#and seriously i mean it if you want to be tagged then consider yourself tagged

[httpvomitello]

Oh great writer, write for me a request of the Rise turtles reacting to getting surprise kissed/booped on the nose (whatever you prefer) and my LIFE, is yours!!

Jokes take your time obvs and no rush! Love your work!!

AAAAAAAKHDKSBSKJS OMG, These kinds of comments make me so happy, seriously! You guys always have such good suggestions, that it makes me want to do everything at once. Anyway, I hope you like it! ♡♡♡♡

Unexpected Affection *⁠.⁠✧

Leo prided himself on being cool under pressure, but you? You always managed to throw him off his game.

It was a quiet night on the rooftops, the city buzzing faintly below. You had tagged along, keeping him company while the others were off in different parts of the city. As usual, he was trying to impress you, swinging his swords around in flashy movements.

“Pretty cool, right?” he said, grinning at you as he flourished his katana.

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “Hmm… yeah, I guess that was alright.”

Leo’s grin faltered for half a second before he dramatically clutched his chest. “Alright? That was the height of ninja excellence!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, stepping closer to him. “Alright, fearless leader, I’ll give you that.”

Before he could respond, you leaned in and kissed him right on the nose.

Leo froze, his swords clattering to the ground as his face turned bright red. “Wha—what was that?!”

You shrugged, trying to look innocent. “A little thanks for keeping me company.”

“I—you—you can’t just—” He sputtered, pointing at his nose. “You kissed me!”

“Is that a problem?” you teased, leaning in just a little closer.

Leo opened his mouth, then closed it, his brain clearly short-circuiting. Finally, he managed to croak, “Nope. No problem. Totally fine. Do that anytime.”

You grinned, patting his cheek. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

For the rest of the night, Leo was unusually quiet, and if his brothers noticed his red face when you returned, they were smart enough not to comment.

Raph wasn’t one for surprises. He liked to know what was coming, to protect his brothers and yourself too. So naturally, you loved catching him off guard.

The two of you were sparring in the lair, his massive frame towering over you as he carefully pulled his punches. “C’mon, Y/N, you gotta keep your guard up!” he said, smirking as you tried to land a punch.

“I am keeping my guard up,” you shot back, wiping sweat from your forehead.

“Not enough,” he teased, lunging toward you.

Instead of dodging, you stepped forward, catching him completely off guard as you reached up and booped him on the nose.

Raph blinked, stumbling back a step. “Did you just—”

“Boop,” you said, grinning as you tapped his nose again for good measure.

His face turned a deep shade of red, and for a moment, he looked utterly dumbfounded. Then he started to stutter, crossing his arms over his chest. “W-Why you... I m-mean... Why?”

“You were leaving yourself wide open,” you said innocently.

Raph sputtered, his blush creeping down his neck. “That’s not—ugh, this is a low blow.”

You laughed, patting his arm. “You love it.”

He grumbled something under his breath but didn’t push you away. And later, when he thought you weren’t looking, he touched his nose with a faint smile on his lips.

Donnie was in his element, tinkering with one of his many gadgets in the lab. You sat nearby, pretending to understand the stream of technobabble coming from him as he worked.

“So, by recalibrating the flux capacitor—”

“Pretty sure that’s from Back to the Future, Donnie,” you interrupted, smirking.

He paused, blinking at you over the rim of his glasses. “Uh, no, actually. This is a genuine flux capacitor. I created it myself.”

You couldn’t help but grin. He was so proud of his work, and you loved seeing him in his element. “Of course, you did, Don.”

He went back to his project, muttering to himself about the merits of his invention. You waited until he was fully focused, then leaned forward and kissed him gently on the nose.

Donnie stoped, his hand stilling mid-adjustment. His brain seemed to take a moment to catch up, and when it did, he turned to you with wide eyes. “Did you just… kiss me?”

“Yup,” you said, leaning back with a smug smile.

He blinked rapidly, his face slowly turning red as he pushed his glasses up his nose. “That was… unexpected.”

“Good unexpected or bad unexpected?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Good,” he said quickly, then seemed to realize how eager he sounded. “I mean, uh, it was… acceptable.”

“Acceptable?” you teased.

Donnie cleared his throat, turning back to his work in an attempt to hide his blush. “Don’t read too much into it, Y/N.”

But the way his hand kept drifting to his nose told you all you needed to know.

Mikey was always the one surprising you, so you figured it was time to turn the tables.

The two of you were in the kitchen, baking cookies—well, you were baking, and Mikey was mostly sneaking bites of dough when he thought you weren’t looking.

“Hey, hands off!” you said, smacking his wrist lightly as he reached for another scoop of dough.

“Aww, c’mon, Y/N, it’s a chef’s duty to taste-test!” he protested, grinning.

“You can taste-test once they’re baked,” you said firmly, rolling your eyes.

Mikey pouted, leaning dramatically against the counter. “You’re no fun.”

You laughed, shaking your head at his antics. Then, without warning, you leaned over and kissed him on the nose.

Mikey's eyes widened, his mouth falling open in surprise. “Did you just—”

“Yup,” you said, smirking as you went back to rolling out the dough.

He stood there for a moment, his brain clearly trying to process what had just happened. Then, a wide grin spread across his face, and he leaned forward, resting his chin in his hands.

“You do love me,” he said, his voice sing-song.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head, Mikey.”

“Too late!” he said, laughing as he grabbed the dough and smeared a bit on your nose. “Now we’re even!”

You groaned, but you couldn’t help laughing as he darted out of reach, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

And if he was extra cheerful for the rest of the night, no one commented on it.

[noonmutter]

Home for the Holiday

The Foodening...is Nigh.

Leon, being a farmboy and a cook, has a tradition for Pilgrim's Bounty.

For the week leading up to the holiday, there is a rule in the Peppercog-Ambroce household, nestled comfortably up next to the mountains in the Valley of the Four Winds: The front door stays unlocked until sundown, every day, period. On the day of the holiday itself, it stands wide open. Anyone who wants a meal, a place to stay, some company, or anything else is welcome and is considered family as long as they're there.

The food is enough to feed a village...of Pandaren. And it becomes apparent in the days leading up to the holiday that it very well might, as his neighbors (the closest stead is visible a mile away, and travelers come from as far as Halfhill) begin making friendly check-ins and bringing him extra stuff.

While there is always food ready and available (the final mile or so up to the house smells like heaven), the day-of meal is when Leon goes hard, and it's when his direct family and close friends arrive. On the day of the holiday, that house is packed, there is an entire menagerie of pets romping merrily through the back field, and it's a big noisy mess in which Leon stands firmly centered.

Attendees include:

Leon (obviously)

Kaewynn (first wife)

Pineapple (second wife)

Valarin (husband)

Terry (big brother, Viscount of Keel, Baron of the Brightgrove)

Shedwyn (sister in law, Viscountess of Keel, Baroness of the Brightgrove)

Vember (big sister by adoption, Harvest Witch)

Celedyn (boyfriend)

Cythion (roommate)

Cythion's son, Oli

Oli's two moms

Caythaes

Ithilios

Trist'ayran

Anzhin

Terry's personal bodyguard, Tully

Shedwyn's personal bodyguard/attache, Shu-fen

Terry and Dwyn's eight young children

Toby and Graeme (twins), Sam Jr, Ulfric and Corben Caythaes (twins), and their three-month-old triplet girls that I'll be honest we haven't had time to think of names for yet THEY DEFINITELY HAVE NAMES THO. Leon calls all the triplets "precious" because he hasn't learned to tell them apart yet; Terry will show off how easily he can as a party trick after a few beers

Lucien (Dwyn's firstborn)

Praecormu (a bronze drake, chosen guise is a farraki troll)

Eleyn (Duchess of Aramore, head of Getaway Cafe, take a wild guess which matters more to Leon)

Vaelin (one of Elly's entourage)

A grab bag of adventurers referring to themselves as The Meddlers

You, if you want!

This is one hell of a bigass party, and I don't have the means to run it as an event, so I thought I'd post it up as something on the order of a writing prompt. If Leon has ever met you, even in passing, even if only for five minutes, consider yourself invited. If you've never met him but your character would totally be down to crash a big family get-together that treats them like they're part of the family the whole time, do it.

Leon takes Pilgrim's Bounty very, very seriously, and he means it when he says everyone who walks in that door is family until they leave (it also means that leon hid all the really good silverware). They might very well be in danger of it lasting longer than that.

Feel free to throw your hat in the ring and say you were there, or even write up your own stories (or ping me for arpee about it, I might be able to accommodate a few here and there). If you do write stuff, tag me so I can see!

LET'S GET WHOLESOME

[roguelibrarian]

First sentences game!

tagged by @altschmerzes (thanks bro!!!)

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

I've decided to steal altschmerzes' idea and only use WIPs that I haven't posted because I think that's more fun. Also keep in mind, these are all unpublished WIPs, so almost none of what you're about to see has been edited.

As for tagging...hoo boy, do I even know 10 fic writers anymore who Gav didn't also tag? I'm not sure I do, so if you see this and want to participate, you can go ahead and say I tagged you.

Putting the rest of this under a cut so it doesn't eat up anyone's entire dash.

1. untitled Kept from the Light sequel/finale

Obi-Wan drained the last dregs of caf from his cup before setting it down with a heavy sigh.  Weariness tugging at his eyelids, he poured himself another cup and drained nearly half of it in one gulp.  Sleep hadn’t come back easily after he’d woken in a cold sweat from a dream about Anakin. About the massacre. It was a string of images and memories.  Caleb Dume’s terrified face as he told the Council what he’d seen.  Anakin’s eyes, wild with anger, as he fought to the bitter end against the Jedi tasked with bringing him in.  The twelve bodies laid out, awaiting their funerals.  Six of them impossibly small. Caf wasn’t going to fix this.

2. untitled main fic in my Across the Stars series, also known as the Starkiller Leia AU

Starkiller was bored. In theory, she was above things like boredom.  In theory, she spent every waking moment training, preparing for her next mission. In theory. In practice, she was kriffing bored.

3. Duel of the Dads, my "crack treated seriously" fic in which Kanan and Ezra need to team up with both Maul and Hondo and it's about as stressful as you would expect

Warmth and softness surrounded him on all sides, a cocoon of safety and love.  It felt like…home.  Smelled like it, too, now that he thought about it.  And the soft hum floating to his ears sounded almost like his parents’ voices when they were too far away for him to hear exactly what they were saying. Ezra opened his eyes, blinking in confusion as he took in his surroundings.  He was home.  This was his parents’ house, his childhood bedroom, looking exactly as it had the last morning he woke up here.  Before everything fell apart. Slowly, he stood, his throat tightening as he got a better look at the room.  Deep down, he knew this shouldn’t be possible, but for a moment, he let himself not care.  He’d thought he would never see this place again, and he was going to let himself bask in it as long as he could. No sooner had the thought entered his mind when something shifted.  The air suddenly felt colder, and the drone of his parents’ voices vanished.  There was something wrong; some sticky, clinging feeling that crawled up his spine and burrowed its way into his bones.

4. the untitled deep cover agent AU, also known as extreme gaslighting: amnesia edition

A-wing interceptors had long since become synonymous with the Rebellion.  Each and every one of them may as well have had the Starbird painted on their hulls.  Those who piloted them were feared, admired, avoided, or shot down on sight depending on the planet.  And so, as the small ship dropped out of hyperspace above Coruscant’s atmosphere, Ezra knew it wouldn’t be long before Imperial forces moved to intercept him.

5. untitled Emperor Maul AU fic

(so you know how in my "Maul finds Ezra first" AUs, Maul is raising Ezra with this idea that one day they'll defeat Palpatine? yeah, this is the AU where they actually manage to do that, leading to Maul accidentally-on-purpose ruling the galaxy.)

Ezra’s heart pounded in his throat as the lift descended.  He clung to his lightsaber so tightly that his fingers ached.  Even though his Master stood right beside him, he was alone, as if the rest of the galaxy outside his own head had just dropped away. Control your fear.  The voice in Ezra’s head was somewhere between his own and his master’s.  Ezra gripped his weapon even tighter, letting his anger well up within him and drown out the fear.  He was more than ready for this.  This was the purpose he’d been raised for.  Sidious had tortured his Master, used him, and then thrown him away.  And today, he would finally pay for it.

6. untitled Sith Sabine AU, in which Maul stays in power on Mandalore and Sabine is both Force sensitive and Maul's apprentice

Sabine’s eyes snapped open at the barely audible sound of a vent sliding open.  She stayed still, her muscles relaxed, feigning sleep.  Quiet metallic steps crawled down the wall, the pattern indicating at least six legs. All at once, the clanking of metal against stone stopped.  Still Sabine didn’t move, keeping her breath steady and even as she waited.  Any second now… There was a soft scraping noise and Sabine could sense the droid hurtling through the air toward her.

7. yet another untitled fic that I've been referring to as the Malachor AU

(this one I started writing/planning at the same time as Lost and Found. it's another AU where Maul kidnapped Ezra as a small child, but in this one Ezra and Kanan meet on Malachor)

Ezra had never felt so small in his life.  Here on Malachor, surrounded on all sides by the Force, the Temple towering above him, he was a meaningless speck in thousands of years of history and power. He wasn’t afraid.  Intimidated, maybe, but not afraid.  The knowledge that was hidden within the Temple was his birthright.  And this time, he would finally claim it.

8. another "Order 66 didn't happen" AU, in which Ezra is kidnapped by Maul as a kid, but in this one Maul doesn't kill his parents, and angst ensues

The dream had mostly faded already by the time Ezra figured out how to move.  He drew his knees up to his chest as he huddled in the corner, his stomach doing backflips.  What little he did remember made him feel like hundreds of tiny bugs were crawling across his skin. Shadows surrounding him.  Barely being able to breathe.  Struggling against something that wouldn’t let go. He stiffened, all thoughts of the dream vanishing from his mind, at the sound of footsteps in the corridor.  He shrank back into the corner as the door slid open to reveal his Master.  Ezra lowered his gaze, blinking rapidly.  Even the dim light in the corridor was nearly blinding in the complete darkness of his cell.

9. an upcoming "In the Shadows" fic, in which Kanan and Ezra finally escape the Inquisitors...by getting themselves captured by the Rebellion

He and Kanan were the only ones in the room, so Ezra let himself slouch as he leaned against the wall.  The other Inquisitors expected more decorum from him, but Kanan still let him get away with it.  Not that Ezra had much capacity to care right now.  After spending all day reaching into the minds of stormtroopers and officers, Ezra’s own head was filling with pressure and static.  Something was grating against the inside of his skin, which felt like it had been stuck onto his body all wrong.

10. the next (again, untitled) "In the Blood" fic, in which Ezra stares at that holo of himself and his parents for too long and has a small nervous breakdown

Ezra had been staring at the image so long that his eyes were starting to ache, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away.  In the holo, he and his parents all looked so happy.  So normal.  His father had no idea that the little boy in front of him wasn’t his.  That he was a monster born out of darkness.

also, I know it said 10, but I'm gonna add on an 11th one as a bonus. this is from a fic that I don't know if I'll ever post because I've been considering reworking it as original fiction but I've been kicking this idea around for like, years and I low-key really want to share it

11. untitled modern AU in which Maul is a serial killer and also Ezra's dad via kidnapping, because I am a parody of myself but I'm leaning into it now

“The body found in the Cowen Forest Preserve has now been identified as nineteen-year-old Hannah Walsh.  Police are attributing this death to the serial killer known as the Mauler, making this the killer’s twenty-seventh known victim.  The public is advised to –” Ezra slammed the button to shut off the radio.  Up until now, it had been doing its job as background noise, keeping him from getting distracted by his own thoughts.  But the news about the body found a few days ago had driven him right back to the things he wanted to avoid.

[spencerreidenjoyer]

let you lock me down (tonight) | spencer reid x reader

You'd never really thought about having kids, but Spencer just might change your mind.

wc: 600, rating: explicit/18+

tags: breeding kink (this is the whole premise of the fic. oops?), talk of having kids/pregnancy, established relationship, fem!reader, set in s10-11

a/n: no reason for this other than the fact that sabrina carpenter's juno is one of my fav songs off the short n' sweet album. also i was probably ovulating when i started this drabble sorryyyy

You know Spencer had wanted kids since you first got together.

It hadn’t come up until a few dates in, where Spencer had been a little late to dinner because he was helping to watch over his colleague’s kid. He’d talked for half the night about how much he adored her kid as his godfather, with his colleague having a second one on the way, and how he wanted to be a dad someday.

You would’ve found it more creepy if you weren’t extremely endeared. Spencer was undeniably loving, caring, and impossibly sweet, and dating him was easy. Being with Spencer is easy. You get him, and he gets you.

You know Spencer wants kids, and that’s why when you mention it you’re not surprised by how he reacts.

It just happens to be in the middle of sex.

“Fuck, baby,” you giggle, Spencer being extremely eager as he pushes into you. “You’re so needy. It’s like you wanna put a baby in me.” 

Spencer chokes, his hips stuttering at your filthy words, and it just pushes him deeper into your tightness. “Oh, my God.”

“Does that sound good? You filling me up with your cum until it takes?” you moan, as Spencer rolls his hips into you. It shoves his thick cock deeper inside of you, bullying his way past your tight walls. 

“You make me sound like an animal,” Spencer complains, but his breathlessness tells you that he’s into it. He’s still fucking into you – hard, eager, desperate.

“You could fuck me like an animal,” you swoon, just a little, rather pleased with yourself and the fact that Spencer is so into this, so into you. “Wanna claim me as yours?”

Spencer laughs, shaking his head. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Not before you get me pregnant,” you tease, waggling your eyebrows. “Come on, you know you want to.”

”You are literally insane,” Spencer says, stilling his hips. They’re pressed flush against you, but he looks down at you sternly. “Are you being serious right now?”

You purse your lips, considering Spencer’s own concerned look. “Kind of?”

”Kind of?” Spencer parrots back. “Be more specific.”

”Maybe I just wanna enable your breeding kink,” you smirk, locking your legs around Spencer’s waist. The movement pushes him inside of you a little deeper, and he whines. 

Spencer rolls his eyes, half exasperated and half endeared. “I don’t have a breeding kink.”

“You do, baby,” you giggle. “And getting pregnant wouldn’t be so bad.”

Spencer’s eyes are so wide they look like they could pop out of his skull. “You– You can’t just say things like that! And we are not having a conversation about family planning while I’m inside of you.”

”Now would be the perfect time to talk about having kids,” you offer, but Spencer glares at you.

Smiling, you wriggle your hips just to get a rise out of Spencer. It works, you note, as he whimpers with the movement. ”Okay, so after you’re done with me?” 

“We’ve only been dating for three months,” Spencer says, furrowing his brows. 

“I know,” you nod. “And I mean it. You— You make me want to. Consider kids, I mean.”

Spencer sighs, but you see the way his eyes soften, hear the warmth in his voice as he tries to seem normal and calm about all of this. “Okay. I’ll make you cum and then we can talk about kids.”

“Aww. How romantic,” you say, as Spencer leans forward to kiss you again, and to fuck you again.

While you’d never seriously thought about having kids, Spencer is certainly making you reconsider.

[zhongrin]

honey, can you…. un-sick me please?

© zhongrin | 2023  ✼  no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

✼ characters ┈ zhongli, al haitham, wriothesley, neuvillette, diluc

✼ tags ┈ gn!reader, fluff, crack, 'puppy' nickname used (wriothesley), you’re sick but nothing life-threatening (common cold/flu/fever), they’re all just so soggy for you

✼ a/n ┈ i did change my formatting recently, yes. i like this one better methinks hehe

ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ✼ ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ)  ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

“dear, i assure you, the ‘passing on the sickness by kissing’ method has never been proven to work... ah, please don’t give me such downtrodden eyes, you know i cannot help but give in when you look so saddened…”

zhongli was ever so patient with your whininess, clinginess, and overall annoying (your words, not his) self when you were sick with this kind of fever. he personally thought it was adorable, the way you insisted on following him around, asking to be pampered and spoiled in such a vulnerable moment…

… and boy, did he spoil you rotten.

though his mortal vessel is incapable of catching mortal diseases, he had seen the ever-evolving medical treatments throughout the millenia to know that your request to ‘kiss me so i can heal faster’ was meant to go unfulfilled. but how could he refuse you when you look so cute? he sighed fondly and ended up peppering you with kisses all over your flushed face, a gentle smile curling his lips when you giggled and clung to him even tighter in response.

anything to soothe his treasure.

