#i actually don't remember seeing gifs of this? i'm sure there are but not on my blog so

[ariminiria]

Okay brace yourself cause I wrote an essay. I am so sorry.

Basically, I agree! That's the short answer lol.

Minor S3 complaining, MAJOR S4&5 critique, enjoyers and certain shippers beware. I tried to be as fair as possible, but you have been warned.

I have so much to say that it must go under the cut, but I don't think we can talk about this particular episode without also discussing the poor writing that led up to this point (and beyond), technically starting with Jack departing, but ultimately kicking off in full with the very first episode of season 4. Seasons 4 and 5 ago hand in hand, and the end result is ultimately a culmination of all preceding events since Jack left, so we can't talk about one without the other. Let's get started.

Jack's exit and the way it was handled is a whole other problem on its own. When Desi is introduced, there are some issues, but minor ones that could have been worked with, and ultimately don't distract from things. Yes, she's supposed to be a competent overwatch, but there was no need to make everyone else suddenly less competent to accomplish this. Still, she actually has personality and her own character, and the whole "I don't need anyone, I'm a loner!" could've worked with a slow defrost in the long run. But... the season ends before we really get to dive into that, and then comes the storm that is... Season 4.

Right from the start, the timeskip is a huge red flag. I have the same issue with most movies and shows that suddenly force in a large timeskip, because in the majority of cases, it just serves as a lazy way to "develop" characters without actually having to do the work of showing the process.

Others have mentioned it before, but the way the team has completely fallen out of contact is... not great. Mac's borderline alcoholism played off as a joke and never mentioned again (among several other things)? Yikes.

It feels like a contrived way to soft reboot the series (which is, ironically, already a reboot). Like a certain Marvel movie that shall remain nameless, the New Writers were solely vested in tearing down what came before so that they could remake the show how they wanted it.

And boy did they ever.

Episode 2 is relatively inoffensive, at least to the point that I don't really remember anything about it except that this is where the "blue filter" is introduced. Seriously, why does everything in Phoenix HQ have to be blue now? I miss the cozy wood panels. Get the concrete outta here please. Where are the windows? 🥺 But anyways, Ep3.... 3 is where it really starts to fall apart.

We spend the whole episode with The Bickering. Nothing but Bickering. Because again, lazy time skip. We didn't get to see how things fell apart, or even really how they began. But golly gee, we get the privilege of having exposition literally shouted at us through dialogue, in a gross violation of the "show, don't tell" rule, as two characters have the most insufferable argument ever. Lots of blame, lots of vitriol, all of it proving how incompatible they were and why it's a good thing they broke up! (Right? ...right?) The exposition argument demonstrates how Desi doesn't really care about Mac's interests or hobbies, while also simultaneously putting all of the blame on Mac for how things ended. Okay. Right. Surely that's over with... moving on.

I would argue that episode 4 is one of, if not THE strongest of the season. When we pry apart the toxic couple and put them on complete opposite sides of a collapsed building, everyone is allowed to be individually competent and relatively in character! Wow, it's like magic. Also, Mac speaking German, bonus.

And then. We get. To episode 5.

The established Breakup-Was-A-Good-Thing Toxic Couple gets forced back together for no reason. Genuinely, the only motivation I can think of is that someone on the writing team latched onto Desi as a self-insert character, cannibalizing the things that made her somewhat interesting and actually likeable in S3 in favor of Mary Sue-ing it up as much as possible. Like John Carpenter's The Thing, the real Desi is gone, replaced by a shell. When I talk about Desi in 4&5, I'm talking about this new, empty puppet version, not what could have been.

And because Desi is now a self insert, this writer's character must get with the main man, always, and be the best at everything, and be right all the time. Mary. Sue.

I'm sorry Desi, you didn't deserve this. You didn't deserve to become my least favorite character of anything ever. I actually did kinda like you in Season 3, where your only real crime was being slightly too girlbossed and Not Being Jack. But it only gets worse from there.

Anyways, Episode 6, it's the Russ Show. Moving on.

Actually no wait, this is a recurring issue that needs to be addressed. In Seasons 1 & 2, and even 3 to some degree, other characters got to have highlight episodes, like Muscle Car + Paperclips, where Riley is a strong focus of the episode, but ultimately, Mac is still the main character and it's up to him to save the day, because it's his name on the title of the show.

Episode 6 begins the [Other Character] Show phenomenon. This particular one is all about Russ. It's not about Mac. He's just there to assist and look pretty and have BBC Sherlock-style hallucinations float around once or twice to show that we totally still have a budget.

Episode 7 once again shows off the Insufferable Couple, wherein Mac is made to apologize for... having a personality and interests of his own? And also gets reduced to a guy who gets hot and bothered while fighting bad guys. Okay.

There was this surprisingly introspective moment at the end of this episode where Mac and Desi have the self awareness to say "Hey, if we only work well as a couple out in the field then maybe we're misreading the real dynamic of this relationship." But the Self Insert writer can't let the main man get away, so they immediately discard this logic in favor of... I dunno. "Nah nevermind, we're totally fine."

Then why even bring it up and make us question it! What was the point!!!!!

Moving on before I burst into flames.

We start speeding downhill on a rocket-powered sled from Episode 8. As soon as Gwen is introduced, it's not just Codex that's going nuclear, but the show as a whole. James gets a free pass for all the horrible things he's ever done because he blew himself up, so that fixes everything, of course, and he's 100% redeemed and now Mac has to love him. Cool.

Not even going to touch Episode 9.

Episode 10, hoooo boy. Did not enjoy the weird dream sequence, personally. Perhaps it could have worked if written by literally anyone else. Seriously, let's all do a collab fic and see what we come up with. I guarantee it'll be better. Side note, you just know Jack is over in Croatia with his Mac Sense pinging like mad, absolutely spittin and hollerin at everyone who thought it was a good idea to give his boy a risky, experimental drug with countless unknown side effects on the off chance that he might possibly remember something. Mhm.

Ep 11 was mildly interesting, except for the fact that everyone starts turning on Mac here. "You're too close to this because she's family!!!" She's the reason his dad is dead, and also she has literally never tried to reach out to him until she thought he'd be useful. Mac has all the family he needs with you guys (well, evidently not); he is not going to throw that away just because he shares some DNA with the crazy eco fascist lady.

We've all talked Episodes 12 and 13 to death so I won't linger on them, but it's absolutely ridiculous that the writers have spent so much time (practically the entire season revolves around!) trying to convince us why it's fine that Mac and Desi got back together and should stay together, and then she's the person who trusts him LEAST. If anyone should have been on his side, it's the person he trusts enough to be in a relationship with. This could have been an opportunity to show growth if they wanted to genuinely try to make this pairing work, but nope, the opportunity was wasted. But at least we get to see Riley step up, filling Jack's role and being there for Mac. Like father, like daughter.

And then another Mac relative finds redemption through getting blown up. I'm noticing a trend here.

Mercifully, the season is over, and it looks like perhaps the Toxicity is over.

Then 5×01 starts off with the insult of everyone acting like Mac and Riley are the ones to blame and therefore must be the ones to apologize. You briefly mentioned that there's a question of whether or not Mac does need to apologize, and I'm just going to say it: No. No he does not.

If any of them had trusted him from the start, he would not have had to go to such drastic measures to actually complete the mission. If anyone had listened to Riley when she tried to tell them exactly that, she would not have needed to run off and join Mac, being literally the only person who had any modicum of faith in him.

Desi does not apologize for pointing a gun at them or betraying Mac's trust (because the Self Insert character can never be wrong), and Russ does not apologize for pointing a gun at them or literally trying to nuke them or even starting the whole Mac-distrust-paranoia in the first place. But Mac and Riley are made to grovel and beg and kowtow to earn forgiveness.

I'm especially mad because Desi and Riley could've been a female Mac+Jack duo, but no! Wasted. Potential. Other women can only ever be competition and a Threat to the Mary Sue. It's such a disservice to all of the characters involved, and I'm starting to vibrate with rage because there's little I hate more than wasted potential, so let's move on--

From here on out, the series entirely revolves around Mac and Desi's relationship. It may seem like I am specifically harping on that, but it's purely because that is what the writers prioritized, at the cost of. You know. The actual Plot. The stuff the show is supposed to be about. Like... Mac doing MacGyvering and blowing things up. Sigh. I WISH there was something else to talk about, I really do. Literally anything else. But we can't have nice things, so... Buckle up

Episode 2 is the Desi Show. Like in 4×06 with Russ, Mac is just a background character in his own show. Moving on.

Episode 3, time to tease a romantic rival just to cause problems. Honestly, at this point I started rooting for Riley purely out of spite. Wait, maybe that was the plan all along 🤔🤔🤔 That would be an absolutely galaxy brain level of scheming, although I do think that would be giving the writers too much credit. But that's not the point here, anyways-- I guess Ma was kind of an interesting concept, just. Wasted on this awful writing team. Like everything else.

Ep 4. Desi Show. The only other thing I will say is something I have mentioned before but certainly bears repeating: "Jokes" about sexual coercion don't magically become funny when they're targeted towards a man. Moving on.

Episode 5. The disrespect. That is all. (We all know about 5×05. I don't even have to say it. Next.)

Episode. 6. Sigh. This is the only episode I skipped. In every show I watch, I will always watch every single episode all the way through the first time I experience the show. Afterwards I can skip around, but I never skip on first watch.

This episode broke that record. That's how bad it was.

Like you, I was watching for the first time in 2024, but to be quite honest, I really don't think I would've looked on it more kindly when it first aired, because I am of the opinion that in general, shows that take place contemporarily will always benefit from existing in a somewhat parallel timeline of their own. Entertainment media is generally for escapism; it isn't necessary to 1:1 every real life event. In fact, some (many, I would argue) shouldn't be, because doing so would trivialize the reality of the situation.

When the ukulele thing happened, I noped out right then and there because I could literally feel my body filling with molten lava. I have nothing more to say because, like I said, I did not finish the episode.

But you know what? The fact that I didn't finish it turned out to be irrelevant because episode 6 had zero plot impact and served no purpose except to, as you said, distract us from the insult of 5×05. There's like one line in 5×10 I think? that references 6. But other than that, it's just that irrelevant. We could take it out, and the season would literally be unchanged.

7-9 are thoroughly unmemorable to me, except forcing Mac to face his fear of heights in 9. That was nice, we should do that more often.

Episode 10... happened. Very Wattpad and contrived, but it happened. Hm. Okay, I wasn't really going to say anything beyond that, but I will. Fine, sure, whatever, Riley has feelings for Mac. Let's go with that, for the sake of argument. To be honest, aside from my previously mentioned "spite shipping," I'm thoroughly neutral on the idea of them together. I personally tend to go for sibling vibes when I write them, but I could reasonably see the dynamic as going either way, so this isn't some ship war thing by any means. But what I'm not neutral on is the disrespect in this episode. It's off the charts.

Dragging Riley's feelings out in such a humiliating way, only to then dismissively handwave it away for the sake of nothing but some Wattpad level drama? I need the writer to meet me in a Waffle House parking lot immediately. Riley deserves better than that. The show deserves better than to be reduced to an episode of The Bachelor.

Episode 11. Once again, it's so Wattpad. Complete with "we have to get naked to save our lives" and Mac ping-ponging his feelings more than Y/N with the brunette messy bun trying to decide between the sweet jock or the bad biker boy.

Episode 12 makes me incredibly angry because it just solidifies the fact that Self-Insert Desi is queen in the relationship and has zero interest in taking Mac's feelings and needs into account. There's even a moment where Mac tries to tell her that something she said was hurtful and she immediately makes it about herself to the point that HE winds up apologizing for it and they never do address his feelings in the end.

Direct quote:

"Yeah, sorry Des. As hard as this is for me to hear, it's gotta be a thousand times harder for you."

Also, direct quotes from when Mac asks Russ for his opinion:

R: "So why not just talk to her about it?"

M: "That's just the thing, Desi doesn't wanna talk to me about it. It's like she drops these little breadcrumbs for me to find or- or wait around for the next one."

Alexa, play Toxic by Britney Spears.

And then to add insult to injury, after being so thoroughly disrespected and stomped on, the writers have Mac decide that moving in together will magically fix all of their problems. Mhm.

13. They spend half the episode talking about how moving in together was a mistake, and I guess somehow the writers think we as the audience won't agree with that based on literally everything we've seen so far?

One specific moment that's very small but pisses me off an unreasonable amount is how they suddenly add Desi into the voice-over. That has ALWAYS been Mac's thing. Not even Jack got to be apart of the internal monologue, and the writers expect us to believe that someone is more important to Mac than him? I can't fully express why this decision frustrates me SO much, but it's probably best to move on.

Ep 14 is a thing. Love how they manage to retcon like 4 different things within one single episode. Josh? Who's that? Y'all hear something? Grandpa Harry? Hm?

Finally, put us out of our misery, episode 15. The nanobots plot could've been interesting with better writing. But unfortunately, a lot of it wound up feeling too scifi and more than a little bit forced. I don't know why Russ and Bozer felt the need to swap nationalities for that frankly cheesy and over-the-top "distraction," but it. Yeah, it just fell flat. I cringed a little. It dragged on too long.

But hey, I did enjoy Mac flatlining in the hyperbaric chamber. Good whump right there.

I'm trying to find nice things to say.

In summary, Jack leaving was the first warning sign. A new team of writers drove this bus straight off a cliff in the name of shipping, and we were all just helpless passengers. Mac's best traits were swiped from him and redistributed to everyone else, because Hollywood rules are that in order to make other characters more competent, you have to make the main character incompetent.

But! That's why we as a community are still kicking. Where canon fails, we're there to pick up the pieces together, holding fast to what could have been.

There is no MacGyver Season 4 or 5 in Ba Sing Se. My complete series collection just has a bunch of blank discs in the back, for some reason. I live in a world where Desi is a strong, competent character who minds her business, does her job, and is a healthy and functional member of the team. A world where Jack comes back and addresses how his leaving impacted the others. A world where Bozer is Mac's loyal and understanding best friend with a unique skill set of his own, Riley is a capable fellow agent and confidant, and the leaders of the Phoenix actually trust their top agent.

I am asking you directly to please tell me your honest thoughts about this episode 😀

- @mistyyrayne

oh no.....I don't think you realize what you just did. You really want to hear me talk about what's possibly my least favorite episode of the series? Are you sure? Certain?

I had to rewatch it just so I could accurately reference certain parts, and I amend my earlier statement- it definitely is my least favorite. Sorry to anyone who enjoys this episode (5x06 enjoyers, please beware) these are just my own opinions to be taken with a grain of salt (I really don't mean to be so harsh with it, but. well...)

cue me ranting under the cut 🤪

To be fair, I watched this episode for the first time in November last year. Would my opinion on it have changed if I had seen it when it first aired? Probably, but the fact is I didn't, and so I found myself physically recoiling at Mac singing about Fauci on the ukulele. I just....have no words.

Onto the facetime with Mac and Desi....oh boy. So. Mac sent a ("very, very detailed") apology letter to Desi for the events of last season. Ok, alright, that's cool- I'm not going to delve into whether or not he needed to apologize for most of the events in the first place, that's for another time. It's been shown before that he sometimes struggles with apologies (2x04 comes to mind, with 6 voicemails to prove it) so the fact that he wrote a lengthy letter to apologize shows he sincerely wants things to be better between them.

The only reason I have an issue with this is because...well I could be misremembering, but did we ever get to see Desi apologize to Mac? Like at all? She didn't trust him. Full stop. She didn't trust that he had a plan. That he could still do his job despite the crushing grief and guilt he was feeling, and because she didn't trust that he knew what he was doing, he had to use extreme measures to escape the Phoenix that ended up with her and Russ getting hurt. Even after she learned he hadn't been a "traitor" and stopped Codex, she still held what he did against him. All signs of a healthy and functional relationship :) She also failed at the job she was explicitly trusted by Jack to do when she waved a gun in Mac's face, but also. not the time or place for that right now haha smiling. smiling normally

Anyways, Mac goes on to express concerns about their relationship going forward, and lightheartedly but pointedly brings up the fact that she may be delaying the conversation (which has precedence) and Desi begins to vent about the circumstances that led her to quarantining with her parents- which is all very understandable! She's under a lot of stress, and racist assholes are targeting her parents, she has every right to be upset. But. but but but. She takes on an accusatory tone and lays into Mac about it, causing him to apologize and immediately retract what he said. which...I'm certainly no expert on relationships, but I feel like there's just something so wrong with that.

He was trying to start a dialogue about the future of their relationship, which I think is quite understandable- he wants something stable in such a tumultuous time, and it isn't just the Pandemic, either. Did we as the audience all forget he not only lost Jack, Charlie, James, and Gwen within the same year? Of course not but I bet you the writers did. So much has changed around him and it's no wonder he feels so unstable.

Desi, on the other hand, doesn't have any desire to define their relationship right now, being too preoccupied with everything else going on- also quite understandable! What irks me to no end, however, is that they made it so Mac was the unreasonable one here. Desi shuts his concerns down, and to be fair, she was called away to tend to her parents, but there's not even any follow up of like "we'll talk later," or "I hear you, but I can't do this right now." No, just leave him in limbo, it's fine. He'll be fine, he always is.

But even after all this, (and I'm sure you're thinking, wow dude, chill out, calm down) that wasn't even what makes me despise this episode.

It's how they wrote Bozer.

On what fucking planet would this dude not tell his best friend that his mom (who had also been the closest thing Mac had to a mother during his adolescence as well) is sick? during the pandemic??????

Well, you might say, Mac hasn't been a good friend to him recently. OKAY?? AND??? That's not the kind of thing you'd keep from someone you're that close to, regardless of the circumstance. AND WHY DOES EVERY BIT OF THE BLAME KEEP GETTING SHIFTED TO MAC. After this dogshit year he's had, losing the people he loves, being under enormous amounts of stress, his teammates not trusting him, the usual near-death experiences, he hasn't had a fucking break. NO SHIT HE'S BEEN "COMPLETELY MIA" and not noticing Bozer's been struggling. Mac needs some serious help and he's not getting any. If anything, Bozer would be the one TO NOTICE IT WITH MAC.

I wish I could say I could see Bozer getting upset about this in-character, but I just can't. I personally don't think Bozer berating Mac for being a shitty friend is justified AT ALL. So yeah, this episode pisses me off to the extreme. I think there were a lot of good choices they made with Bozer's character in the later seasons (like him being more confident on missions) but this? ABSOLUTELY not one of them. It just blew me out of the water. I'm astonished they made him seem like such an asshole just for the sake of this plotline. He would never not share something as serious as his mom being sick with Mac and that's a hill I will always die on.

Admittedly sometimes I look at my favorite characters through rose-tinted glasses sometimes, but a majority of the shit that gets pinned on Mac in s4 and s5 genuinely does not seem like his fault? Maybe I'm wrong- If you have a differing opinion on any of this, I wouldn't mind hearing it. Prove me wrong, I'd be happy to be proven wrong here, because I adore all these characters so much. I feel like they've been done a major disservice, not just in this episode, but in these last two seasons especially.

Ok I'm sorry but I was gonna do a play by play of the rest of the episode, but I'm 16 minutes in and I'm already in a seething rage about this LMFAO so I'm gonna stop right here. excuse me while I go bash my head through the nearest brick wall

anyways, in summary/TLDR:

How about I end this off with some positivity, huh? Things I DID like about this episode are that Mac, Riley, and Bozer all got to quarantine together. The beginning scene where they were all hanging out in the living room was almost like a s1-2 scene where they were hanging out on the deck. Almost.

OH I also liked when Bozer was explaining the plan and they all acted it out, I love when they do that (also great in 3x12 Fence + Suitcase + Americium-241, they do that same thing there)

[mulderscully]

That night at the lake... it was the first time I let myself think you might actually say it. I panicked, and it was daft and unfair, and I won't do it again.

[charmedimsure]

A WELCOME DISTRACTION || kang dae-ho

pairing: Kang Dae-ho x reader

summary: Dae-ho helps you learn to play Gong-gi

word count: 1.5k

warnings: squid game stuff, but other than than just fluff

A/N: I got the rules of the game from watching the show, so they could be wrong. I think it's gender neutral but lmk if it's not so I can fix it

It looks like you're going to spend at least another day here. You're going to have to play at least one more game. Despite voting to leave, the majority of people disagreed with you, and now you're stuck here. You may be drowning in student loan debt, but at least your alive, and, if you've learned anything positive from this experience, it is that life is full of opportunities.

You take your food from the masked men and find a small space in between the beds where you can be alone. You don't think you can eat right now, so you put those to the side and sit on your knees, pulling five small stones out of your pocket. When you need is a distraction, and this game could do it.

Across the room, Dae-ho winces as Jung-bae hits him in the shoulder, almost making him drop his milk.

"What?" Dae-ho says, annoyed.

"You're staring," Jung-bae says. Dae-ho gives him a confused look, to which he nods his head in your direction.

Dae-ho looks down at his feet as he feels heat rise in his face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jung-bae scoffs a laugh, looking at the former Marine. "Please. You cheered so loud when her team crossed the finish line I thought you're life was on the line, too." Jung-bae laughs at his own joke, Young-il laughing along.

Dae-ho rolls his eyes, finishing his milk and putting the carton down next to him. Sure he thinks you're cute, but this is no place for any of this stuff.

"You should talk to them," a quiet voice says. Dae-ho looks up to see Jun-hee looking at him.

Young-il nods. "She's right. We don't know how much longer we will be alive, you should speak now before you lose the chance."

Dae-ho looks back over at you. You're hunched over on the floor between beds, your back facing him. With a small surge of confidence, Dae-ho nods, standing up. He takes a few steps in your direction before second guessing himself, stopping in place. He nearly falls over as Jung-bae shoves him towards you.

