#and this is exactly why he deserved that award

[jimxnslight]

The Odd One Out

Summary: When BigHit faces financial struggles, the unthinkable happens: a girl is added to BTS. For the seven members, the change is unsettling, especially for Namjoon, who doubts her place among them. But for Y/N… it's a chance to finally be seen.

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Genre: idol au

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: I randomly got the urge to write but wasn’t really feeling any of my wips at the moment, so tell me why I opened a new doc and then 3 hours later this appeared? Like damn, I’m not used to this kind of motivation lmao

“This is a joke, right?”

A heavy silence followed Namjoon’s words, the band’s leader the only one with the guts to voice his mind. But really, someone had to point out how ridiculous the plan being proposed to them was. 

“Now I know it’s not very traditional-”

“It’s not breaking tradition that we’re concerned with,” he countered instantly, “it’s the fact that you’re proposing to bring a girl into the group.”

“I think we all just want to know where this is coming from,” Hoseok offered, inquisitive eyes traveling from Namjoon to their longtime friend and producer now sitting before them. 

Beomgyu sighed, taking in the small recording studio packed with the bright and young members of Bangtan. He had half a mind to call Sihyuk and give him hell for making him be the one to propose the solution they’d spent months coming up with. It was more than clear that the members weren’t on board with the plan, some outright rejecting it while others reluctant, which was a problem because only Beomgyu knew that they didn’t really have a choice in the matter. 

“Look,” Beomgyu raised his hands in surrender, not wanting this to fester into something dramatic, “I get it. The thought of someone being added into the group this late is a bit wild, especially that someone being a girl, but that’s exactly why we’re doing it.”

“So it’s a move for attention?” Yoongi commented, unimpressed. A single brow disappeared behind his light grey hair as he leaned back into the small sofa, arms crossing over his chest. Beomgyu could only purse his lips.

“The company’s been facing a lot of financial issues, especially ever since the girl group prior to your debut disbanded. They had hoped that perhaps your last album could have done well enough to keep us afloat until your popularity increases, but even I knew that was a long shot.”

“Then we’ll make a better album,” Namjoon said, determination making his voice firm, but Beomgyu shook his head.

“You guys don’t get it, do you?” 

The boys all gave Beomgyu a curious look, heads tilting and murmurs rippling amongst themselves. Beomgyu watched them all, feeling sympathy for the boys that deserved so much better.

“The Big Three companies have been buying up slots in awards shows and TV programs. They’ve been booking interviews everywhere - anywhere they can get their hands on. There are no places for us to market your group, nothing we can buy up because BigHit has no money. We’re lucky enough that the sales you guys make cover the production costs and some debts, which is way more than what we anticipated.”

He leaned forward in his chair, fidgeting with a stray pen, “you guys have made so many songs that should have been absolute hits, but they never did. Why? Because they can’t gain that kind of trajectory in a company so small. The only realistic thing to expect is to gradually gain popularity - but that takes time. Time we don’t have considering the fact that BigHit is sinking.”

The room was silent, everyone processing the weight of the situation. It made sense, as much as the boys hated to admit it, they were tired of putting all their blood, sweat, and tears into making their albums, only for them to gain minimal traction. They tended to put the blame on themselves most of the time, feeling as though they weren’t good enough, but Beomgyu knew the truth. Had they been in a bigger company, their songs would have been sellouts.  

“Come on, talk to me. You guys are my friends first, and I don’t want you to feel like we’re forcing a horrible decision on you,” Beomgyu begged, especially taking note of how quiet the younger members had been this entire time. 

He was relieved when Jimin sat forward on the couch, running a hand through his black hair slowly, “it’s just… this is weird. Not only for us, but what about the girl too? I can’t imagine she would feel comfortable being in a group with seven guys.”

“And doesn’t this decision seem a bit… permanent? Why not do something more temporary?” Yoongi piped in. 

Taehyung laughed, shaking his light brown hair, “what? Like dating rumours?”

Seokjin grimaced, as though the idea left a bad taste in his mouth. 

“Things like this tend to get a bigger reaction when the consequences are more permanent, or at least that’s what I was told,” Beomgyu offered. He was only a producer after all, most of the hard work had been done by the management. 

“And to answer Jimin’s question… well, the girl has already signed the contract, so she must be fine with it.”

That had all the boys’ heads snapping to Beomgyu.

“She’s already been picked out?” Jungkook asked, doe eyes wide in surprise. They widened even more when Beomgyu nodded, causing a frenzy amongst the boys. 

“You wanna meet her?” He asked with a relieved smile, glad to be out of the danger zone. 

Taehyung was the first to jump from his place on the couch, his leg accidentally bumping into Jungkook who had been sitting on the floor at his feet. He mumbled something in annoyance as his dark brown hair was pushed into his eyes.

“Okay, hold on.” Beomgyu’s words made the boys pause, “technically you’re not supposed to meet her until next week, but she told me she’ll be in the studio to record something for your next album today so I don’t think it’ll hurt to pay her a small visit.”

“You’ve met her already?” Hoseok asked, his tone slightly surprised. So much seemed to have changed in the span of 20 minutes. 

Beomgyu nodded, ushering everyone out of the recording studio to begin their journey to the one down the hall. Taehyung was right behind him, a boxy grin gracing his features. 

“So if you’ve met her, what’s she like?”

He seemed to have been the only one excited by the odd plan from the start, much less skeptical compared to his bandmates. But then again, Beomgyu wasn’t surprised. Taehyung seemed to have a natural liking for anything unusual. 

The other boys didn’t seem to share his enthusiasm, but he could see the hints of curiosity in their gazes. Even Namjoon trudged behind everyone reluctantly, though notably still skeptical of the plan. 

Once they had reached the door, Beomgyu knocked on it twice and then turned around to give them a look. 

“Regardless of your feelings towards this situation, let’s not try to overwhelm her, alright?” He said, his gaze then straying to Taehyung, “she’s a nice girl and she doesn’t deserve to be treated badly.”

Beomgyu didn’t actually believe any of the boys would be rude, he knew them better than that. He just hoped they also understood how nerve-wracking this would be for you, because he hadn’t lied, you really were a nice girl. 

The door behind him opened to reveal another producer.

“Alright then, let’s meet your new member.”

-

-

-

“God, you have no idea how much I’m enjoying this right now.”

Your head tilted in question at the comment, hands coming up to steady the headphones encasing your ears. This was probably your third hour in the recording booth, Hyowon seeming to want to make sure your voice didn’t work before he let you off.

“You enjoy getting rid of my voice?” You asked with an amused smile, the comment making him shake his head with a laugh.

“No, no, that’s not it, I swear. It’s just your vocals,” he explained, “I’m sure you already know we don’t get a lot of high notes around here - I mean don’t get me wrong, Jimin and Seokjin do an incredible job, but there’s nothing like a female high note.”

“I’m assuming you’re a fan of high notes?” You asked, almost bursting into laughter when he nodded instantly. 

“You should ask the guys, they’re sick of me telling them to sing one every two minutes- oh my god,” he exclaimed suddenly, a thought evidently coming to him, “please tell me you can do a whistle.”

You chuckled shyly, a bit embarrassed by your answer, “my vocal coach doesn’t want me to do it much until I get the proper technique down, but I’ve done it a few times.”

“Oh, Y/N. You’re gonna get so sick of me.”

You laughed, beginning to take a liking to Hyowon. It was nice to know there would be at least one person so easygoing and friendly in this company. It was going to make these next few months a lot easier if the other members decided they didn’t like you.

You knew technically it didn’t matter, but that thought had been playing around in your mind a lot lately. The entire situation was weird, even you had to admit, but the moment BigHit had given you a call and proposed the idea, you knew you’d have to be crazy to turn something like this down, especially considering how difficult it’s been trying to stay afloat as a solo artist from a small company.

Unlike what the company had in mind, however, you weren’t planning on staying in BTS forever. Your plan was to just join the group for about a year, ensure your name got out there while you and BTS grew in popularity, and then announce your disbandment from the group with a heartfelt goodbye. Rest assured if any of the guys weren’t a fan of your presence, they would only have to hold out for a few months.

Still, the people pleaser in you was hoping they didn’t hate you immediately. 

“Okay, I think that just about wraps up-”

A knock suddenly sounded from the recording studio’s door, causing the two of you to eye it curiously. 

“I thought there was still 20 minutes left until my fried chicken came, it must have come early…” Hyowon muttered, getting up from his seat to get to the door. 

You slid the headphones off your head with a relieved sigh, satisfied with the work you put in today, though your mind was already racing with ways to improve for next time. You let them whirl as you strolled out of the recording booth and gently placed the headphones back on the table. But when you turned around, you were surprised to find a number of other men in the room.

Not just any men too, but your soon-to-be bandmates. 

And all their eyes were trained on you, making your own widen. 

You’d technically seen them all in photos from the research you’d conducted after BigHit’s call, but those didn’t seem to do them justice at all. They didn’t capture the tender look in Yoongi’s eyes, or the pretty accents in Hoseok’s features. Jin, who you had already thought looked straight out of a k-drama, somehow looked even better in real life, while Namjoon’s aura seemed to exude the feel of a leader. Even though the rest were sort of hidden behind the older members, you could tell they were all attractive; it was so intimidating.

Before you could say anything - or sprint out the door like you really wanted to do right now - you caught sight of Beomgyu in the lineup of men, a friendly smile gracing his lips as he made his way to your side. 

“Hey guys,” he greeted, clapping Hyowon on the back before placing a more gentle hand on your shoulder. It was difficult to meet his eyes when your gaze kept flickering wearily to the boys surrounding you, “we thought it would be nice to drop by and see how the recording was going.”

Hyowon leaned a casual arm on Beomgyu’s shoulder, a testament to their evolved friendship over the years.

“It’s going very well,” he answered, excitement radiating off him in waves, “the high notes in your next album are going to be incredible.”

A series of groans rose from a few of the boys, only two of the seven harbouring amused smirks. It took a moment for you to place their names: Jin and Jimin, Bangtan’s main visual and lead vocalist. 

The latter accidently caught your gaze, black hair and sharp jawline giving him an almost charismatic intensity. But before you could quickly look away, his face broke into a warm smile, soothing a few of your nerves instantly. 

At least one of them didn’t seem to hate you. 

“Well, then…” Beomgyu began, catching everyone’s attention, “Hyowon and I have a couple things we need to work on, so… um, we’ll be right here if you need us?”

Hyowon snickered at the awkwardness before Beomgyu grabbed his shirt and dragged him to the computer across the room, which of course wasn’t that far with how small the studio was. You still missed the comfort of his hand on your shoulder, now feeling very alone while facing people that may potentially hate your existence. 

Still, you had to make at least some effort, right?

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you offered, voice smaller than you meant for it to be. 

A series of greetings sounded from them, some softening at your tone, while others were unmoved. It was difficult to gauge their general feelings on your presence, which only seemed to make you more nervous. 

Taehyung broke off from the group to stand closer, a boxy smile aimed right at you. You tried not to, but even you couldn’t stop yourself from ogling his almost perfectly structured face and the tousled hair that fell so effortlessly across his forehead when he moved.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said, and you couldn’t help but smile shyly at his excitement. If you hadn’t been so timid, you might have noticed his lingering gaze on your features, “this is all so cool, isn’t it?”

You’d never really thought about it like that, your views on the situation being controlled entirely by your nerves up until now. But when he put it that way… you supposed he was right, it was kind of cool. 

“I guess so,” you admitted, slowly warming up to the idea. 

“I mean, seriously, this is so crazy!” He continued on, facing the other members,“it’s not everyday a group gets a new member three years in - and that too a girl! This is kinda uncharted territory, you know?”

“That’s what makes it a bit scary,” you admitted with a chuckle. You noticed Jimin’s eyes soften at your words and his lips part to say something, but before he could, Jungkook piped up from behind Seokjin’s broad shoulders.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Y/L/N Y/N, would you?” He asked, his tone almost as shy as yours. You honestly hadn’t even realised he was there, but now that you had, you took in his doe eyes and ruffled dark brown hair. He kept having to push the silky locks out of his eyes, a motion you found insanely distracting. 

You nodded mindlessly, distantly surprised that he knew your last name without offering it. 

“Oh. Cool,” he nodded. Then he noticed your questioning look and quickly rushed to explain, “I think I’ve, um, heard your name somewhere.”

Seokjin’s gaze narrowed as he looked back at the younger boy, “hey, wait. Isn’t that the artist Jungkook listens to like all the time-?”

“So what’s your position?” Jungkook interrupted quickly, a bright shade of pink engulfing the sides of his neck. 

You blinked at Jungkook’s sudden change of topic, though you didn’t miss the slight panic in his expression. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, slightly amused by his reaction. Seokjin’s comment had not gone unnoticed by you; the fact that Jungkook liked your music was a comforting thought. 

“Vocalist,” you replied, deciding not to tease him over it, which elicited a look of relief on Jungkook’s face, “though Hyowon has said I’ll be doing so much harmonisation work with Seokjin and Jimin that it might as well be my actual position.”

Seokjin chuckled quietly, his plump lips spreading into a charming smile, though his gaze didn’t meet yours. In fact, you started to notice that he was keeping his gaze strictly on the other members even as you spoke. 

“Good, it’ll finally get him off our backs,” Yoongi muttered, revealing a much more laid back personality instead of the cold persona he seemed to emit on camera, “I’m a rapper and that man still tries to get me to put in a couple high notes.”

Hyowon turned from the mixing desk to face the group with an evidently offended huff, reminding you of the producers’ presence. 

“You all complain now, but just wait until you hear the final product. You’ll be thanking me.”

“Sure,” Yoongi deadpanned, turning to you once again, “can you rap?”

You tilted your head in thought. 

“I think I can hold my own if I had to, though it’s not really my style.”

“That’s fine, you’re one of us vocalists,” Taehyung waved his hand around dramatically, throwing a possessive arm around your shoulder as he eyed Yoongi, “no one wants to be one of the rappers anyway.”

“Weren’t you just yesterday begging Namjoon to let you on Cypher?” Jimin raised a brow.

“No.”

“Do you dance, Y/N?” Hoseok asked, interrupting the ridiculous conversation before it turned into a fight, though the way he leaned forward made it clear he was very interested in your answer. 

That question had you nervously rocking against your heels, a hesitant breath escaping your lips before you replied, “definitely not as good as you guys, but I’m ready to put in a ton of work to get better, I swear.”

Unlike the look of displeasure you expected, Hoseok nodded in your direction with a satisfied smile. It was a relief that he was willing to at least give you a chance before jumping to disdain. His gaze lingered as he scanned you from head to toe, assessing your potential with intensity.