“you’re delirious. go back to bed.”

your boyfriend might sound blunt and mean, yet the way he cradled your sickly self carefully and the gentleness in which he tucked you back into bed behind the blankets was everything but uncaring. al haitham was as complex as the books he read, but if you were thorough enough, you would be able to see the worried lines creasing his eyebrows and the turmoil behind his usually impassive green eyes fringed with bright terracotta lines.

al haitham became a mirror of his grandma ever since your body proceeded to shut down on you. he would make you soup and helped you eat it when you couldn’t muster the energy to do it yourself, and he fussed over you in his own way. admittedly, he had secretly sneaked in some herbs - grown with the help of his dendro vision - into said soup, which he read would aid you in your recovery… but that was a secret he shall keep to himself.

wriothesley looked torn between wanting to laugh at you or being incredibly worried if the fever was affecting you too much. he opted to shake his head with a chuckle and hoisted you up into his arms before tucking you back to bed despite your feeble protests.

“sigewinne told you to take plenty of rest, remember? you’ll get ‘un-sick’ed soon enough if you just listen to her, you silly puppy.”

your whines and pouts did nothing to convince him otherwise. your beloved seemed intent to keep you on the bed. he was very much tempted to threaten you with a promise to cuff yourself to the bed if you keep being stubborn, but he decided not to. instead, he stayed by your bedside like a loyal hound until the medicine kicked in and you fell into a deep slumber.

“let's have a picnic under the sun when you recover, yeah? but for now, let me just guard you while you're at your most vulnerable, sweetheart.”

neuvillette, the infamously aloof and diligent iudex, was anything but austere when it came to you. one might say he takes his role as your husband more seriously than his role as the chief of justice - and considering his accomplishments as the latter, it was an understatement to say that he excelled as your lover.

the day you got sick, rain fell throughout fontaine, persistent and seemingly neverending. it mattered not if it was just a common cold. you might as well be on your deathbed judging from the saddened gaze of your dearest’s sharp eyes and the way he was calling upon all doctors in fontaine to check up on you. even when you tried to lighten up his somber mood with your words, he merely grasped your hands tighter and brought them to his forehead, silently vowing to do all he could to make you healthy again.

“it is maddening that i do not have the power to heal humans, but rest assured that i will ensure that you can recover in the fastest and most efficient way possible, my love.”

the only time master diluc would be present in the kitchen is when 1) it’s a special day to you or the both of you, or 2) you’re cooking, or 3) you’re sick.

and currently, you’ve fallen ill from your recent adventure of dancing in the rain with your beloved. it was an addition into the romantic moments which the two of you would no doubt engrave in your hearts, yet while his pyro vision had subconsciously kept your lover’s body temperature from droppimg, it failed to do the same to you - hence why you were left with a bad case of flu and sore throat.

still, being sick while being diluc’s lover had its perks: for one, there were the maids who would take a good care of you, and they were always so considerate of your needs, especially when you were in this condition. but the best part would have to be your devoted red haired man doting after you like an overly attached falcon, personally taking it upon himself to nurse you back to full health. he was ever so patient with you, chuckling when you babble nonsensically, brain fogged and loose-lipped.

“yes, dear. i shall take it upon myself to ‘un-sick’ you. now, it’s time for your medicine. i’ll help you sit up... my love, don’t make that face… i promise to give you a forehead kiss if you finish the medicine.”

✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ) ┈ @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sunnshineflxwer | @yuutasbabe | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @marina-and-the-memes | @mixed-kester | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @sassy-cat-in-town | @syrenkitsune | @smokipoki | @cakeboxie | @crystalflygeo | @ciexuvia | @illaasya | @celestewritestoomuch | @pams-comfortzone | @spidermanluvr444 | @ourstrawberryclouds | @ryuryuryuyurboat

[ybklix]

𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧

★ pairing: ceo!leeminho x fem!reader

♡ part 3 (part one, part two) 𓂃 ࣪˖ part four

✦summary: You wanted to believe that after exposing each other’s feelings, you were in for a fairy tale tinted in the prettiest pink, until you get to know Minho's true colors and try to hold on, in the end, both of you are very different.

✭ content - tags - warnings: smut / sugar daddy / dom!possesive minho / needy minho / fluff / unprotected sex / fingering / teasing / oral sex

word count: 9.5k

( updated masterlist ᝰ.ᐟ )

That confession had come so genuinely and sincerely from you that you almost found yourself trembling once your tried to rejoin the crowd to continue celebrating Minho. You looked at him as he held your hand and walked you back to his party located in the huge, beautiful grassy grounds. You couldn't believe you liked someone, or at least the way you like Minho, you were crazy about every part of him and after the most ruthless act you can appreciate, comes with him one of the cutest and tenderest smiles you've ever seen, your new obsession was his tender laugh that made your body warm in seconds.

“Do you want to stay at my place tonight?” he whispered in your ear.

You watched him, his brown eyes sparkled and he looked at you with a tender smile, lifting his cheekbones and hiding his upper lip slightly, showing his cute front teeth. You nodded, you could tell he had a nice time and enjoyed the reunion created by his friend.

After hours, night fell and little by little the guests said goodbye to Minho, leaving only him, Hyunjin, you and the rest of the staff who were carefully cleaning the tables. You managed to drink your last glass of champagne before they cleared everything away and turned to see the man you liked standing a few yards away from you, his hands inside his pants pockets and looking off into the horizon as he talked to his friend.

“So you finally decided to stay with y/n, good for you, she was too good to waste her potential in sites like that” Hyunjin commented without measuring his words.

Minho smiled after nervously telling him that he saw himself with you, together. After a disastrous breakup, he was once again feeling the excitement and care of wanting to be with someone. However, hearing his friend remind him of some of what he was trying to ignore and overlook, like how he met you, was when his pleasant gesture vanished from his face and he tensed his jaw a little. Hyunjin noticed it instantly and managed to remedy himself.

“I mean I bet she's smart and pretty too…”

“She is” replied Minho seriously, remembering your long journey before meeting him, studying and working at the same time, but now that you were with him, Minho would make sure you lack absolutely nothing.

“You're welcome” Hyunjin told him amused squeezing Minho's shoulders trying to relax him a little “if it wasn't for my serious meddling problem, I would have never intervened in your life and you wouldn't have met her.”

Minho let out a chuckle and looked slyly in your direction.

“Definitely the kind of girl you would want to be with, very you” Hyunjin added looking at Minho seeing you, “but what would your mother say.”

Minho turned to look at Hyunjin, serious, but with some amusement on his face; Hyunjin looked at him with a look of shock and humor because they both knew what it meant, Minho had a long record of doing things that didn't please his conservative mother, until he dated Soyul, daughter of powerful and wealthy family; once Minho started dating Soyul, his mother believed she was finally getting her only son back; his mother adored her and even tried to persuade her son to forgive her, that little slips in relationships could happen, he didn't consider it so, he couldn't marry and give his life to someone he knew betrayed him and felt dirty being with another man.

“A 20 year old middle class college girl will be the reason for her death” Minho let out a laugh.

“And she studies arts, if that angered my parents, imagine yours” commented Hyunjin.

But he didn't care, as long as you were his, the rest didn't matter to him. After some more small talk, Minho thanked Hyunjin for the evening and said goodbye, approaching you, ready to go home with you. You drank alone, a little shy of interrupting the conversation of men.

“Don't drink too much, I want you to remember this whole night” Minho said to you in a mischievous tone, taking the cup from your hand and looking at you the only way he knows how and puts your weak knees.

You smiled broadly at him showing your teeth and narrowing your eyes, he pulled his body dangerously close to you, who on impulse you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaving them resting on his shoulders, almost jumping towards him, almost as if you had missed him in that period he was away from you; there was nothing else you wanted more right now than to feel being in Minho's arms.

“Let's go or I'll start to forget” you told him with your chin and eyes raised to look at him, close to his face.

Minho circled your body, watching you and enjoying your closeness.

“Let's go then, princess” he whispered to you.

He handed the cup to an employee and took you by the hand to walk to the parking lot, where he opened his car door for you and finally drove. This time he would make sure to be all gentleman for you from now on, Minho just wanted to be there for you, devotedly devoted to you, that's how intense he was, either he was not interested in you at all, or you were his whole world.

“Do you want us to go home already or do you want to do something… it's still Saturday night and you still look beautiful, if you want to do something fun…” spoke Minho once he took the road towards the city.

You smiled at him, not sure he could see you because he was focused with his eyes straight ahead and driving, you found him incredibly attractive doing the slightest thing that, if it wasn't for car armrests separating you, you'd be jumping his lap to feel his hard worked firm legs press against your butt and thighs. You always loved his side in profile and watching him take the wheel, you knew it from a week when you barely knew each other. You thought about how short the time passed, how in a week ago he seemed to disown you and now he was taking you in his car asking you what you wanted to do, telling you he would do everything for you, it seemed unreal how time treated you, still it helped a lot that you saw each other every day, you couldn't get enough of him, every day he had something new, Minho was quite a mature man, he would tell you the news happening in the country that he read on his phone while he had breakfast, but you were more of reading only the shows and celebrities section, or when he told you about some article he read and informed you every detail about it while you sat on his lap before moving your guts, you softly murmur to him “ah really?”, sometimes you didn't understand anything, still you loved to hear him talk. And not to mention the sex, for you everything was new with him, you felt like a first timer, each orgasm was stronger than the previous one, your experiences with college guys were nothing compared to what he made you feel.

Minho watched you for a second as you shook your head still with a smile plastered on your face.

“No?” he said in amazement, “Well I guess you want that kind of fun then” he added more mischievously.

You leaned on to him and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek which made Minho blush and smile.

After several songs on the radio later and Minho's small talk about every aspect of the party, you finally arrived at his house. You didn't want to let out a sigh in excitement, but you were excited, you were addicted to Minho and you weren't ashamed to admit it, there was no one in the world who knew how to touch and please you like he did.

You walked in a little tired, Minho had to pretend to be nice all afternoon, you had to smile all the time being the pretty girl intertwining Minho's arm all the time, you didn't want to, you felt kind of weird, but he wanted it that way, introducing you to everyone he knew as “a special friend”, you weren't upset at all by the term, at least Minho decided to be honest and not call you his girlfriend still, besides that was before he confessed to you that he really liked you. Curiosity invaded your body… thinking also if Minho was treating you with exclusivity, only touching you, not seeing anyone else and what it would feel like to really be his girlfriend, why someone like his ex-girlfriend would waste such an opportunity.

“We can watch a movie if you want” you turned to him, seductively playing with the opening of his jacket.

Minho saw you, smiling.

“I'll go take a shower, do you want to join me?”

You smiled, so far you hadn't had sex in the shower and you were so excited just thinking about it. You accompanied him to his bathroom where, he helped you take off your clothes, gently sliding that dress over you, he pulled down your panties and as if by magic every time he got close to you, your area was already incredibly sensitive. Minho admired your naked body for a few seconds and began to undress himself, he was just beginning to raise his enthusiasm, he knew perfectly well that you wanted to be fucked while the water ran down your body. You admired Minho's body and the swollen cock you scream for every day, you couldn't help it, you could do it with him every day anytime, it would always be a great experience with him.

“Do you like your water hot, warm…?” spoke Minho approaching his shower room.

“Mmm a little hotter than warm.”

“Just like you. Hotter” he replied.

Minho smiled, putting the water to run, little by little little vapor coming out from it, he walked towards you and took your waist joining your bodies together, you were surprised to feel his erection pink on you and he kissed you slowly, once again you wrapped your arms around his neck and Minho slowly decided to let his kiss escalate into something hotter and hotter, introducing his tongue and moving his lips provocatively against yours, while his hands traveled one to your ass squeezing it and the other tracing your waist until he reached your breast and played with your nipple. Your breath began to come in short gasps and your legs began to give out on you in seconds with just a kiss and the friction of his growing erection against your abdomen. You didn't want to look so needy only you so you decided to lower your right hand to his penis and start pulling and stroking it subtly, Minho moaned loudly at the feel of your hand while sucking on your lip, he stopped kissing you for a few seconds enjoying your touches while you looked at him proud that he is giving in too.

“Fuck, yes, it feels, good, keep doing it kitten, your strokes are so gentle” Minho gasped closing his eyes tightly and licking his lips as he bites them.

You lowered your other hand to him and felt his rigid length, slowly masturbating him, Minho was so desperate, the sound of the water falling and of friction of his member being pleasured, he had to come back to reality so between a long sigh he said:

“Let's get you wet…”

You looked up as you were for a moment watching closely the way your hand was moving on his big cock, you smiled sideways as that was double entendre, although you were already in itself wet and horny.

“Not like that, let's go to the shower honey” he laughed softly.

You let go and walked into the hot water, making you startle a little as you felt the warm sensation on your naked body. You both laughed, pulling your bodies together so that the pressure of the water reached out to wet you both. You raised your gaze to Minho and let out a giggle again as you saw his hair flattened by the shower and as he pushed his long hair away from his eyes. Minho grabbed your arm and moved a little away from the direct stream, letting it fall on your back and ass, and he kissed you again, this time more desperate, kisses down your body, you could not even respond, he suddenly took full control of your body and pleasure once again, you gasped in astonishment as you suddenly felt it and the temperature of the water running down your back suddenly felt ten times hotter.

You struggled to breathe, the steam enclosed the place and your hot breath didn't help at all, you looked down, finding Minho with his face buried in your pussy, his jaw moving with effort to get the right spots stimulated and his straight nose bumping against your skin; you were feeling so good that you started to lose your balance and had to lean on his shoulder, trembling; Minho started to thrust you with his fingers feeling the tightness of your soft lubricated cunt walls, Minho was crazy about your moans and feeling your insides, he could cum just fantasizing about having you.

You were about to reach your peak, panting harder and harder indicating it, until you felt nothing, all your load suddenly stopped, feeling Minho stop what he was doing, you looked at him confused and with a slight pout on your face as he stood up again, you were soaking wet, and not from the shower water, you were ready to explode in orgasm and give your sweet juices to your very “special friend”. Minho smiled softly at your discontent and leaving you sexually frustrated, he held your waist and leaned you back against the wall a little roughly, he couldn't take it anymore, his cock was about to explode too if he didn't enter you, you understood instantly and wrapped your legs around his lower torso. Minho awkwardly took his sensitive cock letting out a groan and positioned it at your entrance, slowly pushing it further in letting out a sigh, almost as if he could finally breathe.

You watched brazenly as his length pushed into you leaving you breathless once you felt it hit your deepest spot, once all the way inside, you looked up staring at him, Minho had an expression of being slightly concentrated and had his mouth half open, with his gaze lost on your neck and lips; within seconds he started to move, feeling you slowly being ruined by his big cock, no matter how many times he fucked you, you couldn't adjust to his size and still you worshipped him madly, it was the best part. Minho began to forcefully thrust his cock into your cunt in a fast and frantic rhythm as he held you tightly by your ass and thighs. You tried to maintain his intense eye contact but you couldn't, you were lost in the myriad of sensations, pleasure, desire, pain, as you rested your arms on his shoulders and played with his wet hair.

“Look into my eyes while I fuck you” he ordered unexpectedly in a husky voice.

You wanted to enjoy every movement by closing your eyes and rolling them but suddenly following Minho's directions turned you on more and staying obedient in a task you found difficult made your body temperature hotter. Each stroke enveloped Minho's cock, feeling his every inch of your wet pussy, he could fade there in your arms if only you knew how you made him feel. Minho had stopped feeling intensely for quite some time now, until you crossed his path.

You couldn't hold it back any longer and dug your nails hard under the back of his neck as you let all your tension finally release, sighing vigorously and cumming with your lover's cock still inside you, which he soon did too, releasing himself into you, grunting and exclaiming in a harsh voice “fuck” as he filled you with his cum.

The rest of the bath was done shyly and a little awkwardly, helping to put shampoo in Minho's hair, laughing as he complained dramatically and screaming that you were treating his scalp roughly, just Minho being him.

As you left wrapped in towels, you noticed a distinctive bag from one of the most famous lingerie brands on Minho's bed, confused you turned to look at him since you hadn't noticed it when you entered his room minutes before. Minho noticed your look and said,

“I ordered it for you when we were at the party because I did think you would stay, you should have more pairs here just in case. I had them washed, don't worry.”

You approached towards the big bag shyly trying to process everything he had said, thinking how come he could bring these things up and be one step ahead… normally a simple guy would be like 'oh yeah, we fucked and I forgot those little details that comes with once we're done'; but it wasn't just any guy, it was Lee Minho. You felt like you were in TV drama series, the rich guy always taking care of the girl.

“Thank you” you murmured shyly to him and pulled out the set of comfortable but sexy silk pajamas.

Minho finished before getting ready, putting on his comfortable pajama pants and a simple white t-shirt, then he saw you, who still wasn't finished, he approached you with a pure and tender look, he didn't know how to explain it but it was something that overwhelmed him and grew more and more every second he spent with you.

You watched him approach you, thinking how cute he looked wearing simple pajamas loose to his body, normally you saw him well dressed but now he was so relaxed in his own room ready to go to bed, you didn't think he could look any cuter.

You were putting moisturizer on your legs and you felt Minho sit on the bed.

“You should live here” he said suddenly.

That sentence made you stop your activity and you looked at him incredulously, shaking your head in disbelief.

“We've known each other for how long...”

Minho sighed in annoyance, he wanted to have you all the time, he knew it was a big step, but, he just knew he didn't want to be alone, he just wanted to be with you.

“It doesn't matter it's just that” he turned to look at you with his big eyes almost pleading, “...this house is too big and I don't want to feel lonely, I want to be with you.”

You didn't know what to say, but for a second the curiosity to know everything behind that sentence won you over.

“You lived here with your ex-girlfriend?”

Minho denied softly with a frown.

“No, I moved out immediately, you gave this house meaning.”

You sat down next to him, placing your hand on his in a no brainer, again you were speechless.

“You don't know me yet, what if I'm too messy for you” you joked.

“You could never make me hate you...” he blurted out suddenly with a submissive look and a subdued tone, looking you straight in the eye.

You blinked perplexed by the sudden rush of feelings inside you, you couldn't explain it, it wasn't excitement, but it was something physical and at the same time internal, Minho had to watch what he said and all those little acts he did with you or... you thought you might end up falling in love. Minho took your hand and directed it to his cheek, closing his eyes enjoying your warm touch, you had never held Minho's face like that and it suddenly felt so good that you had to put your other hand on his cheek, stroking him softly with your thumb.

“Then let me live in your apartment" he added in a soft whisper with a small sweet complicit smile.

You smiled, how could he talk nonsense, you couldn't imagine Minho living in an apartment smaller than his closet and kitchen, the idea of him in a place he didn't belong seemed funny and out of place for you.

“I need you, y/n” he continued, opening his eyes and looking at you in a way that melted everything inside you, “I'm crazy about you.”

Minho lowered his gaze to your lips and came closer to kiss you, you accepted him surprised, following his slow pace; you didn't understand how he could say those things while you looked with your wet hair unbrushed and without a drop of makeup on you, but he sounded so sincere that it made you question so many things... he could live tasting your lips always and every part of you, this time he was in no hurry at all and wanted to enjoy every second of the thin skin of your lips.

One thing escalated to another and Minho gently placed you on top of him, positioning your knees on either side of his thighs and intensifying your kisses, in which you were more and more breathless and sighing against each other. All this felt so intimate that you could predict that if he fucked you it would not be about that kind of hard and rough fucking you usually have, but about making love again. He roamed your body running his hands under your blouse, he loved touching you and feeling every part of you with his strokes.

You parted for a moment, catching your breaths and looking at each other's slightly swollen lips.

“Fuck me again” he almost begged.

Minho held you by the waist; you let yourself fall gently onto his lap feeling his bulging erection, you swallowed somewhat nervously, wanting to make it so nice and smooth that you didn't want to ruin it. Minho needed you, he needed you one more time only so he could breathe, he could beg you just now if you decided to play with him and refuse.

You slid his pajamas and underwear off making him moan, and there it was, one of the many reasons how Minho's body reacted when it came to you. You sighed trying to remove your pajama shorts and pushed the fabric of your underwear aside, inserting his cock in your cunt once again, you moaned at the new contact in a short span of time and moved up and down slowly with the help of Minho's grip, both of you panting; you hugged him and leaned your head a little on his right shoulder, thinking about how fucking good it felt to belong to him, as if you were joined together like puzzle pieces. You also thought about again feeling his bare cock unprotected and how that could lead you into a very big mistake, a fucking child under the zodiac sign of leo, a spoiled attention seeker and impulsive little fucker, just like your relationship, you thought, which would somehow ironically be the perfect creation of both of you.

