked me if i do this everyday, i said often. Asked how many times she rode the wave, not so often. Bitches down to do it either way, often. Baby i can make that pussy rain, often.

Routine.

You were all about the routine. It was what you knew and what you were comfortable with; the different and the unknown being your two biggest fears in life. You had a routine. A simple five-day, nine-to-five job that paid you well. A morning schedule of get ready for work, coffee and bagel for breakfast, feed the cat, and drive exactly 20 and a half minutes to get to work. Your evenings were no different as far as having a set schedule. Come home, feed the cat, pop dinner in the microwave, eat, chill, sleep.

All of your friends and family, even your coworkers, tried to gently and kindly nudge you into mixing your life up a bit. Add some spice to it. Broaden your horizon. But you were just fine with the way things were. You didn’t need any spice in your life and your horizon was as broad as you wanted it to be. Your belief? Don’t fix it if it’s not broken and your life wasn’t broken in the slightest. Everything was just peachy. You were happy and that’s what mattered most, right?

Or were you happy?

You scoffed at your reflection in your bathroom mirror as the self doubt started to creep into your brain like an ominous fog. Of course you were happy! Why wouldn’t you be??? Brushing off the sudden wave of doubt that managed to fill your very core, you continued getting ready for work before heading out the door. But of course not before feeding your cat at exactly ten minutes till eight.

Upon walking into the office, you noticed that it was just another day. Everyone already at their desks typing away in their little cubicles while papers could be heard shuffling around into neat, organized piles. The copier buzzing away as it performed the tasks asked of it. You liked this. This was your comfort zone. Routine was good. Everything was good. You had just put your purse away and went to sit down at your desk when one of your coworkers popped up over the top of your cubicle.

“So, girl friend! It’s a Friday and I’m taking you out whether you like it or not. Be ready by nine!”

Wait what???

“But---”

“Wear something slutty, too.”

Okay, yeah. Because that was totally your style. As your coworker went back to her own work, it was now your turn to carefully climb onto your desk on your knees so that you could look over the other cubicle. Scoffing softly, you tried your best to argue over why you couldn’t go out with her tonight.

“But Gigi, I don’t have anything like that and besides, I go to bed by nine. I need my beauty sleep.”

You knew your words were weak and sounded feeble even to your own ears. What kind of excuses were those??? Well, in your defense, you really didn’t have anything in your wardrobe that Gigi would consider ‘slutty’ and the both of you knew this. With a soft huff, your coworker simply rolled her eyes and said with a confident grin,

“Fine. I’ll lend you something to wear. We’re similar in size and body build so it’ll totally work. And tonight you’re skipping out on that beauty sleep. You’ll have plenty of time to recover over the weekend.”

Just as you were about to try and come up with yet another lame excuse, Gigi continued in addition,

“And today you’re not driving home. You’re driving to my place. I’ll give you the address and we’ll make a whole evening out of it. We’ll order take-out and stuff our faces so that the food can absorb the alcohol we’re gonna tank ourselves in tonight. It’s gonna be a blast!”

Somehow you highly doubted that. None of that sounded like a fun time to you. Well maybe the take-out part. Pouting in both defeat and confusion, you couldn’t help but wonder what had gotten into your coworker. You and Gigi weren’t official friends or anything so why was she doing this for you? Why put so much effort into someone who didn’t want it? With a soft huff, you muttered in defeat,

“Fine.”

It was all you could think about during the day while you tried to focus on work. Sure you knew there’d be a lot of time spent in the safety of your coworker’s home, but then where could she possibly be taking you that had to wait till after nine at night? Wait----She mentioned alcohol. Ugh. It was probably a club. Gross. Loud music, sweaty body odor every time you turn around, the stench of cheep beer. Ugh. That was not your idea of a fun night out. You didn’t even dance. You don’t even dance in front of your cat!

Before you knew it, it was five o’clock and time to pack up for the day and start the weekend. Normally, you’d be treating yourself to some drive thru food and just staying indoors till you had to leave for work the next Monday morning. However, thanks to Gigi, those plans had changed and you still weren’t all that excited about it. Pouting like a child who hadn’t gotten her way, you trudged yourself out of your cubicle to see a beaming Gigi by the elevator waiting for you.

“Don’t look so glum, we’re gonna have a great time!”

“Why are you doing all of this? You hardly know me.”

Just then, the elevator made a bell sound indicating that it had finally reached the floor you were on and the doors opened up for the both of you. As the two of you stepped inside, Gigi pressed the lobby button before clearing her throat a bit shyly and replied in a small, sheepish tone,

“I just hate to see you missing out on life, you know? I’m still new in town and I don’t have a lot of friends and you’re the only one who’s shown me any sort of kindness. I really appreciate that so I know you’re a good person and I just.....I dunno. This is going weird. Just go with it, okay?”

Never before had you seen your coworker so awkward. Gigi was always strutting her stuff with her body language screeching ‘confident’. To see her so shy and sheepish like this was new for you but somehow, you found yourself smiling and feeling touched. Suddenly feeling quite timid yourself, you cleared your throat and said softly,

“Well, I don’t know how good of a friend I’d make, but we can be friends if you want?”

You weren’t expecting the loud squeal of joy followed by the near tackle to the elevator floor as Gigi practically flung herself at you. It never dawned on you just how lonely your coworker must feel after moving to town. An area where she knew absolutely no one. No wonder she was overjoyed to hear your words. Awkwardly patting her back, you smiled up at the elevator ceiling before the doors finally opened again and brought the two of you out into the lobby.

“We’re gonna have so much fun, girly! I just know it! Dinner’s on me tonight, okay? You can pay for your drinks but dinner is definitely my treat. Come on, I’ll just meet you over at your place so you can leave your car and then we’ll drive together over to my place in my car.”

Everything was happening so fast and you definitely weren’t used to it. You preferred life in the slow lane but dang. Gigi was making that a thing of the past. Perhaps it was just her happiness of having made a new friend that caused her to be live like a wire and talking 90 miles a minute? Either way, before you could blink, you were giving her directions to your house and dropping your car off so that you could hop into hers.