As he gets closer to you, he can hear the sounds of something repeatedly hitting the hard floor, as well as soft curses coming from you.

"Are you alright?" he asks, standing by the entrance to the small alley between beds.

You gasp and look up at him, being too invested in what you were doing to notice someone coming up to you. Acting on instinct, you back yourself closer to the wall away from him.

Dae-ho puts his hands up. "I don't want to hurt you, just wanted to see what you were doing."

You take a look at his face and number. You remember seeing him yelling yesterday with his friend, as if he was a soldier. It had actually made you laugh, which was much needed in a place like this. You also thought he was kinda cute. Getting out of your defensive position, you shyly show him the small stones in your hand.

He furrows his brows and gets closer so he can have a better look, kneeling on the floor in front of you. He recognizes the rocks from the ground of the last game, but has no idea why you have them.

You see his confused look and sigh. "I was trying to play Gong-gi. I've never played before and it looked interesting." You let out a little laugh. "I'm not very good at it, though. I don't even know if I'm doing it right."

Dae-ho gives you a small smile. "I can show you, if you want."

You look up at him with wide eyes. "You know how to play?"

He grows a bit embarrassed and looks everywhere except for your face. "I have older sisters, we used to play when I was little."

Expecting you to laugh at him, he is surprised when you hold out the stones. He smiles and holds out his palm for you to place the rocks in, then moves back to make room between the two of you.

"You have to throw one of the pieces in the air as you grab the others, and you need to grab more as you go. You start with one each, then two, then three and one, then all four. After that, flip them onto the backside of your hand and catch them without flipping your hand over." He takes a deep breath as he rolls of the stones onto the floor. As nervous as he feels with you watching him, he knows he can do it. After all, he did just do it perfectly with guns pointed at him.

He quickly goes through the game, not dropping a single stone. When he makes the final catch and opens his palm for you to see, he finds your mouth open as you stare at his hand in awe.

"That was amazing," you say to him with a smile.

Dae-ho smiles and feels the heat rising to his face again. "You should see my sisters do it, they move so fast you can't even see what's happening," he chuckles, making you laugh. "Besides, I saw you do spinning top before. You wrapped it in seconds and got it to spin on the first try! I was always so bad at spinning top as a kid."

You smile shyly, feeling heat in your face. "It was my favorite game as a kid. I didn't have many toys, so I would play it for hours. I'd try to teach you, but I don't have a top."

Dae-ho smiles. "That's okay." He holds out his hand for you to take the stones. "You're turn to try."

You take the stones from him, scattering them onto the ground between you. You smile as you manage to get each singular one, but when you try to get two at once, you don't catch the stone in time. You let out a frustrated sigh, sitting back on your knees.

"You're doing good," Dae-ho reassures. "Try going for the ones that are closer together, and throw the stone a little higher to give you more time."

You nod at the advice and pick up the stones again. You get the first two, but lose it again as you try to get the second two. Though you get frustrated with yourself, Dae-ho never does, patiently watching you and giving you tips.

It takes more tries than you would like to admit, but you are finally able to make the final catch. You yell out in victory with a big smile on your face, and the man across from you does the same. You get a little shy as you see that your yells have got attention from the people around you, particularly that one judgmental old man who really has no right to judge anyone considering he has more debt than most people here combined.

When everyone looks away, you smile up at the man again as he hold him hand up for you to high-five.

"I feel so accomplished," you laugh, making him chuckle. "Thank you for helping me. It was nice to play a game and not have to worry for my life."

He smiles sadly. "I'm happy I could help. My name is Dae-ho."

You smile back at him and give him your name. "If we both get out of here, Dae-ho, I'll teach you how to get the top to spin every time."

"When," he says. You give him a confused look. "You said if we get out of here, but when we get out of here, I would like that very much."

You smile at him. "I'm looking forward to it."

Dae-ho spots your food sitting on the bed next to you and frowns. "You didn't eat?"

You look at it. "I wasn't hungry so I was saving it. I got so wrapped up in this game I forgot about it."

The man moves to get up. "I'll leave you to eat, then."

"You don't have to leave," you say quickly, making him stop and look at you. "I mean, I don't mind if you want to stay."

Dae-ho smiles and nods, sitting down again, this time next to you. As you eat, you both talk about yourselves, how you ended up here, your lives back home, anything that comes to mind.

"What are you going to do when you get out of here?" Dae-ho asks you when your food is long gone.

You sigh and shrug. "I'll pay off whatever debt that I can, but besides that, I really don't know." You look at him. "What about you?"

"I'll pay off my debts, too," he says. He takes a deep breath before looking at you, feeling his nerves rising. "I also think that I'd like to take you to dinner."

His nerves calm as he watches a smile slowly take over your face. "I'd like that."

Dae-ho smiles. "Then it's a date."

When it is time to go to sleep, Dae-ho can only think about how he is going to do everything he can to make sure the two of you get out of here alive.

[hannieehaee]

BED CHEM

18+ / mdi

summary: when chan's friends decided to start a betting pool on how long it'd take him to lose his virginity at the start of college, none of them expected him to remain a virgin all the way to senior year. desperate to prove them wrong, chan goes to his best friend in hopes you'll take him out of his misery (and maybe fall for him in the process) OR when chan uses a stupid bet as an excuse to get his pretty bestie in his bed.

content: virgin!chan, f2l!chan, sub!chan, mutual pining, college au, chan is characterized as a fucking loser but what else is new, some will they wont they, the rest of svt bully chan, afab reader, smut, dry humping, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 11k

a/n: i wrote this so long ago i don't even remember what it's about #oops

masterlist | patreon

"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not a virgin!"

— lied Chan for the nth time.

"It's been years and it's still not believable. Plus, Vernon told us you were whining about it at Soonie's party last Friday," responded Jeonghan nonchalantly.

"Vernon!", Chan turned to him, betrayal in his eyes.

His whines were only met with chuckles from all the other men surrounding him, most of which were nursing some different variant of an alcoholic beverage as they lounged around uselessly.

Most weekends were spent like this.

Chan had the misfortune of being the youngest in his large thirteen member friend group, one which was also well known throughout school due to a few of his friends' reputations. Chan, however, did not live up to that idea.

Unlike all his other friends, — well known to be either heartthrobs, or at least, you know, not virgins — Chan found himself as an outlier.

On the outside, he may have easily emulated that same popular and charismatic persona all his friends held and lived by, but he truly had no idea what he was doing. Sure, he knew himself to be likable and attractive (at least he liked to think so), but his sexual prowess was still very much below average (is anything lower than zero?).

Luckily for him, this was not known by anyone outside of his friend group. To everyone else, Chan was as pursued as his older friends such as Mingyu and Wonwoo, except it was all a lie.

Hell, even you, being his best friend since middle school, were blissfully unaware of his virginal state. And to be quite honest, this was something he wanted to keep that way.

You see, Chan had hopes of airing out his not-so-discreet crush on you one day ('maybe not today, but someday!', he'd tell himself). And the knowledge of him being a loser virgin would probably not help matters when that day came.

His virginity was such a hot topic among his friends that a running bet had tormented him since his first weekend at university. With all his friends being merely one year older, he was the victim of constant teasing as they watched him crash and burn any time a girl showed interest in him, only for him to psyche himself out of actually getting down to anything.

His constant failures only prompted more teasing throughout the years, especially in the form of Jeonghan and Seungkwan berating him about losing his virginity and confessing his pathetic crush on you. Sometimes Dokyeom and Mingyu would join in, insisting he could kill two birds with one stone if he'd only play his cards right.

The mere thought never failed to make Chan blush. To think of you in that context always had a physical effect on him. His palms would become clammy, his face would redden, and sadly, his hardness would make an appearance.

But he'd be lying if he hadn't wanted to will the thought into existence.

The two of you never really spoke about such things, but he was still painfully aware of how opposite of him you were in that aspect. It was no secret to him that your virginity was long gone. To his knowledge, you'd spent your freshman and sophomore years basking in all the attention you received, landing in a few beds in the process. You had this charisma that Chan envied (and was simultaneously extremely attracted to). In your junior year, however, you'd calmed down a bit, spending your Fridays nights cuddled up with Chan in the corner of one of his friends' frat parties rather than out on your own.

"Okay, so are you giving up? You're losing the bet?," Jeonghan piled on, calling Chan's attention away from his internal monologue.

"Giving up on what! I never participated on that bet. You guys came up with it to bully me!," he responded, exasperated.

Joshua rounded the couch to take a seat on the arm of it, patting Chan's shoulder condescendingly as he sipped at his beer with a chuckle.

"We could set you up with someone, you know?", he suggested, knowing Chan would deny his suggestion but trying anyways.

"N-no. I don't want someone to fuck me out of pity," Chan grumbled.

"And that'd be cheating. We're not supposed to help him," added Vernon.

"You guys made up rules?!"

"Shh. The adults are talking," tsk'd Seungkwan.

"You're still a junior. You have time to lose it before graduating still," aided Wonwoo from his side of the room.

"We decided against that. It has to be before we graduate or else it doesn't count," said one of the many seniors in the room.

"Okay, maybe queue me in on the rules if I'm going to be the main character of this bet, guys," grumbled Chan, giving up.

"That's still four months til graduation, Channie. C'mon, it'll be good for you. Maybe you can find a girlfriend and then you won't be all alone after we graduate."

"Yeah, man. Why do you have no friends your own age?" poked Mingyu, chuckling along with the rest of the seniors currently picking at a defeated Chan.

"It looks like I have no friends at all."

Vernon laughed, getting up to sit next to a slumped-back Chan, completely defeated on the couch. He patted his back, though unlike Joshua, he seemed to do it in solidarity.

"Listen, man. Just ask Y/N out. She likes you. We all see it. Just be a man and ask her out. We've told you before — two birds, one stone," encouraged Vernon.

Chan sat back up at the mention of your name, now having you back in his mind.

Should he?

Should he throw all caution to the wind and go on a limb? He'd sensed some more-than-friends vibes from you before, but he'd never been sure enough to actually try and go after you.

Annoyed and confused, Chan stood up with a huff, heading for the door before turning around to grumble at his friends.

"You all suck!," he began his tipsy rant, "I'm going to go out there and prove you all wrong. I'm going to lose my virginity ten times harder than any of you ever did," he declared, his intoxicated brain not realizing he wasn't making much sense, "And then you'll all owe me that stupid betting pool. You'll see," he went to point at Jeonghan, "Specially you!"

Jeonghan gaped at him in amusement, which only provoked further laughter from all the drunk men who had already been laughing at a pent-up Chan. Chan made his exit with this last statement, annoyed enough to disavow his friends for the rest of the night.

Still tipsy and with frustration charging through his veins, Chan made his decision. He knew his next destination for the night and marched there decisively.

"Chan? What are you doing here? Hurry, come in! Guys aren't allowed in here after hours," you ushered him in quickly, taking a look outside to check for any onlookers before locking the door behind you.

In the meantime, Chan turned around, ready to face you once you'd ensured yourselves some privacy. On his walk here, he'd sobered up enough, but his decisive demeanor somehow remained. He had one task tonight and he was going to fulfill it no matter what.

What task was that? He was going to beg you to put him out of his misery, hopefully obtaining an annoyed affirmation from you and ridding himself of his lack of experience once and for all — and also finally getting to have a taste of you, but that was besides the point!

And then that all his courage died the longer you stood there, staring at him expectantly.

But he couldn't back down now. He needed to prove a point, both to the guys and to himself. Also, he was growing quite fed up of his predicament. There was only so long a guy like Chan could go without the touch of a woman, and 22 years seemed to be the limit for him.

"I, uh, I wanted to ask you for a favor," he mumbled, eyes unable to look into your own.

"At 3 in the morning? Was it urgent?"

"Yes!", he found himself quipping with far more energy he'd meant to.

You eyed him curiously.

"Okay, what is it?"

Well.

That was a difficult question.

But this was the moment of truth.

He needed to come out and say it. Just get done with it.

Any moment now.

It was just like a bandaid.

A single moment of bravery and then-

"Chan!"

Oh, right.

He huffed, nervous, annoyed, frustrated, all of the above, before mustering the courage to spit it out.

"Ineedyoutotakemyvirginity," he mumbled out all at once.

"Please tell me you didn't just say what I think you just said."

"What?! You actually understood that?"

"Why would you say it if you didn't want me to hear you?"

"Yeah, but like. How can you be sure I said what you think I said?", this was a lost battle and he knew it.

You were his best friend. You were fluent on his drunken rambles, his annoyed mumbles, his overexcited speeches. Of course you could understand what he said, no matter how mumbled or quickly he'd said it.

"Chan."

"Okay, fine! Want me to say it so bad, I'll say it."

He took a short pause, taking two steps towards you before taking your hands in his own and looking to you with pleading eyes.

"Will you please take my virginity?"

"Since when are you a virgin?"

"As much as I want to take that as a compliment, I'm pretty sure you're implying I'm a slut," he frowned at you.

"God, Chan, you- Come on. Come sit with me," you pulled him by the hand, dragging him over to your couch and taking a seat with him.

Your body faced his own with complete ease and confidence while his remained slightly avoidant of yours. He was slightly faced towards you, but it'd be clear to any spectator that his body language lacked any confidence, especially considering his eyes were facing your lap rather than your face.

"Explain," you instructed, lacking any real emotion in your voice. If anything, you sounded annoyed — something which, to be fair, was not unusual between you and Chan.

"Uh," he started, scratching his head, "Do I have to?"

"Chan!"

"Okay, fine!"

Chan took a breath, body leaning against the back of the couch with a groan and resulting in a slouch of his back. He continued to make no eye contact with you, face now in his hands as he attempted to rub the embarrassment out of his eyes.

"I might've sworn to the guys that I'd lose my virginity," he groaned.

"Sworn how ..?"

"There was a bet involved," he grimaced to himself.

"Chan, you idiot," you chastised, "I didn't even know you were a virgin."

"How could you not?"

Before he could hear your response, Chan suddenly felt a ruffle of the couch. Pulling his hands away from his face, you forced him to face you, now sitting even closer to him on the couch.

"Have you seen your friends? No offense, but they're all kinda ... slutty," he could hear the humor in your voice and knew exactly what you meant. His twelve elders were never shy about their promiscuity.

"Plus, you're always flirting with me. I thought this was something you did with any girl you wanted to sleep with," you added nonchalantly after.

Well, you were half right.

That was something he did with girls he wanted to sleep with. Except you were the only girl he did it to. Because you were the only girl he wanted to sleep with.

A slippery slope.

Chan was his own damn enemy.

"I, uhm, I'm shy around other girls," was his lame excuse.

"So, what, you want me to take it from you?"

"Well, it'd be helpful."

He proceeded to stare at you with what you usually called 'dumb boba eyes,' knowing they had a tendency of breaking you down if he used them just right.

"Dude," was all your response, deadpan as per usual.

"Listen! I'll pay you!", he chirped exasperated, not realizing how his words could be interpreted.

"You want to pay me for sex? Walk that one back for me, Channie."

"Oh, uh, yeah, I take it back. My bad," he couldn't help but flush at the way you laughed at him after he took it back.

"Chan. You don't have to lose it if you don't want to, you know?"

Great, now you were going to comfort him. Chan usually loved how in tune with his emotions you were, but what he needed right now was for you to defile him.

"I know! I just- I just want to. Please? I- It won't get in the way of our friendship, I promise," he went to grab onto your hands, attempting to convince you and himself of his certainty, "It's not sudden either. I've thought about asking you before."

"Why me, though? It's not that I'm saying no," you went to say when Chan was about to interrupt, "I just don't get why now and why me."

Because he was in love with you and because a year from now you'd both be graduated, no longer in each other's constant vicinity. That's when he'd lose his chance altogether.

"Because I know you and I trust you. You'd be nice to me," he allowed himself to be a big vulnerable around you as per usual.

"I'm always mean to you."

"Shut up, I'm making a point here," he disregarded you, "Plus, don't tell me you've never thought about it."

You laughed, tilting your head to the side with a giggle.

"Maybe," you mumbled between chuckles.

Oh. Okay.

Chan would just have to take this confirmation and store it for later.

"So, what do you say?" he looked at you expectantly.

"I think you're the bane of my existence, but what else is new?"

He pinched at your leg like a petulant child who was being denied of a treat, "Answer the question!"

"God, you're even more annoying as a virgin," you chastised, squeezing your eyes closed with a groan before actually responding, "Fine!"

His head turned to you like a magnet, expression completely dumbfounded.

"Wait, what?"

"Are you really trying to get me to change my mind?"

"N-no! Just- Shit, are you serious?", he scoot over closer to you, invading your personal space in the same manner a child would.

"I mean. I kinda feel bad for you. Plus, I've always thought you were pretty cute, so why not?", you said in a way far too casual for Chan to compute.

Was this good? I mean, you did call him cute. But did this mean this would be completely meaningless to you. Would that mean he had absolutely no chance with you past this one instance?

"Can you stop thinking so loudly?", you interrupted him.

"Sorry, I'm just trying to comprehend this. It's a big moment in a man's life when he finally gets his cherry popped."

"Please never say that again," you laughed.

He chuckled with you, still a bit dumbfounded but overall content with the unexpected turn this night had had. His face must've shown the turmoil of thoughts bubbling up in his head, as you suddenly scoot even closer, putting your hand on his leg in a comforting manner before speaking up.

"What, changed your mind already?", you were joking, but there was still kindness in your eyes.

"It's not- it's not that. Just nervous, I guess," he mumbled.

"Tell me about it," you encouraged.

"I, uh, what if ... what if it's disappointing for you?"

"Well, luckily for you, we're best friends. I'll guide you, if you want. What matters most is that it's good for you."

"Yeah, but, but I want to make you feel good."

Careful, Chan. Might give yourself away on accident.

"Chan, I've seen you dance. There's no way you won't make me feel good," you chuckled almost to yourself.

Oh, well, that's-

Chan felt himself getting a bit flustered.

Did you look at him like that when he danced?

"Oh, I- uh, thanks," he managed to mumble.

You must've not caught onto how awkward he felt, as you made no comment about it as you usually would.

"So," you dragged the 'o,' "when do you wanna start?"

"Oh! Uh, I don't- I don't really know. I didn't think I'd get this far."

"Did you think I'd say no?"

"I'm still not sure I'm not dreaming."

You giggled at this, "I can hit you, if it'd help."

"I always thought I'd be way smoother at this," he half groaned, half chuckled, sitting back against the couch while you knelt on it, facing him.

At least he felt more relaxed now. This had gone way better than he ever thought, not that he ever even considered asking you to take his virginity before tonight.

"So, my question?", you pushed again, scooting closer. Chan was beginning to fear you were suggesting something.

"Oh, uh, well-"

Before he knew it, you were even closer, knees pressed to his side as you leaned your body towards him, confident body language while his own reeked of awkward alertness.

"How far have you gone before?", there was a smile on your face. Not a happy one, though. It seemed more satisfied than anything. Kind of as if you had a higher ground (which you did).

Chan's body couldn't help but lean back as you got closer. It's not that he didn't want your touch, he very much did. The issue at hand was just how deprived of it he was. Having never felt such touch before, the mere thought of it could very well be his early undoing. He needed to mentally prepare for such a thing.

"Well, uh," he scratched the back of his head, avoiding eye contact, "I've kissed a few girls before ..."

"And?"

"That's, uhm, that's kind of it," he mumbled.

The avoidance of eye contact became harder now that you were closer in proximity, but he continued to attempt it.

"Really? Only kissing? Uh, what kind of kisses were they?"

"W-what do you mean?", he knew exactly what you meant, he was just an idiot.

But how was he supposed to tell you that in his entire twenty-two years of life he'd only ever shared a few short-lived kisses. There was nothing in his repertoire of experiences to write home about, much less to tell his best friend.

You half-muffled a giggle, now invading all his personal space, "What type of kiss, Channie?", you repeated.

"It was just- they were just regular kisses, uh, you know?," he gulped.

He couldn't help it when his body tilted a bit to face you. Chan still felt unsure and nervous, but his body did not lie to him. If anything happened, he'd welcome it despite the risk of embarrassing himself.

"I'm not sure I'm understanding what you mean," you whispered, leaning even closer.

Within a mere passing second, one of your hands went to his chin, tilting his head towards your own before finally invading the entirety of him. Your eyes were hooded and glued to his lips, a pleased smile still on your own lips.

You pressed a quick peck to his lips before pulling back, causing a pathetic little whimper to leave Chan at the surprise.

"Was it like this?", you asked against his lips pulling away for a mere second before pressing your lips to his own once again, this time for longer.

While the first kiss had barely been there, the second one was anything but shy. This kiss evolved very quickly, with your tongue entering his mouth and tangling with his own. Chan attempted to follow your lead, but was initially very awkward. His teeth clanked against your own, his tongue was too shy and then too excited. You had to silently lead him and teach him the right way to kiss you, eventually resulting in what Chan could very embarrassingly describe as an orgasmic kiss.

He whimpered when you finally pulled away, lips pathetically chasing your own up until you nibbled at his lower lip with a hum.

"Or like this?", you went to ask a light-headed Chan.

"H-huh?"

"Ever kissed someone like that?", you giggled.

"Oh, uh, n-no, I just- no," he stammered his way to his answer.

"Well, glad to be your first," you winked, finally sitting back down next to him.

"Are you- uh, I mean, was it good?", he found himself asking.

You giggled again, unnerving him once more.

"Yes, Channie, it was really good. Don't worry, I'll let you know if there's anything you need to work on."

This made him nervous, but it was preferable, right? Even though he hoped he'd somehow be a natural at blowing your mind, he was glad you'd be the person leading him. The fear of causing disappointment or embarrassing himself diminished tenfold at knowing it was you who'd be with him through this process.