“Hard work is a must,” Namjoon emphasised, the first time he’d spoken since walking into the room. Even though no one had been speaking, it felt as though a hush had washed over the group, a testament to the weight of his words as a leader. You’d been noticing Namjoon staring at you from the beginning, the look not exactly scorn, but not very inviting either. It made you squirm in your spot, doubt creeping into your thoughts, “being a soloist is pretty different from being in a group, which means you’ll have to put in a lot of hard work - it’s not going to be easy.”

You straightened, feeling as though you were being tested, “I understand completely. I know it won’t be easy, but I’m ready to put in the work. You don’t have to worry about me being a drain.”

Namjoon’s hard gaze flickered before he regarded you for a moment, no indication as to whether you had passed his mini “test” or not, “alright.”

A soft hand squeezed your shoulder gently, belonging to none other than Jimin. The proximity of his warm eyes made your face heat, something Jimin seemed to notice. His smile became teasing, “don’t say that, no one here thinks that you’re a drain. I think you’re going to do great. And if you have any questions don’t hesitate to-”

“I have a question actually,” Namjoon’s voice sounded once again, gaze still trained on you. You couldn’t help but feel a wave of tension run through you every time he spoke, “I’m curious to know why you agreed to this whole thing.”

You pursed your lips, not entirely sure how to reply. On one hand, you didn’t mind telling them about your plan, in fact, you bet they’d be relieved to hear it. But on the other hand, you were slightly afraid that they might think you were using them - which technically speaking you were, but also technically speaking they were using you too. It was an odd predicament.

“My solo career wasn’t doing as well as I had wished it would - plus, the excitement of something new mostly,” you offered. Only half the truth, but just enough to relieve you of your guilty conscience. 

“Well, the contract’s been signed and you’re here now, so you’re one of us,” Taehyung exclaimed, and you couldn’t help but be grateful for how welcoming he’d been since the start. Not that the others haven’t, Jimin’s presence had been like a warm blanket while Jungkook’s secret admiration had been an honour. And you completely understood everyone else’s hesitation, you’d be weirded out too if someone was randomly added to your group three years later. Still, the warm welcomes had made you insanely grateful. 

Taehyung steered you towards the door of the studio, “and what better way to celebrate than to eat some steaming barbeque and noodles.”

“Oh oka-” You barely had time to answer before you were being steered out the door by an enthusiastic Taehyung, the rest shrugging before following behind with casual chatter and mumbles. Soon the studio was empty, no one but Namjoon, Beomgyu, and Hyowon left. 

Namjoon stood with his hands crossed over his chest, gaze fixed on the door when he spoke.

“The contract’s already signed, huh?” he repeated, gaze shifting to the other two men in the room, “and what if we had said no?”

“Namjoon,” Beomgyu pleaded, his face falling, “please don’t make this harder than it has to be…”

Namjoon’s gaze softened, realising that he was directing his anger onto the wrong people, “sorry. I know this isn’t on you, man.”

“Come on, Joon,” Hyowon said, feeling bad for his friend, “she seems nice, and she’s got an incredible voice. You may not like the situation, but at least she’ll be a good addition to the group, no?”

Namjoon’s gaze strayed back to the open door, letting his thoughts whirl around in his head. He didn’t want to voice them out loud because, technically speaking, he didn’t really have any tangible evidence that went against what Hyowon was saying yet.

He uncrossed his arms with a sigh.  

“We’ll just have to wait and see.”

[fangswbenefits]

Neil's range as Astarion is insane

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Too Much Like Me

Potter!Reader tells her dad she's been asked on a date.

Summary: James finds out Lily's type in men is apparently genetic.

Wc: ~1.7k

CW: Just chaotic fluffy hijinks - a jab about Americans

“Dad.” You trailed James into the kitchen, fighting to keep your voice calm despite the storm brewing ahead.

But James Potter, in all his dramatic glory, had gone entirely deaf. Arms flailing like a prophet warning of doom, he roared, “Family meeting!”

“No! No family meeting!” you yelped, lunging for his arm. You barely stifled a laugh as he flailed harder, like a fish trying to escape the net.

James spun around, courtroom-drama style, and gasped at you with the intensity of someone catching their child red-handed with a cursed artifact. “Fred Weasley? Our Fred Weasley? That Fred Weasley?”

“Yes, that Fred Weasley,” you groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “Merlin’s saggy balls, I regret telling you already.”

James slammed his hand on the counter for emphasis, pivoting toward the sitting room like a man possessed. “Lily!” he thundered, shaking the walls. “Lily, get in here! Your daughter’s lost her mind!”

“Dad, for Merlin’s sake!” You tried to grab him again, but James had started pacing now, looking like a wizard unjustly accused of crimes against decorum.

“Not in my house! Not under my roof!” He spun around, hazel eyes bulging with a level of betrayal that deserved an award. “Fred Weasley doesn’t know the meaning of curfew! Or- Merlin help us- a respectable bedtime! Do you think I’m letting that chaos into my family? After all I’ve sacrificed? For you?”

“James,” came Lily’s voice, calm but laced with amusement. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed and eyebrows raised, her lips twitching. “What are you yelling about this time?”

James turned to her, a man on the brink. “Fred Weasley! He asked her out! Our daughter! On a date! Alone! With no chaperone!”

Lily blinked, then turned to you with a grin brighter than a Patronus. “Oh!” she gasped, her eyes lighting up. “He finally asked?”

James froze mid-tirade, pointing an accusatory finger at his wife. “Finally? What do you mean, finally? Have you been... supporting this? Encouraging it?”

Lily shrugged, her grin widening as she pushed off the doorframe and sauntered into the kitchen. “He’s a lovely boy, James. Polite, clever, charming. He reminds me of someone I used to know.”

“Don’t you dare—” James began, his tone low and dangerous.

“You,” Lily finished brightly, jabbing him in the chest. “Fred’s just like you were. All mischief and charm. No wonder she likes him.”

James gawked at her like she’d suggested selling their house to a pack of trolls. “That’s exactly why she can’t date him! I was Fred Weasley, Lily! Do you know what I would’ve done if someone let me date their daughter?”

“You married her,” Lily said sweetly, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek, winking at you as it effectively stunned the red mess that was your father.

James froze, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air, completely derailed by Lily’s well-placed jab and affectionate kiss. He finally managed to sputter, “That’s- That’s completely different!”

“How, exactly?” Lily teased, raising an eyebrow as she crossed her arms again. “Because if I recall correctly, you were a menace, Potter. A charming menace, but a menace nonetheless. Fred’s cut from the same cloth, and you turned out all right.”

James spluttered, gesturing wildly at you. “Because this is my daughter! She’s not supposed to fall for charmers like Fred Weasley! I can’t just let this happen! Where’s the fatherly dignity in that?”

“Oh, James,” Lily sighed, patting his shoulder with exaggerated pity. “I hate to break it to you, but you lost your ‘fatherly dignity’ the day you wore those matching Christmas jumpers with Sirius.”

“That was solidarity!” James barked, his ears reddening as he straightened his posture in a futile attempt at reclaiming authority. “And anyway, this is different. I’m supposed to protect her! Shield her from the heartbreakers and mischief-makers of the world.”

“Fred’s not a heartbreaker, Dad,” you said, exasperated but amused. “He’s actually- dare I say- nice? And maybe even mature? A little bit?”

James looked like he might faint. “Mature?! You’re telling me Fred Weasley- the bloke who turned all the Quidditch goalposts into giant marshmallows- is mature?! What next? He’s taken up knitting?”

“Knitting would be a good look for him,” Lily quipped, clearly enjoying herself. “Very soothing hobby. He could knit you a jumper, James, to match that dignity you’ve misplaced.”

You couldn’t help but snort at the visual, and James threw his hands up, pacing the kitchen again. “I can’t believe this. I’m being outnumbered in my own home.”

“It’s called democracy- like the Americans,” Lily said, smirking as she leaned against the counter. “And right now, you’re the losing party.”

James stopped pacing to glare at her. “Fred acts like a damned American..” He mumbled before he raised his voice. “This is treason. Pure, unadulterated treason.”

“James,” Lily replied patiently, though her lips twitched with amusement. “You’ll survive.”

At that moment, Harry wandered into the kitchen, his face set in curious confusion as he surveyed the scene. He held a plate of leftover treacle tart, chewing leisurely. “What’s with all the shouting, then?” He asked, his tone disinterested but his eyes sparkling with intrigue.

James immediately pounced, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “Your sister has decided to go on a date with Fred Weasley, Harry! Fred Weasley! What do you have to say about that?”

Harry blinked at him, clearly trying to piece together the situation. Then his gaze slid to you, and his smirk grew as he swallowed a bite of tart. “Fred, huh?” he said, his tone dripping with amusement. “Nice. Bold choice. Never a dull moment with a Weasley.”

“Bold-? Harry!” James looked genuinely wounded. “This is a betrayal! Your own sister-"

“Is an adult,” Harry interrupted, shrugging. “And you’re acting like she’s run off to marry Voldemort’s ghost.”

“Don’t give him ideas,” you muttered under your breath, earning a snort from Harry.

“Not helping, Harry!” James barked, looking thoroughly frazzled now. He pointed at you again. “Fine! Go on your date! But I’m watching him. One toe out of line, and-”

“And what?” you challenged, grinning now as Lily watched on, clearly entertained. “You’ll duel him? Turn him into a marshmallow like his Quidditch goalposts?”

James opened his mouth, floundering for a retort, but Lily stepped in, tugging him gently away from the center of the chaos. “Come on, love,” she cooed soothingly. “Why don’t we sit down, have a cuppa, and let the kids handle their own lives for once?”

James sighed, finally deflating. “Fine,” he grumbled, shooting you one last suspicious look. “But mark my words- an eye for an eye! Harry, date his younger sister!”

Harry froze, the bite of treacle tart halfway to his mouth as the words sunk in. His eyes darted between you, Lily, and James, clearly trying to figure out if this was his moment to fess up or quietly Disapparate.

“What?” James demanded, noticing Harry’s hesitation. “What’s with that face? Don’t tell me you’ve already thought about it!”

Lily covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. You, on the other hand, burst out laughing immediately, doubling over as the image of James putting two and two together hit you.

“Why are you laughing?” James barked, looking between the two of you like he was missing the punchline to a joke everyone else got. “What’s so funny? Harry, explain yourself!”

Harry, clearly seeing no way out, sighed and placed his plate of treacle tart on the counter. “Dad,” he started, bracing himself, “I’m already dating Ginny.”

James froze. Completely, utterly froze. His jaw hung slack, his hands hovering mid-air like a malfunctioning automaton.

“You’re what?” He whispered, his voice teetering on the edge of shock and betrayal.

You howled with laughter, tears forming in your eyes. “Oh, Merlin, this is priceless!” You gasped. “Dad, your face- your face!"

“James, breathe,” Lily advised through her own laughter, leaning against the counter for support. “You’re going to give yourself a stroke.”

James finally snapped out of his trance, his eyes narrowing into sharp points of indignation. “Ginny?! Ginny Weasley?! First her with Fred, and now you- how long has this been going on?”

Harry scratched the back of his neck, clearly trying to make himself look smaller. “A while.”

“A while?" James repeated, his voice cracking. “Define ‘a while.’ A few days? Weeks?”

Harry hesitated. “Since... fifth year?”

“Fifth year?!" James bellowed, looking like he might explode. “That’s years! Years, Harry! And you didn’t think to tell me?!”

“What was I supposed to say?” Harry shot back, clearly frustrated now. “‘Hey, Dad, by the way, I’m snogging Ron’s little sister’? That would’ve gone over well.”

“Well, it’s certainly better than me finding out like this!” James cried, gesturing wildly at nothing in particular. “My own son! Betraying me! I raised you better than this, Harry!”

Lily wiped her eyes, still chuckling. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, James. They’re clearly happy, and Ginny’s a wonderful girl. You love her.”

“That’s not the point, Lily!” James snapped, his hands flying to his hair. “It’s- this is-!Fred! Ginny! My children and their Weasleys! What’s next? Ron’s going to marry into the family, too?”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Well... technically, Hermione-"

“No! They got her too!?" James cut him off, throwing his hands in the air. “Don’t even tell me! I won’t survive it! This is it- this is how I go. Betrayed by my own family and buried in a sea of Weasleys.”

You leaned against the counter, wheezing with laughter. “Dad, you’re being ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” James turned to you, his face a picture of righteous indignation. “You don’t understand. I fought a war for this family- for this! And now my legacy is going to be a house full of Weasleys!”

“Sounds cozy,” Lily teased, patting his arm. “You’ll come around, James. You always do.”

James groaned, sinking into a chair as if all the fight had been drained out of him. “Fine,” he muttered, waving a hand dismissively. “Fine. Date your Weasleys. Marry them. Name your kids Fred and Ginny Jr. for all I care.”

You patted his shoulder, grinning. “Love you, Dad.”

He shot you a glare but muttered, “Love you, too. But don’t think for one second I’m not watching Fred like a hawk.”

“And Ginny?” Harry asked, daring to push his luck.

James pointed a warning finger at him. “You, young man, are on thin bloody ice."

Lily hushed James as she patted his back, leading him out of the kitchen. He continued to blabber on, muttering something along the lines of;

“Is this my fault?”

“Merlin, does Molly know?”

“Bloody redheads- OW!”

[revelboo]

Carrying the pet headcanons

IDW Megatron x Reader, IDW Starscream x Reader, IDW Wheeljack x Reader, yeah, I’m not listing them all, but just how each mech handles/carries a human.

Starscream

• Carries you cradled against his chassis, servos curled partially around you. Tucks you inside his canopy if there are any other mechs about to hide you. He’s not exactly ashamed of you, more worried about you getting hurt to spite him. With how many enemies he’s made, he fully expects treachery. When he does allow you to ride on his shoulder, one big hand is always up, not touching you, but ready to grab you. It’s easy enough to tell he’s not the happiest with you perched there despite your insistence on being able to see. His wings stay aggressively up the whole time until you take pity on him to climb into his hand.

Thundercracker

• Doesn’t just grab you and it’s honestly adorable as he kneels and offers a huge hand to try and coax you to him like you might a stray dog. You’re pretty sure in his alien mind, you are a stray dog, but the novelty of not just being grabbed makes that realization more amusing than insulting. And his expression when you do willingly come to him to be picked up is too cute. He’s not above bribing you to him with little odds and ends he finds, including food of dubious origin.

Megatron

• Cages you carefully between his hands like a fragile moth he wants to inspect without hurting. For such a huge mech, he’s shockingly gentle with you. A lot of it is guilt, that dark tide constantly threatening to pull him under. Finds your presence soothing, but because of that same guilt, will pass you off to another caretaker given a chance. Can’t trust himself to not accidentally break you. He feels he definitely shouldn’t be entrusted with fragile things when all he’s good at is destruction. But he does love those quiet moments of contact, deserving of them or not.