During the ride to Gigi’s place, the two of you discussed what to have for dinner. Turns out she was indeed taking you to a club later tonight so alcohol was on the table as well. You could only imagine what a light weight you must be considering the fact that you really didn’t drink much. You were more of a celebratory drinker. Things like holidays and such. Otherwise, you never touched the stuff. You preferred your teas and coffee.

After deciding on Korean BBQ, the two of you placed your orders and had it delivered to Gigi’s place where the two of you eventually dug in; getting sauce all over your faces and laughing at each other over how messy the two of you looked. It was nice. This was nice. Something that you really didn’t think you’d feel based on your previous mindset. Perhaps getting out and socializing wasn’t so bad? This wasn’t so bad.

However, as the night hours passed, the hurdles only got more and more difficult to get over.

“Can’t I just go in what I’m wearing???”

“Girl----You’re wearing work clothes. No one goes to a club in their work clothes.”

The blush on your face was enough to zip your lips as you let your coworker now turned friend do her thing. Work her magic, you supposed. Would you even look right wearing something other than your usual conservative attire? Subconsciously nibbling your bottom lip in worry, you watched Gigi as she started pulling out pieces of clothing to inspect them, only to put them right back. You knew it. Nothing was going to look right on you. This just wasn’t your bag.

“Ha! Found it!”

Dang it.

Trying not to pout too loudly, you watched the girl whip out a dress that looked way too form fitting for your liking. It was drenched in sequins and jet black. Well....black went with everything, right? At least it was a color you were used to wearing as most of your work clothes were black. Perhaps that was what Gigi was going for? Something that she knew you’d at least be somewhat comfortable with due to the familiarity of it. If that was the case, then you were extremely grateful and liking this newfound friendship more and more.

“Okay so you’ll be wearing this and I have some stockings for you too. Once we’re dressed, we’ll put on some makeup.”

“Makeup?”

“Yes, makeup. We’re going to a club, girl! We gotta look pretty for those boys.”

“Boys?”

“You’ll see, girl friend.”

You simply whined and pouted with sagged shoulders as Gigi flashed you a cheeky smile and wink in return. This was too much. Yet at the same time......you were......curious? Yeah. That was it. Definitely not excited. Just curious. Still pouting, you went to work on unzipping the dress she handed you and started to carefully step into it. Gosh it really was form fitting, wasn’t it? Your cheeks flared up in embarrassment but went ahead and had Gigi zip you up.

No turning back now.

Once the both of you were dressed, it was time to put makeup on. You had quickly informed the girl that you didn’t know the first thing about makeup which didn’t come as a surprise to either of you. In fact, Gigi had full intentions of doing your makeup as well as her own. You weren’t sure if you should have felt insulted or comforted. In the moment, you were more relieved than anything because if you were in charge of doing your own......you’d just skip out on that step altogether.

“Okay, so I’ll have you watch me first and then I’ll do yours. Just in case you ever decide you want to try and do your own someday.”

The probability of you doing your own makeup one day was slim to none but it was still sweet of your coworker to say such things and offer such advice. With all the products Gigi had spread out on her bathroom counter, you figured this would take awhile. No wonder she was starting so early. You could only imagine how much all of those products cost her. It looked like a small fortune scattered all over the counter. But it wasn’t like you’d know.

However, you did as she asked and decided to watch and it wasn’t till it was over that you realized just how wrapped up you were in watching her. It was like watching a painter perform art with Gigi’s face being the blank canvas. You had no idea watching someone apply makeup could be so.....fascinating? Interesting? You weren’t quite sure of what word you were looking for but you found yourself blushing when she caught you being quite involved in paying attention.

“Okay! Your turn, girly!”

So there you stood with her applying all kinds of products to your face. You were pretty sure she put at least three different kinds of things on your lips. Something about a foundation layer and then eventually topping it all off with some gloss. Dunno. You got lost with how fast she was going through it all. Gigi knew what she was doing and that much was clear. Once she was done with your lips and you could talk freely, you couldn’t help but ask in a small and timid voice,

“So how did you get so good with makeup?”

“Oh I used to work in one of the malls and my sole job was to do people’s makeup while introducing them to the latest products. It was fun for the longest time but it didn’t pay enough. So I moved here when a job opening came up.”

Wow. You knew exactly what type of employee she was because you’d always eyeball the young girls getting their makeup done just for the fun of it while you roamed the racks for new work clothes. No wonder Gigi was so good at this. It had been her job for the longest time. You felt the need to at least give her some kind of tip but you knew right away that she’d never take it; insisting that she was no longer on the job anymore.

“There! We’re ready to par-tay!”

‘Yay.....’

Gigi said that it would be pointless to do either of your guys’ hair so you two just simply brushed it a bit and let it hang loose. Having only your bulky purse, Gigi kindly offered you a clutch purse that went with your dress perfectly; offering to keep the rest of your belongings at her place to keep them safe. But you had all the important stuff in the clutch and that was good enough for you.

The two of you would take an Uber so that the both of you could get trashed as Gigi so elegantly put it. You highly doubted you’d drink enough to get wasted but it was a smart idea. This way you could just go straight home in case you wanted to leave before your friend was ready. You had the feeling you’d be leaving way before she did.

Upon arriving at the club, you could feel your body going into some kind of panic mode. Eyes wide, face flushed with heat, and you’re pretty sure your heart is swimming in your stomach. Perhaps you shouldn’t have ate so much. The possibility that you could puke was high at the moment. Looking all around you, were strippers. The majority of them female but you could spot a few males and good lord. Your eyes. Your poor poor eyes. In a shouted whisper, you scolded the girl next to you.

“You brought us to a strip club!?!!?”

“Don’t act so mortified. Lots of people go. See?”

“I’m not one of those people, Gi!!!”

But all you got was a coo in response as your coworker-turned-friend squished your cheeks together at the cute nickname you had just subconsciously given her. Before you could further complain and even rush out the door, you were being dragged to the bar area. Good lord. There were naked and half naked people everywhere. How could anyone call this fun??? It was barbaric!! With cheeks still flushed in shock and now embarrassment, you simply let Gigi order the drinks for the two of you so that you could try to pull yourself together.