[...]

A few moments later you both had a movie marathon in Minho's mini cinema room, you couldn't believe he had a room just for that, you expected it from your friend who studied cinema but not from him, a simple rich man... suddenly you remembered Felix, feeling wrong and a bad friend, plus you hadn't talked about what happened “that” day when you stupidly told him you liked him... but putting it in retrospect, you felt completely different about both confessions, when you told Felix and when you told Minho, you didn't want to think about it, you were hugely avoiding the problem.

But it didn't matter, you felt so comfortable in Minho's strong arms just now that you ignored your thoughts. You were leaning against his chest, hugging him. Minho smiled as he discreetly checked the time on his cell phone, he leaned his head over you more and whispered sweetly “Happy birthday” you stirred a little from his chest and looked up to see him a little confused.

“It’s past midnight so, happy birthday, y/n” he spoke again sweetly.

Once again you thought that if he kept being this sweet and tender, you might end up doing something fatal like falling in love...

“You still haven’t told me what you want for your birthday...” added Minho.

You grimaced thoughtfully, eliciting tenderness from him; you truly hadn’t thought about it... you didn't know what you wanted, if you had never met him, you'd be spending a sleepover with Hari and partying the rest of the day with her and Felix.

“I don't know... I can’t think of anything material” you replied.

Minho raised an eyebrow in disapproval. But you really just wanted to be with him.

“You're sure? I can give you anything.”

You smiled amused and decided to joke about the situation, it was amazing how easily he said it and that you knew perfectly well that he wasn't joking, yes he could get it for you.

“Mmm well... will you give me a car?” you commented with false enthusiasm.

“I’ll buy you three,” he said with a smile and a serious manner.

“I wasn’t serious, please don't” you said in mild panic.

Minho let out a soft chuckle.

[…]

The next morning, you woke up so comfortable in Minho's big bed, you had slept so well, curled up on his chest, feeling the warmth of his body. You were about to get out of bed when you noticed that Minho was no longer there, but he quickly came in with a big smile and already dressed up, looking more handsome than yesterday, you thought.

“Good morning, do you want breakfast in bed or do you want to go down for it, princess” he said approaching you.

You looked at him still not fully awake, causing him tenderness.

“I can come down” you spoke in a hoarse voice.

“Okay, go on, I cooked for you. Oh and pick out what clothes you want to wear today, I'll send share it right away.”

Minho came up to you and gave you a soft kiss on your cheek making you surprised and blush.

“Do you feel 21 already? Be all big girl for me in a while” he said, winking at you.

[…]

You spent the whole afternoon together with Minho, usually you didn't plan anything special on your birthday but he made it special this year, he took you out to do activities on a relaxed Sunday, you visited open places and explored cute locations, all the stuff of a date.

However, your best friends kept insisting that you should do their little tradition every year which consisted of spending it with them and two cakes, one bought, nice and pretty, and one experimental baked by Felix, that used to be your favorite.

Felix's call puzzled you too much, luckily you were comfortably at Minho's house, while he was doing some things and you happened to be without him around. You swallowed nervously and answered.

“Finally I can hear your voice, happy birthday” Felix said from the other side of the line with his characteristic thick voice that surprised you a little, you had a while since you haven't heard him.

“Thank you, Lix.”

“So, what are we doing today? Can I see you today?”

Oh no, you thought, you had told Hari all about it, about how you wanted to spend your day with Minho, but you couldn't tell Felix. You thought for a few seconds, looking towards Minho's direction where he left a few minutes ago, you didn't want to, you didn't want to leave him alone, but you didn't want to leave Felix either.

“Mmm I'll be with my parents” you lied, as the only feasible option.

“You'll be going out of town?” he quickly replied in astonishment.

“No, they'll be coming to my apartment.”

“Ahh then you'll be at your apartment.”

“Yes...” you replied hoping he wouldn't decide to suddenly show up at your door.

“Okay” he suddenly said cheerfully which weirded you out, “I'll see you tomorrow then, okay? Happy birthday.”

He said then cut off, you found his tone so unusual, you knew he was up to something, he wasn't good at hiding things. And the truth was that Felix had insisted to Hari to organize a surprise party for you since he wanted to see you and have a nice time, Hari disagreed since she knew perfectly well that you would be with Minho all day, since, you told her a few moments ago via text message, after she wished you happy birthday and asked about Minho: «I think this is getting serious», scaring your friend in a good way, but feeling bad for Felix.

She couldn't lie to Felix, she didn't have time to make up an excuse by saying you would be busy, and just used the old excuse that you would be with your parents; Felix knew that in a way you lied to him since yes, your story matched Hari's, spending your birthday with your parents, only Hari said you would be out of town and then you confirmed that you would be in your place. So Felix immediately called your friend and excitedly told her that they could still have the surprise party at your place with the help of your parents if only Hari would distract you for a moment, plus she was the only person who had an extra key to your apartment, to which she shouted “No!”, they didn't have to involve your parents, so finally Felix got caught in the lie.

Hari had to confess to him that you wouldn't be at your apartment evading saying the reason why you would be busy, Felix was so confused that he wanted to know what was really going on, so he insisted on hosting the party anyway at your apartment, making Hari finally give in. Meanwhile, Hari had to beg you to come to your apartment, that she wanted to see you right away and spend your birthday together with her, even though deep down, it was Felix manipulating her.

Felix spared himself in asking why you were not at your place on a Sunday and besides on your special date, to his knowledge, you had no other close friends to celebrate with, but he didn't have to ask Hari, he would soon find out by his own means, since you fucked, he noticed you weird and if that was ruining your closeness, then he was willing to forget it and continue to be your friend.

On the other hand you saw Minho come out of the hallway from which he lost his silhouette for a few minutes while he was busy with something, and returned to you with a smile and two elegant little boxes.

“Happy birthday” he repeated, handing you both boxes placing them in the palms of his hands.

You smiled softly at him and took both boxes, assuming they were jewelry and indeed, in one of was a nice thin golden ring with details of small diamonds embedded and, in the other, a silver ring with small differences in the design.

“I don't quite know if you wear gold or silver so I brought you both” spoke Minho trying to act cool.

You looked at him with a smile and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you. I think with my outfit goes the silver one.”

Minho let out air in a soft laugh and helped you put it on your middle finger.

“How did you know my ring size?” you said in amazement as you noticed it fit perfectly.

Minho drew one of his tender, complicit smiles, lifting his shoulders; he was more attentive to your details than you thought.

[…]

Hours later, you didn't want to bother Minho by telling him that you had to go to your apartment since Hari insisted on seeing you; to which he sweetly offered to be there with you if it didn't bother you, to which you replied “of course not”, you were excited that Hari finally met Minho in person, and not under a random picture that Hyunjin sent her that time when she was handling your 'dating' account.

Your friend had two choices, either you walked through that door alone, or you did it together with Minho. You were nervous on the way in wishing your apartment wasn't so messy, or that Minho wouldn't find some detail, still, you were excited because once Hari left you could fuck him in your bed, it was fun just thinking that you could do it everywhere, this morning you did it in the kitchen after you ate the delicious breakfast he prepared for you, you both still had so many parts and places to discover.

And, to the bad luck of the three of you, to Hari, Felix and you, you entered together with Minho through that door.

“Surprise!” shouted Hari and Felix at the same time as they came out from behind your couch.

But it was indeed a surprise, the smile of the three of you vanished as each of you saw each other and for Felix, as he saw you enter with another man, who was very familiar to him, Lee Minho. Felix didn't understand anything. The only one smiling there, was Minho not knowing what was going on.

“Happy birthday… y/n” Felix approached you with unsure steps without clearing his gaze from Minho. “We haven't spoken well since that day” he hugged you.

Minho immediately caught the tone he used when he remarked “that day”, what day… what was he talking about? Minho looked at you tensely, he couldn't help but get ideas and jealous in milliseconds when it came to you.

“Ah, Yongbokkie, what are you doing here?” greeted Minho with a smile while squeezing him by the arm, a little harder than usual. “Why didn't you attend my birthday yesterday?”

You gave Hari a dirty look for not warning you that Felix would be there, but suddenly Minho's tone of confidence towards Felix surprised you more than the party itself; you had completely forgotten that they knew each other, and that they greeted each other that night at Hyunjin's hotel.

“What are you doing here?” replied Felix reluctantly in disbelief.

Minho blinked innocently with a small arrogant smile on his face as he noticed the sour tone in which Felix, a junior to him, suddenly spoke to him.

“I came with y/n” he said proudly.

“What… since when do you guys even know each other?” spoke Felix again.

Felix had so many questions, his mind didn't understand how it was possible for you to suddenly hook up with Lee Minho, you didn't live in the same area, there was no medium which could connect you directly, plus he was much older than you.

“Since when did we date?” suddenly blurted out Minho, grabbing your waist, he found it amusing to play a little with the poor boy in distress, but his smile faded as he remembered that the way you met was not something you proudly explain out loud, Minho continued, provoking Felix, “She works for me and then we matched on a blind date, I guess destiny really wanted us together.”

You looked incredulously at Minho, why would he say you were dating, he never asked you to be his girlfriend, and poor Felix opened his mouth in astonishment, suddenly he went from knowing everything about you to knowing nothing. It couldn't have been a worse day for him, his heart broke trying to process everything that was going on.

“Let's eat cake, or gimbap, it's y/n's favorite” Hari interrupted hurriedly.

The air was too tense, Felix tried to calm down and saw the similarity of the two, between you and Minho, he came to the conclusion that you were both little bastards. Felix couldn't hate you and he hated himself for that, because he should be bitter, you fucked him and told him you liked him and then you ignore him and suddenly you show up with another man, what the fuck were you playing to? Felix knew Minho well, his Lee family was pretty close with Felix's Lee's; Felix's older sister had a huge crush on Minho but he never reciprocated, he thought it was odd that he reciprocated to you, to someone much younger than Minho, Felix thought the idiot liked them young, though last thing he heard it was that, he broke up with his long term girlfriend and was single, until you came along.

Minho kept looking at you tenderly while you blew out your candles on the cake after singing happy birthday to you, he decided to stop the childish nonsense behavior and focus on you, although he couldn't deny that there was that tingle of annoyance in him when he noticed Felix's negative attitude, Minho knew how to instantly recognize another jealous man, it was obvious that Felix was and, if he was like that, it was because there was a reason, for the moment Minho didn't want to give the matter a second thought because he knew he would go crazy and lose his mind when he found out that you could have been with Felix before him.

Hari was trying to soften the atmosphere, which Minho quite liked, he liked your best friend so much that he almost forgot that she is or was also part of that shady place where he met you, as Hari was currently with Chan, another close friend of his. After eating, Minho asked you softly where your bathroom was, to which you answered that it was down the hallway, to the left, and when he went into it, he could not help but notice that in front of it was your room, since the door was open. Curiosity flooded Minho and he slipped in without anyone being able to see him, he smiled as he breathed in the nice scent it had despite being a little messy, you had clothes on your bed, on your desk chair, shopping mall bags still on the floor and your closet open…. yet he inspected every detail, he had liked your apartment, you entered through the door, to the left was the small kitchen with its countertop, off to the left was the narrow laundry room; in the short entrance hallway was another closet, opposite the entrance was your living room decorated with bookshelves, your TV, and through the window diagonally to your living room, your dining room and finally to the right, the narrow hallway leading to your bedroom and across from the bathroom. Still, he thought you were worthy of a larger space, where all your clothes could fit and not be cluttered… and then, on your desk, a picture of you and Felix, smiling in what appeared to be a theater, Minho grimaced, thinking that he must really be special to you since you had no other picture of anything or anyone.

Minho came out and spent some time talking to Hari, while Felix remained silent, thinking he had to talk to you, but alone. Once it got later, you saw them leave, not without Felix first confirming in a serious tone that he would talk to you tomorrow, making you nervous and reminding you that you were upset with Minho.

You closed the door and turned to see Minho annoyed, he was standing behind you, with no expression until he saw your face and raised an eyebrow. You tensed your jaw and ignored him, heading towards your room as you tried to remove your earrings, you were so angry you weren't thinking straight.

“You need to leave, now” you told him curtly turning your back on him.

Minho immediately reacted offended and followed you, you didn't want him to be there so you wanted to push him away from your door, but he was through reaching his arms out towards the door frame.

“What happened now, why are you upset?” he also replied somewhat defensively.

You raised your gaze looking at him, mad again.

“Why? Why did you have to say I'm your girlfriend, you never asked me to and you lied with that blind date thing” you exploded suddenly, without thinking too much, maybe it was just because of the heated moment and seeing Felix's hurt look after Minho told him that tactlessly.

Minho let out a laugh unable to believe what he was hearing, he had been holding back his annoyance, but now that you decided to let it all out, he had to as well. Minho raised his eyebrows in annoyance looking down at you with authority from above and ran his tongue along his cavity, causing you to recoil until you touched the edge of your bed, confused and a little afraid of his reaction.

“Why does it bother you so much if that boy knows whether we're going out or not, huh? You fucked him, didn't you?” he yelled angrily at you, his hands on his hips and the vein in his neck standing out, his eyes widened further, that wasn't all he had to say, “So what if I lied saying how we met, or do you want the whole world to know that I met you being a fucking whore?”

You stared into his manic eyes as your breathing became heavy, that last one had hurt you, he was right, he had the right to be ashamed of how you met; you didn't want to see him anymore, he had never yelled at you like that, you dropped onto your bed, staring at the floor, suddenly you wanted to cry.

“And of course I want you to be my girlfriend, I want you to be mine and if you plan to reject me, then tell me now and I won't waste my time” Minho ran his hand across his jaw annoyed diverting his gaze to your window.

You couldn't speak, your heart was pounding, you thought about how he wasn't even your boyfriend yet and you were already fighting and he felt ashamed of you, how the fuck was something like that going to work. You really liked him but hearing the truth hurt too much, maybe you will always be different? You raised your gaze to see him, your eyes slightly crystallized, Minho sighed in exasperation as he noticed the silence and knew he over opened his mouth, once again he said hurtful things and confirmed it when he turned to see you, sitting on your bed looking at him with glowing eyes and a slight pout. He felt horrible, he would never forgive himself for leaving you like that; why did he have to be himself and be aggressive to the one person he wants to take such good care of in the world.

“Y/n, I…” he tried to remedy himself.

“Just go away, Minho. Get out of my sight now” you sighed tiredly and sadly and cut off eye contact.

Minho denied softly and knelt down in front of you seeking your gaze.

“Don't be like this please, it's your special day” he tried to cheer you up, as Minho didn't know how to apologize, “Let me make it up to you, yes?” he tried to take your chin, but you rejected him, you wished he would get away from you because once close, you couldn't think straight, “You shouldn't be like this… I will make it up to you so much…” he whispered softly running his gentle hands down your naked thighs under your dress.

You hated yourself so much, you wanted to hit him and push him away, he had called you a whore to your face and now he sought to please you, you thought if you weren't something else for him to take his sexual discharge with… but it would be hypocritical of you to blame him, because you adored every touch of him that you couldn't let his hands leave your body.

“Minho, don’t…” you whispered a little excitedly placing your hand over his that he was slowly stimulating your clitoris through the underwear fabric, that morning he had told you to walk only in your underwear under your dress just for him.

“What do you want huh…?” he murmured seductively with his mouth half open concentrating on making gentle circles over your spot with his fingertips, “You want me to stop… to go away… just say the word and I'll do it in a second.”

You couldn't speak, you were already so aroused that you moaned at the feel of his fingers at your sensitive entrance. You wanted him to apologize. And as if Minho read your mind, he took your hand and positioned it on his cheek.

“I'm sorry” he said sincerely looking at you with his huge sharp eyes, “Please forgive me, y/n.” he whimpered.

Minho didn't want to let you go, he would beg for you if necessary.

“Let me show you how sorry I am” he said leaving innocence behind and slowly slid your panties over your legs, once again caressing your wet pussy.

Minho grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer to him, lifted your dress and started eating your cunt.

[…]

You had never felt so nervous in college, not even in your final exams to how you did now. At any moment Felix could appear and want to talk.

You cautiously continued your classes and it wasn't until after lunch when Felix fixedly summoned you to talk on a bench near his faculty. You were nervous and felt strange.

Felix had overthought it, he loved you so much that if you were happy… he would seek his own happiness too.

However, his thoughts were more structured and mature than with what he was about to tell you, what was in his mind did not match his mouth, his heart had betrayed him.

“I just want you to tell me you love him, say you love Minho and only then can I back off.”

Felix cursed himself for saying it that way, he didn't want to sound aggressive, he had a rehearsed dialogue to say, but it just didn't work for him.

You looked into his eyes. Nothing. you felt nothing but guilt; you wanted to cry, to beg the universe that if it had always been Felix you wouldn't be suffering. It was never in your plans to be that kind of girl, that no matter what she did, she would end up hurting someone, much less had you planned to meet Minho but… you couldn't stay away from him; you didn't know if it was love, he and you still weren't on good terms since yesterday, he only fucked you to try to remedy it but he left you more ruined, especially his sweet after sex care.

“We just… we just started to date…” you said without thinking.

“You're dating him without being in love?” interrupted Felix and for a second he wanted to ask what bothered him the most, are you dating him for money?

Felix wasn't dumb, since a week ago you wear nicer and more expensive clothes, your countenance shines more, you stopped working the rest of your part time jobs.

“I… I can't leave Minho.”

“Why?” he asked.

Why, you asked yourself.

[…]

That afternoon you had to follow Minho to another of his meetings, you still didn't talk to him properly, you just said “yes, no” and ignored him every time he tried to tell you something. It wasn't him, you thought, it was you, you were hurt by Felix, and it hurt you that you liked and needed him so much, that's why you hated falling in love; somehow or other he had to hurt you and nothing could be as nice and pure as you wished it could be.

When you were waiting for Minho in the waiting room, the first executive came out of the room, you looked at him out of the corner of your eye but your face lit up when you saw that it was someone you knew, he also recognized you instantly and approached you to greet you. During your second semester you mistakenly took an economics class taught by him, Yang Jeongin, it was really a system error that you couldn't fix, a guy who was supposed to take economics was taking the art history class, while you were stuck in Yang’s class; you had no choice but to tell Jeongin and take his class, which he found quite funny and helped you credit his subject so it didn't affect your GPA.

Jeongin sat next to you and you began to chat comfortably, finally you could forget your anger and sadness for a few moments.

“I guess you did decide on some economics then, so well did I teach?” mentioned Jeongin as she saw you there, dressed smartly with a portfolio.

You laughed softly.

“Oh no, I work as an assistant.”

“Ahh, from whom? From knowing you were looking for that kind of job I’d hire you right when you finished the subject, never hurts a little extra help.”

Your smile faded a little, as you earnestly said his name.

“Lee Minho.”

Jeongin made a grimace that you found amusing.

“Good luck with that. He's got a reputation.”

And just as he said it, your short period of laughter and relaxation ended as you saw Minho walk out with a bunch of other men, he quickly approached you without saying a word, just looked at Jeongin heavily for seconds and then looked at you.

“Well, I have to go, Jeongin, it was nice to see you.”

“Same, anytime, cutie.”

You stood up from the sofa just like Jeongin and Minho watched him leave with his gaze glued to every step he took. Then he turned to look at you, once again with that manic look from yesterday. Minho dragged you away taking you by the arm, leading you to a private place.

“You know Yang Jeongin?” he spat raising his eyebrow.

“Yes…” you tried to answer without giving him importance and driven because he grabbed your arm tightly and started acting weird.

“Why do you know him? Did you fuck him too?” claimed Minho to you.

You opened your mouth in surprise, you wanted to claim so many things to him, how is it possible for him to get like this with a minimal interaction with a man and if he never plans to let go of your past, believing that you fucked every guy he sees you with. You didn't want to waste your energy and didn't answer him.

“Tell me, tell me now” he yelled and then almost whimpered.

You wanted to ignore him but from his anger he went to a second to looking listless, worrying you a little. This was completely ruining Minho, it wasn't enough for him to fuck you, he wanted to live under skin forever.

“I never fucked anyone but you on that stupid app, you were the first and the last and I'm sick of you never letting go of the fucking thing” you approached him annoyed.

Minho tried to catch his breath, he was feeling too much in such a short time he didn't know what was wrong with him, he had never been so obsessed and without thinking he hugged you, feeling your body for the first time after a few frustrating hours of ignoring him.

[…]

Finally it was Minho's birthday, you wished things weren't as they were now… the two of you didn't talk about anything, he just left you at home making you feel empty, why couldn't he communicate what he felt, you thought, what bothered him so much after you told him the truth, genuine and the one he wanted to hear so much.