Ratchet

• Picks you up to almost absentmindedly move you from getting under ped or if you’re just in his way while he’s working. He’s careful about how he handles you, but uncomfortable with just holding you like a favorite pet. Gets the award for being painfully awkward when he does have to carry you, because he’s sure you don’t enjoy being carried like a sparkling. He’s sure you resent it even if you never say a word. You don’t mind when it’s him picking you up. Those clever hands are so gentle with you and the longer he has to carry you, the more uncomfortable and gruff he gets.

Skywarp

• Absolute menace. Carries you like a toddler with their first kitten. One hand too tight around your middle as you hang upside down, because why carry you right side up when you change colors upside down? The more you struggle and swear, the funnier he finds it. Plus, he’s learning so many new, fun words and phrases to use. Most likely to accidentally, on purpose, drop you.

Whirl

• Not a lot better. He seizes you around the middle with one claw and carries you hanging awkwardly face down, arms and legs dangling and your hair in your face. Sometimes swings his arms, because your miserable groaning and complaints are too funny. Won’t hurt you intentionally despite acting like a jerk. Actually pretty protective of you and by his twisted logic, no one else is allowed to mess with you. Only him.

Wheeljack

• Doesn’t really carry you around unless there are other bots about. Honestly, isn’t sure how you feel about being picked up, but you’re so tiny compared to them and he gets anxious whenever he sees you walking in a hall with other Autobots. It doesn’t matter that he knows you’re in no danger. Those times, he makes a line straight for you, scooping you into his servos for your own safety. Half the time, he scares you silly because you hear running, heavy peds behind you, then you’re being grabbed. He means well and you appreciate how much he worries, but, really, you’re fine. The others see you. No one is going to step on you.

Soundwave

• Has a fondness for small things and even though you’re hardly one of his cassettes, will pick you up place you in his chest compartment if he finds you wandering about unsupervised. Being nabbed and dropped into the dark absolutely terrifies you at first, but you can see a dim glow in front of you and hear the hum of the big mech’s inner workings around you. It’s a surprise to both of you when you manage to fall asleep inside him. That cements it for him, he adopts you.

Bonus: Soundwave’s cassettes

• Frenzy seizes you around the middle under your arms and carries you around like a younger sibling, your toes dragging as you squirm to get away. Rumble would rather grab you by a leg and drag you kicking and protesting behind him just to see how long he can get away with it before Soundwave intervenes. As protective as the huge mech is, he’s surprisingly tolerant of his cassette’s mischief. You’re not being physically hurt? He’s allowing it. Cassetticons squabble- it’s how you set your boundaries. More than once, Lazerbeak has dive-bombed you, claws snagging the back of your shirt so he can lift you a foot or so up off the ground, because your terrified yelp sliding into angry swearing is too funny to him. May have dropped you once when your shirt just tears in his claws. Ravage prefers to nudge you along in the direction he wants you to go, but isn’t above carefully gripping your arm in his jaws to firmly tug you along if you’re resisting. Oddly enough, you grow resigned to your “older siblings” fast enough. You don’t really have a choice.

[gothamite-rambler]

If Jason ever found out that both of them tried (and one succeeded) in killing the Joker

Jason: Okay, let me get this straight. Bruce almost killed the Joker, but then Clark beat the sense out of him, and that's why I hate him!

Bruce: He didn't beat the sense out of me! I was blinded by rage.

Dick: You're not going to bring up that he says he hates him?

Bruce: He's not trying to kill him anymore and I get a laugh out of it.

Jason: Exactly, I like causing him minor inconveniences. But okay, you backed out. I get it, with you, I get it… But then Dick killed him. At the very least, he was declared dead, and you… Jumpstarted his heart?

Bruce: Yes.

Jason: And he technically would have died if you hadn't?

Bruce: Yes.

Jason: And instead of giving your oldest son an award or parade or something good… You brought him back to life? My murderer, Barbara's attempted murderer, and the man who has caused us all… So much fucking grief… You gave him a second chance at life?

Bruce: Yes�� That's the gist of it all.

Jason buried his head in his hands.

Jason (talking to himself): It's okay, Jason. Don't freak out, or nobody will stop you from shoving a pencil up his urethra.

Dick grabbed the pencils and pens off Bruce's desk and tossed them in the top drawer.

Jason (keeping his face covered): Bruce… I mean this in the nicest way… What point was being made when someone else killed the Joker? Someone who deserves every single good thing in the world?

Dick (happy): Ah…

Bruce: The guilt of killing someone would weigh on his mind. Eat away at him…

Jason (lowering his hands and turning to his brother): Dick, how did you feel when you did it?

Dick: For the moment, I was punching him, it felt oddly therapeutic and euphoric. I felt awful afterwards.

Bruce: Plus, we're not prison executioners.

Jason: Oh, bullshit! I used to see you body slam villains, beat them to a coma, and threaten to amputate people! That's cool as Batman?

Bruce: They survived and yes it's cool, because I am Batman!

Dick: Hmm, he does have a point. Can you forgive Bruce for reviving the Joker?

Jason: I have... I'm just bitter. I did die, but I can let it slide.

Bruce: Thanks Jason, I mean that sincerely.

Jason left in a cursing under his breath as Bruce sent him money quickly.

Dick: Is your way to apologize money based?

Bruce: Partially. I'm a gift giver, money can be a gift. You don't have to call me a great father, I'm aware I am.

Dick chuckled, shaking his head silently.

[heavyhitterheaux]

NOLA Stuntin'

See Me Through You Insta AU

Liked by joeyb_9, thewomancave, taylorrooks, erinthegymnast, lahjay10_ and 921,360 others

wifeyshiesty: It's clear that the Burrow babies want to be the star of the show tonight, but we're on our way to support daddy 😘💕 #NFLHonorsBound

lahjay10_: damn I swear you just told me yesterday you were pregnant. How much longer to go?

wifeyshiesty: lahjay10_ there's enough time for me to bust you upside your head for eating my food yesterday when we were at the parents house

lahjay10_: you LITERALLY said that you didn't want it! why are you so violent when your short ass barely comes up to my knee?

joeybenthusiast: WIFEY SHIESTY IN THE BUILDINGGGGG!

erinthegymnast: never steal a pregnant woman's food whether she says she wants it or not, I guarantee you that she does lol

joeyb_9: aww daddy loves all three of you and you look amazing princess 😘

joeyb_9: lahjay10_ take it back because next thing you know she's about to start yelling

wifeyshiesty: joeyb_9 you get on my nerves lol but nah don't try to save him. he deserves this ass whooping that he's about to get

lahjay10_: wifeyshiesty gotta catch me first Pebbles 😊

joeyb_9: wifeyshiesty well everyone in that pic is going to call me daddy at some point in time

wifeyshiesty: joeyb_9 JOSEPH! BEHAVE!

taylorrooks: you look beautiful! and why didn't we get a pic together?! I mean we are the hosts of the most streamed NFL podcast to date 😉

thewomancave: GORGEOUS!!!

wifeyshiesty: taylorrooks who knows?! But lunch on me tomorrow! And we can also plot my baby brother's demise for eating MY food that my dad made specifically for me

Liked by joeyb_9, cincinattibengals, thewomancave, lahjay10_, teehiggins, and 1,295,306 others

wifeyshiesty: my man, my man, my man 😍

lahjay10_: he was mine first

wifeyshiesty: lahjay10_ don't sit near me tonight because I will choke the shit out of you

lahjay10_: wifeyshiesty I'm telling mommy you threatened me

teehiggins: yall can't get along for anything lol

wifeyshiesty: he started it

thewomancave: wifey shiesty is always right about everything, we stand by it

joeyb_9: I didn't even notice you took these lol is this why you took so long to get ready?

erinthegymnast: uh oh shots fired

wifeyshiesty: joeyb_9 um excuse me, YOUR HEAVY ASS CHILDREN is why it took me so long to get ready

joeyb_9: wifeyshiesty you changed your outfit four times.....

wifeyshiesty: joeyb_9 watch it, I will make you sleep on the balcony tonight. you about to be on my list like Ja'Marr

lahjay10_: come on Joe, we can take her

joeyb_9: lahjay10_ and wake up dead? nah, that's all you bro. happy wife, happy life

Liked by wifeyshiesty, cincinnatibengals, erinthegymnast, lahjay10_, nfl, nflhonors, and 3,493,082 others

joeyb_9: Not exactly the award that you want, but I'm happy and proud of myself for persevering through a season ending injury to come back stronger than ever. Here's to me continuing to get better and moving forward.

wifeyshiesty: you did the damn thing and I am proud of you NO MATTER WHAT. time and time again, you have proven as to why you are one of the best players in the league and I will always stand by it. always going to be in your corner cheering you on. I love you long time

joeyb_9: wifeyshiesty I love you more and thank you for taking the time to learn how to play piano with me, that way I can serenade you any time I want 😉

erinthegymnast: yall make me sick, but are so ridiculously adorable. so proud of you, Joey!

lahjay10_: my boy did his big one!

teehiggins: well deserved!

jjettas2: making history one season at a time!

thewomancave: congratulations to our favorite number one listener!

Liked by lahjay10_, jjettas2, joeyb_9, lsufootball, cincinattibengals, thewomancave, and 1,475,362 others

wifeyshiesty: my favorite LSU boys! (yes,I coordinated both of their outfits, look at these divas!)

jjettas2: uh? am I not here too?! so, you just leave me out?

wifeyshiesty: Justin, please don't start with me. my feet hurt and I'm hungry and your ass was NOWHERE to be found. yes you are included in my favorite LSU boys category

lahjay10_: oh, so I'm forgiven?

wifeyshiesty: lahjay10_: no.

joeyb_9: but I'm number one right?

lahjay10_: uh no. my nickname is LITERALLY uno

thewomancave: uh oh, the girlies are FIGHTING

wifeyshiesty: imma delete this whole post if yall don't get it together smh

erinthegymnast: they asses have been on one since 2018, do you remember when we were out all night and it was 5 am and Justin was like what's the next move? and you yelled 'Justin, I can't even fucking see anymore bro. take me home.' lmaooooo

wifeyshiesty: erinthegymnast lmaooo I forgot all about that. I think I had like an exam that monday and all three of them were acting like it was no big deal and I was serious! my contacts were blurry!

jjettas2: I see you still graduated, so it wasn't a big deal obviously!

joeybupdates: literally just waiting for Joe and Y/N to adopt me

joeyb_9: joeybupdates slow your roll, I already got 2 on the way, inquire in about six months

wifeyshiesty: I.... you know what...never mind.

[scoupsakakitty]

hii!! i love your works and was wondering if you could write a nana tour Vernon fic, where when they go to vernon's room seungkwan has to go in and check first because vernon and reader were together and then he tells reader to hide in the washroom or something?? you can write it as you wish, and please ignore if you're not comfortable

Hidden Moments | idol!Vernon x Reader | fluff

The soft hum of conversation from the hallway grew louder as Vernon closed his hotel room door behind him. You leaned against the small desk, watching him with a lazy smile as he set his phone down on the nightstand.

“Think they’re going to catch on soon?” you asked, teasingly, referring to the other members of Seventeen.

He shrugged, a small smirk playing on his lips. “If we keep sneaking around like this, maybe. But I think we’re doing okay so far.”

Your relationship wasn’t a complete secret, but it wasn’t exactly public knowledge either. The two of you had been seeing each other for a while now, quietly stealing moments whenever Vernon’s chaotic schedule allowed.

He crossed the room, standing in front of you and placing his hands gently on your waist. “I like this though,” he murmured, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. “It’s just us for a while.”

The moment felt warm, intimate and then there was a knock at the door.

Both of you froze.

“Vernon? Open up, I need something,” Seungkwan’s voice called from the hallway.

Vernon’s eyes widened slightly as he glanced toward the door. “Uh, give me a second!” he replied, his voice steady despite the panic in his expression.

You bit your lip to hold back a laugh. “He can’t see me here,” you whispered, already moving toward the bathroom.

Vernon nodded quickly, ushering you toward the door with a sheepish smile. “Stay here,” he whispered before you slipped inside.

Moments later, you heard the room door open, followed by the unmistakable voice of Seungkwan.

“Why did you take so long?” Seungkwan asked suspiciously.

“I was… uh, cleaning up a bit,” Vernon lied.

“Cleaning? Really?”

The sound of footsteps made you tense.

“Wait, did you have someone in here?” Seungkwan’s tone was accusatory, and you imagined him narrowing his eyes at Vernon.

“No! What are you talking about?” Vernon said, a little too quickly.

“I don’t believe you,” Seungkwan replied, his voice dramatic. “I’m going to check.”

Your eyes widened as you realized what was happening.

“Hyung, seriously, there’s nothing—”

But Seungkwan didn’t wait for Vernon to finish. The sound of approaching footsteps made your heart race. You barely had time to think before the bathroom door creaked open.

Seungkwan peeked inside, his gaze falling on you crouched awkwardly by the sink. For a moment, neither of you said anything.

“Oh,” he said flatly, blinking a few times. Then, he turned back to Vernon, who stood behind him looking sheepish. “You’re unbelievable.”

Vernon scratched the back of his neck. “I can explain…”

Seungkwan raised a hand to stop him. “No need. I’m just going to pretend I didn’t see anything. But next time,” he looked back at you, “hide better.”

With that, Seungkwan left, muttering something about how he deserved an award for putting up with everyone.

When the door closed, Vernon let out a breath of relief, turning to face you as you stepped out of the bathroom.

“Well,” you said, trying not to laugh, “that could’ve gone worse.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Next time, we’re locking the door.”

You grinned, pulling him into a hug. “Next time, we’ll be more careful.”

“Deal,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

Despite the close call, you couldn’t help but feel that moments like these messy, imperfect, and shared only with Vernon were your favorites.

————————————————————————————-

[venus-vault]

Friend of the Family

Mr.Reed × Fem!Reader(Mid-20s) [18+]

Synopsis: Part 1 - (y/n)'s boring family Christmas vacation to Colorado doesn't exactly go as anticipated...

⚠️TW: Boring Family Dynamic, Age Gap, Alcohol Consumption (all parties of age), Oral Sex (Male & Female Recipients), Raw P in V Penetration, Breif Mutual Masturbation, General Smut. ❄️

"So do I even *actually* know this guy?" I interrogate, unsure why we're staying there instead of some mountainside Airbnb. "Of course! (y/n), you've met Mr. Reed plenty of times, you were just, y'know...smaller." Dad explains, cheery. "Okay... but when you said 'Colorado Christmas Vacation' I thought we'd be like... snowboarding, or hanging out in a cute mountain town, or at least renting a cool cabin in Telluride... not like... the middle of nowhere part of Boulder with some guy I haven't seen since I was a kid..."

He sighs, defeated by my expectations yet again. "Listen. He's my best friend, a few years back he lost his wife, and its true, I haven't gotten around to seeing him in person since you were four, Bug."