It was going to be a loooonnng night.

With a couple drinks in your system, you were definitely starting to feel it. A light weight. You knew you were a light weight but dang. Allowing the tipsy Gigi to guide you over to a table close to the stage, you didn’t find yourself whining at the idea of being so close up to someone who was going to strip right in front of you. Perhaps it was the alcohol messing with your brain and you just didn’t have the energy to care anymore. You were stuck here so might as well make the most of it, right?

And then he walked out.

If you weren’t so out of it thanks to the alcohol, you would have had better control over your bodily functions. Like trying to prevent from drooling all over yourself. He was absolutely gorgeous. And that was putting it lightly in your opinion.

His facial features reminded you of a rabbit but he was anything but cute right now. Those doe eyes of his were sharp yet hooded as he put on a show of pure seduction while on stage. Yes. This man was a stripper but you couldn’t bring yourself to care right now. Your embarrassment was traded in for fascination as you watched him saunter his way to the center of the stage.

Dark locks hung in front of his beautifully handsome face and the product used in it made it appear as if he had just gotten out of the shower and his hair was still wet. It wasn’t the only thing wet right now as you tried to press your thighs closer together. Good lord. What age were you? Sixteen? Subconsciously licking your dry lips, you watched as he began to unbutton the sleeves of his dress shirt.

Yes. He was fit for all purposes of the word. You could tell this guy went to the gym often because of the way his muscles bulged within the confines of his outfit. His dress shirt had some sort of sequins in it that made it sparkle under the harsh lighting of the stage. It was like he himself was sparkling in all his gorgeousness. You truly had never seen such a more handsome man before. Not even on magazine covers.

As he worked on unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, you let your eyes wander further down his body. God his thigh muscles. How on earth did he even fit in those pants? They looked painted on! The next thing you knew, he was pulling the hem of his shirt from the confinements of those skin tight pants. If you weren’t certain he went to the gym before, you were absolutely positive now.

After watching him allow his dress shirt to fall on the stage floor, you were definitely drooling at this point. In fact, you were so wrapped up in watching this mysterious man perform that you didn’t even notice Gigi leaving you to your own devices. Had you been paying her any mind, you would have pouted at her smug expression of victory as she moved back to the bar for another drink.

With the man now shirtless, you took your good old time admiring his freshly exposed skin. He was perfect. You were pretty sure no other man could be as perfect and flawless as him. At least appearance wise. If this guy wasn’t proud of his body, then he should be. From the looks of things, perhaps he was a little too proud. You were a little drunk but you weren’t blind drunk. You could be blind and still be able to see the confidence that radiated off of him in waves.

What you didn’t expect, however, was for him to walk off the stage and into the crowd.

Walking right towards you.

Wait what????

Your eyes widened in shock as he strutted his way over to you. There was no mistaking that it was you he was after because there was no one else at the table you were sitting at. No. His eyes were all on you and the heat was spreading from your face, all the way down your neck and to the tips of your ears. Gosh this was so embarrassing! Where was Gigi!?!? Your heart pounded in your ears over the music as the man slowly held out his hand for you to take.

As if you still had no control over your own body, you found yourself placing your shaking, clammy hand in his own. Gosh his hands were big too. You felt so small at the realization as he gently gripped your hand in his. The next thing you knew, you were being swiftly pulled from your chair and twirled around only to land in a solid, hard lap. You were sobering up pretty quickly. Or at least it seemed like it.

Dear god this was so mortifying!!

“The name is Jungkook. I’m guessing from the frightened look on your face, you don’t come here often. Would I be guessing correctly, beautiful?”

God you needed to say something, anything, but you were just too shocked and embarrassed by your current situation that all you could do was part your lips but no sounds came out. Your eyes did all the talking as they stared into his own; yours full of helplessness and yes you were definitely scared. A shirtless stranger had you in his lap like it was no big deal. Handsome, sure, but still a complete stranger. He smiled and chuckled softly in endearment before carefully helping you off his lap and back to stand on your own two feet.

“I’ll take that as a yes. But worry not, beautiful, you’re safe with me. I won’t hurt you. Here, take this and once I’m done performing, hand this to the bartender and he’ll bring you right to me. I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

You stood there like a bump on a log as you watched him fish in his back pocket for something. How could he fit anything in those pants besides his hot ass and thighs? Seriously!? Those things weren’t painted on??? Blinking and feeling half numb by this point, you felt him press something into your palm and even helped close your fingers around it. As he walked away coolly back towards the stage to do his thing, you stared down at what was in your hand while fumbling to find your seat again. You definitely needed to sit down right now.

A key. This Jungkook guy had given you a key. It looked pretty antique and vintage, like something you’d see back in medieval times, but you weren’t going to question it. No. The real question was---were you really gonna take him up on this offer of his. Then again.....what exactly was he offering you? A private lap dance? That had to be what it was. Something that you wanted no part of.

Or did you?

Ugh. This was so troublesome. So annoying! Then again.....what did you really have to lose? But what if you couldn’t trust this guy? There was just so many things you didn’t know. Not to mention you were scared of looking like an even bigger idiot in front of him. He probably thought you were some spineless virgin. Granted the spineless part wasn’t far from the truth but at least you weren’t a virgin...

And before you knew it, the man was sauntering off stage back towards the curtains where he disappeared from sight. You almost choked when you realized he had stripped down to nothing but his boxer briefs. Was it a shame that you only caught his backside in that state? Wait----Of course not! You didn’t want to see what this guy was carrying around in his pants......

Or did you?

Trying to decide if you had too much to drink or not enough, you sat there for a few minutes longer weighing your options. On one hand, you could go in and see what he was proposing and if you didn’t like it, you could always back out. On the other hand, if you walk away now, you might be missing out on something that you didn’t realize you wanted. Heck, you never imagined you’d start the weekend off with a new friend. Perhaps you really did need to broaden your horizons.