However, his undying crush on you remained in the back of his mind (and sometimes the middle, front, and, well, everywhere in his mind). Chan knew this would become a problem the very second you touched him. Hell, it was already a problem after just one kiss. His mind was already going in circles, attempting to create scenarios in which those kisses were a regular occurrence between you.

"When do you want to start?", you interrupted his thoughts.

The slight chub forming in his pants was begging him to tell you that it was imminent you started now. However, he wanted to at least not smell like frat house when he was finally deflowered.

"W-when, uhm, when do you want to do it?", he mentally face-palmed. He could not be smooth about this even with a gun to his head.

Once more, you chuckled at him. You appeared to greatly enjoy his awkwardness around the topic.

"How about Sunday? I be completely prepared for you. To make your first time special and all, you know?"

Chan did not want to begin imagining what you meant by that. His mind was already scrambled over the results of tonight's events.

All he could do was numbly nod in agreement at you.

"You know, I think this is gonna be very fun," you hummed with a giggle, pinching at his cheek teasingly.

You got up from the couch after that, too nonchalant for the life-changing kiss that had just happened all while Chan continued to process it. That kiss was only the beginning, he realized. On Sunday he'd get to see your naked body, feel it up, have your breasts pressed up against his chest, your wetness will land on his lap, your cunt will wrap around his-

" —Channie?" you called out from the kitchen, head peeking out the doorframe just moments later.

Chan shook his head to rid himself of any of the unseemly thoughts he'd just been having before asking you to repeat yourself.

"I asked if you're staying the night. I'll make you some hot chocolate before we go to sleep," you asked, though it clearly wasn't a question. You had already deciding he was staying, not that he was complaining.

"You know, all that sugar before sleeping can't be good for you," he tsk'd, following you to the kitchen.

"Shut up. You're not my nutritionist, you dweeb."

"This is why you never fall asleep before 3AM."

Despite his chastising, he aided you in the making of the drinks, grabbing the whipped cream from the fridge after you'd boiled the milk and poured the liquid into the matching cups he'd gotten for you last christmas.

"You expect me to take health advice from the guy who showed up tipsy at my dorm room at 2:45 in the morning? Just come to bed," then you walked off, drinks in hand as you settled them on each bedside table and made yourself comfortable.

Ah, right. Sharing a bed.

Chan had momentarily forgotten that you were in a point in your friendship where sharing a bed was as normal as breathing. It had been a while since you'd been able to have a sleepover, but Chan felt particularly awkward about this instance in specific.

You see, before tonight, any sleepover was had with nothing but platonic thoughts in mind (at least for the most part). Now, Chan had to sleep next to you while knowing you were likely thinking about how you'd rob him of his innocence just a few days later.

And him? He'd be thinking about how well you fit in his arms. How well other parts of you would fit with his own.

Within minutes, Chan found himself clad in some pjs he'd left over at your place after the endless times he'd crashed with you. Meanwhile, you were already in bed, whining at him from your place under the sheets for him to move his ass and cuddle with you.

Yeah, Chan was basically a dead man walking.

Regardless, he couldn't leave you waiting for too long. He never could.

"Chan! Hurry, I wanna go to sleep!", you exaggerated your whining a bit for the effect, he could tell.

"God, just say you're in love with me already," he whined back as he made his way to your bed and joined you under the sheets.

"Stop projecting."

Those were your last sleepy words before nuzzling your way to his side, falling asleep almost immediately while Chan sat awake with your head on his chest. One of his hands absentmindedly toyed with your hair as you slept, with his mind completely filled with contemplations about tonight's events.

Chan knew it had been an idiotic, spur of the moment decision to show up to your dorm room tonight. He was well aware of the regrets he'd have if he actually went through with it, knowing there'd be no way for him to feel platonically about your relationship after the fact. Hell, any platonic feelings he had about you were already dying day by day, and that was just due to your mere existence!

Sadly, Chan's desire for you ran deeper than his ability to think critically.

Jeonghan had been right, after all. Maybe this was the way to go. It'd be shooting two birds with one stone, like he'd said. After this, he would maybe finally find the confidence to find another girl, get over you (despite how unlikely he found that to be), and not have to worry about getting rejected for being a loser virgin, as he liked to call himself.

All Chan needed to do now was enjoy your embrace and mentally (and physically) prepare himself for you this coming Sunday. In just a few days, you'd be changing his life.

The following morning was not much for the books. You had an early shift at the supermarket you worked at near school, so you left pretty quickly despite it being a Saturday.

Meanwhile, Chan stayed in bed for a while longer, mind still fuzzy from last night. When you'd given him a kiss on the cheek as you usually did when bidding him goodbye, he began malfunctioning at the memory of the steamier kiss shared between you the night prior.

He only allowed himself a short time to go over last night's events in his head again before finally deciding to leave your dorm room. As a frequent visitor, he had a pair of keys which he used to lock the door behind him, taking his dirty clothes from last night with him and heading over to his own dorm.

Sadly for him, he had the misfortune of sharing a room with a nosy Kim Mingyu, who began berating him about his whereabouts last night after storming out. Along with him were Vernon and Jeonghan, who he recalled being annoyed at last night in specific, though he didn't remember exactly why.

It was extremely uncommon for Chan and Mingyu's dorm room to be empty of at least one other member of their friend group, but out of all times in which Chan wished he could be alone, today was the biggest instance. Except that even alone, Chan knew he'd have to deal with their teasing at one point or the other.

What was even worse, however, was his stupid decision to confide in them with what had gone down last night. They were his friends, after all.

Their reactions were exactly as expected, going from shock to laughter to mockery and eventually landing on a weird demonstration of understanding.

"Well, I guess this was the best course of action, all things considered," hummed Vernon as he rummaged through the mini-fridge Mingyu had gotten a few weeks prior.

"Dude, you're an idiot. Good job," Jeonghan snickered at him, offering up a high-five Chan vehemently denied. Mingyu responded to it in his name.

"C'mon, man. You should be happy! Isn't this what you wanted? You'll finally rid yourself of your virginity and bag your crush. What could possibly go wrong?"

Chan couldn't help but glare and at Mingyu in complete silence. Vernon's snort at the interaction was what brought him out of it.

"Dude, how is this a win? She's only sleeping with me out of pity. Plus, it's going to be so fucking embarrassing when I nut in my pants the second she lets me see her boobs!", Chan whined, completely exasperated.

But he didn't stop there.

"And what even happens after this? Am I just going to be stuck in the friendzone? I'd rather not have her at all than have her once and have it go nowhere. I know me, I'll never get over it," he let himself fall back on his bed, groaning at his predicament.

His friends continued to lounge in his room, at some point even turning on a console to play and not really paying much mind to his dramatics, though still providing sufficient feedback for his situation.

"Okay, then call it off," challenged Jeonghan.

Chan sat up to stare at his friend, not surprised to find him on his couch, eating his food, yet still finding entertainment in his misery.

"Well, I- I don't-"

"See! You want this. Just let yourself have something good, Channie. Wouldn't you rather your first time be with the girl of your dreams rather than with some random?"

"Yeah, my first time sucked. I'd pick Y/N over the girl I lost it to. It was so awkward," Vernon physically shuddered, "Also, this is a step in the right direction, if you really think about it."

Chan ignored the allusion to you and Vernon in that context, choosing to retain the very little sanity he had left in him.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think she'd sleep with you just for the fun of it. We're friends too and she just doesn't seem the type. I think she might like you back and is just using this as an excuse," theorized Vernon.

Before Chan could deny his assertion, Mingyu clapped his hands as if he'd discovered something grand, his mouth in an 'O' shape at Vernon's theory.

"Dude, you're so right," Mingyu agreed dumbly, "Wasn't she the one to start the kiss? Dude, she like-likes you."

"Of course she like-likes him. Anyone with eyes can see it," interrupted Jeonghan, "This idiot just needs to play his cards right and he'll be virgin-less and with a girlfriend by Monday morning."

"Easier said than done," grumbled Chan.

"No, it's pretty easy, actually. You're just an idiot," Jeonghan's statement was met with agreement from the other boys in the room, leading Chan to groan again.

"She said she was going to prepare something for me. What ... what does it mean when a girl says that?", he asked with a bit of apprehension in his voice.

Chan felt like he was violating some sort of secret between you by sharing all this with the guys, but he also did not want to make a complete idiot of himself when he finally got a chance with you — putting all context around it aside. So he opted to try and gauge to see if his friends could give him any type of useful advice.

"Oh, god, she's gonna eat you alive," Vernon chuckled, earning a similar reaction from the other two boys.

"What does that mean?", Chan was afraid to ask.

"He means she's going to rock your world," snickered Jeonghan.

Their responses were sort of absentminded by nature, seeing as they had at some point turned all their attention to the old Xbox Wonwoo bad recently handed down to Chan. They were still lucid enough to amplify Chan's anxieties, though.

"Okay, that gives me nothing."

"God, Chan, what they mean is that she wants you and she's going to make this a good experience for you. She's probably dolling herself up for you and getting you fancy flavored condoms or some shit. Stop overthinking it," grumbled Mingyu as he hacked at his controller, not even facing Chan once as he said so.

Chan felt himself falter at Mingyu's comment. He wasn't sure what to do with this information. Were you really making yourself pretty for him? Chan felt that was completely unnecessary, I mean, god, seeing you in your tiny pajamas last night had been more than enough for him to grow a chub unprovoked.

Should he do something too? Was there any prep he needed to do in order to please you? Maybe he should ask his friends to see if-

"Before you think about it, do not do anything stupid in preparation for it. Just let her take care of it. I know it's your first time, but as a guy you should focus on it feeling good for her," Mingyu scolded precautiosly, "She'll know what to do, just do whatever she asks you to."

Chan's mouth closed before it could even open, nodding to both himself and Mingyu in affirmation.

The conversation seemed to lull out there, with his friends still giving occasional feedback but with Chan checking out at some point due to his anxieties for what was to come.

Despite their advice, Chan decided that he'd at least hit some online forums to do some last minute research on how to optimize your pleasure despite his lack of experience. Along with that, he made a quick stop at a Target nearby to stock up on aftershave (despite not growing any facial hair), some cologne you'd once mentioned you liked on him, some condoms (just in case), some of your favorite snacks, a few aftercare products he saw listed on Reddit, and a few other amenities he thought might be useful.

At some point during the day you'd texted him letting him know at what time you'd be expecting him at your place, instructing him that all he needed was an overnight bag and to make sure his stamina would be up to par with your own (a comment he was sure you'd said in jest but had sweat dripping down his neck).

After having packed the stuff he'd bought in his overnight bag, he decided to call it a day and go to sleep to be well-rested for what he was sure would become the best day of his life.

What he felt was a mixture of jitters and dread. One side of him was overly excited to not only lose his virginity but to also finally be able to have you in a way he'd dreamed of for years. However, the other side of him dreaded the possibility of disappointing you and embarrassing himself. That, and knowing that this would be a once in a lifetime experience and that he'd have to live the rest of your friendship thinking of this moment knowing it'd never happen again.

These thoughts invaded his mind for a little while before he had to retort to some sleepy tea and some melatonin to ensure he'd maintain his energy for tomorrow as instructed by you.

Chan had woken up with a mission.

After all the research he'd done online, he might've gone a little overboard with the superstitions behind his preparation, but being overly prepared did no harm, right?

It had all begun with a very meticulous shower, ensuring he was cleaner than he'd been in his entire life. He'd even gone as far as using essential oils with your favorite scents to attain a smell he knew you'd enjoy. That, paired with his cologne had him confident you'd at least be happy with both his appearance and aroma.

He'd even gone as far as preparing himself a smoothie with a healthy mixture of fruits he'd come to learn would aid to his taste. He was slightly iffy about this fact, but decided against asking his friends about it to avoid any further teasing — they'd all been spamming his phone with good luck messages already.

A few hours were killed as he paced back and forth in his room, passing by the mirror every so often to fix his hair in order for it to be as perfect for you as possible. Hell, he'd even stopped by a flower shop to get you some tulips as some sort of token of his appreciation for ... for your pussy? He had no reason for it, it just felt right to get you flowers.

Your meeting was meant to be at seven, which gave Chan the impression that you'd probably spend all night at it ... The thought had him shuddering every hour that passed by as he waited.

When the time finally arrived, Chan felt extremely out of place as he stood outside of your apartment, flowers and overnight bag in hand as he pondered when to knock on your door. It was 6:58PM, was it too early? Should he have arrived a bit after seven? Would you think he was a loser for being so punctual, or for having brought flowers and snacks for you?

Okay, fuck. He needed to chill. You were his best friend. You already knew the most embarrassing things about him and he knew yours, there was really no reason to be this anxious or to feel inadequate in your presence. He needed to just man up and take anything you were prepared to give him.

When he finally ended his internal monologue, it became 7:01PM, which he thought a good enough time to finally knock on your door.

But he was beat to it by you, as per usual, as you suddenly showed up on the other side of the now open door, laughing at him as you always did for some reason. Not that he didn't enjoy it. He had gotten used to most of his friends laughing at him, that was sort of his goal most of the time.

"Are you planning on knocking any time soon?", you berated him in jest.

"How'd you-"

"The peephole, you dumbass," you giggled before pulling him in, seemingly ignoring the nerves radiating off him.

Once inside, Chan was able to take in what you were wearing, or more like what you weren't wearing.

In front of him, you stood with in nothing but a floor-length robe, though it was clear to him your hair and makeup had been done to perfection, with matching nails you hadn't had last time he'd seen you.

Fuck, he was terrified to find out what you were hiding under there.

"Dude, stop that. You're overthinking this," you scolded him, "Here, let's go to my room, gimme your bag."

One of your hands held onto the bag while the other grabbed onto his own as you led him over to your room.

Before he could make any quip or fun comment to alleviate his nerves, his attention was taken up by the brand new decor in your room. It wasn't anything too fancy or breathtaking, but the implication was enough to knock his breath out of his lungs.

Your bed was partially undone, with what Chan knew were your favorite sheets (as you'd berated him about the one time he'd laid on your bed with his shoes on), the lighting was best described as sensual, not too dark but dark enough to provide a lustful vibe, mostly provided by some dimmed fairy lights and a few candles here and there.

"You like? I didn't wanna be too cliche, but I thought you'd appreciate the atmosphere," you laughed when you noticed him mutely eyeing his surroundings.

"Y-yeah, thanks. Honestly, you're kind of making me nervous."

"Shut up, you'll be fine. What'd you bring?", you asked as you rummaged through his bag.

He thought about stopping you, but you were too stubborn for it to work. You were already pulling things out of it, giggling at some of its contents. Chan had to hold back a physical wince when you pulled out the condoms and lube he'd packed just in case.

"Flavored condoms. You're a man of taste, Lee Chan," you giggled, "You didn't need to bring anything, you know. I have everything we need."

You decided to ignore his bag now, instead walking over to him and sitting him at the edge of your bed, taking a seat next to him and turning to face him.

"I know you're nervous, but this really isn't as nerve-wracking as you think. It's usually worse for the girls. All you really have to do is sit there. It'll be fun for you regardless."

"But I want it to be fun for you too," he practically whined.

Chan already knew this would be a good experience for him no matter what. God, seeing you dolled up for him was already eternal spank bank material for him. The kiss a few days ago? He'd jerked one out to that mere bit of contact this same morning when he took a shower. His pleasure had never been something he worried about. It was making this good for you (and hopefully making you fall for him in the process) that he was wracking at his brain for.

"God, Chan. It will be fun for me, are you serious? You're such a people pleaser, there's no way that doesn't translate over to sex. Plus, you're hot. That in itself makes the experience ten times better than usual."

Hot? You wanted to kill him. That much was already obvious to Chan.

"So, when do you wanna start this, Channie?", you asked as if it was nothing.

"What, uh, what exactly are we going to do?"

"Ever watched porn, Chan? You have to get me wet first. We need some foreplay before you can put it in. Maybe we can just start by kissing like last time? God, it sounds so lame when I say it out loud, just get over here," you grumbled by the end, grabbing him by the shoulder to make him face you better.

Despite asking him to come closer, you were the one to take initiative and straddle him as he sat on the bed, leading his hesitant hands to hold onto your covered hips. Chan gulped at this, fingers instinctively squeezing at your hips as you leaned in closer.

"Don't overthink it," were your last mumbled words before closing the gap.

The kiss began soft and shy, almost as if it were your first. It progressed into open mouthed kisses up until the point your tongue introduced wetness to it, encouraging Chan to do the same. Similarly to last time, he was awkward about it at first, but your guidance got him comfortable enough to reciprocate your kiss.

"You're good at this, Channie," you mumbled, not giving him a chance to reply with anything but a moan.

Your hands were exploring him, unlike his own static ones. You played with his hair, toyed with the collar of his shirt, even unbuttoning the first few buttons, caressed at his cheeks and jaw. You had fun mapping him out while he remained stagnant and shy.

"Can I take this off?", you asked gesturing to his shirt, hands already fiddling with the leftover buttons.

All he could do was nod numbly as he stared up at you, gulping when your hands expertly did as you'd said. Your hands proceeded to push it off his shoulders, feeling up the skin of his chest with your cold hands.

"You're so strong, Channie, so pretty," you mumbled almost entranced as you felt the strong muscle on his torso. Your lips didn't leave him for long as you did, constantly reconnecting with his in open-mouthed kisses that were making him dizzy.

"Take off your pants for me, Channie?", you asked in a tone sweeter than Chan had ever heard from you before. Sure, you were probably the nicest out of all his friends, but your tone was slightly winded and soft in a way that made him shudder at the mere sound.

A few moments later, you got up, moving Chan's hands away from your hips (to his misery) and giving him space to get up and quickly remove his pants, sitting back down on his boxers as his hands insisted on pulling you back to his lap. He hissed a bit when he felt your weight back on his hardness.

"Fuck, you're big. Didn't feel like sharing that bit of information with your best friend?"

Chan could only groan at your comment, both in annoyance and hornyness. You were incredibly infuriating to him in all the best ways, specially as you pressed up your weight against his hardness and humped at him once to test the waters. Drawing another grunt from him, you giggled, losing the gap between you again.

The kissing continued for a while, and Chan had no complaints. If this was meant to be a learning experience, then he was learning a lot from you. As time went by, he felt less and less shy about the pants and moans he'd release against your lips as you sucked at his tongue. His hands remained mostly shy, but would at some points reach up to your back to pull you closer and then make their way back down to the meat of your hips.

Things became slightly problematic when you suddenly decided to begin moving your hips.

It was barely-there movement at first, but that only lasted a few moments. It progressed into full-on dry humping when Chan least expected it, catching him off guard at how good it already felt. Pushing him to fully lay down on the bed, you repositioned yourself to fuck yourself against him in a way that had him choking on his own tongue.

"F-fuck, wait," he rasped, hands digging into your hips in a lame attempt to stop you while knowing it was the last thing he wanted.

"Don't like it, Channie?", you asked despite knowing the answer.

"You're gonna make me cum," he grumbled half annoyed, half incredibly horny.

"Isn't that the fun part?"

"I- I want-" to fuck you, he meant to say

But he couldn't bring himself to say it when you were on top of him, shoulder now bare due to the robe sliding down and pretty eyes staring down at him as if he were a meal.

Not that he'd be able to verbalize anything so explicit to you otherwise.

"You want me to fuck you, right? But there's so many other fun things we can do first, angel. The night is young," you giggled, going back to your dry humping, now allowing yourself to moan at the friction along with Chan.

'Angel'?

Did you find him as perfect as he did you? He was an angel? You were a goddess.

That's when he gave himself up to the pleasure. It was a frustrating type of pleasure. His body ached for more, but this in itself already felt so damn good, he didn't have it himself to fight it. He knew the real thing was coming soon.

At some point you became desperate, huffing and puffing above him as you clearly stole all pleasure you could take from him, riding him through your clothes as you pressed yourself up against his hardness. Through the fabric, Chan could feel the warmth of your cunt dragging against him, making his eyes roll back at the thought.

He was aware you were wearing some sort of lingerie under your robe, — he'd caught a few peaks already — but the anticipation to see it was too much that he found his hands coming up to the loose knot located to the center of your waist, nudging it as he asked for silent permission to undo it.

Your frantic movements did not stop, but you still nodded in affirmation, aiding him in throwing off your robe when the tie came loose.

Chan grumbled into his throat at the sight.

Fuck.

He always knew your body to be a dream, but decorating it with a lacy babydoll was completely unnecessary. It felt like a targeted attack at his sanity and a mockery of his self control.

It was baby blue and sheer, which allowed him perfect view of the equally sinful lingerie laying underneath, accentuating every curve and dip of your body that he'd always remained curious about.

"God, you're so fucking mean to me," was all he could say in reaction, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt his balls tighten, an orgasm surely heading his way.

The sight combined with the making out, the extended foreplay, the caresses, and the dry humping left Chan a defeated man. You knew you held victory the moment he walked through that door and now Chan was willingly giving you the orgasm you clearly wanted to pull out of him.

All he could do was whimper pathetically as his orgasm took over, biting his lip in an attempt to quiet himself as he gasped at your continued movements against his stimulated dick, seeking out an orgasm of your own.

"F-fuck, Channie ... So good, so, fuck, so perfect," you cried as you let yourself fall into him when your orgasm finally took over.

With your face buried in his neck, Chan pulled you as close as he could, hips occasionally humping upwards without meaning to.

You remained laying there for a few moments, completely spent at your shared orgasm.

Meanwhile, Chan held you close as he attempted to catch his breath and maybe recuperate some of the sanity he'd just lost at the most intense orgasm he'd ever had — one due to mere dry humping, at that.