You were determined to talk to him once you got to his office, which you were heading to, after you finished your classes, but the ringing of your phone interrupted you, it was exactly him.

“Yes?” you replied.

“What exit you take usually when you're on your way to work?”

You frowned in confusion and looked in front of you.

“By the east parking lot?” replied Minho, to which you were surprised he knew the answer, “Turn around.”

You did it slowly and there was his car standing a few yards away. You hung up, you saw him get out of his car, looking so handsome and radiant as if nothing of the last few days had affected him, you missed that Minho so much that you wanted to run into his arms, but you resisted and took your time until you reached him.

“Your boss authorized your day off today” he said sweetly with a smile, “And… I'm so sorry… don't make me feel bad in my…”

“Happy birthday” you interrupted him by placing your index finger over his lips amusedly.

Minho smiled broadly and grabbed you by the waist. You still needed a lot of answers… but seeing him so cute there, you couldn't help it, you wanted that Minho, not the one who suddenly made you cry.

“I have the best gift right now” he murmured on your lips and kissed you, enjoying every second after not doing it for more than 24 hours. “It will only be better if you agree to go with me.”

You looked at him curiously, waiting for him to continue.

“Let's drive to the beach and would you skip a couple of classes early tomorrow morning for me, yes..?” he asked tenderly.

You nodded; but you were about to speak saying you hadn't even prepared so he interrupted you.

“I prepared everything for you in the car. Please take it, I spent hours looking for the perfect makeup and clothes. Let's go now.”

You got in the car, feeling again like your first fleeting and exciting encounters. All the way Minho held your hand, sometimes shifting his hand to your thigh, and finally arriving at his beach house, he sat on a chair and positioned you on his thighs, apologizing for everything he had said and done and harshly explained that… you make him feel in a unique way. You saw him so bad, almost about to cry…you never thought you had that effect on him.

“Don't be like that on your special day” you took his chin and gently repeated the same thing he told you when he was about to make you cry.

Minho smiled sideways, caressing your thighs and kissed you softly… he knew that maybe it was too soon to tell you I love you, so in the meantime he would make you feel his love as much as he can until he feels it's the right time to say it.

Minho squeezed your thighs and intensified the kiss, ready to show you how much he loved you, but the sudden movement of you standing up from his lap surprised him.

“You didn't bring something nice to assimilate you unwrap your gift?” you said playfully.

Minho laughed, of course he had, he wanted to make you his while you wore something nice for him; he stood up and searched through the suitcases he ordered packed for you, pulling out a nice black lingerie set decorated with bows. You didn't wait any longer and undressed in front of him, Minho bit his lip and helped you put on the lingerie giving you light touches like, rolling his hand down your pussy as he helped you put on your panties, squeezing your tits as he helped you put on the top, making you moan.

Minho stepped back a little and admired you.

“But what a beautiful gift” he moved closer to you and kissed you, “you shouldn't have…” he whispered against your lips.

Minho took you by the waist and lift you up to the stairs, to his room, you still didn't process that he had a beach house, the most normal thing in the world for him.

He started kissing you passionately, placing himself gently on top of you, he didn't stop kissing you for a moment, your lips, your jaw, your neck, while his left hand was having all the fun in the world playing with her pussy until it was well wet and lubricated. Minho pulled you up, he wanted to bury his face in your tits as he made you his, so he quickly removed his tight pants, running his hand down his length a little, you were ready to feel it, no matter how much it hurt, as your feelings for him. And he fucked you with your nice outfit on, holding you tightly around your waist making you fall heavily on his cock, taking it all, making you whimper with pleasure. Minho continued until he cummed and stained your beautiful garment.

You were panting non-stop, and no, the best part for you was not the orgasm, but the sweet caresses and words Minho was telling you after finishing sex… that's when you had an answer, it was hard for you to admit it and a little uncomfortable but, there was no doubt that you had fallen in love with him.

You came out of Minho, exhausted and a mess, a couple of minutes later pushing you over the edge; he still with his breath hitching, gently took your body and lay down next to you, putting his arm behind your head for support.

“Did you like it, princess?”

You nodded apologetically with your cheeks red.

“You were wonderful, I couldn't have had a better birthday present” he began to stroke your hair.

“Welcome to thirty” you told him amused.

“Can I be your boyfriend now? I'll treat you very well, princess.”

You were startled, you thought he would never say it, still you commented to him amused:

“Thirty affected your brain, you shouldn't mix birthdays with anniversaries. I do want to be your girlfriend, but let's celebrate the 26th, because when it's October 25th it will only be about you” you said enthusiastically, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

--------------------

₊˚⊹ ᰔ TAGLIST: @stayceebs97 @linocz @kimseungminsprincess @xhazmania @strayzid @jisunglyricist

[beomiracles]

⌞ 𝟏𝟖𝟐𝟔 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 ⌝ TEASER

DREAM RECALL ⸝⸝ “What?” He’s nearly shouting now. You know he doesn’t mean it, he never does, right? But it still hurts. You open your mouth to defend yourself, ready to tell him just how bad he hurt you. No words come out. — Beomgyu grows visibly frustrated, his hands balling up into fists by his sides. “Don’t fucking look at me like that!” 

“Like what, Beomgyu?” 

The use of his name makes him waver, you hadn’t said it, not once since he returned. And you can tell the gesture only angers him further. — “Like the whole fucking world owes you an apology! You left, you left without a word and you..” He hesitates, swallowing thickly as he regains his composure. “You took my son away from me.”

pairings — idol!beomgyu x fem!reader warnings — secret baby trope, lots and lots of miscommunication, angst heavy but also really fluff packed, (+smut cough). more tba.

release date ➤ 21st November estimated wc, 17k

#serene adds ✎.. I'm seriously gonna try my hardest and have this done by around Thursday next week, and if not you're allowed to threaten me with my life :3 it's also not a trope I've ever really considered writing for, so I don't know how well it'll be executed but I'm really trying my best !!

perm taglist applies but if you're not on it and want to be specifically tagged for this one, let me know !

[izvmimi]

“I feel a little guilty, Luffy,” you mumble into the crook of his neck. Gently turning your head so that your lips meet just one more time before pulling back and looking at you in the eyes, he pauses, hands resting gently at your waist.

“Why?”

You pause, mouth twisting to the side. The small rowboat, attached to the much larger ship by the end of a surprisingly long rope, bobs gently on the waves with the two of you in it. The space is big enough for you both, but you’re huddled close on one end to the point of being pleasantly cramped and your lips are still soft with the faintest tingle of repeated, fervent kisses. Warm blankets huddle around you both to keep you safe from the cold and salty sea breeze of the late night, and you pull them a bit closer around yourself as you snuggle. 

“This boat is supposed to be used for emergencies, not for this.”

Luffy grins.

“Maybe this isn’t an emergency to you, but for me-” he clasps his hands around your face and squishes your cheeks, “- I wanted to spend time with you and this is how I think we should.”

Luffy plants another wet kiss on you with an exaggeratedly loud smack then chuckles to himself. You can feel your face warm, then you wriggle out of his grasp to lay beside him on your back.

“Sure, but can we do something else for a minute?” you ask. Your heart is still beating somewhat fast, but the prospect of proceeding to more than just kisses on this boat concerns you considering the fact that neither of you can swim. He’d say something silly like he’d inflate himself quickly before the water submerges so you could bounce to safety and it would only serve to both exhaust and fluster you, even though he means it with the utmost sincerity.

“Fine by me!”

Luffy is still cheerful, letting his head rest on his hands with his elbows beside him. You focus on the stars for a moment, pointing out the meager few constellations you know by heart to him.

His lips form into an o as he hangs on every word, making up new ones entirely as he goes to tease you into mild frustration. It’s on you if you’re upset, given that you always make the mistake of taking him a little too seriously. 

“You know, once we’ve seen all of the sea, we could probably work on the sky too,” he muses, as you inch closer to him and pull the blankets up to your neck.

“We?” you ask. “I’m not doing very much except tagging along.”

“Everyone is doing something. You’re our doctor and you make us happy,” he says matter of factly. “So we are in this together,” he maintains.

You turn to look him in the eyes, your need for reassurance that you’ve made the right decision by following him tugging at your heartstrings as usual.

“Do I make you happy?” 

“All the time. Duh,” he says with enough resolve that it is clearly not worth it to probe any further. He doesn’t look at you as he says it, instead pointing towards the sky once more with his left hand, taking your hand with the right. He squeezes for just a moment and it’s affirmation enough.

“We should start with the moon first since it’s the biggest thing we can see from here.”

The moon, full, watches over you with just as much curiosity as Luffy has.

And in turn you watch him just as curiously as his plans grow, knowing he intends to keep you by his side.

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Mite Mischief

《What happens when two entities invite themselves to meet a vigilantes s/o..?》

[1/2]

-

Nite-Mite Ver

"AAAAHHH! Help! It's a giant.. Floating.. Tiny Nightwing?"

You slowly fall to your knees after panicking. Seeing the small fella float close to you, you shrink in on yourself shyly. Watching him float around you, analyzing you...

Meeting you was not what Dyxl expected!

You were strange... Unfamiliar, sure. Nite-Mite knew of Richard Graysons' love interests in the past comic issues or alternative storylines.

Maybe you were a new character implemented by the authors?

"SO..."

"S-so...?"

The small creature sat on the desk chair of your room. Eyeing you carefully. While you sat nervously on your bed, half-expecting to wake up. "You must be the newbie! Or, more so.. For this plot. The love-."

You notice there's a knocking on your bedroom door.

"(Y/N)? Everything okay?" Dick calls out, half-way yawning.

You immediately grab a hold of the small individual, holding him close to your chest as you look for a place to hide him.

"Yeah-! Uhm.. I.. Thought I saw a mouse?"

There was silence from the vigilante, considering your words. "That so'?"

"Mhm, yup. Yes..?" You breathe out, getting closer to the door. Thankful it was locked. The vigilante heard your movements and sighed. "Oh.. Good! W-well, I mean- that you're okay! Not the mouse part."

You laugh it off quietly, agreeing as he finally leaves your door and heads back to his room. You sigh in relief as you slowly sink back to the floor.

You lean back against the door, head banging against as you wince!

"Ouch! That's gotta' hurt.." Your eyes widen as you look down at your small visitor who sat on your lap. Chilling out as if he didn't have a single care in the world.

-

"I think you have the wrong person.." You mumble quietly under your breath. Watching Nite-Mite buzz around your room as he grins at you.

"Nope!"

"But! I'm not exactly his.. Ya' know..?" You make a gesture as your face scrunched up. The words too sour on your tounge.

"Type?"

"Yes! That!"

Dxyl laughed it off. "So what? Sure, many.. And I mean.. MANY! People have fallen for the Grayson Charm, but that doesn't mean he always reciprocates those feelings."

"Then what makes you think -" You're interrupted by the fith dimensional imp. "There's just something un-canny about you. Your presence is there, but no romantic tension? I mean, seriously!"

Nite-Mite snaps his fingers as he shows a built-in board of notes, strings, and photos. Pointing at them as he tries to connect it all together.

You slowly smile, easing into this odd situation. Smiling as he holds up a issue of... Nightwing? Watching him ramble and point to the board, it reminded you of Dick. Who probably fell back asleep, hopefully.

Poof~!

Blinking, your clothes felt heavier as you look down. Dressed in old fashionable garb?! What!

"Though I'm sure whoever Dick chooses is up to him, it's fun to see other routes!"

Nite-Mite had become... Nightwing?

Instead of the usual skin-tight latex suit, the outfit showcased half of his bare-chest as the blue pants and brown boots reminded you of...

"P-pirate?" You laugh a bit, awkward and frazzled by these turn of events.

"Well.. -" Interrupted once again, the door rips open as a handsome young man storms in, his small puppy barked excitedly as she followed close behind. Yet stopped beside Dicks legs, blinking in confusion.

You immediately squeak in suprise. Your face a warm shade of color, too embarrassed to deal with all of these shenanigans so early!

-

[Ta-Da! Hey! Who wants an April fools event?? Also! Thank you for reading, I love Nite-Mite and the art for pirate nightwing. I need more content for both of them.. Please! Tag me if you do! Hopefully I can write a Bat-Mite Ver next! Comments and hearts are appreciated!]

[v-anrouge]

Verryyy long ranting under this about vil and how this fandom treats him for absolutely no reason pls excuse any mistakes and feel free to correct me with any accidental misinfo i passed <3

Mentions of racism, fatphobia, eating disorders, elitism & ableism and also SPOILERS for Vil's character story (eng only)

Ever since this game started getting super famous in tiktok and twitter it seems that people just love to butcher literally every character in Twst and sometimes it's genuinely baffling how wrong some of the takes are, it really does make me wonder if some people just don't read the story and just skip every character who isn't their fave, and if they really do that, what makes them think they know enough about the rest of the cast to post in the character's main tag the most rancid read on a character, often accompanied by some accusations of literal crimes of bigotry that really should be taken more seriously instead of being terms thrown around.

I'm gonna be talking about Vil specifically but characters like Leona, Jamil, Sebek and a few others have it exceptionally bad as well (especially Leo and Jamil who's haters can even be quite racist)

I've been playing for a very long time (in eng) i remember being there to watch the Heartslabyul final release and the release of Savanaclaw's chapter and through these years ive seen the most horrific takes on Vil's characters, ranging from the accusations of racism (which have been debunked again and again especially by JP players) to accusations of supporting eds, fatphobia, elitism and ableism. The funny thing is that even with a very quick read of any of Vil's story you'll find out there is no support for any of such claims. They like to use the incident with Epel's accent when for years JP players have pointed out how this was strictly an error of localization since they couldn't find a situation similar to the one that is portrayed in the original game to put in eng twst, they went with the one we have where Vil asks Epel to "hide his accent" (he really doesn't he was talking about the way Epel is rude and disrespectful which would definitely end with him being beat up and then expelled bringing a bad fame to Pomefiore and also making Vil look bad for not properly guiding his dorm students) which is a terrible choice but alas it seems people prefer to ignore facts to stick with their claim that Vil is some sort of monster when this man is literally a teen. He's 18 years old and has to constantly look out for his image in and out of school since he grew up in front of the cameras.

Vil's character is all about beauty and self care and self acceptance yet for some people this seems to translate to "starve yourself if you don't want to be a disgusting fat pig" which is very weird to say the least considering all mentions Vil makes about diets he is talking about keeping a balanced diet to nurture your body and even has a voice line pointing out the importance of eating. Vil himself may be coded to have an ED in his overblot and Lab vignette but he has never and would never encourage one, he literally goes out of his way to annoy students to take care of themselves what makes anyone think he'd encourage them anyways? It's such a weird thing to assume of a character.

A lot of people seem to think that Vil is also the "beauty standart" king which doesn't even make sense considering vil is a gnc man, he already doesn't follow beauty standards and would definitely be against it, Vil's vision of beauty for himself may be twisted due to his traumas and troubles yet his vision of beauty for others is always exclusively on the person being their best version, this includes dressing how they want to and feel comfortable in, using whatever makeup they want (or just not using it at all) etc.

The way Vil speaks is often misunderstood as he tends to be strict and can be read as mean (I've already shared my theory on what may have caused this behavior here before so i won't be getting into too many details) but Vil is a famous and respected housewarden because if you actually stop and think about his advice the end result is always an effort to make the person's desires come true. (a good example is how Vil made Epel clean the windows and although Epel was displeased with the hard labor in the end he notices how the task may help with muscle growth and gets happy)

Vil's way of caring for others is often misunderstood and obviously that's understandable, not everybody may get his "rougher" way of handling advice, but also it's a bit weird how people react to it when in game all of the characters seem to be okay with it, Pomefiore has a lot of students and if they considered Vil to be a bad leader he would've been voted out a long time ago, no? And if i remember correctly wasn't it said in game they had very few transfers? (as in characters moving out of Pomefiore and into other dorms) That wouldn't make sense if Vil was really the cruel leader some people make him out to be. The truth is Vil is a nice caring person and his students recognize that which is why he is respected all across the school and not simply on his dorm (because ive seen people say Vil has brainwashed the Pomefiore students into thinking he is a good housewarden 💀)

Vil surely has issues he needs to work through, after all this game is literally about that, dealing with troubled teenagers and their internal struggles and the importance of asking for help (omg friendship is magic...) but Vil is also a teenager, and he is one of the characters that show the most desire to get better, immediately showing regret and apologizing to Yuu and his classmates for the danger he put them in, that is because Vil genuinely does care for them.

Another accusation people make is ableism, i remember seeing many posts saying Vil wouldn't respect disabled people and/or mentally ill people which is 1- extremely fucking rude to say? 2- absolutely wrong. Again just a quick read on Vil's character will tell you everything you need to know about how he'd feel about disabled people, he'd treat them like everyone else, and would adjust his handling accordingly to their needs, i really don't get where this claim comes from but it's quite ironic because a lot of Vil haters tend to be ableist themselves by claiming that Vil is a bad person mentioning traits that are often caused by mental illness and the effect of traumas, failing to analyze how their treatment of a character that displays common mental illness symptoms may affect people in real life who displays the same symptoms, and often being ableist themselves by judging these actions irredeemable and inherently evil/heartless, once again dehumanizing people with mental illness in real life who deal with the same symptoms.

Another common thing is the constant invalidation of Vil's trauma. A lot of people seem to read book 5 with their eyes closed and take away from the story that the reason Vil "got pissy and almost killed a guy" (wording of a terrible post i saw a few days ago<333) is because he's a "spoiled brat who couldn't handle getting the paper he wanted in a movie boo hoo" which is kind of funny with how terribly wrong it is, i really don't know what your thought process has to be to get his backstory this wrong but sure, let's start; The start of Vil's problems with being cast as a villain starts from when he was very very young, he was just a child when after being cast as a villain for a movie he was almost beat up by a group of boys for being an "evil guy" and by his reaction it wouldn't be impossible that this wasn't his first time dealing with that kind of thing. Vil also tells jack (who scared away the group) that he had trained so he would be able to deal with them on his own which again, could be a hint that this wasn't that uncommon in his life. In Vil's overblot dialogue is all we really need to know to debunk this claim.

What Vil wanted wasn't just to be a hero in a movie, he wanted to be seen, to be heard and cherished, he wanted to be more than a pretty prop they could put on the front to get attention only to be taken out of stage when he was no longer necessary in the next scene, do you get it? He wanted to be able to see his hard work pay off, to see his efforts of years being rewarded, to for once not be exchangeable for someone more favorable. Vil wanted to feel like all his pain was worth it in the end because finally he could shine in the stage, being himself instead of just another persona to attract people. In his overblot it's shown clearer than ever that Vil does not have a stable view of his own image unlike what he has trained himself to show, even calling himself ugly and begging them to not look at him. I don't think Vil is used to be being vulnerable, which would explain why he was so freaked out when the overblot happened, and why he cried when his beauty (the one thing about himself that was always recognized by others and therefore the thing he'd always been the most desperate to nurture) was taken away by aging in book 6 (note; the fact Vil sacrificed it for his classmates also just debunks the people saying he only cares for himself, if he did he wouldn't be who he is.)

I said i wouldn't give my thoughts again but i will, just briefly, i believe an easy explanation to Vil's behavior (the tough love he gives and his strictness) might be because of the industries he grew up in, we can't know for sure how similar twst's version of the movie and modeling industry is when compared to the real life one but considering the way Vil is, my guess it's that it's pretty similar, especially in the regard of their treatment towards children, in Vil's overblot he hears two staff members talking about how he'd never be able to pull off a relatable role because he is too perfect, and sure those may not look like insults, but to Vil who's only dream his entire life was to be seen in good light, those words stuck to him so deeply they'd come back to him during his overblot. (note; i have not seen a jp translation of the overblot scenes so i don't know if they also suffered from localization issues, if anyone has a link to one i could see id really like to see what the staff said to Vil)

The general point of Vil's overblot was how his efforts and hard work were always overlooked and ignored in favor of someone else, this happens with quite a lot of characters and happens as well with another overblot (Leona, who happens to be quite similar to Vil in many ways) and although i don't expect anyone to read it and think of analysing it more deeply even with a shallow vision of his overblot it's still incredibly insensitive to call it a "non-problem" especially considering the fact this is Vil's ENTIRE life, he's been working hard and failing for years again and again and that does get to you. I remember when i posted my first rant on Vil quite a lot of people who reported to be skilled at something (say for example music or dancing) as a child that any failures absolutely destroyed you inside, and that people who haven't passed through the same tend to call them dramatic and say they're overreacting to situations that can be classified as trauma depending on how much it mentally impacted said child. (and in Vil's case it's clear it had a massive one, after all he wouldn't have overblotted if he didn't have issues that had been bottled up until they finally exploded)

Mentioning Leona again, he and Vil share the same sentiment of anguish for being discarded and having their hard work be thrown away, the difference in them is the way they reacted to it, while Leona ended up not seeing any value in attempting to do anything because he assumes the outcome is always going to be the same, Vil overworks himself and forces himself to do things he might hate clinging to the hope that this time it'll work out.