Taking a deep breath, you stood from your chair and headed over to the bar where Jungkook, you’re pretty sure that was his name, had told you to hand the key over. The bartender seemed nice enough as he took the key and nodded his head with a soft ‘this way, my dear’. Oh boy. Here we go. No backing out now. It was now or never. You had half a mind to text Gigi what you were doing but something told you she didn’t miss the whole scene of you sitting in a stripper’s lap.

You were guided through a door that no doubt lead to a backstage type setting but you were totally not prepared for the scene you practically stumbled upon. Girls. So many girls. Some were half dressed while some walked around completely naked. Holy----Your eyes. Again, you weren’t a virgin but you might as well have been considering how warm your face had gotten. Some of them even giggled and flashed you cheeky winks. Oh boy. Apparently privacy wasn’t a thing around here. You could only hope there would be more privacy where you were headed.

Speaking of, after walking down two more hallways, the bartender finally reached a door and used that very same key to unlock a door before cracking it open just enough to let someone know you were here. Of course you could only presume it was Jungkook. Good lord. Hopefully there was no one else in the room. One stripper was all you could handle right now. And heck you couldn’t even handle that!

After the bartender politely bid you farewell, you found yourself gulping down a lump that had suddenly formed in your throat as you stared at the slightly cracked open door. This was it. Supposedly Jungkook was waiting on the other side. What if he was already naked??? Dear god maybe you should just politely decline and catch an Uber home. Yeah. That sounded like a good idea. Get a nice cup of black coffee and some headache pills so that you wouldn’t suffer a hango----

“You can come in, beautiful. It’s safe. I promise.”

Why did he have to sound so soothing and convincing for, huh?! Wishing you had a tall glass of ice water to jug down right about now, you did your best to brace yourself for what was on the other side of the door. Gosh your face already felt like it was on fire. How embarrassing! With a clammy and shaky hand, you put your weight on the door and eased it open further so that you could poke your head inside.

Oh.....

It looked so.....normal? Perhaps even.....casual and dare you say.......soothing?

It was pretty much set up like a master bedroom you’d find in any normal house. There was a mini bar set up with some expensive looking alcohol and drinking glasses already filled. Soft R&B music was playing in the background but the volume was so low that it indeed sounded like simple background noise. You could smell something. It was soothing but you could only guess it was coming from some kind of candle or maybe a diffuser.

“Hello there, sweetheart. I’m glad to see you took me up on my offer. I can assure you, I don’t bite. Unless of course you’re into that kind of thing.”

He was dressed so casually compared to the last time you saw him only moments ago. He was decked out for comfort despite what you believe his intentions were. Dark gray sweatpants and a matching hooded sweatshirt. They looked thin in material so it was probably just to help keep him modest while in your presence. His hair still had that wet look to it thanks to the mountain of products he probably had in it.

“Come sit with me and have a drink. Or would you prefer some water? You look quite flushed.”

“W-Water would be nice, thank you.”

Not realizing your legs had felt like jello, you managed to hobble your way over to the couch where you took a much needed seat. Your hands were still shaking a bit but perhaps it was just from the lingering nerves. The atmosphere really was soothing thanks to the dimmed lights that gave off a warm and soft glow; casting the perfect amount of shadow over everything. You were pretty sure you were smelling lavender and it was a comforting scent for sure.

“Here you go, love. Just try to relax. I’m not here to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. But you looked like you needed to loosen up. Maybe someone to talk to?”

Softly thanking him for the water, you tried not to chug it back but it was hard given how shook up you were. Not to mention your face still felt pretty warm. Perhaps you would have been better off to just splash yourself in the face with it instead. Managing to take a couple gulps without looking silly, you held the cup in your lap before looking over at him with guarded and curious eyes.

“So.....we just sit here and talk?”

“If that’s what you’re comfortable with? I’m at your service. Your wish is my command as the saying goes.”

His soft chuckles filled the room and you couldn’t help but find yourself smiling a little. Were all strippers this chill? Now that you thought about it, what made strippers different from anyone else? It wasn’t like they were some kind of exotic creature. They too were just normal, every day humans making a living. It wasn’t like they were a different kind of species.

Maybe this would be okay after all.

“So......you’re not here to give me a lap dance?”

“Oh my god! You’re so cute! I can’t!”

You watched in utter amazement as Jungkook, who had since been siting next to you on the couch, started to curl in on himself while he laughed; carefully holding his glass of whatever alcohol he was drinking in one hand while his other wrapped around his waist. Pouting and semi folding your arms due to the fact that you were still holding a glass of water, you mumbled in your own defense,

“What?! It’s a legit and reasonable question!”

Still pouting while watching and waiting for him to pull himself together, you decided to distract yourself with your glass of water. At least the blush in your face was letting up. Did that mean you were already getting comfortable with him? This guy.......He was like magic in that way. Knowing exactly what you needed to feel comfortable and relaxed. Then again.....he probably did this with everyone he brought back here. You suddenly felt the need to stand rather than sit on the couch.

“I swear, we’re only here to do whatever you want. So if you want a lap dance, I can do that. If you want to just sit here and chill, I can do that too.”

“But......why me? You had tons of other girls out there to pick from to bring back here. So why pick me? Clearly I’m an awkward turtle. Doesn’t exactly scream sexy.”

It was a fair question. A question that you were eager to have an answer for. Watching him closely, you noticed he was rubbing his chin in thought as if he was trying to find the right words to explain his reasoning behind bringing you back here. With a soft hum of said thought, Jungkook took a sip from his glass before replying casually while meeting your eyes,

“I guess you just looked.....lonely? Lost? You looked like you needed this. Clearly you didn’t come to a strip club by choice or at least not entirely. I could feel your tension clear across the stage. I was going to offer you a massage but I don’t want to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

Okay well that was fair. You couldn’t help but notice how good he was at reading people. Or perhaps you were just simply an open book. Yeah. It was probably that. You had often been told by everyone in your family that you carry your heart on your sleeve and your emotions along with it. Just as you were mentally scoffing at said family, Jungkook’s voice once again broke through your thoughts.

“Tell me, cutie, if it’s not too personal or prying to ask, when’s the last time you got laid?”