He drones on,

"He's a really nice guy, and super cool. He loves that Lana Del Rey girl you're always talking about, and he's got a really nice collection of records and books, its like a mini Barnes & Noble in there! You might find you have more in common than you think!" He offers.

And I decline : "With a 64-year-old retired engineer from England? Yeah thanks, I'll pass. I'm just gonna stay out of the way, keep my headphones on, and let you two reconnect."

I pull out my phone, pop in my earpods, and open Tumblr, pretending to care at all about the latest posts on the Spencer Reid tag. Out of the corner of my eye I can tell I've hurt his feelings, but fathers never say the right thing, and he can withstand a little sting every once in a while. It's what he deserves for not telling me where we were staying til halfway through the plane ride.

Our plane finally touches down, we funnel through Boulder Municipal into a cab and I won't be the first one to speak. I take one earpod out just in case, which Dad takes as an invitation. "Just got a text from Mr. Reed, and I hope you're hungry Bug, because there. will. be. pie." He beams as though this is some great revelation, elaborating "He's got this wild recipe with earl grey in the crust and lemon zest in the filling, it's award-winning. Seriously! He enters it in the local contest every other year and it's only lost once!"

Despite how riveting my father finds Mr. Reed and his Great British baking exploits, I do not, and apparently it shows as his smile tamps down to a simper. "Sweetie, I'm really trying here. I can't convince you it's gonna be the best Christmas ever, hey, we'll probably both have altitude sickness the entire time, but let's just make an attempt, okay? Nothing has to be perfect." He's an idiot but he's right and I agree. "Okay, yeah. I'll be nice." I sigh "That pie does sound pretty good, I guess..."

The cab rolls through the city of Boulder as Lana lilts gently in my earpods about 'haaa-aa-ow toooo disappear~' and maybe this trip won't be so bad after all.

We're finally dropped at the gate to Mr. Reed's house and -you're fucking kidding me- his driveway, long and winding, is gravel. I wince inwardly at the realization that I'll have to lug two wheeled suitcases up that path and flash Dad a fake 'I'm so glad We're doing this' smile before yanking them out of the trunk and making my way up to the stoop. This pie better be incredible.

Once Dad and I are situated on the stoop, out of breath and travel-weary, I assault Mr. Reed's doorbell. It's cold and I need a shower.

ding. .... nothing. ding-ding. nope. dingdingdingdingdingdingdingding-

The door opens, finally, and a sweet-looking older man in a well composed cardigan-button down combo and jeans answers the door, smiling bright as his eyes fall on Dad.

"Jonathan!!"

"Reed!!"

Laughter ensues as I observe their embrace, holding back a heavy eyeroll. Somehow I am already third-wheeling.

"Oh my god, Mr. Reed, you remember (y/n)? She's just finished a semester at Oxford!" Dad smirks, gesturing to me and I give a shy wave as Mr. Reed's eyes scan over me, widening in surprise.

"(y/n)? As in, little (y/n), (y/n) who was- ?" He holds his hand flat, bringing it down by his knee as he looks between me and dad in disbelief.

"The very same, can you believe it?"

I purse my mouth into a smile, just completely overwhelmed by how awkward this interaction is.

"Well look at you! You've certainly grown up, haven't you?"

"I suppose so!" my best fake laugh.

Mr. Reed's eyes trace my form again and he pulls me into a quick side hug. He's warm and smells like lemon zest, vanilla extract.

"Let's get you two in then, supposed to be a blizzard tonight."

He grabs one of my suitcases and we follow him as he shuffles back inside.

His house is simple and a little cramped, but I do smell pie. 'Bless This Mess' reads a framed piece of embroidery on the wall, and if there is a God, I hope he does.

We toss our bags into our respective guest rooms at the top of the stairs and I finally get to take my shower before making a way back downstairs to the dining room.

We sit through a meal -shepherd's pie, what is it with this guy and pie?- and my dad and Mr. Reed discuss people they both know who died or lived or have moved or haven't moved and I am in hell until-

"Little after dinner drink then?"

My eyes snap up from my plate to meet his, a small smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. His eyes crinkle at the ends when he smiles, warm and comforting and it occurs to me for the first time that Mr. Reed is...handsome... If he were 20 years younger he'd definitely be my type, in fact...

"Alright! So that's one, me makes two, Jonathan, little shiraz with your pie?"

"Well how could I say no to such a generous offer?" Dad beams.

We move back into the living room and sip and I pick at the pie. It is good and after a glass and a half of shiraz Mr. Reed looks just as appetizing, but I decide I'm not going to eye-fuck this old man in front of my father, or at least not in an obvious way.

So I sit, tepid, on my phone and pretend not to be bothered by the lack of service while I half listen to their conversation, looking up strategically to ogle Mr. Reed every now and then. His eyes find mine and I watch him nibble at his lip and does he know?

"So then (y/n), Oxford, hm?"

"Uhm, yeah, I'm in their creative writing MFA program right now... its... interesting."

"Interesting boring or interesting incredible?" He crosses one leg over the other and leans in, attentive.

"Uh, I mean it's going well, people in my classes are a little...er.. pretentious..?" I giggle, nervous.

"Exactly as I remember it, then!" He laughs loudly, and dad joins in, snickering along. His laughter is infectious and this wine is making me blush and I smile.

"You're an alum?"

"What, the accent didn't give it away?" A chuckle, "Yeah, yeah, I was lucky enough to take about an eon of courses in engineering sciences there, immigrate in the 90s, build this place, blah blah blah, but enough on me, it seems we may just be in the midst of the next great American novelist, eh Jonathan?" A wink.

"I don't know about that," I tear my eyes away from him, focusing in on the details of a floorboard.

"Oh (y/n) don't be modest, Reed you'd love her stuff, she's got some of the most well-metered prose, and-"

"Dad." I warn, eyes wide with embarrassment.

"Oop, sorry bug," He cringes "Didn't mean to dad-out on ya."

"I'd love to read some of your writing sometime, granted you'd be comfortable enough to share." Mr. Reed interjects.

"Uh, yeah. Maybe. Sometime..."

"Can I top you up?"

"Sure." He fills my glass just to the midpoint and does the same for himself.

"Jonathan?" He smirks playfully at dad.

"Ah, I dunno, I should probably be getting some shut-eye actually."

"Aw come on,"

"No, no, these days if im up past 10 with a drink in hand I'll be totally useless the next 24 hours." He stands, patting my shoulder. "Night, y'all. Don't have too much fun without me!" And there go the finger guns so now it's my turn to cringe.

He finally leaves the room and I'm alone with Mr. Reed. There's a heavy silence in the air and I take a small sip of my drink.

"So, (y/n), big on Lana Del Rey I hear?" He smirks.

"One of my favorites." I breathe, forcing a smile.

"Norman Fucking Rockwell or Blue Banisters?"

"NFR."

His eyebrows raise "it's okay to be wrong."

"But I'm not."

"Lust for Life or Born To Die; Paradise Edition?"

"... you ask hard questions, Mr. Reed."

"And you... answer them."

"And if I give you another 'wrong' answer?"

"Why would it matter? Are you trying to impress me?"

"...Paradise." I squint at him.

"Mm, see? We agree on something."

I'm powerless to the smile that forms on my face.

"Yeah?"

He lets out a low laugh. "Yeah,"

"What drew you to her, originally I mean?" He looks me over.

"Well, like a lot of young women I do have the obligatory depression diagnosis and Tumblr account combo, and things spiraled out from there I guess..."

"Ah, and here I thought it was just your ill-suited attraction to old men!" He lets out a warm chuckle at his own joke and I must've misheard him.

"What?" I shift a bit in my place on the couch, called out.

He scoffs. "Come on, (y/n). Let's not play this game. You've been eyeing me up since dinner, sitting there and sipping your drink and sucking berries off your fork in the most salacious way, letting your gaze linger, innocent and doe-eyed yet so apathetic to it all," he rolls his eyes like he might be as well, "when in reality, it seems, correct me if I go wrong, but you've been looking at me all night like you want me to touch you. Is that accurate or am I projecting a fantasy?"

The tip of his tongue trails his lip, my gaze following its path and I'm warm. His eyes search mine, that was supposed to be a question.

"Uhm... no that... that sounds...accurate..." I admit almost silently, eyes boring into the floor as I sheepishly take another sip of my wine.

"Hm. I see. And in front of your father too...tsk, naughty girl. Lucky for you the man's terrible at reading body language or subtext of any variant,"

Mr. Reed rises from his chair across the coffee table and plants himself on the edge of the sofa next to me. "I, however, do not have that problem." I look up at him and his eyes are two blue marbles behind those wireframed glasses, his cheshire smirk enough to melt me, it's overwhelming.

My face grows hot and my body tight as he delicately removes the wineglass from my hand, sets it down on the coffee table, and leans down to kiss me.

He's tender and gentle and his lips are soft, his tongue stained with blueberry filling as it finds mine, and he strokes my cheek. I place a shaky hand on his knee and one of his covers it as he presses his forehead to mine, breaking the spell. "Are you certain this is something you want, (y/n)? I wouldn't want to impose-" I cut him off with another, more assertive kiss because I need this.

The holidays are stressful and I'm horny and he's here. Fuck it.

As we continue making out, Mr. Reed scoots onto the couch beside me and I find his zipper. His dick jumps to meet my hand through the fabric as one of his hands slips under my sweater and he moans at the softness of my breast.

I pull away to unzip his pants and stroke him a couple times before moving to kneel between his legs. I look up to him, reverent, then back down to his cock, throbbing in hand. Giving him a few steady strokes, I lean forward, parting my lips.

"Can I?" I blink.

He nods eagerly, transfixed.

I take as much of him into my mouth as I can and swallow as his tip hits the back of my throat.

I hear him suck in a breath and his hands find my hair as I start to bob my head over the length of him, holding his balls with one hand and methodically stroking his base with the other. His breath catches, ragged and I feel him spasm in my mouth. I need him. I finally come up for air with a gasp and wipe a tendril of spit off my lower lip as I look up at him. "Mr. Reed, I want to fuck you," I breathe.

"Well all you had to do was ask," he sighs and I pull myself up off the floor, undoing my jeans and tugging them off my legs as quickly as I can before tearing off my sweater and within seconds I'm standing before him in just my panties and bralette. His eyes trail over me. His teeth sink into his lower lip as a hand wraps around his dick and I place a knee on either side of his legs, straddling him. Fair is fair and my fingers slip under the hem of my panties so I can work myself for him as he takes me in.

"How do you want me?"

"Turn around."

I follow his blunt instruction and as I do his fingers hook into either side of my panties, pulling the dampened fabric down my legs.

"Now, you're going to squat down for me... slowly."

I do as I'm told and he guides my hips, lining himself up with my center. Mr. Reed rests his hands on the tops of my thighs, pushing me further down into his lap and I gasp as I feel him begin to penetrate me. I knew it was big, I mean, he could barely fit in my mouth, but christ. I swivel my hips in an attempt to adjust to him, and hear him draw in a breath.

"(y/n), I want you to bounce for me, and you. will. not. make. a sound. understood?"

"Y-yes Mr. Reed."

I start to raise and lower myself slowly on him and gasp sharply as I feel myself tense. He holds me steady by my biceps and guides me up and down.

"Good, that's- ohh that is good, just keep going... mm, mhm, just. like. that. you. Are. Brilliant..." he murmurs, squeezing my ass and I bite back a moan

"Shhhh-shh..."

"Ssorry Mr. Reed," I manage quietly.

He continues to guide my movements, faster now, and I watch his head tip against the back of the couch. His cock twitches inside me and gasp sharply.

"(y/n), stand for me?" And I do.

He turns me around by my hips and I blink down at Mr. Reed and he's panting, glasses perched on top of his head, looking me over hungrily.

"Lay back on the couch here, pet."

He sets a pillow down for me to rest my head on and I do as he says, watching him part my legs, settling between them as he presses gentle kisses up my inner thighs, staring intently into my eyes as he does.

He hovers over my core and I gasp at the warmth of his breath. I watch Mr. Reed's eyes close for a moment as he inhales the scent of my sex and smirks to himself.

"Does your pussy taste like Pepsi Cola then, (y/n)?" He lets out a low chuckle at his own corny little quip, bringing his mouth closer "Shall we find out?"

He pins my thighs open and slowly licks a wide stripe up my vulva from entrance to clit. I can't hold back the whimper that slips from me at the heat of his tongue, and it's even harder to silence msyelf when he dips two fingers into me, curling the pads of his fingertips just slightly as he steadily works me, his tongue moving in a synced rythym against my clit.

The sensation is almost too much and I gasp as I feel myself spasm a couple times around his fingers. He hums into me and the vibration sends a shudder through my body. He tilts his head up, panting as he continues fingering me, and my hips arch up to meet his hand.

He removes his fingers, pressing them against the plush of my lower lip and into my mouth. I suck and lick impatiently, and before long his mouth is on mine again as I feel his cock slip back into me. I can't help the soft moan that escapes my lips as he begins to slowly rock his hips into mine.

"Mister Reed?" I breathe

"Mm?"

"It's... you're just...so big...." He smirks.

"Oh, I'm aware dear." He picks up his pace some "You're taking me so well, though..." he presses a kiss into the side of my neck and I gasp.

"Being so good for me..."

A loud creak interrupts us from overhead and Mr. Reed stops moving, eyes glued upwards as he clamps his hand over my mouth.

Heavy footsteps make the floorboards groan above us as he slowly starts to fuck me again and I take in a sharp breath through my nostrils, looking up at him, panicked.

"Shhh, shh-" another low creak.

Mr. Reed quickens his thrusts and I involuntarily whine against his hand which finds it's way to my neck instantly, holding firm.

"I said. Be quiet." He whispers sternly.

I bite my lip in an effort not to cry out, nodding and I begin to feel that familiar tension coiling inside as he bucks into me, my mind going totally blank at the way his hand feels wrapped around my throat.

The footsteps and floorboards finally stop, his grip on my neck releases some, and a warm haze overtakes my body as he continues to forcefully piston into me. I feel myself starting to tense up and struggle for breath as I unwind completely under him.

Seconds later, Mr. Reed lets out a low groan and I feel his orgasm pulse out acutely within me as I weather my own.

We lay there for a few minutes and as we come down together, the weight of our indiscretion settles in some.

I've just fucked my dad's best friend. Three days before Christmas. And I liked it. A lot.

"Needed.. that..." I huff.

"I could tell," he chortles.

Mr. Reed slips out of me, grabbing one of the discarded linen napkins from the coffee table to clean himself off with, before gently tucking it between my legs.

"Oh, and... it does, by the way."

Part 2❄️

[scarletwinterxx]

not dating huh? - xu minghao imagine

let me start this fic of by saying CONGRATTTTSSS TO SVT🥺🥺🥺 gosh i'm so so so proud of them, they deserve all those awards and all the recognition. ahhh i'm just so happy for them😭🥺🤍

i have a few more scenarios lined up, i was working on some of them while I was gone so expect a few more to be posted on the following days🤭 oh also... i'm seeing svt on january 😱😭 anywaysss that's all i hope u enjoy this one!