Since we're talking about trauma ill already answer some things that may or may not come with this post (because in my first one i got this response a lot) "Vil's a fictional character it doesn't matter" and sure if you think like that cool, personally, when im talking about a fictional character that tackles real life traumas and issues, i talk about it as if referring to a real person because the character has been written with one (or multiple) in mind.

Twst may have issues but the character writing is undeniably about real life traumas and experiences, and the characters are quite accurate and good representation of the issues they tackle, so when you invalidate them, you are by result invalidating real life issues. Of course this won't stop anyone and i know that a few people will probably scoff at this and brush it off as being too sensitive but personally if you wouldn't dare invalidate say for example Riddle's traumas because you know it's a representation of mommy issues, which is a very real problem, to not go against your own morals you should also respect the issues of all the other characters, even if you personally think some are more "serious" than the other.

[fanaticsnail]

Oh, oh, Buggy for the kissing booth please? (And if someone is in line ahead of me could I be tagged for him? 👉👈) Thank you! 🧡🧡🧡 This is such a fun idea!

-rorywritesjunk

(imma just request from main now on)

The Kissing Booth - Buggy for Rorywritesjunk

Word Count: 1,400+

Notes: Thank you so much for your patience, Rory! It's been a little while since I've done one of these! True to his form, here is the fail-forward clown in all his charismatic glory. Thank you for being here, and I hope you enjoy his kisses!

Taking a few final breaths to calm yourself down, ears pricked at the approach of heavy boots crunching gravel beneath the firm leather heels. Jingles of trinkets falling from jackets and belt buckles is what you assumed the twinkling chime sound was, but you knew better than to make an assumption on a stranger.

Laughter and merriment flung from the throats to christen the atmosphere with their joy, unintentionally drawing your own to bubble in your chest at the seriously large influx of unusual laughs. Not so much the content they were laughing at, but the laughs themselves was what had you teetering out soft giggles. 

“The hell is-...?” A nasally voice cut out, as the halt of his feet stood at the path before where you sat, “...A ‘Kissing Booth’? How does that work?” A few voices began to whisper amongst themselves as the boots drew ever nearer. 

Straightening your back, you shook yourself clear of any nerves as your posture became more alert and attentive. The crunch and crackle of boots meeting the floor halted and you felt your nose pick up the first whiff of their cologne. A deep musk and playful fruity scents interwoven with the spray of the sea, alongside something that almost matched the acidity of lemon sweets, met your nose and caused your mind to wander. Before you could make a motion to speak, their voice interrupted your monologuing with the same nose-front resting tone. 

“What do I do? Just sit in front of you and get a facefull of tongue?” the voice asked with confusion laced in their tone. “Are you even any good? No offense intended or anything.” 

You immediately reclined in your stool with your brow furrowing beneath the mask at his questioning. Hooking one leg over your knee, you fold your arms and turn your face from the stranger. 

“If I wasn’t any good, I wouldn't have volunteered for this,” you huff, angling your chin in the air and electing to ignore him. “And no, I don’t give out a ‘faceful of tongue’. If that’s your idea of a kiss, please, by all means, jog on.” 

“‘Jog on’?” He mimicked you, moving towards the guest seat and plopping himself down on the surface, “Crew, you lot ‘jog on’. I’m gonna have words with this one.” 

“You sure, Captain?” another voice asked the man, only being met with a few sounds of claps of hands meeting shoulders and directions for the person to hush. Overlaps of: “We can go on the ferris wheel,” “Boss is letting us of the leash,” “The captain wants some privacy,” and “I want to hit the barbeque,” was released in hushed whispers as footsteps immediately fled the scene unfolding between you and this ‘Captain’.

After the sounds of feet meeting the ground left to a complete vacation from your proximity, a few leaves of paper crumpled into the jar beside you by the hands of your guest. 

“I-... uh-...” they began, slowly scooting the stool closer to you, “I’m sorry about the tongue thing. I don’t know what that was all about. A-And for judging your abilities to kiss. I’m sure you are a fine kisser, and considering I’ve paid my Berry, I mean… If you’re still wanting to… I just… I’m sorry.”

You still angled your face away from him, only now pursing your lips to stifle a rising smile on your face. Slowly but surely, you turned to face him and extended your right hand out to offer him your truce. You felt his shrouded hand meet with yours, noticing a slightly worn fuzz to the leathery material before you felt contact meet with your knuckles. 

Breath warmed your skin before his lips descended to the middle knuckle: pursed in a perfect heart shape to caress your skin. Holding their lips there for a moment longer, they removed them and thumbed over the spot. 

“Forgiven then?” the voice asks you softly. You slowly turn your shrouded face towards him and give him a polite nod. 

“I’m sure your comment was offered in jest,” you smile at him, your hand still placed within his own. “And that was a very unique way to use your donation. Most people go for the lips.” 

The hand wrapped around yours tensed, frozen in place as their breath hitched in their throat.

“That wasn’t-, I didn’t mean-, kiss on-, was that-?” his words all jumbled together like a clown missing each juggling ball on their descent. You chuckled at his words, unlacing your knees and leaning towards him.

“I was joking,” you nod at him, slowly moving your hand up to where you assume his face was. Immediately, his remaining other hand blocked your touch: his thumb in the center of your palm and for fingers circling over your fingers.

“Don’t,” they warned you, moving in closer, “It’s… It’s better if you hold still and I lean in. Uh… In fact.” Their face felt closer to yours, each moment seeming to bob against your face without ever making contact, “If… If you could tilt your head a little…” 

You furrowed your brows, but complied with his request. Tilting your head to the right, giving him more of an invitation, you were unsure as to what you were expecting.

Only seconds pass until you feel contact being slowly pressed against your face. Not your lips, but stamped against your cheek, a round object squished against your skin as they moved their lips ever closer. 

‘A nose?’ you thought to yourself, refusing to question their actions and only tilting your chin up as a response. As you angled your face upwards, you felt his lips meet with yours. Timidity, uncertainty, and a small quiver was found in the lips of this formerly confident captain. Each motion was slow as he opened up more to the kiss. 

Slowly moving his lips against yours, he expelled a breathy sigh as you reciprocated all of his movements. Mouthing at your lips, he flicked his tongue out to playfully brush with your bottom lip, only to immediately whimper as you parted them to accept him. His hands left yours, regrouping to cup your face with his gloved hands. Pinky fingers at your jaw, he held you steady as he added more pressure to the intensity of his kiss. 

His head tilted to change angles, offering you a few more fluttered kisses as he swapped directions, brushing the rotund tip of his nose against yours in the interlude between his deep kiss. The moans from his throat intensified as you drew your hand to his chest and held firm to his collar, never breaking the kiss first for fear that you would pull away too quickly. 

There was no stop to the motions, using all in his power to continue claiming more of you against himself while attempting to breath as much of you in as he could. The way he kissed you was as if you were the last kiss he would ever have before resolving himself to the gallows. The need for air began to tug at your lungs, as was his own, prompting him to break the kiss with a smacked pucker of his lips on yours. 

“I-...” he choked as he panted through the heave of his lungs screaming at him, “...Am Buggy. And that?” you felt his clothed thumb press against your lips, brushing the skin in a smooth swipe, “That was a really good kiss. Hold still for me, starlight?” 

“Hold still-?” your question dies on your lips as you feel him begin to swipe a wet piece of material over your lips and dab at a few key spots on your skin.

“I… I wear paints, and you got a little transferred on you,” he commented with a small chuckle, “Don’t you worry, you’ll be all back to how you were when I clean you up. Just keep sitting as you are, and I’ll be done in a second, alright?” 

You did as you were told, asking no questions while Buggy dutifully cleaned up your features with every slow movement. As he said, it was all over in a quick moment. As he pulled the cloth away from your skin, he took a moment to ponder you as you sat on the booth. 

“When you’re all done up here, ‘shut up shop’ as it were,” he pressed the towel to the tip of your nose and playfully dabbed you, “Let me take you out? Just as an apology for the earlier comment about the faceful of tongue and the judgment on your ability.”

You hum thoughtfully and purse your lips in mock thought. Taking a second to yourself, you smile with your nose crinkled in a playful scrunch.

“I’ll think about it.”

[lexosaurus]

Gym 101

In which Valerie forces Danny to go workout with her

[ao3]

Characters: Danny & Valerie Warnings: None Wc: 2,230

****

"You're not engaging your core, Danny. What do I keep telling you?" Valerie sighed and put down her weight. "You're going to fuck up your knees if you don't slow down and do this right."

"And I keep telling you I don't even know what that means!" Danny snapped, not for the first time this week and probably not the last.

When he told Valerie that he, Danny Fenton, was also Danny Phantom, Danny had been expecting Valerie to be so mad at him that she never wanted to speak to him again.

And, well, she had been that mad at him. Very mad, in fact. So pissed, that for a minute, Danny was worried she was going to blast him off her roof.

He hadn't stuck around long after that.

And while he was beginning to make himself comfortable in the campground called, "Valerie's Cold Shoulder," he barely had two days to settle in before she had seemingly decided that enough was enough. 

Just before homeroom began, she strode to him in the hall, pulled him to the side—literally, she yanked him around the corner by his shirt sleeve—and demanded they start hitting the gym together.

"Because," Valerie had explained at his whining, and not patiently either, "I get that you have ghost powers, but your human half is such a twig. Seriously, Danny, do you know how much you're holding yourself back right now? If you actually tried strength training, I bet you'd level up pretty hardcore in ghost fights. Who knows? You might be able to train your reflexes to dodge one of Skulker's blasts from time to time."

And well, that bruise to both Danny's ghostly ego and his human teenage boy ego had been all he needed to agree to start working out with none other than his former rival turned ally, Valerie Gray.

"Stand up straight," Valerie ordered, pulling him back to his present world of pain.

He had no idea how Jazz and his mom liked doing this stuff. At the current moment, he was pretty sure the person who invented the concept of lifting weights was a giant masochist because there was simply no way in hell anyone throughout history would have ever said, "You know what sounds like the most fun thing ever? Let's take heavy objects, lift them, do a little movement, and then put them back down in the same spot we lifted them from!"

But apparently, he was the weirdo for not understanding why there was a dedicated fanbase of people who put a metal bar on their back, put some weights on the sides of the bar, squatted into a crouch, and then stood back up.

And repeated the process.

Again.

And again.

And again. Ten times, resting, and then ten more times.

Danny weakly stood, gripping the bar behind his shoulders like it was the only thing tethering his will to live to this plane of existence, and glared at Valerie through sweaty bangs. "Okay, standing. What next?"

"We godda fix your core."

"Be my guest," Danny said. He wasn't even sure if Valerie could fix something he'd never had to begin with, but if she truly wanted to, then...whatever. He'd lost by coming here, anyway.

Valerie scrutinized him as if he was some sort of science project that wasn't quite working out how she'd hoped. Which, thinking about it for a moment, he figured that was probably exactly what he was to Valerie. 

Then, without warning, she put her hand on his stomach.

Now, Phantom was largely considered a very suave and cool hero. Well, maybe Sam and Tucker would disagree, and sure there was a whole TikTok tag dedicated to videos of him falling into random objects, but still. There were enough random people around who would agree that Phantom was at least somewhat socially sufficient.

But Fenton on the other hand was very much not. He was an awkward, goofy teen. He wasn't popular, and he didn't exactly have a lot of girls fawning over him at every turn.

Which was why Valerie, his former girlfriend who maybe he still had some deeply buried feelings for, touching him so casually was setting off all sorts of alarm bells in his brain.

"...got it?" Valerie was saying.

Certainly, she had said something.

Something that Danny was supposed to be listening to.

Oh, shit. 

"Uh..." Danny tried to re-circuit his brain.

"Here, follow my lead. Okay? Breathe," she said. "Good. Now, tighten your abs."

Danny tried his best to follow.

"No, see, you're sucking in. Tightening your abs doesn't mean sucking in. It's like, okay, think of it this way. Try hardening your abs into a brick wall. Like, squeeze them together. Now—yeah, like that. Now, can you try adding your side and lower back into that brick wall too?"

"Try adding what?"

The corners of Valerie's lip twitched up. "The sides of your stomach? You have abs there too. And there are muscles in your lower back. That's all part of your core too. Remember what I said about your core's job to keep your body stable? Those muscles are all important for that."

"Valerie, I think you're really overestimating how in shape I am. I didn't even know there was more than one ab muscle, much less that there were abs on the sides of my body."

"Well, you have them, ghost boy."

"Doesn't help much if I can't feel them."

Valerie rolled her eyes. "Well, just try your best."

"Yes, Ma'am." Danny did his best to follow her lead while also struggling to ignore the fact that her hand was still on his stomach. 

He was so glad Tucker wasn't here to see his face. He could only hope that Valerie had come to the conclusion that the redness he could feel burning from his cheeks was proof that he was way more out of shape than she thought he was. That was still pretty embarrassing, and likely not even all wrong, but he would take it over the truth.

"Okay, now reset your shoulders. Stop hunching so much," she said.

"But the bar feels weird," Danny defended.

"Yeah, yeah, you'll get used to it. Stop looking down so much. You want your spine to be straight."

"I know." 

Half of what Valerie had been telling him for the past week was to straighten his spine. He couldn't help it if his back was a visual representation of his many years of late-night gaming. 

"Okay, now squat down." She leaned forward, and her dark eyes were just inches from his own. "No—look at me the whole time. Don't drop your eyes to your feet."

Oh, his face was burning burning now.

He slowly lowered his body, focusing on staying balanced as best as he could. Having a bar on his back was still a new sensation, and Valerie was refusing to let him load any weight onto it. Apparently, everyone started from an empty bar until they got the hang of the motion. Danny wasn't sure if that was something Valerie was just saying to be nice to him, or if that was actually true. 

He did try asking, and she just got offended that he would dare think so low of her that she would lie about something gym-related, and then she told him to stop screwing around and focus on the exercise.

So, it was fifty-fifty at this point.

"Keep going down," Valerie instructed, stepping back and thankfully removing her hand from him in the process.

Seriously, that had been the longest several seconds of his entire life and half-life combined.

"But I thought you weren't supposed to go past ninety degrees or something?" Danny asked from his invisible chair-like position in his squat.

"No, that's a lie. I think they just tell that to people who have butt-wink or bad mobility or something."

"The hell is butt-wink? See, now I just think you're making stuff up."

"I'm not! It's actually something you're doing right now." Valerie pointed at him in the mirror. "See how your pelvis is tucking in and curving your lower back? That's butt-wink." She moved to stand next to him and lowered down in a squat. "See my lower back? It's straight. This is how you want to be."

Danny wasn't aware that working out would just give him more things to be self-conscious about. He tried to straighten his lower back, but it was almost impossible to do so without feeling like he was going to fall on his ass. "Okay, then how do I fix that?"

"Well, I'm not exactly a doctor, so I'm sure it could be caused by a few different things. But the most common one I've heard is that butt wink happens when your core is shit. But it could also just as likely be an ankle and hip flexibility issue too."

Danny rolled his eyes. "As we've established, my core is shit. And I'm not flexible at all. "

"Yeah, I know," Valerie lamented. "I can't believe you've been fighting as Phantom for all these years and you haven't gone to the gym even once. Isn't Sam really into working out or something? Why didn't you ask to be her gym buddy?"

"Because I value my life." Danny paused. "My half-life, whatever. Tucker worked out with her once to prepare for the President's fitness test they did freshmen year, and I didn't stop hearing about it for months. She's ruthless."

"You know what, I believe that."

"Yup," Danny grunted, lowering to do another squat.

Two down, about five million more to go.

People actually enjoyed lifting weights? They came to the gym willingly? As in, of their own volition?

They seriously sweated and lifted heavy objects in a room surrounded by a bunch of equally sweaty, smelly strangers who were lifting other objects? 

And they thought it was fun?

That seemed absurd.

Valerie scrunched her nose at him.

"What?" Danny asked, his voice teetering past the line between speaking normally and whining, but he was far too exhausted to care. "Why are you looking at me like that? What am I doing wrong now?"

"No, it's just—" Valerie tilted her head. "Try widening your stance more. And maybe try pointing your toes out a little bit. That should help with your form. I mean, ideally, your ankle mobility would be better, but given it's pretty shit right now, this might be the best fix."

"God, I'm hopeless. Just give me the word and I'll leave."

"Oh, stop. You're not hopeless. You just need to stretch more. And train more."

Danny shuffled his feet and bent down into another squat. Having a wider stand did make the squat feel easier, but he wasn't about to admit that to her. "No, I am definitely hopeless. It'll be a blow to my ego, but I think I can emotionally recover if I leave the gym right now."

Valerie punched his arm, though it had no real power to it. She'd long since stopped legitimately trying to hurt him. 

Nevertheless, he would have sooner let Skulker capture him than pass up an opportunity to verbally torment Valerie. "Wow, I can't believe my ally is trying to beat me up and murder me in public. Especially while I'm trying to better myself in the gym."

"Oh, shut up." Although she tried to look angry, Danny could see the corners of her lips quirk into a smile. "Alright, your form is looking a lot better. It's still not perfect, but it's way better than when we started."

"Thank god."

"Maybe in a few weeks we can start adding plates."

A few weeks?

He must have let his internal expression show, because she once again snapped with, "It's normal for people to only squat the bar when they first start. It's way more important to get proper form than to lift heavy. You see that guy over there?"

She nodded across the room at a man doing chest presses. He was using weights that Danny could only dream of, pumping them up and down with a confidence that Danny was sure rivaled even Dash.

So the man looked alright to Danny, but apparently, that was the wrong conclusion to come to, if Valerie's critical eye was any judge.

"See how his elbows are basically straight out from his body? And see how he's not extending his arms all the way when he presses? He's rushing through the exercise. It's bad form, and while it may feel cool to lift heavy, bulky weights, if you can't even do the exercise properly, you just end up looking like a fool." She turned back to him. "Remember, you're in a gym. That means you're surrounded by people who have been doing this shit for years. Trust me when I say you're not going to impress anyone by rushing through the exercises to try to look cool."

"Aye-aye, captain."

It wasn't like he was going to impress anyone with the way he was wobbling while attempting to squat the naked bar, anyway.

"Alright, that's enough of a rest, I think. This time, let's actually do eight reps."

"Literal torture."

"Keep the whining up, and I might just call my blaster out."

Danny could see it in her eyes that she wasn't joking.

And so, he began.

****

[read more of my fics here]

[yeyinde]

lavender skies | Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x GN!Reader

Then suddenly, and all at once, there's a loudness in your head: a hundred whispers echoing in time to the same off-beat rhythm, full of memories and moments shared between you, threads woven throughout the years all buoying to the surface as you realise you're a little bit in love with him.  (And that, maybe, you've been a little bit in love with him the whole time.)

tags: friends to lovers (but the type of friends who are basically already dating and everyone knows except them - until suddenly they do), mutual pining. Slight Kent bashing, oops. Golden Girls as a coping mechanism. warnings: none. very tame, considering who I am as a person. Heavy make-out sess, though. word count: 6,6k notes: This has been sitting in my requests forever (I lost the original, but the gist was: Gaz + pining + idiots in love). You can blame a lot of this on summer rain and 80s city pop. Been going to the pier and listening to it while I wrote this. Not my best, sure, but it was fun.

The Tinder date he warned you not to go on (and seriously, mate, who uses Tinder anymore?) ends like this:

Your date, the biggest gentleman in Kent, as proclaimed in his bio (a red flag in hindsight—there's no such thing as a gentleman from Kent), sneaks his number to the waitress, and then leaves you behind in downtown Manchester to go bar hopping with a group he just met. 

It's not a great loss. All things considered, it's not even the worst date you've ever been on. It was just a spur-of-the-moment whim—equal parts anxiety and megrim: the sudden fear of being single forever (and no, despite what Kyle might say, it has nothing to do with the wedding invitation you'd gotten on Facebook, or the three others that came before it)—and therefore, there isn't much to be upset about. Not really. 