Well so much for that fading blush of yours. Granted, you knew you didn’t owe him an answer. Your sex life was your business and no one else’s. However....there was just something about Jungkook that made him easy to talk to. He gave off this aura of comfort and made you feel like you could tell him anything. With your cheeks still rosy and your ears just as red, you timidly sipped from your water again before mumbling in shame,

“Too long ago.”

But rather than laugh at you again, he offered you a sympathetic, lopsided smile; his eyes full of understanding and a small nod to go with it. You were grateful that he had picked up on the topic being a sensitive one for you and therefore respecting your feelings and not wanting to hurt you by poking fun. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he set his glass down on the side table that was on his end of the couch.

“Well, to be frank, I’m more than willing to give you a lap dance if you think it’d help you relax and unwind. I personally think it’d be good for you. You’ve got too much pent up tension there and I think we’re both in agreement when I say everyone needs a good release every once in awhile.”

Was he inclining what you thought he was inclining???

“You mean you want to have sex with me?”

His soft snort of laughter made you pout once more while you subconsciously tried to fan your face. Sure the lighting was dim in the room but was it doing anything to hide your raging blush? With a soft and warm smile, Jungkook couldn’t help but shake his head at you in fond amusement. You really were the cutest. Dramatically raising his hands as in defense or surrender, he said casually,

“All I’m saying is, that I’m more than willing to make you cum, pretty girl. You really look like you need a good release. I have no doubt you’ll feel better afterwards. I’ve been told I have the golden touch.”

Despite your lingering embarrassment, you weren’t too far gone to roll your eyes at his overflowing humbleness. But now you had a decision to make. Clearly Jungkook was a safe guy to be around. He wasn’t some crazy trying to rape you or anything. Or at least you were pretty sure he was a decent guy with a straight head on his shoulders. Absentmindedly nibbling on your bottom lip, you took a moment longer to think about it.

“So......how exactly do you give me a lap dance? Do I sit in a chair or something?”

Gosh you were absolutely adorable. Precious, even. Jungkook swore that if you got any cuter, he was going to have to retire and ask you out on a date. Or at least ask for your number and maybe meet up for coffee. Did you like coffee? You probably did. You looked like a coffee drinker. He wondered what your favorite drink was. Mentally shaking his head and focusing on his job once more, he smiled with his eyes sparkling in warm amusement before saying casually,

“It all depends on what you’re comfortable with, really. I can also easily give you a little show on the bed. Actually, the bed would probably be more comfortable for you.”

He then added with a slightly more serious tone,

“But if you do decide this is something you want to do, just remember that you make the rules in this too. While I have my own set of guidelines, I’m only here to do what makes you comfortable.”

Nodding in full understanding, you bit your bottom lip once more as you decided if this was something you really wanted to go through with. Jungkook really was a handsome young man. You’d probably be stupid to turn him down. And it seemed like he was allowing you to call most of, if not all, the shots in this. He would only do what you asked of him. What you permitted him to do. That alone was comforting enough for you to say----

“So the bed?”

“The bed. Make yourself comfortable, baby girl. I’m gonna take good care of you. Promise.”

Your face flushed pink yet again with a small, shy pout as he flashed you a bright smile and cheeky wink. Good lord you were really going to do this. Okay. Okay. You could do this. You needed this. It wasn’t like you were entirely blind. Of course you needed a good release but you had just never been given the right push to get there. Not to mention it had never fit into your daily routine.

After all, you were all about the routine.

Perhaps Jungkook would become part of that daily set schedule of yours....

“It’s okay to keep your clothes on but you might find yourself more comfortable if you take them off. Just saying.”

He had a point. You were already warm thanks to your permanent blush. This was it. Time to throw all caution out the window and just go for it. You weren’t a teenager having her first time. No. You were a young woman with a body to be proud of. You deserved this. Steeling yourself up with that confident mindset, you nodded and started to undress till you were left in only your black bra, matching panties, and your stockings.

Seeing that you had started to warm up to the idea and was becoming more comfortable with things, Jungkook decided it was his cue to finally get into character while being mindful of your shy nature. He felt like a lion and you were his little lamb. So pure and yet easily frightened. There was just something about you that spoke out to him. He wanted to help you. And that urge confused even himself.

“Okay, beautiful, I’m going to start now.”

With his hands reaching back for his light sweatshirt, he couldn’t resist adding with a smile and a bit of a warm and playful glint in his eyes,

“You look absolutely gorgeous, by the way. Keep those stockings on too.”

While mumbling a soft and shy thanks, you watched him as he did that super hot thing guys do when taking off their shirt. That thing where they magically tug the piece of material over their head from the back. Why was it so hot, anyway?? Was that just something every woman came to accept? It must have worked on you because Jungkook’s soft chuckles filled the room once more. Looking up into his eyes, you noticed he was rather smug and pleased with himself.

“Like what you see, cutie?”

“Well----I mean----You have a nice body. So yeah. I guess I do.”

You hated how choppy your sentences sound but it was like this guy knew how to turn your brain into absolute mush. You were already like putty in his hands and he had only taken his shirt off with those sweatpants hanging perfectly from his hips. Perhaps you really did need to get laid....

Just then, you watched as he started to swivel those very hips in a way that had you involuntarily gulping and pressing your thighs together. The last thing you wanted to do was make a mess of this bed. But then again.....perhaps that was part of Jungkook’s plan for you. He said he wanted to make you cum, after all. You hadn’t realized your throat and lips were so dry till you sucked in a breath at a particularly sudden hip thrust. Oh wow. He was so good!!

You definitely made the right decision to go along with this.

“Touch yourself if you need to, baby girl. It’s okay to explore.”

“I-I’m good. Just ke-keep going-ing.”

You could get used to his warm chuckles of amusement. It felt good to know that he wasn’t really laughing at you in a sense of mocking you. It was more like.....maybe he found you endearing? Whatever it was, you were just glad he wasn’t mocking you or belittling you for your lack of experience in all of this. Despite being a stripper, that certainly didn’t make Jungkook a bad guy.

You could actually see yourself sitting down with him over a cup of coffee. You wondered if he even liked coffee? He seemed like the kind of guy that you might find in a cafe sipping on a nice iced Americano.