"How was that?", you chuckled when you caught your breath, sitting up again.

"You're insane," was his response.

"Just wait til I actually fuck you."

He shuddered, hating how easy it was for you to have an effect on him.

But you seemed to enjoy it, so it wasn't all bad.

"But for now you need to rest a bit," you got up from his lap then despite his complaints, laughing at his grabby hands.

That's when he got a better look at your outfit of choice, making him groan to himself once more.

"Like it, Channie? Got it just for you," you even twirled for him as you said it.

God fucking damnit.

For him? You'd bought lingerie for him?

Chan remembered Vernon's words then. Maybe you did like him back. God, the need to make you feel good just multiplied right that second.

He gulped as he sat up and let one of his hands reach out to you with shyness he wished he could rid himself of. You smiled at him with what felt like adoration, moving closer to him to let him touch you.

Chan was in a trance as he pulled you closer, getting up to match your stature better and letting his hands hesitantly find your waist.

"You're so pretty," he breathed, eyes running up and down your body before staying locked on your own eyes, which were conveniently stuck on his lips.

Taking his chance, he kissed you again, immediately moaning into your mouth at the intensity in which you kissed him. It took no time for you to take control of the kiss, making it as fervent as all others you'd shared and turning yourself around so you could guide yourself to lay on the bed, now pulling him to lay atop you.

Your hands were frenzied as they felt at every inch of him, pulling at his hair and scratching at his muscles in ways he had no idea could turn him on so much. His hardness was already beginning to come back.

Chan pulled away from the kiss to make his way to your neck, internally panicking at doing something wrong but taking the chance anyways. His hands explored you a bit more now, going beneath the baby doll and feeling the nude skin of your stomach while occasionally gracing against the lace of your bra and panties.

"I want you so fucking bad," he found himself breathing out when his kisses reached your chest, mind reeling at what laid beneath the pretty bra you'd worn for him.

"Then take me," you challenged.

Your hands joined his own in ridding yourself of the troublesome lingerie, throwing it out of the way as if it'd offended you and finally giving Chan a peak at what would now become the main character of all his wet dreams.

"Oh, fuck."

"Am I what you imagined, Channie?", you giggled, licking into his open mouth while he aw'd at you.

"Fuck, god, shit," his hands were frenzied as he felt your body under them. Any shyness in him left the moment he received unadulterated access to you.

"Shit, Channie," you gasped when Chan began grinding into you, this time harder due to him being on top and you being now fully nude.

"I, fuck, I want you so fucking bad," he repeated.

Chan's lips followed his hands, exploring every available inch of your body. They went from your neck, licking and sucking at any place that had you whining a little louder. Their next stop were your breasts, where he spent enough time to have you writhing under him, pawing at him to do more. Your stomach was his next victim, though he quickly skipped over it to make way to your thighs, which he opened further as he now knelt at the foot of the bed.

Wet yet desperate kisses were pressed against the skin of your inner thighs, ghosting at the place Chan wanted to claim the most. With your moans of encouragement, Chan braved a few love bites on the ample skin offered by your thighs. His hair somehow became an erogenous zone as you pulled and pulled at it in frustration at his avoidance of your center. The feeling was slightly painful, but Chan still keened at it.

Eventually even Chan grew frustrated of kissing around the place where you needed him most. With a deep breath and furrowed brows, he finally lowered his head to your cunt, hoping his half-assed research on Reddit gave him good enough advice on how to make you feel good.

His tongue licked a stripe at your middle, going from bottom to top and landing on your clit, which he recognized soon enough and began licking intently at. Slightly worried at your lack of reaction, he let himself take a peak above, only to find a sight that had him moaning into you.

Your mouth was open and your eyes tightly shut, with your eyebrows furrowed like his own. Paying close enough attention, Chan realized you'd been releasing silent noises of pleasure, stuck in your throat as he continued to lick and suck at you.

"Cha-channie, fuck," you finally breathed out, hips inadvertently pushing up against his face.

As if it were second nature, his arms went to push you down, holding you onto the bed to allow himself free rein over your pleasure.

At some point Chan's worries went away. He began to freestyle your pleasure, to put it in simple terms. He went off of your reactions, licking or sucking any time you pulled at his hair a little harder or whined a little louder.

The experience ended up being far more enjoyable than Chan had ever imagined. Sure, he knew he'd have enjoyed being on his knees for you, but never had he imagined he'd lose his inhibitions so easily whilst between your legs. His face was practically buried in you, devouring every inch of you whilst his hips took a life of their own as they humped at the bed.

Your noises were making him lightheaded, your whines of his name and your breathless gasps. It was all too much for Chan, he completely lost himself in you to the point in which he completely missed your first orgasm, too focused on his task to process it.

"Channie, f-fuck, I already came, you don't have to- shit. You don't have to keep going," you hiccuped at him, hands pulling him away from your cunt but hips continuing to attempt to get closer.

But he needed to keep going. He was slightly scared that he'd cum in his pants (again) by how consistently he kept humping at the bed, but he needed to draw that second orgasm out of you more than he needed his next breath — which he also needed, as he was basically suffocating between your legs.

Your whines and pleas became higher and even more winded as he continued, enjoying the torturous pleasure he knew you were feeling at that moment. Chan had never felt such ecstasy in his life.

"C-cumming, Channie! Cumming!" you gasped out before beginning to shake under him.

And even then, Chan could not bring himself to stop. He liked and kissed and sucked until you kicked at him to stop, groaning his name between breaths.

"Shit, fine," he grumbled in a chuckle when he finally separated himself from you.

He had no time to be cocky before you pulled him up, somehow managing to get him to lay on the bed and straddling him once more. Maybe you'd caught him off guard or maybe his body was too willing to do anything for you to ever fight you. His hands were able to immediately go to your hips, which was rewarding enough in itself.

"Shit, that was insane," you giggled with wide eyes as you looked down at him. Then you paused, your eyes squinting at him while the ghost of a smile took on your lips, "Wait you have a little something ..."

That's when you kissed him again, not shy at all in licking any leftover slick from his lips and even sucking at any remnants from his tongue. Chan, being only but a man, easily fave in to it, kissing you back as you'd shown him timeless times throughout the past hour.

"Who taught you that?" you asked in amazement as you pulled back.

"Reddit?"

"God, you're such a fucking loser. Why is that hot?", you mumbled the last bit to yourself.

You bit your lip as you watched him under you, likely looking like a complete mess. All his preparations for you had been undone by now. He probably reeked of sweat and his hair was completely fucked up (courtesy of you), yet you looked at him as if you wanted to eat him.

A few seconds later and your hips began moving from their spot on his crotch. You leaned down again, this time kissing at his neck while you ground on him. Chan whimpered pathetically at the stimulation, already too pent up to put up with it.

"I- I can't- I need to, fuck," he swallowed, "Please fuck me."

"God, how can I say no to you when you're so ..." you groaned into his skin, not bothering to complete your sentence.

That's when you got up without a word, aiding Chan in removing his boxers before pulling a condom from your the pile you had on the bedside table and sitting back on him.

Chan both salivated and gulped at the knowledge of what was to come. His hands tightened on your hips when you began eyeing at his dick. Half of him was self conscious while the other half was too turned on to even think.

The girl of his dreams was currently sitting on him, completely naked as she eyed at him like he was meat. There wad a mixture of fear and immense anticipation building in him.

"Such a pretty dick, Channie. I should've known. Everything about you's so pretty."

"T-thank you," he hiccuped when your hand went to lightly trace at his cock, almost as if entranced by it.

He was slightly embarrassed when he cried out when you finally got him into the condom, but what could be done? He was incredibly turned on and would likely continue to embarrass himself the moment you got him inside you.

"Ready, Channie?" you asked from above him, breath slightly scattered just like Chan's.

He nodded snd 'uh-hu'ed at you, hands pressing at a bruising strength into the skin of your hips as you lifted yourself just enough to press his cock against your folds. As the tease Chan knew you to be, you played around with him a bit first, tracing your folds with his tip before circling your clit with him to stimulate yourself even more.

When Chan's whining got too loud, you hushed him by lowering yourself down on him with no warning, slow in your descent and making sure to make noises that'd drive him crazy. Unluckily enough, Chan's own noises battled your own.

This was an unparalleled experience for Chan. His mind was hazy yet he felt more alive than ever. He whined and cried and moaned and whimpered at your heat. You hadn't even moved yet, but Chan's world had already been turned upside down.

"Oh- oh, fuck. That's so- You feel so fucking good," he rasped out. His hips canted forward a bit just as he spoke, causing another whine to leave his lips.

"It's so good, isn't it, Channie? Fuck, so good and perfect for me," you sighed when you began to move.

Taking on an increasingly rapid pace, you still made sure to angle yourself perfectly in order to get him as deep as possible, Your legs were practically in a knelt pancake stretch above him as you took turns bouncing and grinding. Red marks were left on his chest as you raked your nails across it, but Chan was in too much pleasure to register any of the pain; he was on Cloud Nine.

"Didn't think it could, shit, feel this good."

"That's cause it doesn't, baby. This is all you," you whined out.

Chan was entranced by you above him. It was clear you were enjoying yourself. Endless noises left your mouth and ecstasy made a home in your features. Your movements had finesse, but were mostly done in desperation. Chan felt his stomach knot at the knowledge that he was the cause of your pleasure.

"Gonna ruin me for anyone else," you complained in between pants, causing Chan to hump upwards without meaning to. This made you both gasp, eyes rolling back in unison, "F-fuck, Channie. Do that again."

And your commands were impossible to not follow. His hips immediately began canting in sync with your own. With his feet planted on the bed and his hands secured on your waist, Chan fucked into you with a complete lack of finesse and a mind full of depraved desperation.

The only noises leaving the two of you after that consisted of cries of each others' names and grunts. The mixture of skin slapping and disgruntled sounds of pleasure was nasty in nature, but Chan found the sheer need shared between you mind-numbing. This was a physical representation of how much he'd always wanted you, and it was finally taking form.

When Chan felt his orgasm approach, his hips sped up, causing you to hiccup out praises and moans, with a warning for your impending orgasm in between. Your hand went down to your cunt, toying at your clit messily as you continued to ride him.

It became a mess pretty quickly, but Chan didn't care. His mind was too focused on your shared pleasure.

"Gonna cum with me, handsome?", you gasped out between heavy breaths.

"Mhm!", was the most Chan could do at the moment. The pleasure was blinding as it led up to his orgasm. It was impossible to keep control of himself at that moment.

And then it came.

It felt like he was completely blinded, like his senses were overturned while also shutting down completely. Everything felt way more sensitive, especially when he felt you tightening around him for your own orgasm.

His brained tuned out your noises of pleasure and his throat muted any of his own. The feeling was so good that he choked on the loud noises he knew he'd be letting out at this moment. It was like he short-circuited. It all went black for a few moments as the pleasure overtook his entire being.

By the time his senses came back to full function, you were lying on top of him, breathless as you took turns nuzzling against his chest and pressing kisses on the flushed skin. Just before his arms wrapped around you, you disconnected yourself from him to lay beside him, removing any distance between you to cuddle into his side.

"I think you might've ruined me for anyone else," he breathed out finally.

You chuckled.

"Well, good thing I don't want anyone else to have you," you said nonchalantly, unknowing that Chan's heart rate sped up 100x.

"Do you mean-"

"Yes, I like you back, you absolute dumbass," you said in faux annoyance before pressing a kiss to his lips and getting up, mumbling something about needing to clean up before catching an infection. Girl stuff.

Meanwhile, Chan sat back on your bee completely dumbfounded yet more pleased than ever before.

Fuck, maybe he should buy Jeonghan a drink or something.

to read short 1.8k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my svt monthly tier on patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, loser!chan getting bullied by the members and reader all at once (with love ofc!), mentions of sex, mentions of prior overstimulation, sort of dom/sub dynamic, begging, oral (m receiving), etc.

wc: 169 (teaser); 1858 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Dude, you totally owe me money," cackled Jeonghan as soon as he spotted you and Chan walking into the frat house hand in hand.

"What? That was never the bet," Vernon gestured towards you and Chan, who were now settling onto the couch across from them, "The bet was that he wouldn't lose his v card, which it looks like he did – congrats man," he finished off with a high five to Chan.

"I'm talking about the other bet," rebutted Jeonghan, "I told you he'd confess within this week. You said it'd take him til after we graduated."

"Wait, what? We bet on that?"

"You guys had multiple bets based on my love life?", gaped Chan, half annoyed and half confused — he was making that question mark face you loved on him. He looked like a curious puppy when he did it.

You continued to watch amused, eventually joined by Seungkwan as he took a seat to your opposite side and offered you a sip of his fruity drink.

...

find the 18+ continuation on patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

[auroracalisto]

with all the power in oz

movie!fiyero x gn!reader, 2.2k words summary: the reader, rather anxious and studious, finds their self head-over-heels with none other than fiyero, supposed boyfriend to galinda upland. to placate this, they somewhat agree to meet him at the ozdust ballroom. a/n: YOU pronouns are used to address the reader, but there is no usage of y/n. just watched the movie today. tried to find a fic, couldn't. here I am writing one instead. reader worries a lot. so me. you're welcome. also, I'm going into this blind. I have unfortunately never seen the actual musical (downsides to living in the middle of nowhere) so I'm only going off based on wikis and the movie. it should be gn as I read through it like... five different times, but please let me know if I missed something!

Breathtaking. That's what he was. But could you truly refer to a man like him as breathtaking?

The very features that graced his face were absolutely mesmerizing, and you felt like a fool watching him at times. How could you not? He seemed so full of life, so full of... well, not a care in the world, really. It was as if he brushed everything off of his shoulders without hesitation.

You could only wished you were the same way.

No cares, no worries. How lovely that would have been.

No, you hold onto the things that happen to you as if you have no other way to live. You hold grudges, you think over things that happened years ago that no one could possibly remember.

For someone who wished to be a sorcerer, you had a hard time simply letting things go. Your emotions often got the better of you, even when you knew better. Even when you wished it could be the opposite. But perhaps that was the way of the world.

Not a man in Oz could tell you otherwise.

Books in hands, you crossed the path to your dormitory, brows cinched together in mild concentration.

You had a project in your history class, and an extensive paper to complete on the study of mathematics—of all the things you could have had, a paper in mathematics. You'd rather perform magic in front of the entire student body, but you couldn't.

As you walked, you heard your name come from behind you. Eyes flicker back, a soft frown on your lips. You see him—Fiyero. The one fool you meant to avoid with all the gumption within you.

You'd melt just being near him.

"Fiyero," you softly greet.

He gave you a charming smile, coming up to walk with you. "Heading back already?" he asked.

"I am."

"Working on the project, hm? We could work on it together if you'd like. I'm sure our minds could do wonders," he said, a playful wink coming from him.

"I'm fine," you simply said.

He blinked slowly, but his smile never wavered. "Come now," he said, your name leaving his lips rather sweetly. "Surely you're not going to spend the rest of your evening alone. Why don't you come to Ozdust tonight?"

You looked back at him, frowning. "Ozdust. Me. I don't think so, Fiyero."

"And why not? I'm sure you'd be as dashing as ever."

You stopped in your steps, eyes searching his for but a moment. "Dashing. Are you in earnest, Fiyero?"

"Yes," he said, smiling.

"And what of Galinda? You'll be with her. Why invite me?"

"She doesn't need to know. It's not her business," he said. "Besides, she will be busy with Elphaba. I'd much rather spend time with you."

"And I think you're just pulling my leg," you said defensively. You crossed your arms over your chest, careful to keep your books close.

"Pulling your leg? I haven't even touched you," he said, a cheeky grin on his lips. "Come now, don't play coy. You should come."

"And if I do?"

"Then I'll be quite happy."

You rolled your eyes and went to walk away.

A hand wrapped around your bicep, and you paused, glancing over your shoulder at him.

His eyes widened a bit and he dropped his hand, albeit hesitantly. Perhaps he didn't think he would actually reach out to you. He cleared his throat.

"I really would like you to be there. You'll have the time of your life."

"The time of my life," you repeated. "I don't think you realize how much I dread parties."

"Have you ever been to one?"

"No."

"Then how do you know you dread them?"

"I just know," you said. "I feel it in my bones. I know going will just get on my nerves."

He scoffed, placing his hands on his hips. "I think you're foolish for that," he said. "Come on. What are you losing? A couple hours to work on a project that you know you could finish in a morning session? You'll be fine. Come to the Ozdust tonight. I'll show you a good time."

You clenched your jaw. "I don't want—"

"—I would like you to be there. That is all. I won't ask again." He gave you another small smile before he looked away. "I'll see you around. Perhaps tonight?"

You stared him down. He would like to see you there? Was he being honest? And what of Galinda? Would he be going behind her back? Wasn't he madly in love with her, or something? Or was it the other way around?

He said your name once more, and you looked up at him, letting out a soft sigh.

"Right. Perhaps tonight," you softly said.

The smile on his lips was rather... hopeful than anything else. There wasn't anything smarmy by it. He seemed as genuine as the glint in his eye—the one he used when he spoke with anyone he trusted. At least, you hoped so.

The night came quickly as you finished up your outfit—one you would hope you didn't look completely foolish in. The color you chose seemed to fit well with almost anything, but you still worried. You always worried about something.

Time was of the essence. You weren't even supposed to leave Shiz University's campus, but here you were, sneaking like some scoundrel.

Well, perhaps you were, listening to the requests of a man who already had a girlfriend—a fantastically beautiful one at that.

But you paid no mind. You did what you could, and soon, you found yourself walking down the steps of the Ozdust Ballroom.

Never had you been in a place like this. It was almost... breathtaking, had it not been for the overpowering smells of perfume and some kind of drink wafting from the bar. Your eyes flitted from patron to patron until you finally spotted him—Fiyero.

He looked just as handsome as ever.

Good Oz, what in the world were you doing? This was foolish.

You took a step back, staring at Fiyero for a moment as he spoke with another man, drink in hand. You needed to leave. This was ridiculous. You were ridiculous! Never in a thousand years would you ever imagine yourself to do such a thing—

"You made it!"

Fiyero's voice rang out above the music.

You look to him, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Because of course he saw you as soon as you had decided to leave.

Fiyero smiled and made his way to you, taking your hands in his, drink left with the confused man behind him. Surely he didn't just up and leave in the middle of his conversation.

You part your lips and go to speak, but to your dismay, Fiyero is instant.

"I was afraid you had changed your mind," he said. "You look ravishing, darling."

Your eyes widened. Ravishing? You'd been called many things in your life, but never ravishing.

"Galinda couldn't make it?" you asked.

"Wha—no, she couldn't. But what of it? I didn't ask her to the Ozdust, I asked you. I'm glad to see your face."

Warmth blossomed in your cheeks as you watched him. "Fiyero, please... I shouldn't be here."

"Oh, nonsense," he said, grinning all the while. "Come. Dance with me."

"But I don't—"

"—do not say you don't dance. I can teach you."

"Teach me?"

"It's as easy as breathing," he said.

"For you, maybe, but not for—"

"—humor me," he said, smiling.

You pursed your lips. Of course he had to give you that charming smile and the sweet bat of his eyelashes.

"I do not dance," you repeated.

"I think I will be the judge of that."

He grabbed your hands once more and pulled you out into the ballroom floor, smiling all the while.

"You'll be a natural. I can just see it."

"I feel like if I were a natural, you wouldn't have to teach me," you said, gasping as he pulled you close to his chest. His face was dangerously close to yours, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips.

"You know," he began, eyes flickering back to your eyes. "We all start somewhere, do we not? You should know that better than anyone."

"What? What does that—"

He interrupted you by spinning you by your arm, back into his embrace. The music was rather ambient, not quite one for dancing so enthusiastically, but Fiyero embraced it. Hand to your hand, face close to your face.

"See? A natural."

"You merely spun me around, Fiyero. Do not be foolish."

"You could have fell flat on your face," he said, a boyish grin evident on his lips.

"Stop looking at me like that," you defiantly said. "You are far too close to me for my liking."

"Oh, feisty, are we?" he asked, moving his body along to the music and forcing you to go along, too. You nearly stepped on his toes several times. "I do not think there is anything wrong with the way I'm looking at you. You're rather breathtaking, if I may."

Breathtaking. The same way you had described him only hours before. He wasn't a mind reader, was he?

No.

Of course not. That was foolish. He was merely a man. Nothing of great importance—no power within him other than the power he held in every single eyelash as they batted down at you, making you melt over and over again.

"What of Galinda?" you repeated.

"What of her?"

"You shouldn't be calling someone who isn't yours breathtaking. It's quite..."

"There is nothing wrong with admiring the beauty in front of me," he said, your name playfully leaving his tongue. "Look at me. Galinda and I are only friends."

You rolled your eyes. "Do not lie to me."

His eyes widened a bit. "Lie? I do not lie. We are friends and nothing more. Though I do believe she thinks differently..."

"She must," you said, huffing softly.

"But that does not make it true. I have eyes for someone else."

"Eyes for someone else?"

He tilted his head once more. He was rather endearing when he did that.

"Who did I ask to their very first party?" he asked, smiling. "It's quite a feat, isn't it? Afraid you wouldn't show, and then you do, questioning me and everything I stand for, hm?"

Warmth found its way to your cheeks once more. You looked away from him. With the crescendo of the music, Fiyero pulled you closer, fingers lacing with yours. His lips hover dangerously close to yours.

"You know, if you would just give it a chance, perhaps you and I could make some magic of our own."

You let out a curt laugh. "You—oh, good Oz, I hope you never use that line on anyone! Has that worked for you before?"

He gave a cheeky smile. "It seems like it's working on you."

"Absolutely not!"

"Not even a little!"

"No!"

His smile only seemed to grow. "Truly?"