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You’re standing in the middle of the café, a half-empty cup of coffee in front of you, stirring absentmindedly as you glance around the room. It’s one of those quiet afternoons, the kind where people come to catch up or work, the hum of quiet chatter filling the air. You're talking to Minghao, and for the hundredth time, he’s insisting that you two are not dating.

“I told you, I’m not your boyfriend,” Minghao repeats, leaning back in his chair, his fingers tracing the rim of his own coffee cup. His eyes are playful, but there's a hint of something softer beneath that mischievous glint, something you’ve come to recognize and ignore... for now.

You raise an eyebrow at him, trying to keep the amused smile on your face from turning into something else. 

You've heard this a lot from Minghao recently. It's the constant not dating mantra, but every time he says it, he’s practically glued to your side. You don’t think anyone else believes him, either, but no one dares to ask.

“Okay, then,” you say, your voice deliberately casual. “So, you’re not my boyfriend, but you’re still following me around everywhere?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, though his lips twitch into a smile. “That’s just because I enjoy your company. Not the same as being a boyfriend, right?”

You can't help but laugh. You don’t even try to hide it this time. Minghao’s insistence is almost ridiculous, especially when he practically becomes your shadow. The two of you do everything together—grab lunch, watch movies, wander through bookstores, share inside jokes no one else gets—and yet, every time you bring it up, he acts like you’re being dramatic.

You lean forward, lowering your voice in a teasing tone. “So, if you’re not my boyfriend, then what exactly are we doing here? Just two people who happen to be spending all their time together?”

He’s quiet for a moment, staring at you. Then, his expression softens, like he’s considering something. 

“We’re… friends,” he says, but the word sounds strangely hollow coming from him.

You roll your eyes. The word friend doesn’t even come close to covering what you two are. But you don’t push it. 

Not yet, anyway.

“Well,” you say, sitting back in your chair and crossing your arms, “I guess I can’t argue with that. But, I’m not gonna lie, it’s a little weird, don’t you think?”

Minghao raises an eyebrow, his voice laced with humor. “Weird how?”

You take a slow, deliberate sip of your coffee, letting the silence stretch for a moment, before you lean forward and say the words you know will make him react.

“Well, I mean, if we’re ‘just friends,’ then why do you always call me babe?”

He chokes on his coffee. You can’t help but grin at the sight, watching him scramble for a napkin as his face flushes. Minghao clears his throat, looking at you in mock offense.

“I do not call you babe.”

“Oh, really?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow. 

“What do you call me then, hmm?”

“I… I call you your name?” he says, though it sounds more like a question than a fact. 

“You’re you. I don’t—”

“You totally just said ‘babe’ last week,” you cut in, leaning closer to him with a smile. “So, don’t lie.”

He sighs in defeat, leaning back in his chair again. “Fine, I admit it. But that doesn’t mean we’re dating, okay?”

You can see the faint blush on his cheeks, and it only makes your teasing grow stronger. You decide to push a little more, just to see how far you can take this.

“Well, babe, let’s go,” you say, standing up suddenly, picking up your purse. “We’re leaving. This place is too boring anyway.”

You say it with a grin, making sure to emphasize the word ‘babe’ as you glance down at him, just waiting for his reaction. You’re fully expecting him to say something, to try to deny the whole situation again. But instead, Minghao doesn’t even hesitate. He just stands up, his eyes locking onto yours, and then, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world, he follows you toward the door without a word.

The bell above the café door jingles softly as you step outside, the cool air hitting your skin as you walk briskly down the street, Minghao right behind you. 

You can feel his presence there, just a few steps behind you, and you wonder if he’s as calm as he appears, or if he’s just trying not to make this more complicated than it already is.

“So,” you ask, breaking the silence. “Where are we going?”

He shrugs again, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. “I don’t know. You said we were leaving, so I’m just following you.”

You glance back at him, his easy smile lighting up his face. It’s hard to tell if he’s messing with you or being completely serious. Either way, you can’t stop the flutter in your chest. 

The dynamic between you two has always been strange, but there’s a certain comfort in it, something you’re not quite ready to let go of.

“Yeah, well, if we’re not dating,” you mutter under your breath, “you’re definitely acting like you are.”

Minghao’s laugh reaches your ears before he says, “I told you, we’re not. I’m just… following my favorite person around, okay?”

You stop in your tracks, turning to face him. His expression is as serious as it ever gets, and you can’t help but wonder if there’s more to this than he’s letting on. You’ve been friends for so long, and even with all the teasing and back-and-forth, you can’t deny that the connection between you two runs deeper than anything you’ve ever had with anyone else.

You look up at him, your eyes searching his face, trying to figure out if he’s playing with you or if there’s a hidden truth behind his words. After a beat, he looks at you with that same look he always gives you when he’s not sure how to say something: a quiet sincerity in his gaze that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I’m not dating you,” he repeats, but this time, his voice is softer. “But if I was, it would be a good thing, right?”

You smile, stepping closer to him. “Yeah,” you reply, your voice a little more tender than before. “It would be.”

And for the first time, you both stand there in that strange, unspoken space, where neither of you says anything else. But neither of you needs to. Because the truth is already there, unspoken, in the way Minghao watches you, in the way you both keep walking forward together.

Not dating, huh? You both know better.

[cryptfile]

deleted this question since i’m plain DUMB, but here’s a lil something for you bb, stablished relationship cause carmy deserves better </3

MINORS DNI

“so, this right here are the best things you can cook?” carmen asks resisting the urgency to check on the shrimps you seemed to be overcooking by all the time they stood over the fire at maximum heat.

“why are you saying it like it’s nothing?” you ask in response, looking at everything you managed to cook being the celebration of your first-month-anniversary with your boyfriend (a day later cause he forgets every little detail in his private life) — “this right here my dear chef, ‘s the best strawberry pie you’ll ever try. consider yourself lucky.”

he don’t believe you at first, of course he wouldn’t. An awarded chef that enjoys an almost too-sweet pie recipe from your aunt? Seems almost imposible to believe, especially when he had the first bite and stayed in full silence for at least three minutes making you scared of actually going too far with the condensed milk.

but then he gave you this look, the look of «holy shit babe, this is the best pie i've ever had» that makes your chest swell in pure pride, almost not believing he actually liked something you make having zero knowledge in anything technical — christ, you even burnt pancakes without even trying.

so you try to understand how exactly you end up in that position, trapped beneath the palm of his hand close to the edge of your bed, ragged breathing as your hand grabs the bedsheet beneath you, looking for something to hold on to even for a minute. You're clueless about how you actually finish up with your cheek pressed against the mattress, surrounded of that new bliss that fills your shitty apartment as he buries himself deep inside you in the intimacy of your room.

must have been when he caught you cleaning up moments later, mouth all fucking sweet and tasting like strawberry. almost exactly sure that it should have been the moment he pressed himself against you, no questions asked, brushing his lips against the crook of your neck.

"care to share the recipe with me? wanna try a couple things" he asks behind you, breathing colliding against your skin. and yes, it's equally as rewarding as winning an extremely hard race.

"wanna' change the recipe of my family? are you serious right now?" he thinks he has fucked up everything for almost a second, but your smile lights the whole room when you give him a chuckle of pure fun, and he can breathe in peace. "fuck yes, carm. of course i'll give it to you. works with any fruit, i just happen' to love strawberries though."

he seems happy with your answer — however, you're still unsure of how he exactly dragged you to your bed.

you're not complaining, never would. Way down buried in a new haze of pleasure while he keeps you against the warm surface, fucking you in an steady pace at first as he moves your hips himself, hammering against you soon after. it's addicting, and he's so pleased about how you react to it.

"relax baby," he would say in a rough voice, he's still relatively new to all of this intense sex life since he started dating you not so long ago, making sure you really are enjoying yourself as much as he is.

the chef hums in response, and you know, just from his voice alone, he's going borderline mental as your tense muscles relax under his touch — "lemme' take care of you sweetheart, you doin' it s'good f'me."

he's a man of his word, so he does what he says. he knows how to get you, so when the room seems to become smaller than what trully is, the sound of the skin slapping against you, ragging in your ear mixing with the moans and groans you two make, he places his fingers right over your clit, the force of his pushing enough to make you move against his digits as he digs the other hand in your hip so hard you think's gonna leave a bruise behind.

he's so close already, always so fucking close with you he has to force himself not to cum. face all flushed while he pounds into you, concentrated in the little sounds you make, how your ass looks from that position while his cock stretches you out, the way your fists grabs the sheets trying to keep yourself together.

carmy's determined to make you feel him everywhere, pulling deeper against you — "look at you s'pretty" he says, stumbling over his words as he spoke "how did i get such a good girl just f'me?"

"good fuckin' lord squeezing me like that," the chef curses under his breath, sweat covering his body. "you close, princess?"

you cannot answer. you cannot say anything but instead nod in response, the act of talking seeming almost impossible as you let out a strangled moan, victim of a warm feeling on your chest as you finally reach the orgasm, the waves colliding in your stomach when he keeps on fucking you through it at a relentless pace, even when his own cum is already leaking out of you.

and when he finally kisses you, damned you'll be forever.

cause you can still feel the taste of condensed milk and strawberries lingering on his lips, and it's enough to make you crave some more.

[teamatsumu]

good enough.

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x reader

Word count: 2,578

✎ Soulmate AU, Angst, Hurt comfort

You had always been a meek child. And it shocked everyone you would meet.

It had a lot to do with the fact that your parents were both extremely outgoing. They were loud, adventurous types who loved trying new things. It wasn't difficult to see how they were soulmates. They were practically cut from the same cloth. But you, you often made people lose the plot. You didn't act like your parents' daughter at all.

You had always been very shy. It had taken you forever to make friends in daycare, and even longer once you entered kindergarten. Kids were too loud and too messy. So you preferred to keep to yourself. The few friends you had were because someone else would take you 'under their wing' somehow.

You got better as you grew up, though you could still technically be considered an introvert. You hated that word. Hated how limiting it was and how it put you into a box. You weren't an introvert. You had friends that you loved hanging out with and spending time with. You didn't prefer being alone. You loved companionship.

You just didn't think you were interesting enough to deserve it.

So you stayed in your little circle of dedicated friends, girls you had met as a little kid and stuck by all through elementary and middle school. But towards the end of middle school, something happened that changed your life forever.

You met your soulmate.

Well, 'met' was a strong word. You saw him, from afar. You laid eyes on him, felt that electricity shoot up inside you, the mantra of 'soulmate, soulmate, soulmate' repeating in your head. It was the same pattern of feelings you were told your whole life that you would feel. Down to every last detail. Yet your brain couldn't accept it. You couldn't believe the obvious signals your body was sending you. It just couldn't be.

Your soulmate was…… Oikawa Tooru?

The Oikawa Tooru. Kitagawa Daiichi's star setter. The best player their school had seen so far. You had seen him while he was receiving the award for best setter. When your eyes had settled on him for more than 5 seconds, signaling to your body that you were looking directly at your soulmate. You were frozen in your spot, obscured in the crowd of students seated for the ceremony. Watching as Oikawa accepted his medal and his shield. The center of attention, the smile on his face bright and warm.

You in the bleachers, clapping mechanically, no different from anyone around you. Blending into your surroundings like you had your entire life.

It took you many, many weeks to get used to the idea that Oikawa Tooru was your soulmate. Your other half. It just didn't sit well with you. You had seen soulmate couples your entire life, including your parents. People with similar tastes, more or less matching personalities, so in love and so in sync.

You and Oikawa were worlds apart.

He had a gentle charm to him, easy going smile and bright, bright brown eyes, hair so casually wind swept, the color of warm chestnut. He was tall, lean, enough to command a room the second he entered it. It almost seemed like he had a spotlight on him at all times. As you watched him from afar, cracking jokes and laughing loud, annoying his friends and greeting his fans, you realized just how different you two were.

You were, in every sense of the word, average. You weren't confident, but you could speak your mind when you wanted. You weren't ugly, but you weren't exactly a head turner. You were so….. mediocre. Especially compared to someone as rare and wonderful as Oikawa Tooru. There's no way you could match up to him.

You didn't deserve him. And more importantly, he deserved so much better than you.

You never dared mention to anyone that you knew who your soulmate was. Your friends would hound you forever and your parents would be flabbergasted that you didn't tell him yet. You didn't have it in yourself to explain to them why you didn't. It made sense in your head, but you had enough awareness to know that other people would say it's utter bullshit. You didn't want to deal with that. Someday, Oikawa would give up on finding his soulmate and settle down with someone else. Someone who could fit into his shiny, busy world. All you had to do till then was stay out of the way. This was for Oikawa's own good.

You knew fate was testing you when you unintentionally ended up at the same high school as Oikawa. You had nearly done a double take when you saw him in the halls, talking to that spiky haired boy he was friends with, basking in the admiring looks of multiple girls that walked past him and waved at him. It made you sigh. It's like every time you saw him, you were reminded how much better he was than you. And all it did was strengthen your resolve to stay miles away from him.

You managed to successfully avoid Oikawa for many months, which wasn't hard considering your straightforward routine. You didn't like leaving class for no reason. You had lunch at your desk. You weren't part of any clubs so you would go straight home afterwards. Also owing to the fact that Oikawa appeared to be the busiest person in the world, it made your life much easier.

You should've known it wouldn't last long. It seemed the entire universe was conspiring to get you closer to Oikawa. And the universe had sent Matsukawa Issei to do the job.

Matsukawa was in the same class as you. He sat next to you in the back row and dosed off during most of the lessons. You thought he was incredibly amusing. Especially when he would sneak food into his mouth during classes and try to chew it without the teacher noticing that his mouth was moving. When you would try to hide your grin, he would wink at you and offer you food too, and both of you would munch on it while you waited for lessons to be over. He was very laid back and easy going, yet had a lot of confidence. In an ideal world where you weren't so anxious, you liked to think you would be a lot like him.

You never would've dreamed that someone so naturally lazy would actually be part of a sports club. Especially not volleyball. The thought never crossed your mind. Had you known, you wouldn't have touched him with a ten foot pole. But you made it a point to stay as far away from Oikawa and volleyball as possible, so you didn't know. Big mistake.

The midday sun was beating on your head as you stood waiting at the school gate. You tried leaning against the wall but the brick was burning up, making you yelp and jump away. You scowled at your phone, staring at Matsukawa's name before hitting Call. He picked up after only two beeps.

"Y/N-?"

"Where the hell are you, Issei? I'm getting cooked in this heat!" You whined, feeling your scowl deepen. You watched students bustle out of the gate, eager to get home and away from the sun. There was a short pause on the other end of the line before Matsukawa spoke again.