“Focus, baby. Try not to let your mind wander or you’ll miss all the fun.”

He must have realized you were really zoning out and getting lost in your thoughts because after blinking mental images of coffee shops away, you nearly choked when you saw that he had stripped away his sweatpants and was left standing in front of you with nothing but his boxer briefs on. Dang he was built! He had to be pure muscle. Had to be!

Unknowingly licking your dry lips and swallowing a new lump in your throat, you decided to make yourself more comfortable by scooting back further onto the bed where you could rest your back up against the pillows and headboard. Once you were in a good spot, you turned your attention back to Jungkook and found he had somewhat of a dangerous smirk on his face. Oh boy....

“You really do look beautiful, baby girl. I can’t wait to take care of you like you deserve. If you’ll have me, of course.”

Not able to find your voice, you simply nodded while subconsciously playing with your fingers in your lap; thighs still pressed tightly together. Grinning, the male made sure to move his hips just right as he approached the foot of the bed. You couldn’t help but wonder what his game plan was to take care of you. And that was when he tilted his head to the side in curiosity and asked in a light tone,

“May I join you, lovely?”

“Ye--Yeah.”

“Wonderful. Let me know if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, okay?”

Still not having much of a voice, you simply nodded and watched him approach you like a predator after his prey. That smirk was back as he slowly climbed onto the bed; the mattress dipping under his weight. You could hear your own heart pounding in your ears as the anticipation built. This was your last chance to back out but for some reason you remained silent. Perhaps you really did want this.

The next thing you knew, he was gently running his hand along your one leg while his lips were ghosting up the other. Goosebumps rose from your skin at his touch and yet your core was starting to get hotter and hotter. Perhaps Jungkook really did have the golden touch? You felt your breath catch when he finally started planting actual kisses to your leg; starting with your knee. He was being so gentle and slow. Something that you were extremely grateful for.

“Your skin is super soft, baby. You must take really good care of your body. I can appreciate that in a woman.”

“Th--Thanks. I try.”

Jungkook knew you were extremely nervous despite your agreement to go along with this so he wanted to take things slow and sort of ease you into the whole idea of what he had planned for you. As he finally reached up to your thighs, he couldn’t help but playfully nip at the delicious skin that greeted him. Your little yelp and jump was so cute. With his head nearly resting on your thigh, he couldn’t help but sneak a glance up at you.

Your face was so red and you knew it was. Hardly anything sexy to look at but to Jungkook you were so precious and endearing. He could just eat you right up. Lucky for you that was exactly his plan. Planting a soothing kiss over his little bite mark, he then moved up to where he was eye level with your cleavage but still looking up at you with eyes dark while full of excitement and curiosity. Licking his lips, he asked,

“May I?”

Upon seeing your timid nod of approval, he smiled more warmly before moving his eyes to his latest target. You had really nice breasts from what he could tell. Just the right size, too. Not being able to help himself any longer, he moved till he was more comfortable on his knees and gently took one of your soft mounds into his large hand. Oh yeah. You were soft. And just like that, a small moan fell from your lips. Like music to his ears.

“Don’t hold back, beautiful. I won’t know if I’m doing a good job if I can’t hear you.”

Knowing it was something you enjoyed, he decided to give your other breast his attention as well by using his free hand. With both palms now happily occupied as they slowly massaged your supple mounds, he couldn’t help but let his lips wander. Their next target? Your neck. He briefly wondered if it was a sensitive spot of yours because it would definitely seem your breasts were sensitive. He rolled his thumbs over your nipples and could feel them harden through the fabric of your bra.

“So beautiful. I bet your tits are absolutely divine. Would you let me see them, baby girl?”

You shivered and released a shaky moan as his lips lightly brushed up against the length of your neck. His hands were amazing and he had hardly touched you. There was a small voice in the back of your head that was screaming at you to say no. That this guy was still a complete stranger and had no business seeing your tits. However, this stranger was also making you feel things you didn’t realize you needed or wanted.

“Ye--Ye---Yeah. You can.”

Being careful as if not to frighten you away, he removed his hands from your bosom so that he could slowly and gently reach around you to unclasp your bra. While his deft fingers worked on the clasps, his lips found their way to your neck once more where he started planting soft, open mouthed kisses. Once he freed you from the confines of your bra, he slowly dragged the straps down your arms before taking the thing off completely.

Tossing the black bra somewhere behind him, he couldn’t peel his eyes away from the sight in front of him. You really were quite pretty and he wasn’t just talking about your tits. Although they were nice too. Absentmindedly licking his lips in eagerness, he couldn’t help but mumble,

“You’re absolutely gorgeous, my lovely. Do me a favor and lay down for me. I’m going to worship this body a little bit longer.”

Worship you? It just didn’t sound right to your ears. Then again, your self-esteem always did need a bit of work. Blushing to the point of lightly fanning your face once more, you nodded and timidly wiggled in between his legs so that you could comfortably rest your head on the pillows. Staring up at him with your eyes full of curiosity yet uncertainty, you asked shyly in a small tone,

“What are you gonna do?”

You poor thing. Had no one really ever treated you to something like this? And he wasn’t even going all out. For some reason, it really irked him at the thought that no man had ever truly took time to appreciate your body like this. However, not wanting you to think he was grumpy with you or having second thoughts, Jungkook wore a warm smile with softened eyes and spoke sincerely but with a hint of teasing in his voice,

“Well since you look positively delicious, I was thinking of eating you.”

Not giving you time to respond, he added slowly while his lips drew closer and closer to your bosom,

“First, I want to suck on these pretty tits of yours. Then.....”

You watched with a slightly heaving chest as he gracefully crawled down your body till his lips were just centimetres away from the waist line of your panties. His intense staring of your core was making you squirm and a soft whine slipped out before you could bite your tongue. His grin suddenly came back as his eyes flickered to make direct contact with your own.

“Then I’ll eat you out like you deserve. You’re a goddess and that’s how I intend to treat you.”

The next thing you knew, words were flying out of your mouth on your own accord.

“Can we just skip the tits and you eat me out now? I don’t think I can wait any longer. It’s killing me to wait.”