You looked away, swallowing thickly. "I mean... no. Not even a little. Not at all."

"You're lying," he said.

"I am not."

"I do think I know what I'm talking about," he said, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to the soft skin of your cheek. "Come now," he said. "Stop with the lies."

You looked up at him, a soft huff escaping you.

"Fine. I lied. It may or may not be working. But it's not just because of what you said."

"Oh? Are you saying you like me for more than my suave words?"

"Suave words? Who in Oz said they were suave?"

He just smiled, his eyes flickering to your lips once more. "Do you think instead of just a dance, I could try something more?"

"Try what?"

"I think you know."

You blinked slowly at him, your fingers gently gripping onto his tunic. Your lips part in mild surprise, but you realize that you shouldn't have been. He'd been eyeing you the entire evening.

"Very well," you softly said.

"Wonderful," he replied, and in a swift motion, he pressed his lips to yours. It was short as he pulled back almost as soon as he had kissed you, but it was enough to keep you wanting more.

"Fiyero, that wasn't—"

"—come with me," he softly said, lacing his fingers with yours once more. "Somewhere without so many prying eyes, yes?"

Your answer was almost instant: "Yes."

Fiyero led you back up the staircase, and he didn't look back once at the ballroom.

"Where are we going?" you asked.

"Somewhere where I can see you and only you," he said. "If that's alright."

"Oh," you softly said. "Yes. That's alright."

"Then follow me," he said. "Do you trust me?"

You smiled sincerely for one of the first times in the evening. Did you trust him? What kind of foolish question was that? If you had the chance, you'd do whatever he'd ask of you. You found your answer rather quickly, knowing within yourself that it was far truer than any other statement you had ever uttered.

"With all the power in Oz."

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Matchmaker Merle

Warnings: slight drug use, mentions of Lori, Daryl is a virgin, Shane being Shane, No use of Y/N, unprotected sex

Summary: Merle tries to get Daryl laid with an old family friend. Apparently, Merle is a master matchmaker? Buildup to smut. 

Notes: Sorry for having the buildup so slow, I'm really bad at porn without at least a LITTLE plot lmao

You were allowed a little leeway your first day at camp. Glenn had found you, confused and lost, covered in dirt and blood after the bombs had gone off and separated you from your friends and family. You were on the highway, like everyone else, but as soon as they saw the city being lit up, all hell broke loose. They started acting like animals. Running and screaming, looting. The dead coming back to life didn't help much either. 

On your second day, you were expected to start pitching in. You didn't mind helping, it was the way Shane approached you that rubbed you the wrong way. You offered to help hunt, fish, and go out looking for supplies, but he just laughed at you. He laughed like you were a child asking for a gun. He handed you a brush and sat you down beside Carol, who was washing clothes at the bottom of the quarry. 

You found comfort in familiarity. Which came in the form of something extremely unexpected, Merle Dixon. Maybe it was because you'd seen each other a few times at the corner store back near where you lived, maybe it was the fact he had respect for your folks, but when you were taken back to camp he didn't treat you the way he treated the other women. 

He wasn't respectful or chivalrous by any means, but he didn't treat you like a piece of meat. He didn't constantly try to get in your pants or speak to you in that slimy demeaning way he had with Andrea or Amy. You were grateful for it, even if you did catch him staring at your ass more than once, because he was the one thing that made you feel a little more at home with the group.

You'd never met his brother before. You'd seen him once, at the small mechanic shop near the corner store you'd occasionally see Merle in. Rednecks were anything but rare where you grew up, but something about Daryl felt different. He was quieter, more of Merle's shadow than his own person. But you knew just by looking at him that he was anything but somebody's shadow.

He saw you on your second day, after you'd done your morning “chores” and went to sit next to the campfire. He was carving something, maybe a bolt for his crossbow, and he barely looked up when you sat down across from him. 

Daryl looked up again, a spark of recognition in his eyes. His voice, strong and firm, called your name as if it was a question. 

“Yes?” You could see the exact moment the realization clicked that he did in fact remember you.

He didn't know much about you at all. He knew Merle knew your folks, and you lived pretty close, but he'd never actually spoken to you before. 

He did like to watch you, though, you'd always go into the corner store next to the mechanic shop and buy a coke and a bag of chips at lunch. He thought you were the prettiest woman he'd ever seen. Merle had a different set of words he'd prefer to use for you, but Daryl thought they felt too nasty. You weren't white trash, you were pretty, out of place, and the words ‘hot piece of ass' just didn't fit you. 

“Shit. Didn't think it was you when they said your name yesterday.” His fingers absentmindedly rubbed the length of his stick, looking over you a few times as he tongued the inside of his cheek in thought. “Huh. You seen Merle yet?” 

“Yeah, I got here yesterday morning.” You answered, the day before Daryl had been gone most of the day hunting. By the time he got back you were already in your new tent, something that Glenn had made sure to pick up when he brought you back to his group. 

“What happened? Your folks alright?” He asked, knowing it was strange for you to be here without your family and friends. 

“I have no idea. Don't remember much. We were real close to the city when the bombs went off, all I remember is fire and screaming and I woke up in the back of a gas station.” 

He nodded again, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he listened. 

Daryl wanted to stay with you, talk for a while, having a familiar face made him feel like less of an outsider. But from the corner of his eye he saw Shane with his hands on his hips in that stupid pose he liked to do when he was about to give someone  attitude. Daryl looked back to you and gathered his crossbow and bolts, muttering a quick excuse about needing to go hunt and that he'd see you around. He couldn't stand Shane, he'd only known him for a few weeks, give or take, and he was doing everything he could to avoid the wife fucker. 

Shane gave you a talking to that evening, warning you about the “backwoods rednecks”, even though you knew it wasn't out of the kindness of his heart. It was just another way to control the people in his camp, something he got off on doing. He didn't trust either of the Dixon brothers, that was for certain, but going out of his way to ‘warn’ you? It took everything in you to just nod and say okay. 

“When you gonna tap that, baby brother?” Merle's voice and the way he said it made Daryl cringe. He needed to do a better job about not staring at you so blatantly. 

“Not my type.” Daryl lied through his teeth, picking another strip of stringy squirrel meat from the stick he'd used to roast it over the fire. 

The Dixon brothers usually had a smaller, separate fire away from the main groups. It was mostly Merle's idea, he'd tell Daryl ‘they're not like us, keep your distance, we're just redneck trash to them.’. Not that Daryl gave a shit. He mostly thought the same anyways. 

You were at the group fire, sitting beside Andrea and Amy, who were busy chattering about how they wished they could catch some fish instead of surviving off tree rats and canned peas. You didn't mind it, even though you preferred larger game, meat was meat. You ate your squirrel like it was a gourmet dinner, something Daryl took note of.

“Not your type? Hah! That's bullshit and we both know it. She's everybody's type, boy, you better get on that before someone else does.”

Daryl wasn't sure who Merle was referring to. Glenn could barely speak to women, T-Dog was far too respectful, Shane was so far up Lori’s ass he had shit in his ears. (That's so gross I'm so sorry) 

The sound of harsh sniffing had Daryl looking away from you and back to his brother. He wiped the white residue from his nose and offered Daryl his large knife, containing another line. 

“Nah. I'm good.” Daryl waved him off, not feeling like being on uppers around all these people. Made his temper even shorter than it already was. “Careful with that shit, if Shane sees-”

“He ain't gonna do shit about it. I'd like to see him say somethin’.” The fact Merle was always looking for an excuse to butt heads had Daryl on edge. “Take it, and go take her off in the woods before I do.” 

It never took too much demanding from Merle before Daryl would give in. It was a fatal flaw in his character. He looked up to him and whatever he said went, even when he didn't really want to. So he took the coke and worked up the nerves to talk to you. 

You'd just finished washing everyone's stupid dirty dishes and went into the woods to piss when you saw Daryl again. You gasped as you walked around the tree you'd used for cover and saw him walking through the treeline, worried he'd seen you. But he was too focused on his steps, and that put you at ease. 

You walked up the half-assed trail to meet him, not feeling like chatting next to your pee puddle. 

“Hey, you going hunting?” You asked, slipping your hands in your shorts pockets. 

He shook his head as he reached you, snatching a stray stick out of his hair. “Goin’ down to some of the old shops down the road. Tired of all these canned peas. You comin’?”

You eagerly nodded, happy to be away from the group. They were nice enough, but since you normally hung around Merle, they treated you as someone they didn't fully trust. Especially Lori, Shane and Dale. The amount of times you caught Lori staring daggers into you every time you were within ten feet of Carl was starting to drive you insane. 

“Been wanting to get out and do something for days. Can't fucking stand Shane's micromanaging.” You said as you walked, wishing you would've known you'd be going on an impromptu supply run. You only had your knife, you'd prefer to have your Ruger your father had given you. It was in the RV, where Shane had taken it to ‘clean’. You were more than suspicious that he just didn't want you carrying a gun around camp. 

Daryl snorted. “Yeah. Can't stand that asshole. What kinda man-” He stopped himself, shaking his head. 

“What?” You looked over at him, careful not to trip on the multiple storm blown  branches from the larger trees. 

“Nothin’. Just don't like ‘em.” 

You were silent for a few minutes as you thought of something to say. You know, in apocalypse type situations, you mainly think about securing your next meal, how to not get killed in your sleep, how to protect your friends and family. But here you were, trying to think of what to say to a man you were steadily growing attracted to. You always thought he was cute before this, but seeing how capable he was, how he was so sure of himself, it was a side to him you didn't expect. It was like he was one of those people always secretly hoping for an excuse to go live in the woods and live in anarchy. 

“How attached are you to this group?” He asked, catching you off guard. 

“Not at all. Can't stand most of them. Why?” 

“Just thinkin’ about leavin’. Don't belong here with these people. Lori screamed at a damn snake the other day and got the kids all riled up.” He had a visible look of distaste on his face. Of all things to scream your head off at in an apocalypse, wildlife wasn't on your list. 

“Are you asking me to come?” You asked, unsuccessfully attempting to hide your excitement. The idea of splitting off with the Dixon brothers seemed your best bet, even if Merle was, well, Merle. You knew you were probably one of the only women on earth that didn't have to worry about him constantly trying to get in your pants. What you didn't know though, was that he was trying his damnedest to get his little brother laid, even if you were the daughter of a family friend. 

“Yeah. You don't belong here either.” You didn't know if it was true or not, but it felt true to you. 

“Sure. As long as I'm not gonna be a burden, or anything.” You knew you'd need to rely on the two of them for protection and some food, at least until you got used to your new life. You adapted fairly quickly. 

“Wouldn't’ve asked if you were.” 

“Alright, well, if you make up your mind, let me know.”

You arrived at the first store, a small gas station much like the one the two of you used to frequent back then. It was fairly untouched, but you knew it wouldn't be that way for long. 

You broke into a bag of jerky, thankful it was Daryl with you and not anyone else. If someone gave you a speech on taking care of the group before yourself you might just take off on your own without Daryl. 

He scored a bunch of chips, some cup noodles, and a 6 pack of beer for Merle. 

Instead of going back like you'd originally planned, you talked each other into going further off down the road to an old Dollar General. You stored your stash in a hollowed out log next to the road so you wouldn't need to carry it the entire time and carried on. 

“This was a great idea.” Your tongue was stained red from sour patch kids, you went through five bags and gave Daryl the greens and yellows. 

Daryl licked the sour crystals from his fingertips and grunted in agreement, tossing the empty bag over his shoulder off the roof that the two of you had gone up to to indulge in your spoils. 

You laid on your back and sighed, surrounded by empty snack bags and wrappers. “Fuck. I needed this.” Neither of you cringed at your corny comment, because although a cliche, you really, really did need this. 

Daryl hadn't eaten much besides the gummies, thanks to being pressured into taking the coke by Merle. He cursed himself for it, wishing he had the nerve to just say no and stick with it. 

He glanced over at you, your body orange in the light of the setting sun. You still wore those cute short Bobbie Brooks shorts he'd always seen you wearing around town. His eyes drifted to your legs and he let out a soft exhale, wishing he was as silver tongued as he thought his brother was. Even if the ladies rarely appreciated Merle's filthy flirting, he had to admit his one liners were pretty impressive sometimes. 

You opened your eyes and used your hand as a shield from the sun to look at him. You'd barely caught him staring at your legs, and felt a smile tug at your lips. 

“You wanna fool around?” You half joked, prepared to laugh if he turned you down. But the look on his face told you he really, really didn't want to turn you down. 

He froze for a moment, his eyes looking anywhere but you, his heart hammering against his chest. His thoughts ran frantic, from Merle telling him to have sex with you, and to you, who he was terrified to have sex with. He was suddenly very grateful for the coke he'd taken, and it clicked in his mind why Merle had been so insistent on him taking it. He knew he wouldn't last three minutes without it. 

“You serious?” He asked, his brows knitted tightly together from the sun and in concentration as he read your face. 

“Yeah, why not?” You shrugged, sitting upright so you didn't have to keep squinting up at him. You looked cool on the outside, but on the inside you were barely holding it together. You'd never thought of Daryl this way before, given you'd only seen him once before all this, but now that you were, it felt like you were about to potentially have sex with the hottest man on earth. 

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” 

Awkward was an understatement. Daryl didn't know what to do with his hands. His dick had been hard off and on the whole trip with you, despite the coke. He didn't know what would feel good to you, something he found himself oddly concerned with. His only experience with women was watching them getting fucked in porn, so he tried it that way. 

Your eyes widened in surprise when he quickly turned and leaned over you, his hands slipping up your shirt. He choked out a gasp, looking down at the outline of his hands as he squeezed your tits. You were caught off guard by his sudden boldness, and the way he was roughly groping your chest wasn't helping. You grimaced, about to tell him to ease up, but he caught your mouth in an unexpected kiss before you could speak. 

You were way too horny to care about how messy his kissing was. Truthfully, it was pretty hot, filled with so much desire and lust that it didn't matter he was inexperienced. The fact he was this eager just because of you had you moaning into his mouth. 

He took that as a sign he was doing something right and rolled your nipples between his fingers, doing what felt right. He pinched them, making you gasp against his lips, and he couldn't hide the crooked grin from his face. He pulled back just long enough to start unbuttoning your shirt. 

You took over for him, not wanting him to get impatient and rip off one of your only good shirts. When his eyes landed on your chest he whimpered, he fucking whimpered! You groaned at the sound and pulled him back against you by his shoulders, sinking your head into the crook of his neck to kiss the skin there. 

He hadn't expected you to do anything to him. In the videos he watched, most of the time the dude just rips her clothes off and fucks her in different positions for half an hour while she screams and moans like she's hurt. He hated that sound, the over exaggerated noises, he much preferred the noises you made. 

You laid down on your back, grateful the sun had sunk below the tips of the trees so it wasn't so bright anymore. He was on you in a second, now kissing your neck, eager to give you the same pleasure you were making him feel. The moan that rumbled in your chest made his heart jump, knowing he was doing something right. 

“God, s’so good.” You exhaled lazily, your eyes closing as he used his knee to kick your thighs apart for his waist. He quickly ground against you, a stifled groan stuck in his throat at the feeling of friction. 

“Take ‘em off.” He demanded, tugging impatiently at your shorts before he went to unbuckle his belt. You happily obliged, unbuttoning your shorts and dragging them down your thighs. 

When Daryl saw your lacy red panties he shivered. At camp, most of the underwear he saw hanging up were more… practical? The women had quickly changed their lace panties and thongs for boy shorts, but here you were, the skin around your hips indented obscenely from the way they hugged you like magic. 

“Fuck.” He exhaled deeply, his forehead resting against yours as he looked down at your body under his. He was really, really glad Merle gave him coke. Just the sight of you mostly naked under him had his cock throbbing painfully.

He finished with his pants, only pulling them down enough to drag his leaking dick out, his jaw dropping when he saw you shimmying out of your panties. His head spun, his mouth watered, and before he could even think he was scooting down to plant his face between your legs. 

You gasped, your head falling back against the rough flooring of the roof. He was so eager., so heartbreakingly eager to please you, it had your pussy so wet it was almost unbearable. His hot tongue was sloppy, inaccurate, it couldn't decide where it wanted to be. He'd be licking broad stripes one second, and the next he was swirling it around your clit. You were beginning to think maybe he wasn't as inexperienced as you believed. 

Daryl learned all he knew about sex from porn. If there was one thing he was fascinated about, it was giving head. One of the first things he always wanted to do was eat out a woman. He never thought it would be someone as hot as you. 

He tried everything he knew that made the women in videos moan, and to his surprise, you moaned the most when he kept it simple and just sucked your clit. So he did that, hollowing out his cheeks and sucking it into his mouth to roll his tongue around. 

You were in shambles. You tried desperately to pull at his hair, but it was too short to grab so you settled on sinking your nails into his scalp as you rolled your hips against his face and tried not to be so loud. 

Your jaw dropped and your eyes squeezed shut when he dug his tongue into the side of your clit, dragging your orgasm out so unexpectedly that you gasped. 

“Fuck, oh, oh god!” You sputtered, your thighs squeezing his head to hold him there as you came, your back arching and your toes curling so hard your foot almost cramped up. 

Daryl slipped his hand under him and grabbed his cock, stroking it as he felt your body tremble and jerk under him. He was sure this was a dream, he'd wake up any second in his tent with Merle snoring beside him and you all the way across camp. He squeezed his dick, milking the precum from his tip as your thighs finally relaxed. 

“My god. You're really good at that.” You panted, your eyes blurry as you watched him slide up your body and take its place on top of you. 

He grinned, knowing you were unintentionally starting to give him an ego. “Yeah?” He racked his brain for dirty talk, but since it was fried from making you cum, all he could come up with was “I got somethin’ I'm even better at.” Complete lie. 

You, on the other hand, had no idea he was a virgin, and grinned widely at the implications, shifting your body up till you felt his heavy cock graze against your inner thigh. The feeling alone sent a bolt through your body, and your chest heaved with deep excited breaths. 

He leaned up and grabbed your shoulder, signaling for you to turn over. You didn't question it and rolled over, propping yourself on your hands and knees. 

The sight of you from behind had him falling apart. He let out a quiet whimper and bit his bottom lip before grabbing his cock and scooting forward to push it against you. 

“Jesus, so fuckin wet.” He breathed, his heart beating so loud he could hear the blood in his ears. He slid his dick between your folds, going through all the steps in his head that he'd seen countless times. He even slapped it against your pussy a few times, missing the amused expression on your face, and pushed himself into you. 

What Daryl  didn't learn from porn was that usually, you go in slow when someone hasn't had sex recently. So when he just pushed his dick inside you with no hesitation you cried out, the burn from the unprepared stretching making you jolt forward. He grabbed your hips to bring you back against him, his jaw going slack as he felt your hot wet walls squeezing the life out of him. 

“Fuck!” You spat, the burning and stabbing pain almost enough to turn you off completely. “You gotta be slower than that, Daryl.” 

He was too deep to process what you said. He finally let out the breath he'd been holding with a deep, guttural groan, still frozen inside you. “Sah-Sorry.” He sputtered, his hands squeezing your hips so hard you knew for a fact there'd be ten little light purple bruises there tomorrow. 

Before you could say or do anything else he started moving, setting the pace quickly, snapping his hips against your ass so roughly your hands almost slipped out from under you. The uncomfortable stretch quickly faded into a deep, primal pleasure, and soon you were letting out short moans with every thrust of his hips. 

You barely got used to the feeling before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked it back, drawing a cry from your throat. You weren't expecting this from Daryl, he was so confident, so rough, it confused you but drove you absolutely wild at the same time. 

His other hand kept its tight grip on your hip, pulling you back to meet each of his demanding thrusts, making sure his dick went as deep as possible each time. The way you were moaning and gasping fueled him to fuck you rougher, wanting to hear every sound that you were possible of making. 

“Dirty little whore.” He grunted, his jaw aching from how hard he'd been clenching his teeth. 

His words earned a strangled whimper from you, making his lips curl up in a cocky grin. 

He fucked you for a while like that, hips pounding against your ass so hard that the noises of your skin slapping was making your cheeks burn in embarrassed arousal. So much for keeping it quiet. 

“Hey-” The words were hard to get out from his aggressive thrusts, especially now that he was hunched over your body so he could squeeze your breasts. “I- wanna turn over.” 

He raised his chest from your back and took the opportunity to catch his breath while you shifted under him to roll over on your back. The look on your face made him shudder with a quiet gasp. Your face was tinted a light red, blissed out, your pupils blown and hair all messed up around your face. He was back on you immediately, kissing you hungrily as he slipped his cock back inside you, much easier this time. 

“Y’feel so fuckin’ good.” He breathed against your lips, wet from his sloppy kisses, and he kissed down your jaw to your neck. His accent was much thicker when he was inside you, barely pronouncing any words fully anymore. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist, angling your hips up so he could drive his cock deeper into you. The new feeling made him moan pathetically into your neck, and he had to stifle the noises he didn't like with a bite to the skin where your neck met shoulder. 

The pressure of his teeth had your eyes rolling back in your head. There was so much stimulation, his dick driving relentlessly into your throbbing pussy, his fingers pinching your nipple and the other hand in your hair, pulling your head to the side to give him better access to your neck. A particularly deep thrust made you cry out, and you felt yourself nearing your second orgasm.

“Fuck!” You whined, your eyes squeezing tightly shut as you felt the tension building in your core as he fucked his dick into you. 

“That's it, y’gonna come for me?” His teeth drew away from your red neck, a string of spit connecting the two of you. 

All you could muster was an obscene “Mhmm!”, your thighs squeezing him tight around the waist. 