"Oh shit."

You groaned out loud at the words, knowing exactly what he meant.

"Issei, I need those notes! We have a quiz tomorrow and you promised me you would give them back after school."

You could hear Matsukawa panting on the other end, making your eyebrows furrow. Was he running?

"Listen, Y/N. I left my bag at the gym. The team is out on a run right now and I think we will be back in maybe ten minutes? Why don't you go wait at the gym and I'll give it to you when I come-"

"Wait," you cut him off. "What gym? What are you talking about?"

More huffing. "Oh yeah, you don't know. I'm in the volleyball club. Go wait for me at the gym."

You stilled, blinking once, before the implication of his words sank in and panic gripped your chest. "No, no, wait! I can't go there. I'll wait for you at the gate and you can just come give it to me-"

"Coach won't let me leave the gym during practice time. What's the big deal? It'll take two minutes-"

"No Issei!" You cut him off, feeling cornered. "Keep the notebook. I'll get it from you tomorrow."

"But what about the qui-"

You hung up.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute, thoughts racing. That was so close. So close. You had unintentionally become friends with Oikawa's teammate. And you had no clue. Panic gripped you as you realized what this meant. At any given time, Oikawa could've seen you. He could've walked into your classroom to talk to Issei about something and laid eyes on you. Then he would've known.

The walk home was shaky and disorienting. You felt frustrated with yourself at this game you were playing. Trying to stay away from the boy this universe was begging you to be with. Someone your heart also desperately wanted, but your insecure, anxious brain was constantly yelling at you to stay away from.

He's too good. His future is too bright. You'll ruin him.

You were so tired.

The quiz ended up being pretty easy, considering the fact that you didn't study for it at all and spent most of your evening crying, then watching some shitty comedy on Netflix that didn't make you laugh at all, going through your snack drawer like an madwoman and finally falling asleep, where brown eyes plagued you in your dreams for the rest of the night. You thanked the gods that you had nothing good to do in your life and hence spent most of your time studying. It meant you did pretty well on your test despite doing nothing to prepare for it.

If there was one thing about you that was way above average, it was your brain.

Issei was looking at you weirdly throughout the day, and he finally spoke up at lunch, something you had been dreading.

"You wanna tell me what the hell that was yesterday?" He crossed his arms, staring at you so hard you were afraid he could take a peek into your soul.

"What the hell was what." You deadpanned, avoiding his gaze.

"Don't be daft. You nearly had a panic attack when I told you to come meet me at the volleyball gym."

You cringed at the word 'volleyball', sighing deeply. "I just didn't want to make the extra trip, it was really hot outside-"

You stopped talking when Matsukawa abruptly sat up, eyes narrowed at you. "You're bullshitting me. Tell me the truth."

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "I am telling you the-"

"I'll drag the entire volleyball team here if I have to." He drawled, a challenge in his voice. "You freaked me out yesterday. And it has something to do with my club. So tell me, or I'll find out somehow."

You felt your heart race. Dammit. You couldn't think of anything else. You couldn't think of a lie to placate him. And as you stared into his dark eyes, you knew you had lost.

Matsukawa Issei became the first person to know who your soulmate was.

He had dragged you out of the class after lunch break. There had been too much to unpack in that short amount of time. You hid behind the school overlooking the grounds, telling Matsukawa everything, like word vomit that you couldn't stop. You realized as you talked just how desperate you were to tell someone about all this. You had kept it in for so long that just saying it all out loud seemed to lighten your load.

A thick blanket of silence fell on you two when you finished, nearly out of breath. You watched Matsukawa intently as he stared out at the grounds, one leg pulled up to his torso and resting his arm on his knee. He sighed heavily, running a hand across his face.

"For someone who gets the best grades in our class, you have got to be the dumbest person I have ever met."

You blinked at his words, shocked. "Huh?"

He scowled deeply at you, shocking you even more. He looked almost angry.

"You think you know better than the universe? You think you're smarter than fate?" He raised his voice, looking pissed. "How can you think the gods were wrong when they paired you with Oikawa? And to make this huge decision, without even considering how Oikawa might feel-"

"How dare you." Your voice trembled, feeling tears prick at your lash line. "All I did was consider how Oikawa might feel. I put my own feelings aside-"

"What the hell makes you think this is what Oikawa wants?" Matsukawa raised his voice even more, nearly swelling up in frustration. "You don't know him. You don't know if he wants you. You can't make this decision for him!"

You reeled at his words, blinking your tears away furiously. What the hell was Issei implying? That Oikawa could actually make any alternative choice? It couldn't be. Why would he want you?

Issei's face was softening, watching the emotions flit over your face.

"Y/N," he continued. "You're my friend. I'd like to think I know you. And from what I've seen, I guarantee you that there is not one thing about you that Oikawa won't like."

"But I-" You drew in a trembling breath. "We're so different."

Issei snorted and shrugged. "Trust me, he needs that. Or his head would get too big for his own body to carry."

You two stayed silent for a bit, letting Issei's words wash over you like a cold shower after a hot day. Your heart was screaming at you to believe him, but your mind wouldn't let up. You heard him sigh and stand up, stretching his arms above his head. How long had you been out here anyway? It felt like hours. Was school over? What time was it?

"Alright, let's go." You snapped out of your thoughts at his words, blinking owlishly up at him.

"Go where?"

He didn't answer, waving your question off like he was swatting a fly before he grabbed your arm and pulled you up to your feet, not giving you a moment to breathe as he led you away.

"Issei-"

"Shut up. I've heard enough outta you." He didn't look back at you. You felt a sting of indignation, falling into silence and letting him drag you. You felt so burnt out.

You only tuned back into the present when you heard the squeaks and thuds on hardwood floors, tensing up when Issei climbed the three small stairs leading to the open volleyball gym doors. He tugged your arm when he realized you had stopped, turning to look at you. He gave you a soft look, almost pleading.

"He deserves this. Please."

You felt your shoulders slump in acceptance, mind stilling and slowing in its tirade of thoughts. With one last deep breath, you stepped inside.

Let me know what you think!

[oacest]

wait wait wait wait regarding your last reblog tags, what do you mean after the brit awards liam straddled noel and simulated masturbation?? what is this why don't i know about this?? elaborate please

good news, anon! this question caused us to go on a quest that culminated in successfully solving a mystery that has plagued us for months! quite a while ago we found this undated, uncredited pic of a Q magazine article that begins as follows:

liam gallagher lying down and simulating masturbation in front of noel during oasis's july wembley stadium strangeness might be considered uncouth behaviour towards your own kith and kin. but such cain and abel-style ructions play a sizeable role in rock tradition - and it never, ever ends happily.

since there wasn't a date, and the whole picture spread is of their rolling around/straddling/...whateverelseisgoingonthere shenanigans, and nowhere else had we seen references to liam lying down in a sexual context (as he arguably is here) we ASSUMED it had been written after and in response to the brit awards, which made the reference to 'july wembley strangeness' puzzling, since they hadn't done wembley at that point. despite searching high and low, we couldn't find any further clarifying info and ultimately gave it up as one of those bizarrely tactful elidings of their Odd Behaviour so common in the british media (or sloppy journalism, also common to british news media).

however! as it happens, all three of us are physically in the same place rn (having our annual oasism conference) and as we lay around on the floor thinking about this ask, our large brains pulsating in sync, it occurred to us that if this article was indeed a retrospective, post the infamous 2000 wembley gig (which was indeed in july), then we actually knew EXACTLY the "simulated masturbation" it was referencing.

the speed at which the editing here cuts away from liam going in for a clear grope of himself is PRETTY TELLING, and is indeed proof of that aforementioned british media eliding, suggesting that to deserve being called "simulated masturbation" it probably went on longer and much more vigorously than what's suggested in this clip lmao. we'll leave the fact that he does it immediately after squeezing noel's bum and only once noel starts addressing the crowd up to your interpretation :)

so long story short: there was no (as far as we know) simulated masturbation at the brit awards. however, there WAS some at wembley, and more than what they're letting us see. 😡😡😡 we must overthrow the culture of corruption that silences women liam!

[pro-depresanti]

How Valentino would give you a tongue piercing

Because the visual refuses to leave my head

‼️‼️‼️🔞🔞🔞‼️‼️‼️ MINORS DNI

You're in Valentino's lap, facing him. One hand is grabbing at your ass and keeps you bouncing on his cock with the exact pace he wants. He manhandles you like you weight nothing, rhythm never faltering. Despite the position, he's still looming over you, his back hunched so he can take a closer look at your face. His other secondary hand is gripping your jaw tightly so you can't even think about turning your head.

He's got your tongue clamped, spit collecting at the tip of the muscle. You're drooling all over yourself because you've been in this position for what feels like hours and are trying to swallow down your whines and moans. You don't know what's worse – closing your eyes and not knowing what's happening, or keeping them open, stare fixed on Valentino's wrist that's holding the piercing needle, the tip of which occasionally grazes the underside of your tongue as he tries to find the exact placement he wants.

You're shaking like a leaf, you feel it in the way your thighs are trembling, how sucking in air by the mouthful comes in a form of shaky inhales, how your stomach is tied in a knot for reasons other than getting your guts rearranged, how you need to constantly readjust your hands from where they are clutching desperately Valentino's neck fluff. As if to mock your horror the pleasure builds up steadily, because as cruel as Valentino is, he 'cares' about you enough to remember exactly how you like it, where all your sweets spots are.

"Aw, don't be like that, baby," he coos at you with mock sweetness. "Why so scared, don't you trust me?"

For obvious reasons, you don't, yet you really hope he knows what he's doing so he doesn't sever an important blood vessel and cause you to bleed out.

Your response comes out as a choked whimper when he drops you down particularly hard on his cock, bottoming out in all but a second. He chuckles and leans in close, your faces inches apart, focus evident in his face despite how nicely you're clenching down on him.

"Deep breath for me, amor," he says almost lovingly as the piercing needle pricks your tongue on the down thrust. You whimper pitifully and force your eyes shut, your hands balling into fists, tearing furr. "One, two–"

There's no "three" as he forces the needle through your tongue so quickly you barely have time to make a sound.

"There, there, the worst is over," he tells you with that condescending sweet tone of his, the jewelry slipping in surprisingly smoothly. He tightens it up with ease despite the gold nail caps on his fingers. "All done. See, that wasn't so bad now, was it?"

You're still trying to catch your breath, knowing damn well it's useless, not with the way he's still fucking into you so hard you can't concentrate on anything else. You slowly try to close your mouth at least a bit so you can respond, but all it comes out is a whiny sob.

He cups your cheek then, far too gently, and carefully angles your head to look at him. Fingers brush up a stray tear that has formed in the corner of your eye. "You did so good for me, estrella."

The praise shouldn't have affected you as much as it did, knowing it's all fake pleasantries. Still, you keen into the words, leaning into the touch.

Valentino chuckles under his breath, all light-hearted and ever so slightly breathless. "And one of my favorite stars deserves an award, yeah?"

Now with his hands free of equipment, one stays right there on your cheek, his other secondary arm falls down to join the other in helping you move, and the last snakes in between your bodies to play with you properly.

[heavenlymorals]

Arthur's Redemption: A Reflection of the Dregs of Idealism

(Warning: Spoilers for RDR2)

Arthur's redemption is the reason why RDR2 is as loved and coveted as it is. It is the reason why it is in the videogame hall of fame and it is the reason why I'll never forgive the game awards for giving GOW 2018 Game of the Year instead of RDR2.

But what I find very interesting is exactly WHERE his redemption is aimed towards, because remember, Arthur never gives up the gang life until the VERY end when he has to confront Micah on being a rat.

One of the first things that the game tries to remind us of is is that Dutch's gang is different. It isn't savage, or heartless, or "as bad" as the other gangs like the O'Driscolls and the Del Lobos. In every single mission that involves robbery, the VDL gang either robs crooks, corporations, robber barons, rich people, slavers, people with fucked up political views, etc. Etc. That is what puts them above other gangs in terms of their reputation, alongside the fact that they, before the Blackwater massacre and before they got so desperate, would give away portions of their proceedings to the poor and destitute.

And the thing is, the VDL gang's philosophy isn't really different from what you see today, especially here on Tumblr. Kill the rich, eat the rich, tax the rich, etc. Etc. Only real difference, honestly, is that the VDL gang carries out those philosophies violently when we don't.

Does intense violence continue to make philosophies and beliefs just? That's ultimately up to you, I don't want to get into that discussion, but this is very important to take note of because Arthur's redemption isn't realizing the gang life and violence is bad, but by going back to the original thought processes and beliefs that guided the VDL gang. He goes from apathetic to passionate.

Notice the "redemption" missions of chapter 6. You forgive debts and kick out Strauss because he represents all the evils of money lending and usuery. Arthur begs Edith Downes to allow her to let him help her, but he doesn't want her forgiveness as he knows he doesn't deserve it. He teaches a grieving woman how to hunt and survive in the wilderness. He befriends a veteran and connects with the great American wilderness. He gives people his blessing to get out of the gang and ultimately sacrifices his final moments to get John, Abigail, and Jack to safety.

Arthur focuses on people and their personal lives. He focuses on their struggles, their dreams, their hopes, their stories, and just all the things that make them human.

Let's look at the debt missions in chapter six. There are three of them. Mrs. Londonderry, J. John Weathers, and Edith Downes. Arthur either comes to face with how morally bankrupt the business of usury is, which then relates back to the more political side of the VDL gang, which is the resistance of the predatory upper class, or he tries to mend the wrongs of being in that system without the expectation of forgiveness.

Those debt missions, though side missions, are super important to Arthur's redemption.

Other than the debt missions, there is also the more personal aspects of missions. Some missions are completely personal, like the Charlotte missions or the Hamish missions, while others are slid in such as Arthur lecturing John after blowing up the bridge.

Arthur cares about the people, the everyday people, and he loses his apathy that makes him violent and mean, which is where his redemption lies.

But the gang life? He doesn't quit that. He doesn't have any qualms, morally, about blowing up bridges, fighting against the government, the army, and anyone who may support the organizations that Dutch taught him to hate from such a young age. There is no guilt there. Arthur only has guilt towards hurting those the gang was originally there to help.

His redemption isn't him realizing what he is doing is wrong, and that the gang life is wrong. His redemption is him going back to the original ideals that Dutch taught him.

I just think that's really interesting. It also opens up a discussion on the philosophical nature of the blurred line between violence and Idealism, and whether or not someone can still be good whilst being on that line.

In any case, yapyapyapyapyap

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Part 13: ~

Operation Spy Part 2:

There's not much to say here. Other than that, I never expected to do this many chapters and still have so many people reading every time I post. I'm truly grateful for all of you, and I hope you all stick around for the next 10 chapters I have planned.