But the world doesn't work on half-hearted lies and shaky truths, and on a dank little corner in Manchester, abandoned by your ride home, your abysmal date who barely looked at you, you can't deny that it hurts. That it's a little bit of a hit to your self-esteem in a way that makes you angrier than you were before, because, honestly—he wasn't even a catch to begin with. 

Stupid. 

You should have listened to Kyle, to his immaculate wisdom and emotional maturity far beyond his years, but you hadn't because—

Well. Sometimes the world should work on little lies. If only to the ones you tell yourself. Ones like:

It's completely fine—really it is—if your friend of nearly eight years is moving on with his life. And it's totally, absolutely okay if your best friend meets some flighty barista in Amsterdam and won't stop talking about her for the meagre three weeks he's been back from his impromptu trip to the Netherlands, then to Mexico. It's fine. It's all fine. 

Because maybe you are, too. 

And maybe that's the reason you went out with David from Kent. 

From Kent? He texted, only hours before your date. (Hours because he'd been busy with this thing for his job—his boss is corrupt and the world is, too, but at least Amsterdam Barista is doing fine). You can do so much better than that, birdy.

You wanted to say, what? Like someone from Amsterdam instead? but you're doing this new thing where you try not to sound as mad as you think you are. Zen, maybe. Internal peace and happiness. So, instead, you say:

He's nice. I like him. 

Words that, of course, have come back to bite you. 

He isn't nice. He wouldn't stop staring at the waitress, and talking over you, or just generally ignoring your existence. He left you downtown, stranded without a way home. You don't like him. You really don't even think you were that interested in him. 

But it makes sense.

Kyle is moving on. Your friends are getting married. 

And where does that leave you? 

Well—

It leaves you stuck downtown with shoes that were intended to be used for aesthetics, the kind that means standing entirely still and immobile, and not walking the fifteen kilometres to your flat because you'd spent all your money on this super flattering outfit and these unfunctional shoes, and can't afford a cab or an Uber. 

Sometimes, you pretend you're a functional adult—one who knows how to navigate everything with ease, and you live in the present, the real world, where time is fluid and unchangeable, and things make sense (maths and geometry and physics) unless they don't (black holes and the vastitude of space and fate)—but moments like these remind you that you don't. That you live, instead, somewhere in the parentheses of both. 

The indigo sky, murky black and void of any stars, seems to grumble along with you as you turn toward the street, readying yourself for the long walk home. Except the groan sounds less commiserating and more ominous. A noise that seems to reverberate through the crowded street, and right into your bones.

Some have the wherewithal to find shelter. A smart move because almost a moment later, the heavens split, and a summer deluge drenches the street. It's unrelenting in its downpour, soaking everything in its path in a shrill roar. 

Caught in the middle of St Peter's Square, there are not many places to duck under for sanctuary, but you find an alcove beside a store, and dart toward it. The non-functional boots are pretty to look at, but with each step, you feel the hard synthetic rubber grind against your heel. Blisters form, break. The burn makes you inhale sharply against the pain, hobbling now on tender feet. 

The wall is slick with condensation, but you lean against it to keep your feet from taking the brunt of your weight. 

It reminds you, quite suddenly, of that night in Cardiff with Kyle. When you'd drank three-dollar margaritas at some downtrodden bar with your friends and ate rather limp-looking fish tacos (a mistake, of course, and Kyle still can't look at corn tortillas the same way), and laughed until your belly hurt at something he'd said—the words lost to alcohol and faded with time—and then leaned over, promptly throwing up in a bush. 

You still can't drink tequila without giggling (and gagging) at nothing, a phantom memory, and the thought presses against a tender spot in your chest in all the wrong ways. 

Time is fluid. An unavoidable truism that you can't escape. 

There are people you've known since you were a child whose faces you can barely remember. Ones you promised the world to, to always be together, who you hardly think of anymore. 

Moving on. Moving forward. 

You think, then, of Kyle. Of the distance that lingers between you both, widening each day. It's nothing you've done, nor he; it's just—

Life. Concurrent. Everpresent. 

It hurts to lose a friend, you'd always think. A small moment of grief, of loss. But not like this. Never like this. 

Stuck in a downpour in the middle of Manchester, you realise you miss him. Have been missing him. 

Huddling under an awning, you fish your phone from your soaked pocket, and pull up the only person you want to be around right now, in this moment of vulnerability. Loneliness. 

You send him a quick text, date was a bust. Stuck downtown. Are you busy?

Kyle's reply comes three breaths later. For you? Never. Send me your location. 

You send him your pin. 

Another message pops up: stay put. I'm on my way. 

You met Kyle Garrick at university. 

It's one of those things in life that just sometimes happens. A happy accident. An eventuality that makes the world feel a little less daunting. A lock and key sliding into place. Sunsets in pretty ochre. 

Someone you knew and someone he knew (two people who are now best man and groom in the upcoming wedding) decided to invite all of their friends out for a night, and it was then, slightly tipsy on cheap ale when you realised the boy in the back—a head taller than everyone else and more befitting inside the glossy pages of a magazine—was different, somehow, from anyone else you'd ever met. 

It started when some stupid kids decided to pick on another. A smaller boy with a blue cap. 

Kyle was the only one who noticed. The only one who seemed to care. 

It was his anger that drew you to him in the first place. Moth to a flame. It's quick—the sizzling flame of a lit match: suddenly burning the wick and nearly uncontrollable. But it's short. A flickering star, burning bright, burning hot, and then being tempered and swallowed down until it's smouldering. Still hot, still dangerous, but—

Managed. 

It was a snap. He was laughing, jovial. Telling jokes, and having fun, but still maintaining that enviable enigmatic persona: reserved but kind. Funny, but mature. And then it crumpled in an instant, folded away into anger. Bright and blistering. He walked to them, eyes blazing, and didn't wait for any excuses when the kids noticed him, just quickly decimated their foundations, and crushed their feeble lies between his teeth. 

"Bullyin'? That's a pretty foul thing to do, innit, mate?" 

And that was that. 

He handed the kid back his hat—the one the others knocked off into the gutter—and told him, clipped, that he was better than them. 

Just keep your chin up, yeah? Fuckin' losers, that lot. Don't go messing about with them anymore. Fucking pricks. That's a nice hat, too. Where'd you get it? Really? Oh, that's mint—

It was that moment when, unprompted and unnoticed, he easily slipped away from the group to help some kid he didn't even know that you realised you were very keen to get to know him. 

"Fancy a kebab, hero?" You asked, smirking up at him. 

A grin broke across his face. Sharp, feral. "I could always go to a lamb kebab."

The rest, really, just came quite naturally. Your best friend. The person you go to for anything—even terrible dates that leave you stranded in the rain. 

You just wish you knew when it all began to change, to fall apart. 

Kyle meets you near St Peter's Square. 

You spot him first from your hiding spot beneath the awning, catching sight of his form moving through the (now) empty streets, hands shoved in the pockets of his denim trousers, the bottoms tucked, sensibly, into his fawn-coloured boots. 

Even with the hood of his windbreaker pulled low over his brow, you can pick him out of a crowd with an ease that is as warming as it is jarring. 

You wave him over when he stops on the mouth of Mount Street, looking in toward the Starbucks on the corner. 

He finds you just as easily. And oh, his expression makes your toes curl in your misshapen boots. 

Anger pinches the corner of his mouth, and hangs off the furrow of his brow, the divot between his eyes. 

"Unbelievable," he huffs when he reaches you in the middle of the street, and sucks his teeth when you open your mouth to protest. 

"It is what it is," you offer, playing the peacekeeper. You fall into step with him, trying not to wince. "I'm over it." 

"Yeah?" The shadows across his brow deepen. "Are you sure? 'Cause… I'll fuck him up for you." 

Setting your friend on a man from Kent feels entirely too vindictive, despite how much of a rush you get at the thought of seeing the man cowed a little bit. You shake your head, playing the part of a reasonable adult. 

"It's okay. I'm just—I'm just, over this, yeah? Can we—"

Kyle stops you with his hand against your shoulder. "You alright?"

"My feet hurt," your smile is strained. "Terrible shoes." 

"Take 'em off."

"Are you crazy—?"

"I brought slides for you. Figured you'd wear something stupid." 

"Okay, fair. But—ouch? We can't all be crazy good-looking Armani models. Some of us have to work for it." 

Kyle snorts. "Just take your shoes off, yeah? Throw 'em in my bag."

You can't deny it feels blissful when you lean against the slick wall outside of a shop, toeing off your tight boots. Aching feet freed from their prison. The sigh you let out makes him glance up at you from the pavement, bent over the rucksack he brought. 

There's disapproval in his gaze—maybe at your choice. Choices. The date he warned you about. The boots. The socks he spots are stained with blood on the knob of your foot. 

He tuts. A soft admonishment that cuts through the silence of the empty square. But it's all he says. He swallows the rest and drops the shoes he grabbed on the pavement in front of you, slowly pushing them forward with the tip of his toe.

You try not to grin when you see them.

Crocs. The ugliest ones you could find in Schuh. You'd bullied him into getting a matching pair with you. Neon yellow adorned with little clips. 

You slip them on as Kyle reaches down to grab your boots. He pauses with them in his hand, eying them with something that taints the air with his disdain. 

"When did you buy these?"

"On Friday." When he was sleeping off his impromptu trip to Chicago. He brought you home deep-dish pizza, frozen, and promised that it tasted much better fresh. "For the date."

"Why?" Is all he asks. 

You shrug. "They're cute…?"

His eyes stray to your shoulders. The wet fabric of your shirt. His chin lowers slightly, but his eyes stay fixed on your flesh, on the goosebumps that bubble to the surface, spreading over your exposed skin. Eyes flicker, catching a droplet of water you can feel running down from behind your ear, falling over the slope of your neck. It breaks against your collarbone. He watches it all. 

There's tension in the air. Static. The pressure builds and reeks of ozone when it presses into you, knuckles digging into the hollow of your throat. It renders you unable to speak—locked in a paradigm where the world beyond the honeycomb of his eyes ceases to matter, to exist almost. Thick honey ensnares you. Molasses. It clots against reason, logic, and makes you feel weightless. Floating, unmoored, in this unfamiliar abyss that closes in around you. 

Except—

It isn’t. 

There’s something aberrant about it, anomalous, that you can’t ignore; but beneath it sits a preternatural sense of familiarity that bends the paradox into knowns. Into tangibles. Concretes. 

This is the same tension that has been simmering—festering, almost—since before he joined the miliary. In Cardiff when he leaned against you in the taxi, boney shoulder digging into your arm, and said, ‘dunno what I'd do without you, y’know? 

It was the hazy smear of neon from the shops perched on the street. An ethereal gold hue streamed in from the window, cutting across the tenebrous in an asymmetrical chiaroscuro. The light was soaked up by him. Warm honey, the perfect compliment to his eyes, to the soft pink of his lips. 

How could you possibly describe the feeling that spumes in the pit of your stomach outside of undiluted comfort? 

Home.

It feels like like in shades; muted. A soft undercurrent that lingers inside something else, something deeper—

Moments in the foyer when he was heading back home for the evening. When he’d linger in the doorway, shoulder balanced against the frame, arms folded over his chest, and warned you not to watch Taskmaster without him. 

He’d know, he said. 

When you asked how, he just said:

“Because I know you.”

It feels like that. Like that and something more. Everything, all of it, coalesces into this. Into this moment where you can’t stop staring into the flecks of mahogany and charred birchwood in his eyes, and he can’t seem to decide where to keep his, vacillating between the slope of your neck and matching your stare. A lurch, a flash of something in your chest when your gazes meet. The deep sfumato of a bare forest in the middle of winter—rich browns, raw topaz, honey and amber in a sea of white. A sleepy hinterland. Solemnent and peaceful. Dreamy. Hypnogogic. 

The world always seems to shudder into a deep slumber whenever he’s around. 

He dips closer, swaying into you. Gravity, maybe. Tidally locked satellites on the same rung. Something bubbles in your chest. Unwinds from its dormant perch between the gaps in your ribs, and climbs up your esophagus. Ready, you think, to be free—

In the distance, tyres squeal against the pavement. 

—and all at once, the moment burst, breaks. Shatters into a million pieces, cosmic dust, and you watch them fall around you, blinking rapidly, as though you’ve just woken. 

It feels like slowly coming down to earth when you quietly gather your things, words now stuck in your throat. In their prison. 

Kyle tears his gaze away from your bare skin, clearing his throat. 

"Hardly." He murmurs after a moment and slips his jacket off his shoulders before wrapping it around yours. It smells of rainwater, wet rubber. Beneath the polymer, you can smell Kyle—vetiver, cypress, jasmine; sweet and heady—and you bury your nose in the hood when he turns back to the empty street. “Well, uh—”

You can’t speak. Not yet. 

He seems to understand. 

"Yeah," he nods, and reaches out, tugging on the end of the drawstring. "Let's get out of here." 

The rain lightens into a muted drizzle, soft droplets that fall, almost rhythmless, on the wet pavement. The town sleeps, the streets bare. Empty. The only sounds come from your slick footfalls, a horn in the distance. 

It’s an easy silence that lapses between you—not at all unlike the lulls before, when things were easy and featherlight and endless; when you could talk to him about everything, anything, and all of the worries in your life were saved for something else. Never him. Never, ever him. 

But it tugs at something in your chest. The same pressure blooms at the edges, lingering in the periphery. You think of the spell you fell under—quiet yearning—and shake your head, desperate now to break it. 

It’s just as easy to slip into familiarity. To tease, and taunt. And so, you do. 

"I'm surprised you haven't said I told you so by now. That's so impressive self-restraint."

His gaze slides over to you. "Well, you know, it's implied."

"Oh, is it, now?"

"Yeah, like when you messaged me and told me about it and I said—"

"Who even uses Tinder?"

"—that he's knobhead, and you're gonna get hurt."

You scoff. "He's from Kent, so."

"Even worse," he makes a face, derision contrasted by the jaundiced lamp spilling over the pavement. "A Tinder date with a guy from Kent? What's next? Moving to Bristol?"

"It's a nice area." 

He rolls his eyes. "Sure. As nice as Essex, maybe." 

"The two are not even comparable—"

"'Dunno why you're rushing into anything, anyway,” he angles his chin toward you. “If this is about Carver's wedding, I said I'd go with you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but…"

"But what?"

"That's sort of—like, you just have your own thing going on. I don't want to get in the way."

"I've always had my own thing going on. So have you. But that's never stopped us before, has it? What's changed."

"What about—" you swallow down something thick, bitter that wells in the back of your throat. "You know. Amsterdam. The Barista, or whatever."

His brow knots together. "And what about David from Kent?"

You sweep your hands out, motioning morosely toward your Crocs, your damp outfit. "This is what happened with David from Kent. Not exactly the fairytale meet cute you have with Amsterdam—" he makes a noise, like he means to interrupt. You cut him off. Bury it. "And besides, you should take her. I'll just—" 

"I want to go with you."

"Why?"

Kyle falls to a stop near the Kebab shop you usually go to whenever he comes back from his missions, when he's craving good, hearty food that will rot his insides and clog his arteries. A small comfort from before, when everything he has now was just a dream, and you were struggling students in university who could barely afford a meal each and would split a lamb dinner over ale and terrible movies from the noughties back at your flat. 

The suddenness of it all makes you blink beside him, slowly angling your chin up at him. A questioning noise wells in the back of your throat, but when you finally turn your gaze to him, it does out. A snuffed flame. 

He brings his hand up, finger scratching at the soft patch of skin on the bridge of his nose where it starts to arch up. The look on his face, hidden, slightly, by the night blanketing overhead, but just illuminated enough by smears of neon and flushed street lamps for you to see it clove into something slightly flustered, hesitant. Sheepish, almost, like he hadn't meant to say what he did, and now doesn't know how to proceed forward. Cards tucked tight to his chest. Does he play his hand or fold? 

You blink. Then blink again. Struggling, almost, to take in the suddenness of his flustered state. 

Because the thing is:

Kyle doesn't get embarrassed or sheepish. 

A running gag in your mutual friend group is that Kyle is twenty-eight going on sixty-five. An old man crammed inside the body of a young adult. He runs hot—passionate about his beliefs, quick to temper when he thinks an injustice is being doled out; a disciple of loose stoicism, but of a new age variety that is half parts stereotypical stoner chillness and ripe maturity—but he rarely is ever caught unawares enough to become embarrassed by something. He just has a perfect gauge of himself and those around him, able to quickly make friends with anybody he meets, and self-aware enough to know when he's in the wrong, when he needs to dial it back. 

Being his friend for so long, you know the nuance of these expressions. His mien is ingrained in your head: known and catalogued. Nothing about Kyle is a mystery to you except the things you're barred from knowing (his second life away from home, you often joke: wholly confidential, entirety draped in secrecy). 

But the look on his face is entirely alien to you. An expression you hadn't thought him capable of making. 

It's jarring. It bludgeons into you with a ferocity that takes your breath away. 

You know the man standing beside you, but this, everything else, is so unearthly. So foreign. 

"Kyle," you hedge, taking a small step closer to him. You're not sure why. Maybe to reacquaint yourself with the man standing before you. Maybe to find something of familiarity within him to comfort the sudden crescendo of your pounding heart because even just the heady scent of his cologne—vetiver, amber—quells the sudden bloom of anxiety in the pit of your stomach. "Are you—?"

"No," he mumbles, then huffs out a soft laugh. It sounds mean, in a self-deprecating way, and your heart lurches for him. "Yeah, no. I'm alright. I just—shit, you know? 'Course I'd wanna go with you. Should be kinda obvious, no?"

Sure, you want to say. Sure, no, totally. Very obvious. And maybe had he not stopped, not made this peculiar expression on his face—like he isn't sure what to do when he always knows what he wants, what he's meant to do—you might have said them. Might let them tumble from your lips, equally self-deprecating and a touch forlorn despite never really knowing why, but that would be a lie, now. 

Because you do. 

The look on his face is upsetting—not because Kyle never makes that expression, or because he's never uncertain about anything, ever, but because you don't know it. It's not something you've ever seen before. And it hurts. 

It's stupid. This whole thing. It shouldn't make you feel some sense of loss when he does something you don't expect. He always does. It's his brand, now—jettisoning across the world to catch bad guys and slap the trite American sense of justice and liberty for all across the faces of anyone who tries to oppose it—and you're very much acclimated to this side of him, the one he hides away from you, giving nothing at all about where he's going, what he's doing, what he's done, until he's back in England, safe and sound, and texting you at six in the morning for an English spread because he missed home. And maybe, maybe he missed you, too. 

Those quiet moments are tucked into a cosm where it's only you and him, and greasy food, and reruns of Golden Girls together with your feet in his lap as you sit on the chaise and pick favourites (his is, of course, Rose) until the sun goes down, and he heads home because he has a debriefing in the morning in Hereford, and you have work. It's bereft of unease, of tension. Time slips through your fingers fluidly, and you hardly notice it's been hours since he first arrived. Comfortable, wholly, in his presence and in your skin. 

Soulmates, everyone used to joke. You just get each other. Near finish each other's sentences. 

Except for lately, where there has been this undeniable tension simmering between the two of you—a sense of fragility that you can't comprehend.

Growing apart, you thought. And then: guess it's time to do the same. 

It made sense to make the first move. To download Tinder—much to his chagrin—and start looking for your—

Your Barista from Amsterdam. 

And oh. 

Oh. 

Maybe it's the way the street light frames the angles and plains of his face, or the shadows that run deep lines of tenebrous across the valleys in his eyes, the sharp slope of his lips, the soft pout. The inscrutable expression that rents a jagged divot between his brow, and an unsure twist of his mouth. Maybe it's everything. Nothing. 

But the only thing you know right now is that you know him. Have known him. Deeply. Intimately. In a way that goes beyond the boundaries of bodies, of flesh and blood. Bones and marrow. You know his soul. His essence. The foundations of who he is cobbled together in a lonely kebab shop over cheap ale, commiserating on an endless stream of papers and assignments; the eventuality of ever after when you hand in the final one. Over beans and toast in the afternoon, a whole day spent lounging in your flat watching reruns of Golden Girls, and petty arguments over Taskmaster that always seem to go a little bit too far, and never far enough. Fights that end two days later when he shows up with Greggs and a complete box set of that show you said you wanted to watch but never had the time for. Bargain shopping in Tottenham on an early Saturday morning because there's this chair, you see, one that you saw on their Instagram page and you simply must have it. 

Soft moments in between, brackets where life doesn't seem to wrap its cold hands around your throat. Time spent in each other's company just for the sake of it. 