It really had been forever since you last did anything. Whether it be at the hands of someone else or yourself. You were quickly getting used to the permanent blush on your face and your embarrassment was quickly being replaced with impatience as you stared down at him where he was perched between your legs.

Yep. He was going to retire, quit stripping, and sweep you off your feet; carrying you out into the sunset to live happily ever after. You were just too freaking cute for words. He liked them shy and innocent because then he could completely ravish them till they were ruined and begging for more. You were totally his type. Grinning like a fox, he teasingly gripped the waist line of your panties between his teeth and tugged only to let them snap back against your skin before saying in a low tone,

“Well I did say your wish was my command.”

It wasn’t till he was lifting himself up to rest on his knees and thighs that you realized just how worked up you had gotten. The sexual frustration was starting to get the best of you; especially as you were sobering up pretty quickly. Not having realized that you had spread your legs for him at some point in the game, you simply spread them wider so that he’d have plenty of room to do whatever it was he had in store for you.

That fox-like grin still on his face, Jungkook couldn’t help but lean back down onto his elbows so that he could gently nuzzle your chest before planting soft kisses around your nipples. You were torn between whining and moaning as you both enjoyed the touch but also grew all the more impatient for where you really wanted him. After releasing a soft groan of pleasure, you couldn’t help but gently tug on his soft locks in warning while saying in a whining tone,

“Jungkoooook. Stoooop. You said you’d eat me out now!”

His rock hard body shook gently against your own as he chuckled at your adorable display of impatience. He was pleased to see you finally letting go and allowing yourself this moment. It had been a task and a half, but he finally got you here. Planting one last kiss to the underside of your breast, he slithered down your body like the seducing snake he could be and finally started planting kisses down your stomach to the waist line of your black panties.

“I’m sorry, love. But I can’t help myself. You’re just too beautiful not to admire.”

However, playtime was over. Gently tapping your thigh, he gave you the cue to lift your bum so that he could slip off your panties more easily. With a blink of an eye, you were left with nothing but your stockings which Jungkook had insisted you keep on because it made you look all the more sexy to him. You couldn’t tell if his compliments were sincere or not but you were so wound up that you didn’t really care at this point.

“God you look absolutely delicious. I can’t wait to taste you, baby girl.”

His words made your walls clench around nothing and it only caused more slick to pool between your thighs as Jungkook had since gotten himself more comfortable between your legs, throwing them over his shoulders. Gosh he was so muscular. You could see his muscles bulge as he worked on positioning you right where he wanted you. You both licked your lips as eyed each other with equal amounts of hunger.

You watched him lower his head before feeling his tongue for the first time. Eyes instantly snapping shut, you felt your back arch off the bed and a moan fall from your lips. Yes. Jungkook not only had the magic touch, but he had the magic tongue. You were certain of it. The male gently dug his shortened nails into the meat of your thighs as he too let out a moan of his own. You tasted just as wonderful has he imagined you would.

“God, babe. You’re delicious. You’re spoiling me here. Where have you been all my life?”

“I-I d-d-du-dunno.”

Your thighs started to shake when you felt his tongue flick over your sensitive bundle of nerves. Maybe it was because someone else was touching you but not even your most expensive vibrator could make you feel this good. Needing something to ground you, your hands found their way into his mess of hair and you found yourself gently tugging on the soft locks that lay between your fingers. The action made Jungkook moan and you felt the vibrations with full force.

The male enjoyed having his hair pulled despite how dominate he naturally was. He considered hair pulling one of the many signs that he was doing a good job and that was something that had always been important to him. He enjoyed making others feel good. One of the few reasons he hadn’t quit his job as a stripper. But there was something about you.......He just couldn’t place it.

You really did taste amazing, though. His eagerness was more genuine than for show. Wanting to increase your pleasure, he pressed his face harder into your core, his nose buried in your scent while his tongue got to taste you to the fullest. You were so warm and wet. Jungkook could only imagine how you’d feel around his cock. Which had since grown hard within his boxer briefs. Gosh it was always the cute and shy ones that turned him on the most.

As he went back to teasing your clit and sucking it with hunger, he heard your moans coming to a halt as you half shouted in a desperate tone,

“Jungkook-----I want your cock! Please! I need you in me! Now!”

Well that escalated quickly.

However, he wanted to make absolutely sure this was something you wanted. Pulling his face away from your core, he looked up at you through his eyelashes with eyes that had grown dark with lust. Yours too were just as dark which was a huge contrast to the innocent shine they had shown only moments ago. You suddenly weren’t so shy and definitely not innocent.

You were a total wreck at this point. Your mind was a mess but you knew what you wanted. You had long sobered up from what few drinks you had and you knew this was something you wanted. Something you needed. It had truly been awhile since you last experienced an orgasm and you were long overdue for one. Jungkook, stranger or not, was your ticket to release and nothing was going to stand in your way.

Not even your routine.

“Please, Jungkook. Please.”

“Easy, baby girl. I’ve got you. I’ll take really good care of you.”

Releasing your legs and climbing off the bed for just a moment, he could feel your eyes on him as he fished out a condom from one of the side drawers. You were so wrecked and it was a beautiful sight. Your eyes hooded with your chest heaving. He had hardly touched you. Poor thing, you must be really sensitive.

Climbing back onto the bed, he made quick work of ripping the package and rolling the condom onto his rock hard length. You really did turn him on. Normally, he had to work himself to full mast but you being you.....it was no problem. Perhaps you yourself was magic too. Given his line of work, it wasn’t often he found a client who could turn him on as much as you did.

“You’re going to feel so good around my cock, baby girl. You sure you don’t want me to stre-----”

“No! Please! I’m good. I promise. Just hurry! Want you so bad!”

Jungkook had no doubt that you could have quite the dirty mouth on you if you were to let yourself go far enough. It was almost hard to believe that just mere moments ago, you were this shy young woman who wouldn’t dare do something so scandalous as having sex with a stripper. Yet here you were, desperate under his touch. He loved it. Thrived in it.

The lion had his little lamb right where he wanted her.