“C'mon girl.” His words were choppy from the force of his thrusts. He slowed for a second, readjusting himself before building back up to his former quick pace, each thrust sending your body scooting a little upwards along the floor of the roof. You were incredibly thankful it wasn't concrete. 

“Lemme hear it, c'mon.” His words alone were enough to send you falling over your edge. Your jaw dropped, your head tilting back as your back arched under his heavy body, and his arm slipped under you to hold your chest tight against his. 

The look on your face and the feeling of you cumming around his dick was all he needed. His face went slack and he let out a shameful whine, something he'd never heard himself make before, and came inside you. Neither of you noticed, too fucked out of your minds to even process it. 

You cried under him, twisting and squirming, impaled on his dick as your orgasm shook you to your core. Only when the final waves rolled off you did you relax, your eyes struggling to open as your breathing slowed.

Daryl raised his face from your chest and looked down at you, enjoying the look on your face as he regained his bearings. He ran his hands up and down your torso a few times, his eyes appreciating every little red mark on your neck and chest from his teeth.

 Only when the last jolts of pleasure left his body did he realize he came inside you. 

“Shit.” He grunted as he slowly drug his dick out of you, his breath catching in his throat when he saw the way his cum oozed out between your slick, puffy folds. 

“Hmm, ‘s fine.” You mumbled lazily, reaching up to push your hair from your face. “We're on top of a Dollar General. We'll get the morning after pill.” 

He nodded at your words, still hypnotized by the sight of his cum leaking out of you. A deep part of him wanted to stuff his dick back in you and keep it in, he didn't know why, but the idea was so hot he could've gone for a round two if you wanted. 

“We better get back.” You struggled to prop yourself up on your elbows, your weakened muscles protesting. The sun was well below the trees now, and if you got back when it was dark you knew Shane would throw a goddamn hissy fit. 

“We ain't gotta.” He half joked, a lazy grin on his face. “Can just stay here. Go back in the mornin’.”

You smiled, shaking your head, even though the idea was incredibly tempting. “Shane will kill us.”

“Fuck him.”

“I don't wanna piss him off when he's the one in possession of my gun right now.” Your words had him raising his brows and nodding in agreement. 

The two of you put your clothes back on and went through the back entrance, grabbing all your bags and making sure to pick up some morning after pills from the locked shelf behind the front desk. You caught him trying to discreetly grab some condoms, not knowing you saw, and you felt excitement bubble in your chest at the prospect of him expecting this to happen again. 

Thankfully Shane wasn't in camp when you snuck back in. He was down by the quarry, catching frogs or some shit, and you were able to share your spoils with the group before he came to ask questions. 

“Well, shit. Look at you.” Merle was smiling ear to ear, clapping Daryl on the back after he went to his brother's tent with a bag of goodies. 

It was extremely obvious what the two of you had done. Your hair was still messy despite you brushing it with your fingers on the way back, your face pink, your neck red. You were climbing into your own tent as Merle watched you from across camp. 

Daryl's neck and face were also red, and he had a few scratch marks on the back of his neck. 

And his fly was still down. 

“Shut up.” Daryl shrugged his brother's hand off him, opening a bag of Funyuns.

“My baby brothers no longer a fuckin’ loser!” He laughed, giving a wolf whistle before playfully ruffling his hair. “Atta boy. I told you.” 

“Ya’ ain't tell me shit.” Daryl grumbled, stuffing Funyuns in his mouth to hide the smile that was creeping onto his face. 

“Hey.”

“What?” Daryl groaned, exasperated already. 

“Think she’ll give me a ride?”

“Shut the hell up, man.” 

[celesterayel]

the it couple | luke castellan

request: I’m not really sure what qualifies as a request but could you write a Luke x reader where they are like the camp it couple? 🫶🫶

summary: common knowledge is how irrevocably in love luke castellan is with you.

"you know i adore you, i'm crazier for you than i was at sixteen lost in a film scene" - t.s.

w.c. : 702

warning(s) : none

pairing : luke castellan x reader

the campers of camp half blood don't quite remember how or when it had happened. It just always was: you and Luke Castellan, that is. where you went, he followed. the shadow to your guide and you the balm to his sorrow. annabeth used to whisper to the younger children–the ones who had been taken to camp far too young and therefore had little knowledge of love–that you and Luke Castellan were soulmates: seamlessly bound to one another. 

you yourself had never believed in fate despite the fact that you had met them–old bitter hags. you preferred to believe that life was not set in stone, unbreaking and withered to a timeline. it perhaps led to your brash attitude and ‘ride or die’ mentality but your mannerisms only made luke castellan fall in love with you all the more. some things were just beyond the gods' control. you and luke were one of those things.

you had first arrived at camp a decade ago, where you were then claimed by hades. of course news of you spread like wildfire: you were gorgeous, your talent with your bo staff was unmatched, and your father was one of the three–strong power ran through your blood and you showed it everyday during training. but that wasn’t exactly what caught the attention of everyone, rather the fact that the popular gaze of a certain brown-eyed boy always strayed to you. when you laughed, he smiled. where you went, he strayed. you were magnet and he was never far away.

you both tipped toed around one another, constantly drifting toward the other. playful banter slipped between you two and those around you wondered when you would finally just get together. the first time you guys finally breached the delicate line between more than ‘obviously pining friends’ was after an exciting rivalry game.

despite the strategic planning of annabeth–who clearly eyed the tension between the two of you–and the excellent swordsmanship, house ares had won the game because of you. You had been the one to distract luke castellan after clarisse had forced you to use your charms. it was fun to see the cute blush adorn his cheeks when you approached the head of the Hermes House.

“so, does this mean you agree to go out with me?” he breathed out, hands twirling his sword as he was once again bested by you in capturing the flag.

you laughed out, “i was just waiting for you to ask, castellan.”

no sooner after you had begun dating did the infamy of you two reach an all high around camp. how could it not? 

you two were the all anyone could talk about–the best of the best.

luke castellan was already the best swordsman at camp; a prodigy in the making. his brown curls and dimples only made him more popular among the girls and young teens. he was one of the highest placed leaders around camp; one of the few that clarisse actually respected and the one that annabeth regarded most. 

you were a gem in the rough: bold and brash at times, but calculating and quick-witted. you were the one to turn to when those around camp felt alone, always ready to take care of others and offer words of wisdom. you were a living definition of rules being broken and your power only highlighted the height of your placement around camp. 

when you two walked by, the eyes of the others strayed. newcomers learned of your names before they learned what exactly camp half blood was. 

when you threw your head back and laughed, people watched as Luke curled his lips in pride at being the one behind your laughter. when he sat round the fire and sang songs with the campers, you sat right beside him; head laying on his shoulder and hoping the moment would never end. he willingly allowed himself to lose camp games if only by your hand, time and time again.

yes, you were the it couple of camp half blood but none of that mattered, when he was the one for you.

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (3)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Both having busy schedules and working in different cities, the reader and Ewan make an effort to keep contact with each other. Will Ewan ever make his feelings known? Will a possible scandal derail their budding romance?

A beautiful floral arrangement awaits you as you return to your hotel suite in LA.

Luxury red roses preserved in an elegant black velvet box, accompanied by a printed note on the side.

Congratulations on your new project, darling.

All my love, Ewan.

Your assistant had alluded to a special package having arrived just before you came in, and you're met with this.

It's the loveliest of gestures and you instantly wish to call Ewan to express your thanks. However the hour is late, the digital clock face reading 10 pm. You'd had a long day at work, having gone through the entirety of rehearsals once more. Filming will officially begin in September, and your focus is much needed as you step into a new role.

Noting the time difference - it would only be around 6 am in the UK - you decide to put off calling him for tomorrow.

It's only been a week since he first confessed that he misses you, and since then, he's had no trouble saying it each time you speak, almost as if the floodgates are opened and he's more confident in expressing himself with you.

I told you, Phia had simply said when you shared this with her.

The strong possibility of Ewan harbouring feelings for you has caused you to become distracted the past few days. If he does, why hasn't he asked you out yet? Granted, you'll be working long-distance for a while, but still.

You quickly wind down from a long day and soon find yourself comfortably huddled in blankets with your laptop propped open in front of you. Winding down, of course, includes some time scrolling on your phone or watching things without a care.

A new video catches your attention on Youtube's home page. One of the segments from Ewan's Vanity Fair feature.

Ewan Mitchell on his firsts and currents

You smile to yourself before you even realise it.

The video starts with Ewan introducing himself - "Hi, Vanity Fair. I'm Ewan Mitchell and I'm here to talk about my different firsts and currents." - He smirks at the camera. You smirk right back as if he can see you.

"So first ever role?" he says, directed by prompts behind the camera. "Technically, my first ever role was for a very small, short film called Stereotype ..." He laughs, remembering how young and inexperienced he was. "... and my current role - none other than the One-Eyed Prince. So far, my favourite as well I have to say."

He continues with his first and current favourite film, pets, song or type of music to get into character... and so on...

Then he gets asked about - his first ever and his current celebrity crush - "Uhhhmm," he looks to the side bashfully, clicking his tongue as he thinks of the simplest answer, "I don't think I had celebrity crushes growing up. It could have been some of the actors I admired, that inspired me... "

Such a classic Ewan answer, that one. You wonder how he would also dodge the question of his current celebrity crush.

"As for my current crush... well... it might be someone from the cast of House of the Dragon, actually." He smiles knowingly, as if he's aware that your stomach is in knots as you watch. Who will he say? Phia? Olivia?

"I really admire ... " He says your name, and your eyes widen like saucers. "She's an amazing actress - I think we can all agree - and a very dear person to me... "

Ewan, you sneaky charming bastard.

" ... so yeah," he shrugs, nonchalantly, but he surely knows he just sent you - and the entire fandom - into a tailspin. "I guess you could say she's my current celebrity crush."

Curious, you pick up your phone and get to scrolling. You've turned all your notifications off, not wanting to become occupied because of them during work.

Sure enough, it's an endless flurry of likes, comments, and messages.

In your most recent post, tons of people comment about Ewan's interview, trying to bring it to your attention.

hotdpolska29: girl, go watch Ewan's Vanity Fair video RIGHT. NOW.

melodygellerr: be honest, is this photo for Ewan???

peraltajake99: now she has to say that Ewan's her celebrity crush too !!!

cassiethemendler: forget Ewan... guys she's acc with jacob frickin elordi. Did yall not see the pictures

There's simply too many comments to go through. One statement and already everyone has formed their own opinion, their own conclusion about how things are in your personal life. It's one of the drawbacks of being in the public eye, and you still don't fully know how to handle it.

As part of PR for your new film, you and Jacob had been tapped to make appearances in public together, photographers hired to make it seem like the two of you are on a date.

The whole thing confused you. You're friends with Jacob, and naturally you hang out with him anyway. All this celebrity subterfuge seems unnecessary. But he was kind enough to guide you through it. "It's just part of the job," Jacob assured. "This whole Hollywood thing is silly, isn't it?"

Since you're both single actors, it wouldn't hurt for people to believe you might be dating. It attracts attention and any publicity is good as they say.

As long as you know what's true, then the public can believe whatever they want.

You end up liking and responding to some comments, and ignoring most of the other ones that pry too much into your private life. Never mind the haters, who also give their own two cents about your alleged involvements with Ewan or Jacob.

Suddenly, the screen is brightened from an incoming call from Ewan One-Eye . You are still pleased with yourself about the name. Your excitement is spiked as you press answer. Having a crush never gets old.

"Mornin', you," you greet him. 11 pm for you in LA, 7 am for him in England.

"Evening, darling," he says with a smile. He's still in bed, with one hand behind his head while the other has his phone pressed to his ear. First thing in the morning, and he feels compelled to call you. If that's any indication, the boy doesn't lie when he says he misses you every day. "You about to go to bed?" he queries.

"Mhmm," you hum, lying down and mirroring his position. "By the way, I think I've got a secret admirer or something."

"What? Who?"

Struggling to hold back a laugh, you continue, "I think you're missing the point of a secret admirer."

"Yeah, yeah," he sighs. "Anyway, what's going on? Are they bothering you?" He sounds worried already, but a bit more should be fun.

"No, but I found a box from them in my room."

"Did they break in?" He sits half-upright, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," you breathe out a tired laugh. "Ewan, I'm - " ... kidding, you want to confess, but he rambles on.

"If you need me, I can take the next flight out."

"Ewan - honey - I am messing with you. I do appreciate the floral arrangment box, by the way, thank you."

A beat of silence. He slumps back down on his pillows. A smile creeps up unrestrained on his lips. He fondly thinks that his girl almost gave him a heart attack at 7 am.

And he loves it.

"You're welcome," he replies. "And if I wasn't fully awake before, then I am now. Good work, darling."

You're pleased - he didn't deny the admirer bit of it all.

"Seriously now, thank you. They're the best surprise after a long work day."

"I'm glad you like them," he says sincerely. "Rehearsals still going on?"

"Yup, two more weeks of this, then a month-long break, and finally filming in Atlanta."

"Hmm," he says, then pauses, framing his next question as best he can. "Are you... do they... that PR relationship business, is that - "

You help him to it. "Well, technically, yeah," you respond. "But they're not laying it on thick with Jacob and I. Everything is alleged by the media and no one will make any sure statements."

When you shared the truth of the pap walk, he had a bunch of questions about it. He had sounded detached and cold at the beginning of that call. Then you complained about relationships for publicity, and he quickly got the gist. You'd think his mood took a complete 360 then.

From sounding completely disinterested with Jacob, Ewan then took to reassuring you that he's a good guy who would respect your boundaries. He's still not a fan of the whole thing, but it's your job.

And... well... it's not like he's your boyfriend or anything. What claim could he have over you?

"And something you said has the public divided," you add.

"What did I say?" he smirks, playing it coy.

"Ewan."

"You're going to have to elaborate, darling."

An idea pops up in your mind. Two can play at this game, Mitchell. "Listen, I'm flattered that I'm apparently your celebrity crush, but you can't say shit like that! I don't think my boyfriend Jacob would appreciate it. He's very protective, you know."

A full minute passes, you hear his heavy breathing on the other line. He wants to curse out at the picture you presented but holds back for you.

Then, "You're so funny, darling."

You laugh genuinely, and all his worries dissipate. "I know."

"A downright comedian."

"Thank you."

"I can't believe you're my celebrity crush," he sighs dramatically.

"You put that on to yourself, mate."

"Hmm." He sure did. He wasn't lying in that interview - you are his celebrity crush, but that seems reductive. He likes you, he misses you, he loves being around you. "The only right answer would have been you. You're the one I think about all the time."

He says things like this, so sweetly, and it's everything. It drives you off kilter that you get tongue-tied at work when you think about it.

But he hasn't said or done anything more. The flowers were a nice touch, sure. Maybe he's gearing up to it? Does he have something up his sleeve?

In the moment, it appears not. He's flirty, as he always is, but you've had a damn long day and the butterflies in your stomach are exhausted too.

"Ewan, I'm gonna go to bed."

"Oh. Right."

"Long day tomorrow. You know how it is."

"Of course. I... I miss you, darling. Sleep well."

"Mhmm," you find yourself responding, not mirroring his statement. "Bye, have a good day."

You end the call, wondering if he caught on at the end. Perhaps you sounded a bit too dismissive, but a voice in your head says, hey - if he wants you, he's gonna have to show you. It'll take a lot more than flattery and banter to win your heart completely.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

That night in London, Ewan sits in a corner booth of a pub with Tom, Luke and Elliott and it's relatively causal, with the boys just catching up over a few pints.

Until Luke mentions you and Jacob, questioning whether that whole story was real or not.

"Absolutely not," Ewan says immediately, shifting in his Adidas tracksuit as if to take up more space so the boys will pay attention. "I talked to her about it and it's all just PR nonsense, trust me."

"Look at this one gettin' all defensive." Tom claps Ewan on the back in jest.

"Well it's true," Ewan just shrugs. "They're not together."

Elliott jumps in, eager to rile Ewan up even more. "For now at least. I've heard that these PR couple things eventually get a little too real, if you know what I mean. The lines tend to get blurred."

Ewan slings his pint back, before engaging. "What do you mean?"

"Well, look at it this way," Elliott explains. "She hangs out with the guy a lot. They laugh, dine and work together. Maybe they even have to make out several times for the film. It's easy for feelings to spring up from all that business."

"Life imitates art, innit?" Luke offers.

"Yeah, maybe soon it won't just be PR. I've heard of some celebrity couples who did that," Elliott says.

Luke adds, "Wasn't there that one PR couple that got married and all? Who was it - I can't remember now - "

Tom intervenes, wary of the way with which Ewan grips his pint glass. "That's all nonsense, come on. Surely that's not a common occurence. I worked with all you guys, and I can't stand any of ya. If anything, she'll be so sick of Jacob after they work together." That earns him a laugh from the twins, who then assign him to get the next round as payment for that jibe.

Ewan stays silent, his mind whirring. Usually, the boys wouldn't mind. They know it's just his way, being a focused and observant lad on and off set. But they sense something else underneath.

The twins share a look, a bit guilty due to Ewan's expression.

Ewan looks up and reassures the table, "Hey, it's alright. Whatever she chooses to do, I get it."

"But come on, mate," Tom says. "Everyone knows you like her. Literally everyone. Even she knows it, I bet. Why don't you just make the bloody move already?"

"I dunno," Ewan starts, not sure of the answer himself, "it just didn't seem like the right time, with her being off across the pond for the rest of the year."

"So what, you're just going to let it slide? Do you want her or not?"

"Mmm, I do." Ewan keeps to himself most of the time. But Tom's got a way to loosen his taut edges.

"Well, as promised, I'm gonna get us all another round," Tom declares, earning cheers from the twins.

Two pints turned into three, then six, seven and so on. Pretty soon, the lads get properly and well smashed. Ewan's never been the biggest drinker, but when the social situation calls for it, he can put them back just as well as the next guy from the Midlands.

"So come clean, mate," Tom drawls, his arm slung around Ewan's shoulders. "Are you in love with her already or what?"

Ewan laughs, rubbing a hand over his face to wake up a little. It doesn't work - the glare of the warm overhead lights is strong and make him feel woozy.

"Could be," he says. "But that's none of your business." Smirking, he points at Luke, "Or yours," then at Elliott, "or yours."

"Hey! C'mon," Tom protests, feigning hurt. "Am I not going to be the best man at the wedding?"

"No way, Aegon the Magnanimous," Ewan shakes his head. "My brother'll be the best man."

"So there will be a wedding," Luke says. "Does the bride know about it?"

"He hasn't even asked her out yet," Elliott teases. "I triple dare you to ask her out right now. Right fuckin' now, Ewan."

"No," Ewan says, but in his sloshed out state, he secretly considers just doing it. "I gotta go for a smoke, lads. Tom was right, I can't stand you anymore."

"Oh, boo!" Tom shoves him out of the booth. "Hurry back, lover boy."

Ewan makes his way to the alley behind the pub. He's thankful that a pub at midnight offers the perfect setting to disappear into anonymity. Everyone's just as drunk or they simply don't care about celebrity culture.

He takes a few puffs of his cigarette, the nicotine quickly reawakening his nerves. Thinking back to the twin's suggestion, he thinks, why the hell not? Why shouldn't he ask you out already? Who cares about the PR shite? If word gets around that you're his, the facade about you and Jacob will get shelved.

With his cig lodged between his teeth, he has to take extra care to call you, the glare of the screen not doing wonders for his inebriation.

The lines beeps, and he's met with your voicemail. You must still be at work or just getting off it.

Still with Jacob. Something in him stirs, and it's not just the bloody alcohol.

He clears his throat, prompted by the notification to leave a message - "Hey, darling. Hey... beautiful... I guess I'm missing you and I... I miss you, isn't that funny?" he starts, proud of himself for making the joke. "I'm out with the lads right now... had a couple of pints. Maybe one too many? I don't know. And... uhhh - "

He stomps his smoke under his shoe, nervous ticks getting the best of him. Here he goes, make it or break it. "I was thinking about you. As I always do. Because I've never felt like this about anyone before. Ever. And I'm sorry it took me this long to ask, but I want to be with you. No - that's not right, it's too quick... I mean, yes, I want to be with you, but I gotta do this right. I want to take you out, properly, on a date. Will you... will you please? I've got some business stateside and I could have that scheduled sooner, and I could come see you. And we could... I just want to see you. So fucking badly, baby. I - I - okay then, I suppose that's all. Good... good morning? No - evening. You're beautiful and I just..." he sighs deeply, because words will never do you justice. "... goodbye."

The line cuts off and he tucks his phone away. Smiling to himself, he feels euphoric from getting that off his chest. The message was coherent enough, he thinks proudly, and it couldn't have sounded better all things considering.

If he could pat himself on the back, he most definitely would. He can already see it, the perfect first date with you.

The lads are going to go nuts over this, he knows for certain. He makes his way back inside the pub, a boy renewed.

A lover boy, as Tom and Phia call him.

No truer words have been spoken.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

It's 10 pm yet again when you make it back to your suite. Having notifications on your phone turned off while you're at work, you're met with a barage of messages and the usual social media frenzy.

But only one thing stands out - a voice message from Ewan One-Eye, sent just around 4 hours ago.

You settle in for the night, making sure you're all prepped to go to bed before playing it, thinking you can maybe call him afterward.

You hear the beep, and the message starts - "Hey, darling... uhhhh so hey, I - uh fuck I'm missing you right now, must be at work eh? And I miss you - " You note how he sounds drowsy but his words are punctuated. Like he's making an actual effort to simply speak. You realise he must be drunk. What's a drunk Ewan doing calling you? " - that's so funny, innit? Which suits cause I'm just a bloody joke cause I took too long... to tell you... that I... I think about you all the time, I'mcrazyboutyou y'know... I wanna be with you... withyou - " He's drunk, you keep reminding yourself that he's drunk. But the effect of his words aren't diminished. He's got you hooked. " - I got work out there too... so I'll - uhhh - see you then and... take you out then and - fuck - kiss ya... I want to kiss you so fucking badly, baby. You're perfect for me, and so beautiful, and I wish Aemond would wed your character cause - as th'twins said - life imitates art!" He snickers at his own remark, and it's the most endearing thing ever. "So... yeah, good, darling. Goodb - " and the line cuts off.