Climbing onto your roof—a thatched mess of moss and straw and broken asphalt shingles that will one day give under your weight—and watching the stars, always searching for one that rockets across the sky while he murmurs beside you, quiet in this stillness that falls like snow in the dead of night around you. A hushed whisper as he relays the places he's been—all stars, he rasps, hand brushing wide strokes across the raspberry sky, dusted with light pollution: I'll take you there one day to see. Best fucking beer I'd ever had, too, just don't tell my cousin because he thinks the shitty lager he makes for his bar is good—and you try to picture it amongst the grey clouds. A life on the opposite side of the world. Just the two of you. Always. 

And that's what it's always been, hasn't it? Just you. Just him. 

It's sometime past midnight on a street corner in Manchester. Your feet hurt from walking all night, and your clothes are damp from the rain that caught you off-guard. A summer downpour. It clings to your skin in a way that's both freeing and wholly uncomfortable, but you're not thinking about that. You're not thinking about anything at all, not now. Not really. There's a silence in your head as the world falls into pieces, breaking like the jaundiced light that cuts crevasses and canyons in the tenebrous that colours sharp valleys of his face. He turns, then, a gentle list of his head as he takes you in, breathes your silence and questions the wideness of your eyes, the soft parting of your lips. The movement makes the light spill over the arch of his nose, the slope of his brow. The dawning of a new day. A new world. The untouchable of the moon where no light shines now burning hot under the sun. 

Then suddenly, and all at once, there's a loudness in your head: a hundred whispers echoing in time to the same off-beat rhythm, full of memories and moments shared between you, threads woven throughout the years all buoying to the surface as you realise you're a little bit in love with him. 

(And maybe you've been a little bit in love with him the whole time.)

So, you say it. You whisper all the words that bubble up, impatiently waiting between your teeth, effervescent and burning white-hot as they throw themselves over bone and flesh to be free. 

Confessing goes like this: 

Molten agony in your guts as the secrets you barely understand yourself dissolve into the atmosphere, spoken aloud and born on cobblestone and petrichor. Wide-eyed shock, uncertainty, as a new quiet falls over your shoulders, louder than anything you'd ever heard. Guncotton in your nose. A million detonations in your ears. 

You've never much liked the silence. You break it, then, with your bare hands. 

"...and that's basically it." 

It isn't much. It isn't poetry. You're not even sure the words were real. A figment of your imagination, broken free because of baristas in Amsterdam and losers from Kent, abysmal dates and the unending fear of being wholly alone in a world you're not prepared for, all without the person who makes you feel a little bit better about the nothingness that permeates around you. 

And sure. Sure. You don't need him. If Kyle decided never to speak to you again, you'd cry and you'd hurt, but you wouldn't be less of a person because of his absence. He doesn't complete you in the same way you've read about in thick books with strong-willed protagonists and an abundance of petty misunderstandings, but he compliments you. Elevates the good and stifles the bad. You want to experience things with him—not because there's some grand force at play, red strings knotted around your fingers that lead you back to him—but because you like his company. His thoughts. His mind. His presence. His essence fills you with joy in the same strokes it makes you want to pull your hair out sometimes. Good and bad. You want it all. 

You want it. Want him. 

And he—

He's taking you home a little past midnight where you'll make yourself beans and toast and maybe try and sleep, or turn on the television to watch four women you're intricately connected to eat cheesecake and solve each other's problems. He could be at his own flat right now, playing that video game he said he wanted to try when he got back, or watching that movie he was supposed to with his flatmates, his friends. He could be talking to some barista in Amsterdam. 

But he isn't. 

He's here with you. Still. Still. 

"I just—," you say, or try to. 

But the rest is a muffled gasp against soft lips when he presses his against yours, stealing the words out of your mouth. 

You can feel your heart beating through your lips. Taste him on your tongue when he draws you closer, hands reaching, grasping. Pulling you into him, into his body. You fit against him, tucked safe between the parentheses of his arms. He tastes of cardamom and cornflower. Lavender notes between his molars. Hints of milk on his tongue. You drink him down and know, then, that this is what they mean they talk about love being a feast because you chase this taste for the rest of your life and never be satiated. 

He loops his arm around the small of your back, dragging you closer still. As if any atom between your bodies is an affront. There’s no hesitation in the action, in the way he burrows into your skin. No trepidation. 

And maybe it would be silly for there to be any. You know him—every iota, every inch; secrets whispered at midnight in a shallow breath and dreams uttered at noon. To be known, to know, is a powerful thing. You feel it ghost across your flesh, featherlight, and reach for it with your bare hands. Seeking, searching. You don’t stop until the tips of your fingers meet his warm skin, curling around him. Anchoring yourself to him. Stuck, now, in permanence. 

You find spots that were untouched before. Behind his ears, the dip of his brow, the curve of his nose, and the slope of his jaw. Cupping it in the palm of your hand, a plinth for him to rest his chin. 

Your canvassing makes him groan, makes him tilt down into you as he begins his own exploration, chasing you in a mad pursuit. Sliding over your valleys, your plains. Running over the rugged mountains and the steep cliffs. He scours your topography with eager, nimble fingers. It’s slow, languid. There’s no rush with this, a consensus you both seem to come to rather quickly when he pries open your mouth and tangles his tongue with yours. It’s sweet, soft. His hands mimic his chase, sliding along your body as if he means to commit the entirety of you to memory, searing it in his brain. 

It’s only when he comes to a crossroads at your navel, pushed flush against his body, does he stop. You moan in despair at it, wanting more and more, not ready to give up this taste that curls over your tongue—saccharine sweet, salty—and Kyle echoes the noise with a groan, a quiet plea for air that both of you desperately need but can’t quite make yourself take. 

“Fuck—” he groans again, breath stuttering out in sharp, deep gasps. “Can’t bloody tell you how long I wanted to do this for, fuck—”

His words seem to peel back the dreamy gossamer of a slowly burning sensuality. It ignites in a blaze, not at all unlike the swiftness of his anger. The sharp, sudden strike of a match. The crackle and hiss of flames renting the air. 

The blaze starts at the point where your upper lip touches his, and almost immediately, it consumes you. 

It's frenzied when he kisses you again—feral and wild: all teeth and tongue and nips against your bottom lip but the moment you sink into the fervour, Kyle changes it. Slows down. Chaste pecks to your sore lips amid a sensual onslaught. A languid roll of his tongue, soothing the burn his teeth left behind. 

The way he kisses you feels like a paradox. 

It's organised chaos. Refined madness. A cluttered mess of finesse and deliberate suckles; an artist's masterstroke. 

You can't keep up. His rhythm is fierce and uncatchable. 

Each step seems to stutter. An avartan you can’t keep pace with. Elongated taals, dips. A crescendo of harmony that is matchless, unreproducible. You struggle along with his swift current, his unerring tide that sweeps you away; unmoored, adrift. The tentative exploration ends. He knows you, now. All of you. And this is his summit. His scramble to the top. It’s biting passion; roaring flames. 

You cling to him, holding tight to the liferaft he offers in a slow huff, a gust of mirth across your lips and into your lungs, slowing down to accommodate you. Malleable, now, he lets you lead, lets you take over, and move seamlessly with him. In tandem, parallel. Equilibrium brings you to heel, and you sigh into his mouth—a deep exhale of everything that has been building and building, tipping the scales around you until it was unbalanced and precarious. Teetering on the edge a precipice unknown. 

His hand roams across your known geography—hills and streams, rivers and canyons—until he reaches your hand still bracketed around his cheeks, slowly peeling it away from his flesh to slide his fingers between yours, holding tight, and—

Kissing is immaculate. Bending at an altar, and making an offering to something bigger than yourself. It’s the spark of lightning flashing overhead, static in the air. Magnets drawing closer and closer until they snap together in the middle.

But holding his hand?

It feels like coming home. 

The world tipping back into place. Amber warmth in your veins; the softness of a jasmine petal. You suck in a deep breath at the shock of it all. 

You think of missing puzzles and loose sea ice drifting alone in the vastitude of the ocean. You think of a life where he isn’t in it and find yourself shuddering at the wrongness that emanates from it. 

You want him. Want him—

It’s Kyle who pulls away first, resting his forehead against yours. You blink slowly, eyes catching dark amber, honeycomb. It draws a smile from you, full and deep. Giddy on the taste of him, of this. 

The only thought in your head is finally, finally.

You see his lips curl in response, eyes lidded and heavy. Blooming with want, affection. Adoration. 

"What, ah—," he laughs a little, then, breathless and happy, and the noise anchors itself to your breastbone, pressing into the hollow of your ribs. A place you'll keep it forever. "What now?"

He hands you the starless sky, and places it into the cup of your palm. Breathes laughter in the air, paints the moon with his joy. You think about the places he wants to take you, and the ones he swears you'll never go. You think about aeons from now when the world is gone and the stars all die out, when there's just the hazy lavender of endless abyss you can't make sense of. You think of him, and you think of you, and you wonder when it started to just make sense for there to always be two. 

Maybe that night in Cardiff when he held your shoes and gave you his coat. When he draped his arm around your shoulders, laughing at something stupid you'd said. A year before he joined this task force he makes cheeky remarks about but never goes too deeply into detail. When it was just endless summers spent working and drinking and eating good food. 

He'd asked the same thing, then, half slumped over in the taxi, and three sheets to the wind. It made his eyes darken, endless pits. Black holes. The expanse of the sky is framed by brown lashes, and drooping lids.

And you'd said—

"Beans and toast?" It feels right. It feels good. "We can—"

He huffed, too, just like he does now, and squeezes your hand once, tugging you along. 

"We're not watching Golden Girls."

You watch Golden Girls. Kyle wraps his arm around your neck, keeps you tucked in close to his side. He steals kisses from you when Sophia says something that makes you laugh until you're breathless and trembling. 

When David from Kent texts you, he grins wide, and whispers in your ear, think I've always been a little bit in love with you, you know? 

Yeah, you say, and kiss back until the taste of him is etched into the space between your teeth. Since Cardiff. For you?

"Since Uni for sure." He smiles again, sheepish and a touch flustered. It glitters on his brow and nips the apples of his cheeks. "You stole my heart when you devoured four lamb kebabs and then ate my tabbouleh. Said to myself, yeah, that's the one for me, innit?"

"On second thought, what's that Barista's number? Might try my luck instead."

"Nah, you're smitten," he presses his lips into the hollow of your throat, nips his teeth against your pulse point. "And you're all mine. No take backs."

"Ah, for fuck's sake—"

Ahhhhhhhh. Sappy romcoms are my kryptonite and it shows.

COD MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION

[hyukaslvr]

strong enough | J. Jungkook (3)

<series masterlist

pairing: Jungkook x (f) reader

genre/tags: idol! Jungkook, idol! reader, idiot exes to lovers, slow burn ; k-drama feels (our beloved summer but not at the same time), angst, drama, fluff, smut

warnings: foul/explicit language, alcohol consumption, unhealthy coping mechanisms, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters, panic attacks, reader is harsh towards Jungkook, Jungkook is a meanie!, mentions of old abuse (major trigger warning!!), talk about blood and wounds

w.c: TBD

series summary: you and Jungkook have too many personal problems, during and after your relationship and it keeps getting brought up. you both had tried multiple times to ignore the fact you were both struggling mentally and physically due to your workplace, but you always run back to each other. maybe one day, one day you'll get back to each other, with all your problems handled, maybe not. all you want is for him to shine like he always does, all he wants is you.

a/n at very bottom!

To my love, my forever. You will soon find out the reason why I am the way am I. Give me some time, my love, I will express everything and more to you. Soon, you’ll have everything once I am able to love and care for myself the way I want to do to you. You deserve everything and more than what I could ever give you, and I will be there for you always. I may never give you this, I may never allow you to read this. But just know, you mean so much to me. Even if I’m a pain in the ass, or if I piss you off, you will always be the person who helped me want to change for the better. I know it may seem like i’m leaving you behind, but pushing you away is the best way for me and you to be able to find ourselves. Once we are settled and ready, I will never let you go, ever again. Mark my words, use them against me, but I know that once you let me in, I’ll never leave your side ever again. You’re my one and only, forever. You are my future, my light, the person who drags me to be right. You mean so much to me and more. But for now, let me go to become the one that deserves your love and wellbeing. Take care of yourself, Jungkook, you will do many good things in life, with or without me.

“i think you should give it to him,” one of your members slur out, making your already wobbly head tilt up to her as she hiccups for the 5th time that same hour, you sighed and your head pounded as your squinted tightly to look at her, “seriously! i think he would want closure that way,”

Jungkook definitely did. he knew that when you wrote letters, you meant every little thing. he knew something happened between you and your ex, his name is like a slap in the face to you, and he could always notice.

his hands started to shake as he continued to read your note, he didn’t know how you came all the way to his house just to ring the door bell and drop it off. he was even shocked to notice his name in your handwriting on the top of the note. he wasn’t mad about it, he was just so, so sad. his eyes burned as another drop fell onto his lap. Jungkook knew it was for the best, but why does it hurt so bad and why does he feel like he’ll never get better while you do?

Jungkook didn’t want to think that way, but he did. he always did, he hurts to see you go but hurts even more to see you shine without him. he kept all your little notes in a box, he was really considering giving it back to you since it was at some of your most vulnerable times. he wouldn’t want to keep these just in case he snoops through them, like he’s doing right now as he was putting the other note in there along with the tons of others.

one of them wrote a song that you made about him, him never leaving you and the way you love him. it breaks his heart more, knowing that you’re no longer around, and that he just keeps fucking up.

when you wake up the next morning, your hungover member told you about a box she found outside the door step with your name on it, your ears ring as you stand in front of the box sitting on your bed, biting the inside of your cheek because this was Jungkook’s box. it had a polaroid of the two of you with shots in your hands on his balcony last summer. it was his favorite picture of you both and wanted to keep it with all the letters you even written him.

you pace around your room for like and hour, biting your lip and running your hand through your hair to calm yourself down. it finally felt like you guys were officially over, no matter how many times you’ve broken up. when you opened it finally, there was a new one, one you definitely didn’t write. you don’t even remember going to his house and giving him the one you were gonna keep for your sake.

it was Jungkook’s hand writing, you knew it from the back of your palm, literally as you have a tattoo that he gave you himself. it read,

forever

and looking at it makes you sick. you felt like crap anytime you thought of him, what you had put him through, all the stuff he doesn’t know about you. you knew him so well, but did he actually even know you, truly? it made you want to cry, the tears lining your waterline and you fight the urge.

you give yourself time before opening up his letter, preparing yourself for the worst or to cry. when you start reading it, you felt like he was there with you. it felt as if he was pacing around your room, looking you dead in the eyes and telling you everything you’ve been wanting to hear, but at the wrong time.

I miss you a lot, I know I say that a lot, but it’s true. I’m glad you wrote me this, I’m glad you’re trying to find ways to open up to me, I’m glad you love me. You are my everything, I want what’s best for you, and if it’s not me then so be it. You deserve the whole fucking world, and I hope you know I tried so hard to give it to you. Maybe, in the long run, we can be happy together. Maybe we can be able to know each other truly, I always wanted to. I believe in right person, wrong time, because you’ll forever be my person, even if i’m not in the picture. I love you, ______, I always will.

you wanted to sob, you didn’t even know what to do. you had dropped the note off not expecting anything back, but getting everything back? even a letter from him, confessing how much he loves and cares for you. you didn’t know how to feel, if it was closure or not. to you, yours was supposed to be. his, his was a love letter, you’ll never let go of it.

you had one more promotion for you group, and you had to prepare in so many ways. you had to practice tons, and practing handling your emotions until you’re a zombie to what you truly feel, you couldn’t handle being around Jungkook for long. it’s crazy, how much you used to look at him thinking you’d never do anything to hurt him, yet you’re over here making him suffer because you are in your head. it tears at the deepest parts of you, and it makes you feel so much at once.

so when it came to the event, you felt your knees lock when you saw him sitting with his team. he looked breathtaking, and it sucks that you can’t look at him for long before you cry because he looks too good. Jungkook always looked good, but whenever you wanted to ignore him, it’s like he knows and wants to look that fine. you gulp hard because walking to over your assigned seats, a couple seats back behind them but at an angle to a way that you can see every part of Jungkook, his hands and thighs especially.

ones that put you through hell, sent you to another universe is what he would of said and has said before, smoking off your balcony as you sat on his lap with your legs shaking trying to not fall off. he laughed as he smacked your thighs, watching them shake more as you practically whine in soreness.

he took another puff off his cig before putting it down on his designated ash tray, but even knowing you didn’t smoke, he kissed you hard, forcing the hot smoke into your mouth and through your pipes, allowing him to do anything to you because you were obsessed with everything he did.

“fucked you out, huh, princess?” he said against your ear as he gave you a second to breathe, making you almost choke as his hand started to move down and between your thighs, giving them a squeeze before going deep between them to touch you where you shook the most.

let’s just say, the memory had your legs close tightly together. the thought of how much have gave you that night, it made you miss him even more for just taking care of you like he said he would. you could feel it starting to stick against your skin, immediately wanting to go to the bathroom.

you thought you were stable enough to walk down the stairs in front of all the idols and fans including, instead you almost dropped face first into the steps instead someone’s hand wrapped around your waist and around the inside of your thigh, gripping it hard as they held you from falling to your death infront of thousands of people.

“your shoes too big for you, baby?”

you really thought you were going crazy, that his presence was just teasing you. but as your eyes dragged themselves down to the hand around the inside of your thigh, you weren’t going crazy. the tattoos proving who the man really was and how his thumb was very close to your throbbing clit. you shivered before quicking bowing at him once you leave his grip and speed walking towards the exit.

the moment you got alone in a hallway, you looked around before pulling out your phone to text your leader where you were going to be, the bathroom, before you hear a door open behind you. you go to put your phone away, but a tight grip around your waist turns you towards the person, your phone falling on to the floor and your mouth to open up, perfect for the attacker to kiss you hard.

another hand grabs your hair and you immediately knew who it was based on the way he was holding you. he knew, and knew it was because of him. that’s all your thought about when his lips were softly against yours, until you felt his hands creeping up. he just knew how to distract you from the facts and knows how to get you to enjoy his attack.

“can we talk soon, princess?” he whispers lowly in your ear once he pulls away from your now desperate lips trying to reach his. you whimper at the nickname, one that just rolls off his tongue in such a degrading way, he grabs your chin softly, turning your face to face him. his eyes invited yours, and the longer you looked into them, the more you felt entranced by him.

“talk about what?” you sighed into his hold, which he notices and gives you your favorite smile in the whole world. it hard to ignore his hands gripping your waist, your hands clinging onto his dress shirt as he holds you, you didn’t expect to be in this position.

“we will talk later tonight, i’ll pick you up?”

“how, with what car-”

“i’ll figure it out, anything for you,” he presses his forehead against yours, making your eyes squeeze shut as he lets out a little chuckle because of your reaction to his proximity being so close to you, you could almost feel his breath against your lips. “you know i’ll do whatever i need to do to see you, i will figure out a way to see you later tonight, bunny, i promise,” he kisses your nose softly before letting you go without your even realizing he picked up your phone for you, a smile across his face as you nodded your head for him.

Jungkook didn’t give you a time, or a place to when he was going to pick you up. before you left the event, you had asked him what he was planning on doing with you and he just told you that you’ll have to wait and find out. Jungkook knew how to make you worry about what could happen. what should you even wear? is he taking me somewhere to eat? it’s kinda late for that-

doink

something just hit your window as you were pulling your pants up, you almost tripped in shock but managed to pull them up and fix yourself before going to your window. there he was, the man of your dreams, the love of your life, standing down there searching for more rocks to toss at your window.

you cracked your dorm room window open, not even wanting to question how he managed to get over the brick wall to get into the dorms, and he smiles when he sees your head peaking from the bottom of the window. he pats his hands on his thighs while you watch him with curiosity.

“get down here bunny, we have a lot to do tonight,” he stood up straight, hands put in his pockets as he stared off at you. you would of jumped right there into his arms after that nickname, you almost whined before nodding your head like an idiot and shutting your window.

you managed to sneak out, grabbed your shoes at the front and headed out from the back blind spot and running to where Jungkook stood, his hands tucked in his pockets to stay warm. his left arm raised so you could wrap your arm around it, a habit of the both of you. you just ignored the bad feelings and wrapped your arm around his, feeling his arm tighten around yours as you both started to walk to the car.

“you gonna tell me where we’re going, Jeon?” you tilt your head, your left knee against his center console as your left side rested on his passenger seat. his hand slid up to your knee, leaving you in shock as he gripped it in warning.