Part 14:

Bernard Cunningham was exactly how you'd picture a stereotypical chairman. A tall, large man in his 40s, with brown hair and matching moustache, that would make Gibbo blush and wearing a 3 piece green suit. Oh, and smoked expensive cigars. Can't forget that.

Caz sat opposite the way overpriced mahogany desk and caught quick glances at the possible fake awards, all neatly hung in the office that was bigger than his living room. Of course, the office was several stories high. As Bernard helped himself to a cigar, Caz quickly caught a glimpse of the crane lifting the infected containers off the ship and onto the docks. His leg began to bounce. Still couldn't feel their presence from this height. Everyone else who wasn't infected sat outside in a large waiting lobby. He was last to be questioned. At least he was back in his own clothes. His work clothes had a stink that would never come off.

Something else was odd. No police. Nothing. Billy couldn't have dropped the charges. Did they only send a letter off to Beria? They didn't have to go through the higher ups? Technically, it was Rennick's. He owned the place. If it went straight to Beria, then he had no time to call the police and let them know. He had his own phone to reach the mainland, and Administration also had theirs for whenever the crew needed some time with family. And, ironically enough, besides Gregor and Davros, all of Administration were missing. Still, Caz had to keep his guard up. This was his last chance to slip past them. They probably had no idea the rig was evacuated, and why would they? This wasn't their problem.

'Right, Mr. McLeary.' Bernard's booming voice brought Caz out of his endless thoughts. 'Tell me what happened to my rig?' Oh, it was a good thing Rennick wasn't here. Like Caz with Roper, some of his attitude must have rubbed off on him because he had to bite back from correcting Bernard.

'I dunno,' he answered. 'It all just fucking-'

'Please no swearing in my office.'

'It all just fell apart.'

'Just like that?'

'I guess,' Caz shrugged. 'Construction isn't my forte.'

'But you saw what happened?'

'Yes. The f-' He paused and composed himself. 'Pieces just fell into the North Sea.'

'Alright.' Bernard began to jot down notes. If Caz didn't feel like this was an interrogation, then it certainly felt one now. Another quick glance to docks. 'And how did you follow protocol?' It was now Caz realised this was going to be a long day.

'I listened to Rennick and went to find anyone who needed assistance.'

'Oh, and not fix any electrics?'

'Things were important.'

'Such as?'

Was this guy serious?

'The wellbeing of my coworkers.' Caz couldn't help himself. He reverted back to his youth when he would sarcastically answer back to the headmaster, explaining why the student he beat up deserved it. 'The place was already falling apart, and thankfully, the backup generators hadn't switched on. The leccy was fine. Engineering had that covered.'

'And what of Rennick? The man wasn't listed as a survivor. Do you know what happened?'

Caz shrugged. 'My guess, he fell from the Beria when it began to shake.'

'And the others?' Bastard didn't even know their names.

'I tried to get Gregor.' The memory came back. Caz's composure began to slip, and his breathing began to labour. There was a sadness in his eyes as he looked to the floor. His fingers began to tap against each other. 'But I couldn't reach him.'

Bernard continued to write down the answers. 'That makes the payouts easier...'

And just like that, something snapped in Caz. His face dropped, and his skin turned pale. He slowly looked back up, trying to make eye contact with the chairman.

'Excuse me?'

Bernard ignored the question. Caz thought more. He began to think if he was in Rennick's position and then everything he had noticed on the bulletin boards. He knew Rennick was cutting corners, but someone gave him the budget to build Beria. Money never comes out of a buisness man's own pocket, especially for a rig. Caz looked back at Bernard. Rennick's voice ran through his head.

'I know you all hate me, but you should all share that hatred towards Cadal.'

'Please. If it was up to me, I would have stopped the drilling. But Cadal, that Bernard prick, would have rung all our necks.'

Now, Caz understood. Bernard Cunningham was a weasel-bodied, rat-faced, snake. His body tensed, trying his best not to jump the table and do what he did to Billy to this prick. Because of this cheap bastard, Gregor, Davros, and the others were dead. Rennick was right. It all linked back to him. He had to look away.

The last container was lowered onto the docks. Everyone from Beria held their breath. No one could stop it. They all knew this would happen, but what would happen next? A man opened the door to Muir's container, and a horrified scream echoed across all of Scotland. They fell onto their back, others came to look in curiosity, which was followed by a look of shock, as Muir stepped out along with Innes.

'Oh, shut up, mate,' Innes snapped. 'Can't you see I've got a headache?' Too much booze, food and crying from last night.

Using a tendril, Muir opened the other infected doors. Panic spread across the dock employees who saw the others appear from hiding. You couldn't blame them as they all collectively moved away like the infected were lepers or had some form of contagious disease. Obviously, this wasn't what they had in mind. But, what they couldn't wrap their head around was how normal they were acting. Trots, being the closest to looking human, stretched his arms above his head before putting his backpack over a shoulder. 'Finally,' he groaned. 'Thought I was gonna suffocate this there.' He then took in his surroundings and smiled. Land at last. He turned to Gibbo and pointed into the distance. 'Look, Gibbo, it's a tree.'

Gibbo had clearly slept the entire trip. He had a dazed look in his eyes, and his hair, because he was the lucky bastard who didn't lose it through infection, was all over the place. He tossed and turned in his sleep. He forced a tired smile. Trots' genuine happiness was hard to ignore. 'Did you think you'd never see one again?'

Bernard and everyone on from Beria came out onto the dock. Seeing how casual they were, the workers began to relax. Their mouths were still agape, bodies frozen in place and eyes staring at them. It must be a trait of his because Roy tapped one of the man's shoulders.

'Don't stare. They've been through enough.'

Bernard shoved his way to the front. His face went white, and sweat ran down his forehead. 'What...What...' He stepped closer with a look of panic in his eyes. The infected and Innes noticed. They'd never met Bernard before, but they all knew this was him, and they all gave him a dirty glare. 'What the fuck is this?!' Because, they all knew that he wasn't showing panic for their well-being. If it was possible, his pupils would he shaped as the pound sign. He was worried over what this meant for his company and reputation. 'Is this a joke?'

'It's December,' Finlay muttered yet was loud enough for Bernard to hear. How odd.

Bernard frantically looked in all directions, suddenly catching a glimpse of Innes still holding onto Muir. 'And why are you touching it?!' Well, that got everyone to glare. If it wasn't for Innes, Muir would have flung Bernard to London. Addair looked like a predator locked in on its prey. Large, rounded eyes that had no life behind them. Trots debated on punching him, and Gibbo's jaws clenched, and his teeth began to rub. But it was Caz who went to make the first move, rolling up his sleeve and stepping forward. Fuck it. He'll happily punch him into next week.

'Ah, Bernard Cunningham.' That voice. It ran a shiver up Bernard's spine and caused Caz to stop in his tracks. Somehow, Rennick had slipped past over thirty people and crept up to the chairman by scaling the building, who stood frozen in fear. 'Sorry to have given you a scare, and so sorry to get you out of your office.' That light, sing-song tone from that built anxiety for his crew, now made them smile wickedly. One of Rennick's 'arms' wrapped themselves around Bernard's shoulder, and he pulled himself uncomfortably close to his face. Bernard didn't have the courage to look at him. 'But, I think you and I need to have a wee chat.'

'You're supposed to be dead.'

'Now, wouldn't that have made your day?'

Bernard glanced to Caz, who simply shrugged. 'Guess we miscounted.'

[uarmymoonlight]

after the afterparty

pairing: nerd!namjoon X ex-mean girl!reader 

genre: frenemies (? sorta) to lovers, rivals to lovers, college!au, one-shot, angsty, smut,

summary: after a night of partying with your (now ex-)classmates, namjoon finds you alone in the kitchen and unspoken feelings and desires come rushing to the surface 

warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, reader’s a bit of an asshole, namjoon kinda idolizes her, lots of untold backstory for the #angst, tit/nipple play, biting (lightly)

words: a little over 4.8k

taglist: @kyglover @luaspersona

crossposted on AO3: here.

image by @/chimigraphic on twitter

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You finally take a deep breath of the cold night air. Eyes closed, beer in hand, hip leaned in against the kitchen counter. Another deep breath. 

This night took a real toll on you: 2 hours of pre-game plus 4 of partying and an unbelievable  2 and a half more of after-partying, all in the name of socialization and redemption. But it’s over now. 

You let the silence embrace and erase you. The outdoor lights paint the room with a faint blue and the only sound is a car passing by and the sink leaking. It’s just you there. The rest have gone to bed –  their own or someone else’s - or back to their own airbnbs. But, as tired as you are, you stay there in the kitchen. This last moment of silence before you leave this place for good. And these long nearly 9 hours of today won’t matter. The people at the party won’t matter. Not even that award-stealing, headache-inducing, infuriating, dimpled assh–

A noise stops your thoughts. You turn to your right to see Namjoon kneeling down to catch the water bottle he’d dropped.

“Namjoon.”

“Hey”, he licks his lips “I...I thought everyone else was gone or sleeping.” 

“So did I.” 

A beat of silence goes by and then another, a longer one. You could almost laugh at the silence that sets between the two of you. Had this happened a while back, you would’ve already told him to fuck off and probably insulted him somehow. Then again, had this been back then, he would’ve been vexing you endlessly by refusing to let the silence just be, doing that nervous back-and-forth on his heels he used to do all the time and talking your ear off. 

This isn’t back then, however. So now, you’re just looking at each other. 

Alright. You said you’d change your attitude, didn’t you? Here’s a test for you to prove you did. Your chance to do something to Namjoon you’ve never done before: be nice. 

“Congratulations.”

He scoffs, incredulous.

“You’re congratulating me?”

You can’t say you’re surprised he asked. There was a time you’d rather have eaten your own two feet before ever complimenting Namjoon to his face, a time you’d have done anything to not stay in the same room as him. Let alone just the two of you together. 

“Well, I did tell you I would, when you deserved it” you remind him “You won the academic decathlon, graduated top of the class, and you got the girl. You deserve it now, so there you go: congratulations.” you raise your glass slightly to him. 

He hesitates. 

“I got a girl.” 

You wait for him to elaborate. He doesn’t. You keep staring at him with those piercing eyes of yours. He hates them. Hates how much he’s always been so aware of them. Hates how much he’s always been so desperate to understand the emotions behind them. But, most of all, he hates how beautiful he finds them, how much they make him feel so on the spotlight, so special. 

He watches you open and close your mouth. Once. Twice. You’re speechless? Now here’s one for the history books, he thinks. You’re probably debating whether you should ask him or not about what he meant by that. And God, he hopes you do. He wants you to ask him, he so desperately does. He needs you to want to know what he means. He needs this opening to tell you exactly why Seulgi isn’t the girl, he needs this one chance to tell you what he’s been holding in for so long, the feelings that are always on the tip of his tongue. 

Namjoon waits for you to ask. But you don’t. You look away. 

You can’t ask him, because that question leads to things you’ve already shut the door of, a long time ago. And he should know better than to try and get it out of you. But he’s Namjoon. Namjoon, always the hopeful idealist, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. And you, always the scoffing pessimist, the egotistical cold bitch. So, you take the coward’s route and when you look back at him all you say is:

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” So there’s no point in talking about any of this, is what you don’t say.

“I know.” 

Again, neither of you talk for a while. In silence, you simply look at each other. The air between you is tense with something neither could name exactly. Namjoon breaks the silence this time. 

“Dance with me?” he extends his left hand to you. 

“There’s no music.”

He shrugs and insists “Dance with me.”

You look at his still stretched hand towards you and it’s almost a perfect flashback of that one night so many nights ago. When he had also reached out for you, in ways more than just physical. When Namjoon had laid out so much of himself for you and all you did was spit it back at him. 

“You owe me this one”, he says. Maybe he’s an ass for insisting on this, but God knows you actually do owe him at least this one. You do, and you know it. “You didn’t even talk to me at my party earlier”, he adds. 

And it’s just another time that you realize he really is a much better person than you are for using the party as leverage, and not…Well, everything else you’ve done. It’s something you’re not sure you would’ve done for him. 

You softly put down your beer on the counter, looking at it while you do so. Anything to not look at him just yet. You need those extra few seconds to…You don’t know what for. To prepare? To breathe? It isn’t to think, surely. Maybe that’s it. You need to not think about what you’re going to do. When the can touches the counter, you spin it a couple times, staring at the label. 

With your peripheral vision, you can see Namjoon’s offering hand still out. Again, you remember another moment, a long time ago, when he offered his hand too. You had refused it. God, you suck at this not thinking thing. Andnd you suck at not being a coward.

You finally peel away from the counter and walk quietly to namjoon. You stare at his hand and, taking your time, you slide yours in it. Feeling every inch of his skin until both of your hands are completely touching, and when that happens, you feel a breath you didn’t realize you were holding come out. You feel a bit pathetic for it. The worst part is you hear Namjoon doing the same thing. 

Namjoon is smart, you know that. You and everyone who saw him beat you at everything academic-related year after year after year. He’s smart. But he’s not truly smart. If he were truly smart, you think, he’d pull away right now. If he were, he’d turn his back away from you for good. 

He doesn’t. He slides his hand from yours to your elbow, caressing your forearm on his way and pulls you in. His fingers on his right hand brush against you, starting with your fingers and going up until he settles it on your waist, pulling you in even more. Not letting go of your elbow, he places your hand on his chest and you complete the action by sliding both your arms around his neck. 

You still haven’t looked in his eyes, focusing on his shirt. Actually, his chest. You’d rather not think about that.

You feel his presence all around you, feel him on your skin even though very few parts of you are really touching the other. You feel his head close to yours, your feet almost touching. The two of you stand locked in place.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes?” His voice is little more than a breath. 

“Move.” 

You hear him scoff lightly and get brave enough to glance at him through your eyelashes. Only a shadow of a smile rests on his lips, so his famous dimples are nowhere in sight. 

As he begins to lead you, that quivering bravery you felt moments ago vanishes. You go back to staring at his shirt while embarrassingly hoping you don’t step on his toes. You'd count your steps, instead of just hoping you're doing it right. That is if you knew how to do that. Shouldn't there be music in order to properly count the steps? Isn't that how it works? You count by following the beat of the song, right? But, then again, there's supposed to be music when you dance regardless of the counting. God, what a stupid idea. Why did you agree to this anyway?

Namjoon pulls you even closer, joining your chests and your thighs together as you draw in a surprised breath and let out a sigh. Now, your nose brushes against his lips. 

Ah, right. That is why.

You really can't do this not-thinking thing. Product of years over worrying about your social status and over analyzing every interaction you had to make sure you came out on top. It’s actually a lot of hard work being the main top bitch in the area.

Briefly, you wonder what people would think if they saw you right now in his arms. You wonder what Namjoon thinks of this whole scene. 