"What the fuck," is all you can speak out into the quiet room. Lying back on your pillows, you actually laugh out loud and kick your feet like a puppy-love drunk highschooler.

The sun is rising across the pond and Ewan has probably just made it back home, immediately collapsing in his bed all wasted.

But he's getting a call tomorrow - and you pray to the fictional Westerosi gods that his intentions are clear, drunk or otherwise.

Kismet is a funny thing. Once a fan of the show, you're now an actress on it, about to date the Aemond Targaryen.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Ewan's eyes flutter open. The sunlight is weakly coming in from the window shutters in his room. Confused, he glances at the digital clock face and it reads 6:18 PM.

So he slept through the whole day. Brilliant.

It's unlike him to mind his phone first thing after waking up, so he trudges to his bathroom to douse his face with cold water and brush his teeth for a good long while, trying to recall the events of the previous night.

It had the usual workings of a proper pub night with his lads, and he barely remembers the last night he got that sloshed. But anyway, all in good fun, and he genuinely enjoys their company so it must be worth the pounding headache he feels right now.

The lads... an unknown and possibly excessive number of pints... Oasis playing on the speakers... Tom generously buying a round of drinks for everyone in the pub... and of course, you.

The memory has his attention, and he thumbs through his phone as he makes his way to his kitchen to prep his staple black coffee with seven sugars.

He remembers it - kind of - leaving a voicemail, and he's pleased that he finally, finally asked you out. Never mind that it took him getting drunk off his noggin to do it.

But there's nothing from you. Not a message, nor a missed call, nor a voice note.

He tries not to let it worry him right away, but it does. Maybe you didn't hear it yet. Maybe you were too tired from work and weren't checking your voicemails.

Maybe... maybe...

His phone suddenly buzzes in his palm and he mumbles, fuck's sake, out of surprise. But it's not you calling. It's his publicist.

"Hello, good evening. How are you doing?" he greets cordially.

"Ewan!" she exclaims. "Finally! I've been trying to get a hold of you all day."

"Oh, right," he says guiltily, "I'm so sorry, I just had a long night and - "

"I know, Ewan, I know. The whole country - no - the whole world knows by now. Bloody hell, it's always The Sun, isn't it? Those idiots, I swear."

He straightens at that. If a tabloid is involved, it can't be good news. "What's happened?"

His publicist sighs, ready to relay the news, "The Sun did a story on you and the other cast members. About having a wild night out in the pub. It's useless fodder, really, nothing wrong with having a night out."

"Right, right... but - " Ewan says, sensing there's something more. Something worse.

"There's a picture of you with a girl - "

"What?"

"I think I've seen her before. She must be a cousin of the Tittensors? You know her, of course."

"I... I don't - "

"Anyway, according to the paper, you and her were flirting it up a storm at the pub. She had her arm around you and everything. Do you want to look it up now? I can give you a moment. I'll stay on the line."

"Fuck," Ewan mutters to himself as he does a quick search of his name. The headlines make him wish he never did so.

House of the Dragon Stars On A Wild Night Out: INSIDE SCOOP!

EWAN MITCHELL SPOTTED WITH MYSTERY LADY

Aemond Targaryen IN LOVE? See PICTURES Inside!

"I don't think I remember her," he swears to his publicist, "I was just drinking with the lads and there might have been others that joined us but I - what the fuck - I don't - "

"It's okay, Ewan," she reassures him. "We can deal with this. This bullshit just comes with the job, as you should know. It'll be fine."

No, it's not fine.

Because it dawns on him why he hasn't heard back from you.

"Fuck."

💌 next chapter

Taglist: @sprinklesprinkle888 @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @uwuuness @strbellz @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @rhaenys-nyra @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @cardiganlovesblog @strangersunghoon @darktrashsoulbear @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @chixnugg22 @athenafaes

Not drunk Ewan thinking his voice message sounded a lot better than it did! 😂

The story will extend further than 3 parts, as it turns out! In the next one, the reader and Ewan will be reunited - any guesses on what will happen?

Comment and let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist 💕

[illbegottenfaith]

the one where you make theo cry (an ain’t that love inspired drabble)

Theodore Nott was hardly the kind of man who wore his heart on his sleeve. He had spent years perfecting his signature air of indifference, the one that captivated most others, what compelled them to make an impression on him. Of course, all that fell away when it came to you.

It started subtly. A sigh escaping your lips after a long day would leave him restless, make his bones a little weary. When you rubbed your temples in frustration, he found himself getting agitated with you - whatever was vexing you so undoubtedly deserved his irritation too. And when you laughed - loud, unabashed - it felt like a breath of fresh air.

Not that he'd admit it to anyone. No, he'd promised himself a long time ago, he wouldn't tell a soul - not his friends, not his family, and certainly not you. Little did he know he had yet to see a moment of yours that would truly unravel him at the seams.

It happened on an ordinary Tuesday whilst tracking down Mattheo. He had checked their dorm, the Great Hall, the Quidditch pitch, everywhere - which left solely your dorm. Theo vaguely remembered him mentioning something about fixing one of the pipes in the bathroom, which was really just a ploy to impress one of your roommates more than anything.

But as he passed through the Slytherin common room on his way there, your droopy, teary eyes peering up at him for a split second, Theo swore he felt something inside of him crack open. You weren’t crying, not quite, but you were close. And Merlin, he hated it. Hated how his throat constricted, how his chest tightened, how his own stomach twisted with the bitterness of your misery.

He looked almost comically stricken briefly before straightening his face. "What's wrong?" he asked, voice low.

"It’s nothing." You shook your head, brushing it off with a tight, superficial smile as you moved up to make room for him. "Mattheo’s almost done, he’ll be down in a second."

Still taken aback, Theo accepted the seat beside you 

"It doesn't look like nothing," he prompted. You laughed weakly, dabbing at your eyes.

"Don't worry. It is, really. I'm just feeling a little…hormonal today." Your gaze fell back to the book and almost immediately, your emotions betrayed you once again.

You sniffled as your face screwed up in your effort to choke back your sobs. Theo felt a lump in his throat and an unfamiliar stinging sensation at the corners of his eyes.

“It’s just - “ you forced out, “he’s so small. Look at him, Theo. He’s tiny. He doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t know about taxes. He doesn’t even know about taxes.”

Theo finally caught sight of the page of your book. It had a picture of a baby niffler, no bigger than the size of your thumb - tiny, soft, with big, round, trusting (if only slightly mischievous) eyes.

As you dissolved into more stifled sobs, Theo blinked, caught completely off guard. Then, to everyone’s horror - including his own - his eyes misted over too.

"Oh, for fuck’s sake," Blaise muttered from across the room, watching the scene unfold. "Are you actually crying?"

“It’s fucking tiny.”

Theo scowled at him, aggressively wiping his face. He wasn’t sure what was worse—the sound of your quiet, shuddering breaths, or the way your shoulders trembled under his hands as he pulled you close.

You hiccupped between sobs. "I just love it so much."

Theo swallowed thickly, nodding. "Yeah. Me too." He glanced at the book in your lap again. He hugged you closer, deciding you were right - how dare a Niffler be that tiny, baby or otherwise?

Blaise sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Right. I’ve seen enough."

Theo’s tears dried as quickly as they came, but the two of you stayed pressed together for a long time after Blaise left, even after your breathing had slowed into something more measured once again. You pressed your cool check against his shoulder, half-dozing.

Unthinkingly, Theo pried your clenched fist open. Surprisingly, you let him thread his fingers through your own. He glanced down at you, at the soft locks of hair curling around your tearstained face. He resisted the urge to press a kiss to the top of your head.

You looked up at him questioning. His grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly.

“Just - just let me, alright?”

A playful smile tugged at your lips. “You’re ridiculous, Teddy.” Your smile turned teasing. “Wait till Mattheo hears you cried over a baby niffler.”

Theo took on a wounded look. “So did you.”

As the two of you curled up again, Theo decided that this emotional telepathy wasn’t the worst thing in the world. When you sighed, he sighed. When you laughed, he laughed. When you hurt, he hurt. When you cried over a baby niffler… apparently, he did, too.

He hardly dared to think it, but he did it all the same.

Wasn’t that love?

[woso-dreamzzz]

Rival VI

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You return to London

"Princesse," Magda groans as you come jumping down the stairs of the hotel with Pernille," What did I tell you last night?"

You very pointedly ignore her as you go skipping over to Sydney, Georgia and Sam. You present yourself in front of them, chest sticking out as you smooth down the familiar red material and the cannon crest on your chest.

"You're kidding," Georgia says, eyes wide as she looks up at Magda and Pernille," You have to be kidding me. You're letting her wear this?"

"I'm not!" Magda says at the same time Pernille rolls her eyes.

"She's old enough now to choose her own clothes," Pernille says plainly," We're fostering independence."

"Yeah!" You say with a little giggle, sticking your tongue out at Georgia happily," I packed it just for today!"

"It shouldn't have been packed at all!" Magda insists," I told you that you weren't allowed to pack it."

"Auntie Frido says-"

"Oh, here we go."

"-That choosing clothes is an exercise of my right to express myself."

There's silence for a moment and all of the adults look at you with varying degrees of shock.

"Do..." Magda's mouth is wide open as she stares, blinking a few times as if she can't understand why you've just said that. "Do you know what you just said?"

You shake your head happily. "Auntie Frido told me to tell you though. She made me remember-ise it."

"Memorise."

"Huh?"

"She made you memorise it."

"Yeah, that too."

Magda sighs deeply, eyes closing briefly before opening again. "When we get home, I'm burning your Arsenal kits."

"Auntie Frido says that's illegal! And I can sue you for it!" You turn to Pernille primly, chest puffing out. "She made me memorise that too."

To save Magda's eyes, you end up wearing a zip up hoodie over your Arsenal jersey on the bus ride over to the pitch.

You happily sit with Pernille, who lets you watch one of your favourite Scooby-Doo episodes on her phone as you hum the theme song under your breath. Your little legs kick around happily as Straus says a bit more about the game plan to the team.

You're not listening at all as you watch Daphne use her super cool martial arts skills to punch one of the monsters in your show.

"Alright, you," Pernille says softly as she takes her phone back," We're here."

"We are?"

Your head pops up as you look out the window, fingers automatically going to unzip your hoodie so you can show your Arsenal pride but Magda's there quickly.

Her hands make sure your zip is done all the way up and you frown.

"But Morsa-"

"No," Magda says firmly, lifting you up into her arms before you complain anymore.

You huff a little but don't fight her.

Magda carries you all the way into the changing room and still doesn't let you take your hoodie off. Even Pernille doesn't relent and you sit stubbornly in her cubby with your arms crossed over your chest.

"What's that pout for?" Tuva asks with a laugh, tickling under your chin," You not going to be our good luck charm?"

You shake your head. "No."

"Oh? Why not?"

"My good luck is going to Arsenal!"

Before anyone can stop you, you stand up and rip off your hoodie to show your Arsenal shirt.

"North London forever!"

"Oh no," Pernille groans as Magda's eye twitches.

"Whatever the weather!"

Georgia bursts into uncontrollable laughter.

"These streets are our- Morsa!"

Magda plucks you from Pernille's cubby, muttering under her breath too quiet for you to hear as the door to the locker room is knocked on.

Katie and Caitlin poke their heads around the door.

"Alright, Eriksson?" Katie asks with a grin," We heard our Big Boss was in the building. Do you mind if we steal her?"

"Actually-"

"Of course you can." Pernille takes you from Magda's arms without fuss, putting you back onto the floor so you can run over to the two Arsenal girls by the door. "Princesse, remember, be nice, helpful and-"

"Don't cause trouble," You finish off," I know!" You take Caitlin's hand. "Let's go see Auntie Stina and Auntie Lina!"

"The warm ups are just starting," Caitlin tells you," Have you got your gloves? Because I'm sure the keepers would love to warm up with their Big Boss."

[chateaaa]

☆ Symphony - T. Muichiro

synopsis: Tokito Muichiro Boyfriend Headcanons

pairing: Tokito Muichiro x fem! reader

warnings: fluff, kinda angst at the end (happy ending!!!)

❝ You took my broken melody

And now, I hear a symphony ❞

- Muichiro Tokito, the cold hearted hashira who is known as being a fearless swordsman who has reached the highest rank in the demon slayer corps

- Muichiro Tokito who became a softy ever since he met you

- Muichiro Tokito who has a very sharp tongue, but when it comes to you, he becomes very soft spoken and nice

- Muichiro Tokito who always remembers the smallest details of Y/n

- Muichiro Tokito who always prioritizes your safety over him, he promises to always be your knight in shining haori

- Muichiro Tokito who always watches the clouds with you

- Muichiro Tokito whose love language is an act of service and quality time

- Muichiro Tokito who always makes sure you eat well, who makes sure you sleep enough, who always protects you from demons, who always buy you gifts from the places he visits when he slays demons

- Muichiro Tokito who has a hard time opening up since he frequently has memory lost, so i think his significant other would be a person who remembers many things

- Muichiro Tokito who shows his vulnerable side to you, he will be the type to show his sadness especially after the swordsmith village arc

- Muichiro Tokito who would be very clingy to you, especially if you are a demon slayer because becoming a demon slayer means that you have to risk your life everyday

- Muichiro Tokito who would daydream about what you and him are going to be doing after the war such as becoming a couple, getting married and becoming old together

- Muichiro Tokito who swears to protect you till his last breath

- Muichiro Tokito who would go into rage mode after he sees you being stabbed by Uppermoon 1, severe injuries clearly visible

- Muichiro Tokito who promises to find you in the next life as he held your lifeless body close to his as he felt himself turning cold

"y/n.... i'm sorry for not protecting you.... don't worry, i promise to find you... even if it takes me a million years"

- Reincarnated! Muichiro Tokito who helps you during school works, teaching you subjects you don't understand

- Reincarnated! Muichiro Tokito who always takes you on cloud gazing dates

- Reincarnated! Muichiro Tokito who always give you snacks in school

- Reincarnated! Muichiro Tokito who found you after 1,000 years <3

a/n: the 'knight in shining haori' is actually inspired from a fanfic i read in wattpad lol! hope u enjoy reading, i love muichiro sm iekejeeksjsjs

sorry guys, muichiro's kinda ooc i dont know how to write him that much 😓😓

that being said! i'm going to be publishing a muichiro tokito fanfic! stay tuned <3

[dyingswanpavlova]

Happier than ever

Part 1

Pairing: Nam-gyu �� Reader × The Salesman

Warnings: Drug Usage, Overdose, Death, Violence, Unhealthy Relationships, Manipulation, Suicide, Mentions of Sexual Activities, Mentions of Rape, Domestic Violence, Domestic Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Anger Issues, Depression, Long Backstory, Minors do not interact!

Nam-gyu and you were a couple for the last eight years. But after you decide you had enough of his anger issues, you leave him and try to be happy on your own. Oh, how naïve you are.

Author's note: Okay, everyone.😩 I know you're waiting for the next part of "Your girl" and trust me, I am, too! I'm sorry that I haven't come up with it yet, but I needed to get my mind off of it for a moment, because I don't want to just write anything and publish it like that - the story means too much to me. I can't publish it unless I'm happy with it, but I promise you, I'm working on it. Until then, I started to furiously hit the key board and this happened. Whatever this is, it is Part 1 of it and I'm doing a Part 2, I just don't know when yet. I love you! 🤍 Lana

Loving Nam-gyu wasn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world.

In fact, it was almost impossible on most days.

But there was a part of you, a thing, a quiet voice – something that needed to be reassured, that felt like maybe you were the problem.

There had been good days, hadn’t there? Your birthday and the way he woke you up with pancakes every year. Of course they turned out horrible and were barely edible. They were raw on the inside and somehow, he still managed to burn them. But he made them for you. The memory still made you smile, despite everything.

Then there was the day you had your big ballet performance. You had spent so many months rehearsing, trying to be perfect. You went all Natalie Portman on that performance. Since the moment you’d been told you got to play Odette, you were fire and flame, spending every waking moment trying to be everything you pictured in your head. It was hard, very hard even. But you had the great hope that, if maybe you did well enough, they would come.

Your family would come and watch. They’d finally show you that they did indeed love you, that you weren’t just a burden or an accident. They would come and they would be proud of you. Your father would set his work phone down, your mother her pills. They would be there. For you.

But of course, they didn’t. You should have known better. It was your own fault, hoping and praying for something that was never going to happen. You should have known.

And still, the moment the curtain lifted and you glanced along the rows and rows of people, you felt disappointed. But you didn’t feel disappointed like normal people would, no. It was you after all. You felt devastated. You felt all of your creativity leave your mind. Your body slowly forgot the choreography. Your eyes glistened with tears. And your life was over.

You had your own issues. He had his anger. You had your world endings.

That was until the door flew open after everyone was already seated, waiting for the show to begin. A few heads turned and your gaze quickly flashed towards the now open door, revealing the face of the mysterious newcomer. He was out of breath and his hair was a mess, his cheeks glowing red and the look in his eyes pleading.

It was Nam-gyu.

You had just had the greatest argument of your life so far, throwing around dishes and screaming your lungs out at each other. Not even twelve hours had passed since then, so you were more than sure that he wouldn’t come. After all, he was the least reliable person you knew, alongside your family. And that fight had been particularly bad. You actually didn’t expect to ever see him again.

But there he was, his appearance disheveled and his eyes pleading with you. Pleading with you to forgive him, pleading with you to dance.

Dance.

You remembered the way you felt. The way your disappointment suddenly turned into something different, something hopeful and warm.

Something good.

He was good.

He was yours.

And you were his.

In that moment, there was nothing else. Everything around you faded into a dark cloud and all you could focus on was him and the way he stood in the middle of the audience, staring up at you. The world was quiet and everything smelled like flowers. The perfection you were striving for was suddenly there and it had nothing to do with your performance.

It was a slow dance, slow and sensual, between your souls.

Until suddenly the music started and your body remembered the movements again.

And you were indeed perfect.

Unfortunately though it wasn’t always like that. Most of the time, he was simply complicated. When he wasn’t drugged out of his mind, he was angry. Not at all the time – but easily. All you had to do was say the wrong thing and he’d explode. And you’d explode right back, right into his face.

“I fucking hate you!”

“Shut the fuck up, you dumb slut!”

“Who are you calling a slut?! You son a bitch!”

“Say that again!”

It always ended the same way. You sobbing on the floor, him slamming the door shut and disappearing. That were the good fights.

The bad ones were different. You couldn’t count the times you had been forced to take shelter in the bathroom, quickly locking the door, too afraid to let him even close to you. Of course you knew how to fight back. You didn’t let him get away with slapping you, oh no, you kneed him right in the balls so he’d know better not to fuck with you. He’d normally collapse and the fight would be over. But sometimes, on especially bad days, he got that look on him.

It wasn’t careful or hesitant. No, it was murderous and terrifying. You always knew there was something dangerous about him. That was probably what drew you in at first. But this…It was different. When he got that look, when the drugs clouded his mind like that, you were truly afraid of what he might do. And so you locked yourself in and listened to the way he pounded against the door, ready to break it down. So far, he hadn’t. A part of him was still in there, even when got like that.

But you didn’t want to push your luck.

After eight years of up and down, back and forth and through the gates of Hell, you finally left him for good. At first he probably didn’t believe it. After all, you had pulled the leaving card a million times before. But somehow you always ended up back in his bed, with him fucking your brains out and calling it making up.

But this time, you meant it. It had been a pretty normal Tuesday. You were at work, waiting tables and cleaning up after your mindless customers. It wasn’t the best job in the world, but it paid the bills – albeit, barely.

After your father left and married a woman hardly any older than you and you found your mother on the bathroom floor, cold and stiff, her eyes wide and her chin and hair covered in foam and puke, you decided couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t be that anymore.

You moved in with Nam-gyu. It started off well at first. He was as cute as ever, when he was sober. Sure, you had fights already, but they were mostly trivial. Yelling was involved, throwing furniture around as well, but he never got violent with you so far.

He found a job, as did you and you paid your apartment together. It was tiny of course, but it was enough. You bought groceries and washed laundry. You even had some spare money to buy furniture and decorations. It wasn’t much, but it was yours. You did everything the way you always pictured it.

You had been with Nam-gyu since you turned seventeen. You met back in school and immediately fell in love with him. He had been so sweet. Acting overly confident and arrogant, of course, but it was just a front which you immediately realized. Under all that he was actually rather silly. He made you laugh without even trying. Even he seemed surprised by how good you two matched. So far he’d been going through life, acting like everyone was beneath him. But in reality, he wasn’t popular. He was a bully. He was mean, with a cruel streak. But never to you. No, when someone dared to speak up their mind against you, he was there, ready to break their jaw. You formed a friendship of sort. He was protective and extremely possessive, while you were caring. His family was a bunch of assholes, just like yours was and neither of you had any real friends.

Most of your friends were other dancers and neither of those were really sentimental. Sure, it was enough to go out for a salad sometimes, but you really weren’t one for bulimia and cigarettes. Most of them were, unfortunately.

You loved food. You loved to eat and you appreciated every bite. You’d grown up rather lonely on your own, praying every night for a sibling or a real friend. Someone you could talk to, about real problems. Your ballet friends though? Whenever they asked you how you felt, they didn’t actually want to know. They were just being polite.