“stop asking questions, baby,” he tapped his finger on your knee, not even bothering to look your way. you huffed as you closed your eyes, trying to ignore his thumb moving against your thigh now, his hand resting against it too.

“Jungkook, you know we can be doing this again. i know you remember what happened last time,” you warned, your head felt like it was spinning, none of this felt real. Jungkook bit his lip ring in thought, he just wanted to talk to you and apologize. he always wants to talk to you even if he’s been rude.

“______, what do you think i’m going to do to you tonight?” he spoke deeply, it sent waves through your spine, and down to your poor kitty. it’s crazy, what this big eyed man can do to you with only his hand on your thigh while he speaks to you like your his.

“i- i don’t know, what are you asking me? i’m just confused why you’re doing this-”

“what do you want me to do to you tonight, baby? is there something else bothering you that only i can fix?” his hand rubs your inner thigh, occasionally softly squeezing the skin closest to where you needed help the most. “i’ll do whatever you want me to do to you, you just have to speak up, darling. is that okay? can you do that for me, princess?”

you almost moaned, gasping at his eagerness to help you with whatever you want, and you knew he meant that. “Jungkook, we can’t be doing thing again, as much as we want to-”

“fuck that and fuck no contact, we were doing good as fuck the last time we were friends. can we not be friends, baby?”

“that’s why! you keep calling me my favorites, you can’t do that to me..” you whined, you wanted to hide away as he giggled at how you whined. when the car slowly starts to come to a stop, you got reminded that the whole time you were talking to him, getting teased by him, he was driving. “Jungkook… where are we?”

“let me help you out and show you,” he smiled, and you just knew that you had to trust him, why? because he’s Jeon Jungkook, why wouldn’t you trust the love of your life?

when he open your door, hand already reaching for his as he helped you out of the car, the smell of salt hit your face in a whiff, making you smile at the moment you had at this beach with Jungkook. but why here? why did he want to talk here?

you didn’t trust your voice, watching his open his back door to grab a blanket and cigs, which you thought he quit, with a lighter and a flashlight. you didn’t say a word as you hugged onto his arm as he walked to a specific place, your guys place. the place where he gave you head for the very first time, you found sand up there for at least a day after that.

“do you trust me, sugar?” Jungkook asked you, tugging you to sit next to him on the blanket over the cold sand at the dark lonely beach. it’s like he knew what you were worried about, could you trust him again? it’s not like he broke your trust, it’s about you trusting yourself around him. if anything besides talking happens tonight, and you guys become exactly what you were afraid of becoming, you won’t know what to do with yourself.

it’s a bit selfish you thought, as his hand rested against your shoulder as you snuggled against his neck, breathing in only Jungkook and a little bit of salt. you loved this, but it couldn’t get any farther than this. just small, and slight, touches and sometimes kisses, only at certain times. the sound of the waves crashing tingled your ears, debating if you should listen to his heartbeat or not.

“do you know why i want you out here with me tonight, baby?” his voice vibrated your cheek as he spoke, his fingers gliding against the thin fabric of your long sleeved shirt. you hummed, you felt him swallow before you moved your head to face him.

“i wouldn’t have asked you that a million times in the car, Jungkook,” he smiles when your eyes finally reach his. he used to ask you, what did you see when you looked into his eyes? you usually just laughed it off or ignored the question, but now you think you know the questions answer. Home. in other words, Jungkook was your confort, the one you would go to, the one who makes you feel the safest, the one who keeps you feeling warm. Jungkook was your favorite.

Jungkook leans in, you can almost feel his breath against the wind, you almost forget where you are when you look deeply into his eyes. he leans so close to you that you could almost kiss him. you feel his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer- and closer to him, until your hovering above him.

you looked down at him, his hand sliding down your waist and on to your thigh to swing your leg over his body. he’s got you now, almost spread wide for him as his eyes glazed your entire body, making your shiver.

“let’s that about why you were so wet when i caught you from eating shit in front of everyone today, huh? or maybe… why you’re so wet right now, was it from the car ride? you just couldn’t wait, hm? baby?” he smacked your thigh, and you almost whimper at his words, “sit down on me, love. you know you want to. i’ll do anything you want me to, just let me in this one or more times and you won’t regret it this time,”

oh boy, you were in for a ride. baby, princess, sugar, darling, bunny, love. hearing that one burned, deeply in two places. your poor heart as you feel his hands grip your sides, and your poor throbbing cunt that it about to get slammed onto his hard on resting below you. either or, you know you’re safe and whatever happens can be dealt with. why? because you’re with Jeon Jungkook, why wouldn’t it be fine?

a/n: holy shit, this took forever and i sincerely apologize!! i love how this episode turned out and i will give you guys a slight warning! spicy scenes are coming up and I’m not backing down from this. it will be the dirtiest, most greatest- yeah! anyways, thank you for your patience, i love you all🥹

taglist: @loumin908 @heartjiminie @cuntessaiii @parkinglot-nights @minsoa97kor @jkgirlfr @lavendersugarplum @gaebestie @whoa-jo @kp0pficdump @yunholuv @skzthinker @shwkoqp18 @veemegatron @kaiparkerwifes @alextgef @nerdycheol @nightappple @nlr1606 @chl0buggy

if your tag isn’t gray, please fix your settings so i can tag you next time love!

[creamsickle-writes]

Forbidden Fruit: Shanks x F!Reader

Tags: nsfw, Modern!AU, AGE GAPS (at one point he mentions he's old enough to be reader's dad), mentions of creampies/breeding, dirty talk, daddy kink, sex toys, and phone sex

Thank you @aces-sweetheart for making this post which inspired me to write this fic!

Click here for part two!

You were desperate.

After looking for a boyfriend for so long, you were getting frustrated. Boys at your college seemed dull to you, and online dating was a total bust; finding companionship seemed impossible for you.

You wanted something romantic, sure, but right now, you needed something more sexual. You hadn’t been laid in god knows how long, and the sexual energy within you had reached its bursting point.

You thought to yourself as you lay in bed; you could’ve used one of your many toys to get you off, but that was growing old. You wanted someone to be there with you.

You chewed at your lip, trying to decide what to do with your frustrated self.

Until an idea popped into your mind.

Maybe you didn’t have a companion, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t buy some services to replicate the experience.

Immediately you perked up and began searching for online cams and various male voice-over actors you could listen to. 

But after looking at those, you decided that wasn’t quite right either…

That’s when you see a targeted ad about a phone sex hotline. You raised your brows; you had never considered doing something like that before… but the more you thought about it, the more appealing it sounded.

You clicked the number on the search engine page without even thinking it through.

You almost hang up, but you’re greeted by an automated voice.

“Welcome!” It cheerily rings, “You have reached The New World Chat Line! Please select one if you are interested in women, two of you are interested in men.”

You debate hanging up right then, but with shaky fingers, you select ‘two.’

The silence is loud, but eventually, you hear that automated voice again.

“Please select one of our many male operators to chat with!”

The phone begins repeating back various profiles that the men had recorded themselves. There were many different guys, each with their own list of kinks and physical descriptions. You chewed your lip as you listened; some were interesting but not enough to get you to bite the bullet.

That is, until you hear a deep, raspy voice. 

“Hey there,” It starts, “You can call me Akagami. Uh, let’s see, I’ve got red hair, and I’m a little over six foot… I think I’m around six foot six?”

Your eyes bulged; he considered that “a little” over?

“I’m looking for sweet girls that like to play with older men. Real innocent, cute types are perfect for my style of play. I want to guide a girl, teach her everything from how to squirt to how to please me-“

You don’t need to hear anymore. You want this guy now.

Pressing ‘one’ on impulse, the phone begins to ring.

It doesn’t take long before there’s an answer.

“Hey there, sweet thing,” he says it with a familiarity that causes your body to heat up.

“U-Uh, hi-“ you want to smack yourself as your voice comes out way too squeaky and high-pitched.

He laughs on the other end, but you can tell it’s all in good fun, not out of malice.

“And how are you doing today, princess?”

“Uhm,” you pick at the hem of your shirt as you lay on your back, “I’m feeling a bit lonely. I wanted to talk to someone…”

You can hear the smile in his voice, “Is that right? So you decided to talk to me? I’m flattered.”

“Mhm…” you trail off, not sure how to get the ball rolling. 

But fortunately for you, he’s a natural. 

“Honey, you sound a bit young,” he starts, “How old are you?”

“O-Old enough!”

He chuckles, “So you’re a younger girl.”

Your face burns bright red. Were you seriously so obvious that he could read you so easily? 

“Hm, don’t worry, your little secret is safe with me.” He purrs it into the phone, and your body shivers at his tone, “Is this your first time calling for this kind of thing?”

“Um, yeah…”

He chuckles lowly, and your heart skips a beat, “Don’t worry, we can talk about anything you want. It can get sexy, it can get sad, hell, you could just tell me about your day; I’m all ears.”

You smile a bit at his words, your nerves starting to disappear. 

“Well, I called because, like I said, I’m kinda lonely…” you pause as you debate what you want to say, “I’ve been trying to find a boyfriend but no luck…”

You hear him “aww” as he listens, and you talk a bit about your dating struggles, how college has been challenging, and how you’re up to your limit with how sexually frustrated you are. 

“Things can be rough at your age. I remember I had a hard time when I was in college…”

“How old are you?” You chirp up, and he laughs. 

“Curious? I’m 40 now.”

You hummed, “You’re old enough to be my dad.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles, “I kind of figured that.”

“It’s kinda…” you swallow, unsure how to finish your sentence without dying of shame. 

“Kinda what?” He pushes, and you can practically hear his smirk, “Go ahead.”

Your core lit up at his words, “Even though you’re almost twice my age- no because you’re almost twice my age… it’s really getting me worked up.”

He growls, “Yeah? You like fantasizing about older guys?”

“I-I do-” you whimper, “My dad has a friend… I’ve always found him attractive…”

“Sounds like you’ve always had a thing for older men.”

“Always.”

He groans at that, “Dirty little girl… don’t you know it’s girls like you that make things so tempting for guys like me? We want to take advantage of cute things like you who have no idea what you’re getting into…”

You bite your lip, “But I want you to take advantage of me.”

“Fuck-” he hisses, “Alright, I don’t know if I can take the idle conversation anymore, princess. You’re making me so hard right now.”

You swallow, working up the courage to make the first move, “Can you tell me how hard you are? Please?”

Your core flutters at the grunt that comes from the other end of the line.

“It’s getting really hard, baby. My pants feel so tight right now just listening to your sweet voice say such dirty things.”

He groans, and your ears perk up at the sound of fabric shuffling in the background. Your heartbeat accelerated at the action.

You squeeze your thighs together, trying to relieve any discomfort that grew between your legs at his words.

And with that, there’s a click from the phone. 

“Hello?”

“To continue, please enter payment information.”

Shit. Your free minutes ran out. 

You scrambled to grab your wallet on the bedside table and fished out your card. Quickly, you punch in your credit card info before the phone rings again. 

A warm chuckle greets you, “Did I lose you?”

“Yeah-“ you sigh, “I needed to enter some card info.”

You can hear the smile in his voice, “I see… don’t worry, I kept your seat nice and warm for you~”

“Thank you,” you laugh, “I appreciate it.”

“Yknow,” he starts, “I bet a slutty little thing like you has a bunch of toys to play with. Why don’t you take one from your collection and use it?”

“O-Okay.”

You whine as you remove your hand from your cunt and get out of bed, pulling out a box from underneath it. You pull out your favorite clitoral vibrator and a basic dildo. You describe to Akagami the toys you’ve chosen.

“Good girl,” he purrs, “Try easing that dildo inside first…”

As you lay on your back, you spread your legs, teasing your hole with the silicone tip. You whimper softly before pushing in and gasping at the intrusion. You’re plenty wet, so the toy slides right in, bottoming out to the suction cup base. 

“I-It’s in- “

“Good, good.” He hums. “Turn on the vibrator now. Make sure it’s on the lowest setting, alright?”

You adjust so that you’re holding the phone between your shoulder and cheek, your dominant hand turning on the vibrator and placing it on your clit. Even though it was only on the first setting, the buzzing made you jump. 

“God, I can just imagine your flustered body writhing…” he laughs, “You said you’re in college, right? Don’t you have roommates you’re worried about?”

You bit your lip, “She won’t be back for a while… I think.”

“Oh? You think?” He teases, “Now you’ve got me thinking about if I was in your dorm room with you…”

“W-Wh-” you try to get your words out, “What would you do if you were here?”

“Mm,” he drawls, “first, I’d kiss my precious princess. Swipe my tongue over your lips before playing with your tongue.”

Your face grows hot, and you wonder what his tongue would taste like. Does he drink? Smoke? Your tongue darts over your lips as you ponder.

“And I’d play with your tits… squeeze them and play with your nipples that I bet are so hard right now.”

You use your free hand to pull at your nipples, which are just as stiff as the older man speculated.

“A-And then what?”

“Eager, are you?” He stifles a laugh, “I like that….”

“Just for you, Daddy.”

A silence lingers, and for a while, you’re worried you might’ve made him uncomfortable. 

But then he speaks. 

“You know, a lot of dorms have security. And even if yours doesn’t, other students will likely see us…” You press your lips together, wondering where he’s taking this, “You think they’d think I’m your father when you lead me to your room? That our relationship is innocent?”

Your eyes flutter shut as he continues, “Or do you think they’d know I’m just there to use your younger body? That I’m just a perverted old man fucking a college girl?”

“I-I-“you stutter, tossing your head back, “I don’t know-“

“Turn up your toy, princess. Let Daddy hear your moans.”

You obey his command immediately as if he’s placed a spell on you. Your finger clicks the button on your toy again, making the vibrations grow stronger. 

“Oh, Daddy-” you sharply gasp, “I need your cock- how big is it? Tell me-“

“Around eight inches when I’m this hard, princess.”

Your mouth watered.

“Never had a dick that big in me before…”

He chuckles, “No?”

“It’s probably too big-“

“Daddy will make it fit.”

You moan openly, your cunt squeezing the dildo inside you at his words. Even though he didn’t give you permission, you turned the toy up one more notch. You bit your lip, knowing you’d get in trouble if he found out. Over the sound of your toy, you hear wet noises coming from his end.

“Would you let Daddy fuck you raw, princess?” He grunts, “Would you let him creampie your little pussy?”

“Yes-“you breathlessly gasp, “Y-Yes, I want it-“

“Mm,” he moans, “You answered that quickly. You could get knocked up, you know.”

As you approach the edge, your breathing goes shallow, “Don’t care, just need you to claim me. I need you to own me-!”

“Fuck-“he draws it out, “I’m gonna make it so you only want Daddy’s dick. None of those little boys at school will be able to compete.”

You whimper and arch your back as your toy happily buzzes away, stimulating you in all the right ways. Your clit throbs and pulses as the toy surrounds it, and your insides tighten around the other toy. 

“I’m so close-“

“That’s good; turn up your toy one more notch.”

“I-I can’t-“

He hums, “A toy that only has two settings? That doesn’t sound right… did you turn it up without permission?”

Your voice trembles, and your legs shake, “Yes, Daddy…”

“Naughty thing,” he tsks, “I’ll allow it this time, but only because we’re both so close-“

Your eyes shut tight as the pleasure overwhelms you. As you approach the end, your legs begin to quiver, and your heart rate is off the charts. Your body tense as your feelings become too much to bear. You needed to cum.

“Daddy, I-I need to cum!” You whimper, “Please let me cum!”

“Ngh-“He grunts, “Cum for Daddy. Squirt your cum all over your cute fingers* 

Your vision goes dark as you cum. Your body seizes, and your toes curl as your back arches off the bed. Your chest heaves, and you hear a low growl from the other end of the phone, “That’s it, that’s it, princess. You sound so pretty when you cum for me.”

“Daddy,” you moan helplessly, “Cum for me too.”

Akagami’s breath grows ragged as he gets closer, “Don’t worry, princess, Daddy isn’t far behind-!”

He lets out a low groan when he cums, and you bite your lip, listening to him. After a few moments, everything grows quiet. 

“I’ll call you again Daddy. Let’s play again soon, okay?”

“Of course, baby. I would love to guide you through another orgasm.”

And with that, you hang up the phone.

[hxmocrastic]

Yandere!Aegon I x M!Reader + NSFW HCs

— pairings ; Yandere!Aegon I x Male!Reader

— a/n ; There's barely any M!Reader fics in ASOIAF Tags so I wanted to make my own ! (And bc I was curious 🤭)

— warnings ; NSFW ; 18+ TWT Links ; Coercion ; Dark Elements ; Yandere Behavior; Hinted Homophobia ; Affair ;

You're a Lannister boy, The youngest of your four brothers and considered the weakest because of your stature, frame, and meek personality. Your father —Loren I Lannister— has always looked down upon you, He shunned and spurned you relentlessly even claiming that you weren't a Lion but a insolent rat. You're brothers were worst, Like your father they maligned you any chance they got hindering your self esteem to a crippled sheet of parchment. Though despite their belittlement, You were determined to prove yourself.

You caught Aegon's Attention when you attended a Tourney, Adorned in Red & Gold Armor representing your house colors. You were up against Ser Dayken Tyrell, A formidable knight but viscous as well. You fell from your horse more times than you could count surely making a mockery of house Lannister. Tyrell came charging at you atop his white stallion until his grace, King Aegon abruptly halted the knight ceasing the tournament.

Aegon took an interest in you and started to unintentionally eye you in the courtyards, Though very discreetly. His stare would linger as you bowed and sulked past him. He began wondering why you always held that glassy look in your eyes.

After watching you for long enough he decides to make you his cupbearer, Deeming you unfit for tourneys. Truly he just wanted to get closer to you. To know you.

During this time the both of you became close with one another, You vented to him about your problems and he'd listen. With his permission of course, It was almost impossible to get this information out of you.

A year passes and Aegon feels something stir within him, The Dark desires he tried to keep down boiling to the surface.

His behavior started to...shift within the last couple of months. He grew overwhelmingly possessive of you, You could barely pour another lords wine without his violet eyes burning holes into your form. You couldn't even go out and speak with your friends without him requesting your presence. Seriously you couldn't even eat by yourself !! And the worst part is you couldn't question him about it either...

It was only a matter of time before His sister-wives started to grow suspicious. I mean who could blame them, He spent more time with you than he did with rhaenys which said something.

Anytime they'd bring this to light to him, Aegon would just chuckle and reassure them that you were a mere servant— a cupbearer at that, And he would never have any relations with you.

Oh boy was he wrong. He'd sabotage and oppose any & all of your marriage proposals. Even going as far as having one of your bride-to-be's killed in her sleep. But for some reason, Even after all the marriage annulments they'd always end up missing.

This put a far greater stain on your reputation, on your house. There was rumors that you were cursed and you started to believe them yourself. But Aegon with that stupidly handsome smile on his face placed your sobbing form in his lap and cooed into your ear with sweet nothings. You couldn't see the twisted grin on his face.

Aegon would pull you from his chest to stare into your (E/C) eyes as he'd persuade you into Bed with him. You stared at the man in shock, mouth agape with no words spewing. You tried to reject him but he'd subtly threatened the Livelihood of your brothers and father, Cornering you. You had no other choice...

— 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 18+

✪ The Faith already had issues with the Targaryens Incestuous polyamory but lying with another man—A Lannister at that, If they were to find out chaos would erupt. Good thing they weren't ever going to. You two had your affairs in secret, You would sneak into his chambers at a certain time and not the other way around.

✪ He's never laid with another man before, But he's willing to try for you. Though Same sex relations weren't entirely scorned upon in his childhood, They weren't praised either. Aegon figured it worked just how a Man & Woman had sex, Let's just say he's a fast learner.

✪ His pace is rough and quick almost unforgiving, He likes to use you as a stress reliever especially when he's aroused. He's quite big, Cut and pink 9'8 but his girth certainly makes up for it.

✪ Aegon can be just as possessive in sex as he is when you're speaking with your brothers. After all the hell they put you through, He dislikes having you around them so more often then not he has you face down ass up on the table with hips slapping against yours. ⭐

✪ He loves taking you on your back with your legs over his shoulders and you underneath him. It gives him a sense of dominance and control over you as if he doesn't have already. But it's also intimate and passionate, He can gaze into your eyes and witness your face contorting into different motions of pleasure. ⭐

✪ When he's feeling gentle, Best believe he will absolutely WORSHIP YOU. I'm talking Shoulder kisses, Feet Massages Etc.

✪ Even though you two were quiet in your affairs, By this point Both Rhaenys & Visenya had put two and two together and already discovered your affair. Rhaenys encouraged him and Visenya could care less.

Art By @chillyravenart