And what an interesting scene it is: the dim lights covering you like a blanket while you quietly embrace, a dance that is little more than just swaying softly to a soundtrack of whispers and wind. You can see your pale reflections on the window. The image akin to that of ghost lovers lost to time, only united by the sound of emptiness when time is frozen. Maybe is because of that image of emptiness and stillness, and because you already decided to leave that you tell him:

"I'm sorry.” It's said so softly, so hopelessly, that Namjoon nearly misses it.

There’s so much he could say to that and yet…He puts a hand on your chin and pulls you away just enough to look at your face. With your eyebrows frowning and your beautiful eyes wide scanning him, you look as scared as Namjoon feels. Namjoon traces your face with his thumb: eyebrow to temple to cheek to your lips. This last caress makes your lips part a little, enough for only a thread of air to pass, and eyes flutter. 

There’s so much he could say, but there's only one thing he wants. 

Your lips touch in a strong kiss. A kiss that is like that first leap of courage into a cold pool. You know the water will be cold at first, but you also know that if you don't jump, you'll never get into the pool. And just like in a pool, neither of you breathe for a while. Just like in a pool, Namjoon is terrified of that first splash of water, scared you'll push him away. 

The kiss ends and you catch your breaths. Not for long, though. You grab the lapel of his jacket to pull him in again and relock your lips. Now, you make sure it's a proper kiss, you take your time learning how to kiss him and how you two fit. After a swirl of your tongue, you feel his hand on your lower back put more pressure and pin you closer. Your legs open slightly and he puts one of his legs a little in between yours, his crotch rubbing against yours as you kiss. As you sink your finger deeper into his jacket, Namjoon firmly grabs the back of your neck and presses his hold. The shivers all over your body and your moan encourage him. 

A surprised gasp leaves you when Namjoon, with one hand grabbing your neck and the other around your waist, moves you until your back is against a wall. The cold surface touching your back provides a small break from the hot and heavy air between you and him. A small part of you - the part that isn’t busy kissing him - is a little shocked at how strong he got. When you first met him, he was all height and bones. You’d heard he’d started going to the gym some semesters ago, but you sorta refused to really acknowledge it and, when your eyes and body acknowledged that independently, your brain made a conscious choice to ignore it. At the moment, you don’t have much brainpower to make any choice besides making out with him. 

Namjoon likes to think he's self aware enough to not be an arrogant prick, but he can't stop the feeling of pride taking over him as you touch him with such clear appreciation of his new physique. He responds to it with his own devotion, intoxicated by your trademark perfume, the same lingering scent that would always tempt him whenever you left a room. 

You feel his toned chest and your hands travel along his strong shoulders. And you feel a bit stupid, a bit clichè, because you put your hands on his upper arms and squeeze his biceps. Kinda like in those stupid movies where the sweet bimbo cheerleader fakes coyness as she fawns over the totally not humble quarterback’s muscles. Okay, so, yeah, maybe it’s a bit eye-rolling worthy, but God! his biceps! If his biceps weren’t enough…his thighs! His thighs are huge and strong and you think you’re not really ashamed of how you gladly let him put one of them between your legs. Also, you don’t care that you two are unabashedly dry humping each other, like two horny inexperienced teenagers. Well, suppose that goes with the cheerleader-quarterback thing. Besides, Namjoon certainly doesn’t seem to mind, guiding and motivating your movements by stroking your ass. 

Jesus, dry humping someone should not feel this good. You keep going, more, more and more, feeling yourself get wetter with each move, feeling Namjoon get harder each time you feel his dick brushing against your lower belly. He lifts your leg and repositions himself at a better angle so it isn’t just the friction that’s doing it for you, but the hard pressure of his dick too making you nearly lose your mind in need of him - and he's barely touched you. How come you're affected by him like this? 

You open your eyes to see him leaving messy kisses along your skin, making his way down your neck past your collarbones. When he reaches your cleavage he makes it a point to maintain eye contact and lazily kisses the space between your breasts. Again, Namjoon isn't particularly conceited, still, he shows a boastful smirk at your eyes rolling back in pleasure. He continues his way down your body, his hands trailing its contours and feeling the soft silk of your dress he wished you weren’t wearing. 

To him, you’re beautiful like a queen: proud, imposing, and powerful. You’ve always been. He thinks it’s your sharp, intelligent eyes, your intent look, but it’s also your straight and confident posture. Looking at you at the moment, though he can still see that spark of intelligence, your eyes are heavy-lidded. Your posture is not insecure, it’s solicitous, fully ready to give in to him. But you’re still you and because you’re still you that there’s still a hint of royal impatience in the way you press yourself against his body, demanding more out of him. 

The vision of him going down past your belly button makes you take a breath and arch your back in anticipation. You'd sooner kill yourself before saying you felt butterflies in your stomach, but you do feel something. It takes all your little sense of self control to not grab his hair and lead him straight to where you want him. You don’t have a chance to actually do this since he’s already dipping even lower, eyeing you with malice and desire and nearly driving you crazy with need. You feel your nipples harden when he strokes your folds through your panties with his thumb before pushing the clothing aside. 

“Namjoon”, you moan. 

He lets out a low growling sound at that and begins exploring your pussy. Fingers and tongue take turns touching and tasting you. His fingers open and stretch you while his mouth sucks on your clit. You think you mumble something along the lines of “yes” and “there” a few times. Your fingers curl in response and your hips move following his rhythm. He licks and sucks and tastes and touches and strokes and you feel yourself closer to cumming with each movement. 

Once more, you catch a glimpse of yourselves in a window. The sight is one of pure depravation. You see how dishelved you look, your lips swollen from the kisses and hair an entangled mess on your head, dress hiked up as one of your legs is proped up on Namjoon’s shoulder, a hand of his squeezing your thigh.You’re a bit impressed at how he’s still at it, when your last few hook-ups seemed to want to eat you out as quickly as possible only to say they did it. You’ve never really seen a man who seems so happy to eat pussy like Namjoon. You watch your reflection for a little bit longer while he continues edging you.

Enough. You need all of him now.

“Namjoon”, you say breathlessly. It was a command, but your mind can only think about his tongue on your pussy. You try again. You forcefully pull his head back “Namjoon.” 

He hisses a bit due to the force of you pulling his hair. 

“Yes, Your Highness?” you squint your eyes in annoyance hearing the mocking nickname he gave you so long ago. You hated the nickname, because you knew it wasn’t a compliment, just a veiled insult of his. However, hearing it while he’s on his knees for you…not bad, you think, not bad at all. Especially when his already deep voice sounds deeper and raspy, the words coming out with a drawl.

“Bedroom. Now.”

He’s up in a second, leading you upstairs. The way up is confusing and chaotic, with the two of you nearly running but barely letting go of each other, hot and lewd kisses exchanged while you walk. You have no idea how Namjoon finds the right door. He stops kissing you only to open the bedroom’s door, which you quickly shut behind you. He tries to put you against it, but you flip him and press him to the door instead. 

For a moment, you only look at him. Spreading your hands on his muscular chest, you listen to your heavy breathing. 

“Y/N.” 

You kiss him again. You put your lips on his neck and take your time there, busying your hands with taking off his jacket and then unbottuning his shirt. When you finish, you stroke his bulge through his pants. Namjoon lets out a hungry hiss that has you rubbing your thighs together. The point of stroking him was to tease Namjoon, you wanted to see if you could get him so worked up as he’d done to you. Unfortunately for you, you find out that that’s a double edged sword and it’s sharper end is pointed towards you, because the more you touch him the more you feel yourself get hotter. Having him in your hand only makes your mouth water. 

There’s only one thing you can think of right now. You pull his member out of his pants, stroking the full length once before you turn him and push him down on the bed. Namjoon watches you crawl onto the bed and fully take off his pants and underwear. It’s not slow and sweet or careful. Every motion of yours is aggressive and fast, eyes gleaming with a hungry determination Namjoon is sure is mirrored in his own eyes. You’re beautiful, so so beautiful. On all fours over him like a fucking lioness ready for her meal. Just looking at you like this makes him even harder. 

Maybe the gentlemanly thing would be to stop and tell  you there’s no need to repay the favor of earlier. But, well, maybe Namjoon isn’t a gentleman, after all. And he’d surely never deny you of anything, not when you so clearly want him. The idea of you wanting him just a fraction of how much he wants you is the best feeling in the world. Or rather, the second best. Because the first is definitely the feeling of your mouth on him. 

You take his full length in your mouth, coating his dick with your saliva. Namjoon watches as you alternate between teasing kitten licks on his cockhead and properly sucking him off, your hands griping the base of his cock. God, you’re not simply beautiful, you’re gorgeous. He fights against the urge to roll back in his eyes in order to watch you going down on him. Your hair is thrown around, some of it tickling his thigh while your head keeps bobbing up and down, your makeup is smeared and your dress is a crumpled mess. And you’re gorgeous.

You make eye contact with him with your lips still wrapped around him and he thinks he’s gonna die. Or cum. Probably both. Maybe it’s his dick talking, but he thinks he’d die happy right now. 

“Tell me what you like”, you tell him. 

“You.”

The immediate blurted out answer shocks you a bit. You scoff. 

“You really can’t keep it in.”

In the split second you don’t move, Namjoon starts to deflate. He ruined everything. He waits for you to get up and leave. 

You don’t. 

You lean forwards and kiss him. The kiss is nothing more than just the press of your lips together. You ignore the still lingering doubt in Namjoon’s eyes. Reaching past him, you go through the drawers on the nightstand. As you look for condoms, your tits are hanging above Namjoon’s head and he peppers kisses on them. After a few seconds, you get the condom out the drawer. 

Namjoon tries taking it out of your hands.

“Give me, I can do it.”

“No”, you stop him. “It’s fine.”

You kiss him lightly on the cheek. Namjoon has to stop for a bit. You’d never been so…soft with him before. Not even in those few months long ago when you had been something akin to friends. 

Not wasting any time, you put the condom on his cock. You quickly take your panties off and guide his lenght to where you want it. You two stare at each other as you sink yourself on his cock. Moaning at how he stretches you out. You love how full he makes you feel. He’s so big, his cock makes you feel so good. Having him in your mouth was one thing, having him inside you was heavenly. You place a hand on Namjoon’s chest. 

“Lay down.”

Because you personally believe feminism is about having a buff hot nerdy guy under you while you get yourself off. 

Head on the pillows, he watches you move your hips, leading him in a slow sensual rhythm. Moaning, your head rolls back in pleasure, mouth open to help you breathe better. The two of you pick up the pace, you bouncing on his cock a little then reverting back to grinding. 

“Y/N, your dress. Please.”

Understanding what he means, you pull your dress above your head and toss it to the side. With both hands holding your hips, he only gives your tits a dazed glare. He keeps watching when you take your own hand and play with your tits. Namjoon growls and thrusts his hips upwards harder when you lick two of your fingers and use them to play with your nipples, caressing and pinching them, your palms massaging the rest of the soft flesh. 

“Like that?” 

The raspiness of your voice, that sparkle of meanness in your eyes, that one raised eyebrow on your face…it’s all almost too much for Namjoon. You are gorgeuous. And he’s so impossibly hard. 

“Yeah.” 

The word almost doesn’t come out. You shake your head and giggle at him. Only you. Only you could be bouncing on a guy’s cock, suck him off, have him eat you out, and, with just a little giggle, make the guy blush. Still, if feels so good to make you laugh. Even if it’s at him. So good. 

Almost beats being inside of you. Almost.

Namjoon flips you and lays you down on the bed. Immediately after you hit the mattress, he’s already on you, mouth licking and sucking on you tit. His pace gets faster, more franctic, more desperate. Hitting deeper and deeper. When he hits a sweet spot, you moan louder. 

“Yeah, there. More. More. Yes. Yeah,” you repeat the words like a mantra. 

“So beautiful”, he tells you. “Almost there, baby.”

God, the pet name. “Can’t take it anymore”, you say.

“Yeah, you can, baby. You can take it all.”

He knows you can. You - open wide for him, hair spread on the pillows like a halo, nipples hardened for him, pussy clenching around him - can take it. You are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

On top of you, Namjoon looks like a fucking beast, in the best way possible. Eyebrows furrowed and barring his teeth, his honey skin sprinkled with sweat. A drop of it slips from his forehead and falls on your cheek and you finally cum. Moaning his name over and over. He put his mouth again on your tit, gritting your nipple between his front teeth. With a final moan out of you, Namjoon empties himself inside the condom. 

For a few seconds, you don’t move, just listen to each other breathing. Namjoon feels himself getting softer inside you and, on the back of his mind, he dreads the moment he pulls out from you. Dreads the moment you realise whatever you were doing was over, and so was your business with him. 

Still, he can’t stay inside you forever. He pulls out. 

He busies himself with taking the condom off him and throwing it away while he notices you get tissues from the nightstand to clean yourself up. He mentally kicks himself for not doing it for you, but then again, maybe you don’t want him doing this for you. That’s another kind of intimacy you haven’t given him the greenlight to do. Your voice breaks him out of his thoughts. 

“Where’s the bathroom?” 

You put your dress back on and his heart aches. “First door to the right. Hey, uh - “ he begins before you leave “I’ll go get water. Do you want some?” 

You shake your head and leave the room. 

Silently, he puts his underwear and pants back on and goes to the kitchen, trying all the way down to not think of you. 

He stays a little bit longer than needed in the kitchen. Even after everything, he still can’t feel sure of anything with you. There’s still that ugly feeling of inadequacy whispering in his head that he shouldn’t get his hopes up. Tonight was just a fluke. 

Namjoon goes back to the bedroom expecting you to not be there anymore. He imagines you jumping out of the bathroom window to escape him or sneaking off through the roof. If he wasn’t busy feeling sorry for what you two could’ve been, he’d probably laugh at the scenarios he made up. 

When he opens the bedroom door, though, he finds you there. Curled up under the sheets on one side of the bed. Your eyes are closed and your face is serene. He hesitates. 

“You’re not gonna sleep?” 

You ask without opening your eyes. Namjoon doesn’t answer, but he climbs onto bed behind you. He doesn’t touch you, but he’s close enough that you feel his warmth beside you and his breathing on your neck. 

A while of silence goes by. He’s not sure if you’re already asleep. However, there’s one more thing he needs to say to you, even if you don’t hear it. Something he was too much of a coward to say before.

“Stay.”

You open your eyes. You’re careful to make no move to alert him you’re still up. 

You think about his request. Stay. Part of you wants to, part of you - a very small and recent part of you that is hopeful, a part that is only there because Namjoon coaxed it out of you - says you could stay. Stay. You could stay with him. Stay in his bed. In this city. Stay… 

Like you said, though, that is a very small part of you. The biggest one is a coward. 

When Namjoon wakes up to an empty side of the bed the next day, he instantly knows what happened. 

You left. 

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author’s note: my first attempt at writing smut (at least full on smut, star to finish), hope it doesn’t suck :DDDD  any and all feedback/comments are appreciated