Not wanting to keep you waiting any longer, he made himself comfortable between your legs once more before aligning himself with your sopping entrance. You were so beautiful with your face all flushed and chest rising and falling at a slightly rapid pace. Your soft locks sprawled all over the pillow. So so pretty. And all for him. Trying to focus, he slowly eased himself forward till he could feel the tip of his length nudge your entrance. God you were so warm. He could only imagine how wonderful you’d feel once he was fully inside you.

“You’re so freaking tight, baby girl. It really has been awhile, huh?”

“God too long! Too long! Please! Ruin me, Jungkook!”

He knew it. You could be a dirty little girl if you’d just let yourself loose from your own leash. He certainly hoped this wouldn’t be the last time the two of you saw each other. You were a real treat in his book. A treat he wanted again and again. Someone he could easily become addicted to being around if you’d let him.

He could feel your velvety walls clenching around him as you were stuffed full for the first time in a long while. Not wanting you to go into some sort of shock, he gently rubbed your sides with his warm hands in soothing, repetitive motions. Leaning down, he gently planted kisses along your face. Just anything to take your mind off the slight sting he knew you’d feel.

“Deep breaths, baby. Deep breaths. You’re right here and I’m not going to let anything hurt you, okay?”

“Ss-s-so full.”

“I know, baby. I know. Bet you’ve never had cock this good, huh?”

“Ne-Never. Never ever. Ss-so good.”

You were already ruined and he hadn’t even moved. You poor poor thing. Depriving yourself for so long of something so good. Well he was going to make sure you didn’t miss out any longer. Feeling your body ease up from underneath him, he took that as a silent signal to start moving his hips. God you felt so good around him. His length involuntarily twitched what little it could while being buried inside your warm wet walls.

“You feel just as good, babe. So warm and tight. Just the way I like it. You were made for me, baby girl.”

Your moans filled the room along with his own as you found your arms wrapping around him to gently dig your nails into his muscular back. You needed something to hold onto despite his slow and easy pace. While you appreciated him taking things slow......you had long since grown impatient. Testing the waters since you really hadn’t done much yourself, you bucked your hips at just the right time so that they collided with his own.

Yeah. That felt good.

With a soft growl of pleasure, Jungkook found himself staring heavily into your eyes as he said in a low and slightly threatening tone,

“Ooohhh. So baby girl likes it rough, does she? Well two can play at this game. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

Oh boy.....

And just like that, the male pulled out of you only for him to flip you over onto your hands and knees. All the sounds you could make were soft yelps of surprise before suddenly feeling him ram his hips into yours; successfully sheathing himself deep inside you once more. The action alone caused a loud moan to fall from your lips as you hung your head; body slightly shaking with overwhelming pleasure.

“Yes! Yes, Jungkook! Please! More!”

“Greedy little lamb! So eager for my cock. Gonna absolutely ruin you! Fuck you so good you’ll forget your own name and only remember mine!”

The room became filled with your moans along with the sounds of skin slapping against skin as Jungkook pounded into you from behind; his hands gripping your hips till he left marks. You had never been with someone who was so strong. His movements were so powerful that he was making the bed shake as well as yourself. Your moans came out shaky from how he managed to move your body with his powerful thrusts. You then felt him drape himself over your back.

He reached around you so that one hand could massage your breast and play with your nipple while his other hand slithered down to where he found your clit. It had already been a challenge for you to stay on all fours when he started ramming his hips into yours; let alone when he started feeling up your weak spots. God you had no idea you were so sensitive till Jungkook came along. It was like he already knew your body like the back of his hand.

“Jj-Ju-Jungko-oo-ok. I’m cl-cl-close!!”

“Already, baby girl? Surly you can last a little longer till I get there, hmm? Can you wait for me, beautiful?”

Normally, he could care less when his clients came. Sometimes, the sooner the better. But with you? Jungkook was just having way too much fun and you really did feel amazing. However, there was also that little nagging voice in the back of his head whining about how he didn’t want to let you leave. There was so much he wanted to ask you. Hell, he wanted to get to know you. Which he still hadn’t figured out why. Maybe you were just an easily likable person?

Your moans were even cute as you let out all your pent up sexual frustration. However, his strength must have gotten the better of you because he watched your arms finally give out from under you. Acting quickly, he used his own arms to lift you up so that you were leaning back into him; the both of you now on your knees.

With his nose buried in the crook of your neck, he began to place sloppy kisses to your heated skin while an arm wrapped around your chest; massaging your breast while that other hand went back to work on rubbing figure eights into your clit. He could feel your thighs shaking and quivering as he slowly but surely brought you to your end. He could tell you were close from the way your walls clenched around his length repeatedly.

Then you surprised him by reaching back behind the both of you to try and grab at his ass. Well well well. We’re you getting a little brave? He couldn’t help but smile against the expanse of your neck before gently biting down on the skin and sucking it gently; leaving his mark for you to remember him by tomorrow.

“Jungkook!! Please!! Please let me cum!!”

“Go for it, baby girl. Cream all over my cock. Be a good little lamb and cum for me.”

Definitely not needing to be told twice, you could feel the knot in your lower belly finally snap and your release hitting you like a tidal wave. It was so easy and natural for you to scream out his name as your body arched and shook against his own. You were so lost in your bliss that you didn’t realize he had a protective hold on you while he too found his own end; releasing into the condom. Shame you couldn’t have felt him fill you up instead.

The only sounds filling the room were the soft music coming from Jungkook’s phone along with both of your heavy breathing. You could feel his heart pounding against your back as you had to lean against him for support; thankful that he was still holding you up. However, it wasn’t long till he gently pulled himself from you entirely before easing you down onto the mattress like a real gentleman.

“Let me go dispose of this and get a wash cloth to clean you up, okay baby?”

Still floating on your cloud bliss, you simply nodded your head against the pillows while hearing him chuckle once more. You felt like dead weight but it was a good kind of feeling. Whew. How much tension had you really held inside you for all this time? You had no idea how badly you needed this. Sex with a complete stranger. Who would have thought this was how you spiced up your life and broadened your horizon.

Just as your eyes were about to close completely, you heard him come back and ask casually,

“So are you a coffee drinker?”

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