Nam-gyu was just as lonely, though he wouldn’t have ever admitted it. He had friends, who were to no one’s surprise, also a bunch of assholes. Some of them were just bullies, others were straight-up rapists.

“What do you mean, you changed your mind? Are you dumb? Shut the fuck up and take it. You agreed to this!”

Nam-gyu wasn’t. It was another thing he wouldn’t have admitted to out loud, but the thought of fucking someone while they were out of it was something he wasn’t after. A thing that really turned him on was to see the pleasure on the other person’s face. The moans, the sighs. He wouldn’t get that if he just made them take it. And so he didn’t. But he tried to keep a straight face, when his friends shared their immoral stories of last weekend. He tried to laugh, when they spoke about the way the girls curled up in self-hatred after they left them there, their cum leaking out of them.

That was until one of the girls ended up killing herself.

She had been super sad and melancholic for as long anyone could remember. She was rather quiet and no-one really spoke to her. She wasn’t weird or anything, just really shy. That was enough to get bullied. She was an obvious virgin and rather closed-off. A good challenge. A great bet.

So, one of his friends placed a bet with the others. Fuck the girl.

“No way that weirdo is letting you anywhere close to her.”

And she didn’t, at first. She didn’t trust anyone around, because people normally made fun of her. But that guy, who went by Nic, was a real good actor. He didn’t walk up to her and just made advances. No, he played shy around her. Sweet. Funny. He managed to tickle a smile out of her. A laugh. And he didn’t just do it once. He did it for days. Weeks. Two months. He played her boyfriend. Her sweet, shy boyfriend. Until her front slowly crumbled and she fell in love with him. Deeply. So much that she actually decided to give Nic her first.

According to Nic it had been nothing out of the ordinary, but Nam-gyu knew it was more than that. He could read the people around him fairly well, and he could also see the way Nic’s pupils dilated, the way his heart skipped a beat, whenever his sweet, little girlfriend was around.

But his friends, his friends, they were constantly at his back.

“Did you finally fuck her?”

“Did you stretch that weird little cunt, huh?”

“Don’t tell me you’re falling for that Wednesday Addams bitch.”

Nic had a reputation to uphold. And so he did what he deemed necessary. He had sex with her and then he dumped her. But not like any normal person would. No, he made fun of her in the worst ways and ended up sending her nudes to anyone who was interested.

The same nudes he had begged her to send him, to trust him, for only his eyes.

And the next day, the gruesome news were heard over speaker.

She was dead. Jumped off her apartment building, right into her death.

Nic had a mental breakdown. No-one else from his group really cared. No-one except for Nam-gyu. Nam-gyu spent the rest of the day in his car, staring down at the steering wheel and trying not to throw up.

You had heard the news of course and you were devastated. You hadn’t known the girl, but you had never been mean to her. You actually remembered a few interactions you had. You knew there had been something going on between her and Nam-gyu’s friend. But naïve, little you had had the hope that it wasn’t a trick. How stupid you had been.

You spent the rest of the day looking for him, but he was nowhere to be found. Right when you already thought maybe he wasn’t at school at all, you saw his car. He was inside and God, he looked horrible. With red-rimmed eyes and shaking hands, all day. You tried your best to comfort him, but it was futile. He felt guilty. Someone was dead. And maybe, just maybe, if he had intervened in time…

You tried to make him understand that it wasn’t his fault, not entirely. He never spoke to his friends again.

You’d later find out, that was the day he took his first injection. So far all he had been doing were mushrooms and weed, but Hell, who hadn’t?

You spent more and more time together, because he firmly ignored everyone who was so damn fucked in the head. He was trying to be good, he was trying so hard. Life hadn’t been easy on him, not at all, but he still tried.

A month later, you had your first kiss. Another three days later you had sex. It was your first time and he was being surprisingly gentle and considerate. You loved thinking back to it, because you didn’t regret it at all. No matter what else happened between you afterwards, you could never regret giving your virginity to him, because it meant so much to you. And it seemed to mean even more to him.

Two years later, it was safe to say you were made for each other. Even long after being out of school, you were still a couple. He still got these angry outbursts sometimes, but you tried to understand him. He had grown up, feeling unseen and unloved by anyone. As did you. You weren’t angry per say. But you got angry, when he did. You had these desperate mood swing. And whenever something didn’t go your way, you felt like the world was ending. You felt everything intensely.

Love was great. It was all-consuming. You loved him in the same way he did. You adored him. Anger was different. It felt suffocating. Sadness wasn’t sadness, but depression. And despair was enough to nearly kill you.

You tried going to university, but that didn’t work out, because your father left and so you had no chance to pay the tuition. Nam-gyu never even bothered to try, because he knew he would fail anyway, but he tried whatever he could to make your dream work. You wanted to work with animals, heal them, help them, do whatever you could to make someone’s life better. But despite all your – and his – efforts, it didn’t work out. It was simply too much. He was heartbroken when you were forced to leave school, because of your selfish prick of a father. But it was alright.

You’d find another job. You could still make it in life, even without university. Everything was good.

That was, until you couldn’t afford your dance practice any longer.

That was heartbreaking.

One day, you came home after a long day of playing cashier, only to find your mother had stolen all the money you had saved so far. She took it to buy pills or whatever else. You couldn’t even be mad at her, because she lay passed out in the doorway to her room.

You had no money. And all your dreams were dead.

By the time that happened you were far into twenty-one, so you knew that life was cruel and you turned more and more bitter.

Nam-gyu was simply angry, but there was not much he could do. His parents threw him out at nineteen, so he had been paying his own rent since then. He tried speculating with cryptocurrency, but that didn’t work out. He played it down, but you knew he lost quite the amount of his own savings.

A year later your mother died and you finally moved in together. So far you hadn’t been able to leave her on her own, but now that she was gone, you couldn’t stand to live in the same place where she had died. The cemetery of what could have been. Countless dour memories, not a single one good.

You had never had a particularly good relationship, but she was your mother nonetheless. The sight of her dead body and horrified face, it haunted you in your sleep. You spent more than one night, waking up screaming, sweating and clutching the linens. Luckily, Nam-gyu was there to catch you, before you ever managed to fall into the deep pit that was your mind.

He managed to calm you down somehow, every time. He was perfect. The perfect boyfriend.

Until he wasn’t.

You hated when he did drugs, especially so after what had happened to your mother. And so he said he wouldn’t, but it was obviously just to pacify you. You always noticed when he did it nonetheless, you knew the dazed look in his eyes, the paleness of his skin. Whenever he refused a meal, it was obvious to you. Normally, he’d choke down everything you cooked like a starved animal, but there were days when he picked at his food and that was always the first indication.

His short responses, his temper, suddenly so easily flared. It didn’t take long for your first real argument to break out. It was fine, up until the point when you saw his hand twitch. Obviously, you shot him a murderous look, daring him. If he dared to hit you, you’d break his fucking jaw.

And he refrained. For then.

Things went mostly normal, until the next fight. That time he wasn’t so gentle. Things got out of hand and he pushed you against the wall, smashing your head against it in the process. For a moment, you were simply stunned – and even he seemed to be. He stopped before he could cause any greater damage.

Things went between good and bad, it was a constant battle for dominance. One day was good, the next day horrible. You couldn’t even look at him without earning a harsh comment. You’d ignore him firmly for the rest of the day and eventually he’d come crawling back, begging you to let him back inside the bedroom. He didn’t mind the couch, he just missed you. And somehow you always forgave him, far too easily. Sometimes he did change for a while. Surprised you with flowers or his sad attempts at cooking. Every time he messed up a scrambled egg, you couldn’t help but get weak. He was so silly, it was endearing. Yet at the same time, you knew there was something dark within him. Most likely the drugs, but you could never tell for sure.

Maybe this was just who he was.

Things got better and worse again, until one night, he snapped. You had a fight about one of your co-workers, who he considered a threat. You never understood it, because to you it was so obvious that you never wanted anyone else. Despite your problems, you stayed fiercely loyal to him. You loved Nam-gyu. And a part of you still believed that in the end, things would turn out good. Maybe they would, right?

But that night was bad. He got so furious and when he yelled at you, the walls seemed to shake. You were normally so eager to fight back, so strong, but that day something was different. You were on your period and just a few hours earlier, you had met a dance friend of yours. She told you, she was sure that, if you had stayed, you’d be famous by now. But she wasn’t kind about it. She was subtly looking down at you, shaming you for the way your life had turned out. It made a tight knot form in your stomach and you felt your resolve slowly crumble. All you wanted was to cry, but even that didn’t work, because you came home to a furious Nam-gyu.

Your shoulders slumped and you refused to look at him, which only ever made him angrier.

You didn’t see the slap coming, but once it happened, you couldn’t forget it. Couldn’t forget the anger and the disappointment that welled up in you. When you looked up at him, you expected the tiniest bit of regret or guilt, but there was nothing. He was too deep in his bubble of anger and substance, to see clearly. He got more and more furious and you knew; if you didn’t hide then, he’d do something worse. It was the first night you hid yourself away in the bathroom, one of many to follow. You always told yourself it were the drugs. He was so sweet when he was sober, so gentle and loving. You kept telling yourself, things would be good one day. They would turn out well. With time and patience.

Until you snapped.

You were at work, staring off into the distance. You had been out of it all day, because you spent the previous night locked in the bathroom, until he finally passed out around four in the morning. You snuck out and made your way to your workplace, where you opened more than three hours early. You had nowhere else to go. No family, no friends, no one. Only you and your pain. All day you spent trying to cover the dark marks on your wrists, but no one seemed to care anyway. People went about their own lives and problems and you were just their co-worker, their waitress.

You stood silently, watching an elderly couple whose order you had just taken. They were so sweet, like they came right out of a movie. He held the door open for her and pulled her chair back. He caressed her cheek and she never flinched when he reached out his hand for her. They smiled at each other with such a tenderness, it brought tears to your eyes. That was the exact moment. That was the moment you realized you didn’t want to continue on living like this.

You wanted more. You deserved more.

You made your way back and gathered most of your things while he was still at work. Of course it wasn’t the most intelligent approach, but it was all you could do. You knew, the moment you sat down and tried to explain to him that you were going to leave him, he’d find a way to convince you to stay. It had been eight years, after all. Eight years on and off, eight years up and down. Drugs, violence, lies – at least he never cheated on you.

You’d keep that in tender memory of him. As well as the countless times he had comforted and fought for you. All the times he made you laugh, all the times he made you feel loved. The greatest sex you would ever have, no doubt.

But you still packed your things and left like a ghost. After eight years.

He tried to contact you of course, the moment he came home. But you took your paycheck and went to a motel. Whenever he tried to find you at work, you hid in the kitchen. Your co-workers tried to calm him down, to tell him that you didn’t work there any longer, but he saw through the lie. He got loud and furious, which you could kind of understand. You stayed in the kitchen, crying to yourself and feeling incredibly guilty, but you didn’t ever come out.

He kept coming, but it got less and less frequent. From what your co-workers told you, he seemed less and less like himself. The thought broke your heart and nearly made you go back.

You were constantly in your head, making more and more mistakes at work, until your boss’s patience finally snapped. When you messed up the third customers giant bill, he fired you. You instantly panicked, because you were sure, now you had to go back.

You even drove around in your car, trying to get a glimpse of him in the apartment. But to your horror, you didn’t see Nam-gyu in the window. It were other people, some couple actually. And when you tried to call him, the number wasn’t available. Suddenly, he was a ghost and you were knee deep in horse shit.

It didn’t take long for your money to go and so you ended up panicking. You had to leave the motel soon and if you didn’t get a job – you’d end up homeless. Which was as good as dead.

A few days later, after you realized that you seemed to have no special talents and that no one really cared to hire you, you sat at the metro station. You had only one option left or so you thought. Le girls girls girls. You were a dancer. You were graceful. You were too good for this.

But it was all you could do. After all, the girls didn’t have to indulge in any immoral transactions. They were just dancing, right? Fine, in light clothing, but still dancing. You could do that.

You were deep in thought, your eyes closed and your head leaned against the wall behind you, when you heard someone’s voice.

“Care for a game of Ddakji?”

This was when your life took a dark turn.

You eyed the handsome stranger with suspicion. It was super odd. A man going down the path of middle age, slicked-back hair, wearing a suit and a briefcase on him.

And he was asking you to play a game with him?

You frowned and glanced around.

“I don’t know what you want, but you won’t get it from me.”

He smirked and tilted his head to the side innocently.

“I don’t want anything. Just a little game. That’s all. You got something to win here. I got money.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m not a fucking hooker.”

He smiled again, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “And I told you, all I want is to play a game. Are you scared?”

That made you bristle. You knew the game and you fucking hated it. You were fairly good at playing at, but you didn’t care for this idiot’s audacity. You were about to snap at him again, when you caught sight of the money. Your eyes widened and you sank back against the wall.

“I don’t have any money.” You murmured back.

“Don’t worry. You can pay with your body.”

Your head shot up and you were ready to lunge at him, but he held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I have no intention of fucking you.” He said calmly. “So, I’ll ask again. Are you scared?”

You crossed your arms and got up, giving him a dirty look.

“Get to it, son of a bitch.”

Your eyes fluttered open slowly. You had trouble adjusting your sight to the unnatural, neon light. The smell was odd, somewhat disinfectant. Something was really wrong.

You slowly stretched and turned your head, only to see you weren’t alone. That was enough to nearly make you shriek. You sat up quickly enough to get dizzy. Next to your own bunk was a woman who stared at you through her cat-eyes. She smirked devilishly as she lay on her side.

“Your fate is sealed. There’s no way you can dance your way out of this.”

You tried to ignore the way your heart raced in your chest. This had to be some freakish co-incidence. You took your gaze off her, only to realize you weren’t alone. Countless people surrounded you, some of them awake, others still asleep. They all wore the same green tracksuit, just as you did.

You took a shaky breath and carefully swung your legs over the bed, heading for the ladder.

What, in God’s name, was this? And why did you agree to it?

You only remembered how ashamed you felt and how good the prospect sounded of not having to dance half-naked for strange men.

But was this really better?

You glanced around in the hope of…Of what? The situation was far too fucked up.

The fact that they got you here unconsciously, getting you dressed…

You wanted to throw up. You stumbled through the great hall, hoping to get some answers to your questions, but that hope quickly got crushed.

These were the real strange men. Dressed in pink suits, wearing masks which covered all of their faces and even their voices weren’t their own. Whatever this was, it wasn’t a fun game, you suddenly realized.

That Ddakji playing motherfucker had deceived you.

You lost the first round, which resulted in him slapping you. And that slap, which hadn’t really been a gentle one, awakened some kind of beast in you. You didn’t know what it was, maybe the memory of getting slapped and hunted down your own apartment on a regular basis. Whatever it was, you didn’t lose another round. He gave you money and money and money. But you didn’t want his fucking money. You wanted revenge.

You kept winning, because nothing else was possible. And by the end of the game, he smiled at you while he handed you the damned card.

But right before he turned crawled back into the pit of Hell where he had come from, you called out to him.

“Hey, motherfucker.”

He cocked a brow and regarded you with amusement. “Are you still mad about that tiny, little hit? Come on, you took it like a champ.”

“Then you should, too.”  You slapped him with an intensity, you didn’t think you’d ever possess.

He looked at you like a statue, obviously ready to lunge at and murder you. But he hid his murderous intent behind a well-rehearsed smile.

“That one was free.” He said calmly. “And if I ever do see you again, I want a return match.”

He left and you were left with the card.

And there you were now. This wasn’t some childish game of Ddakji.

No one showed their face. You knew what that meant. Something was wrong – and you were in trouble.

You were about to leave the hall and take part in the first game, following after the others. You wouldn’t even have noticed, had you not bumped into him full-force.

When you pulled back your head, ready to apologize, you froze.

There he was. Your Nam-gyu. Staring back at you with wide eyes, behind them a mixture of something akin to surprise and fury.

“What the fuck?” He hissed.

He rushed forward and grabbed your by the shoulders, backing you up against the wall. Your eyes widened and you tried to push him back, but he was driven by something far stronger than both of you.

“Nam-gyu?” You breathed out.

He frowned deeply and stared at you incredulously.

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

“I didn’t-“

“Oh my God, I’m going to kill you.” He growled. “Where were you? What’s going on with you? Are you fucking-“

“Is there a problem here?” At first, you didn’t see the guy behind him with his ridiculous hairstyle and pouty lips. Immediately, you hated the sight of him.

“Fuck, she’s my-“

The purple-haired guy gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Whatever, man. We should get going, huh? We’ll be late for the game.”

He eyed you in an odd way, but you pushed it down and used the moment to free yourself from Nam-gyu’s grip and run out, rushing after the others and hiding in the crowd. He attempted to follow you and even called out to you, but you were already gone.

Fuck, you thought.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

[rabid-invertibrate]

Um actually Vander isn't fully gone (the complete proof) (HEAVY SPOILERS)

spoilers for the entirety of arcane s2 obviously watch it if you haven't or don't if you care about your mental health

Although we see his memories/emotions get acetoned away in s2e7s final scene, and the following battle with his kids has him attacking them pretty rabidly.

But wait...

Tumblr compressed this image to hell, so you'll just have to trust me.

If you look closely as he lunges at Vi and Jinx, a tear appears in his right eye (not previously seen)

We can see it better after Jinx hits him with her rocket.

After Vik gets Jayced we see these tears on full display. The size of the tears is significantly larger, so we can assume they were spilled as Warwick corrupted the girls with void magic, indicating some amount of awareness.

Of course immediately after the screencap above Warwick attacks Vi, Jinx does a side slam and the father daughter duo barely get caught by Vi's gauntlet

Jinx and Vander plummet to their presumed deaths (they are both alive, but for drama’s sake, let's pretend). Vander/Warwick doesn't attack Jinx despite her being entirely in his grasp.

He could shred her right then and there. A mindless beast would, he doesn't.

Vander holds Jinx gently, he doesn't dig into her flesh, he just holds her and lets Jinx cup his face.

We see a flashback of Vander watching the girls sleep. Since he is the only conscious one in this situation this implies is that it is not Vi's or Jinxes memory, only Vanders.

Reader, you might think, well how the hell does he remember anything didn't he get mind wiped an episode ago. To that I respond I don't fucking know, but arcane is VERY intentional with its details and nothing else makes sense.

Jinx escapes, this isn't even subtle. She does so BEFORE the bomb blows. In no universe would Jinx break Warwicks grip, hell, she's toast if any stronger character grabs her (fe. Ambessas bodyguard). Do you know what that implies??

Since Warwick wasn't incapacitated at that point, HE WILLINGLY LET HER GO. He used the last shreds of humanity to give his daughter a second chance at life.....

I AM NOT OK

Below there's the more speculative part I'm not sure of.

Warwick, unlike Jinx, didn't escape into the air ducts. But we've seen him survive significant explosions in the very same episode, moreover he survived Isha blowing him up with the force of 3 magic orbs, and yet he lived.

This can only imply that Warwick/Vander survived. Of course the previously mentioned flashback shows Vander blowing a candle out which can symbolize his life ending, but I'd say it's more likely a subtle way of showing the destruction of their family unit as it was.

Edit: some people are calling this theory copium I'd agree at first but now that I thought about it more Vanders fate is objectivelly worse than death so i dont know if me being potentially right is a good thing.

(COMPLETE COPIUM BELOW)

I am aware this is complete copium yet maybe Jinx took him wherever the fuck she went on that airship to heal him up while sparing Vi from fighting their unkillable werewolf dad over and over again. Vander is still in there are proved by this long ass post, and I think Jinx knows that. I don't think she could give up on Vander like she wanted Ekko and Vi to give up on her.

□

Cool additional fact pointed out by commenter:

[stxrvel]

disclosure (6)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. platonic ot7 x f!reader for now content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, angst, reader becomes sus, fighting (in the wrong way), angry and mean jin? self-doubt. a/n. hi guysssssss!!! sorry it's taking me this long always, but i finally finished this part! i actually just finished it and it's almost 2am and i have to go to work in fivehours. i'm publishing this part as it is and maybe tomorrow if i have the time i'll look at it again, bc i'm really exhausted right now. and also please forgive me if there are any mistakes in the text;((((. but i hope you guys enjoy this 7k monster of a chapter and i'll see you next time!!

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The fourth book of your saga was a reflection of everything you had gone through when you moved with your family to the capital. You finished the third book when you had barely been in the city for a month and maybe that's why it didn't have a happy ending and why everyone who had read the trilogy had been devastated with that ending. It wasn't something you had planned from the beginning, but it wasn't something that ruined the plot either. It was actually much better than you had planned.

And when you finally finished with the trilogy, starting to write again wasn't hard, especially with so many mixed emotions and so much repressed pain coming back to the surface uninvited.

Maybe you hadn't been in connection with your strong feelings since then, when the city constantly reminded you that you had lost the only people you considered your true friends and the pain of their absence and the harsh reality was a knife burying itself in your chest over and over again. You hadn't felt this much since the moment you realized that they were able to live their lives without you, but you had to go through the mourning of losing them.

You hadn't felt this much since then, until that moment when, having been just a day since you had decided you would take the path of healing, you had to reopen the draft of your fourth book and find all those angry paragraphs, spit out words, piled up letters and whole pages filled with pure rage and pain; of disappointment and realization… of betrayal.

“Are you going to start again already? Don't you think you deserve a break?”

The words Yuna had spoken to you that morning were echoing in your head from the moment you read the first words of this draft and the memories began to well up, emotions making your hair stand on end and your throat close up.

It was almost funny to remember how incredibly angry you were when you first arrived in the city.

The city, with posters of Jungkook's face on every corner, with his performances on some screens or just teenagers talking about him and whispering about his music, it was practically impossible to escape it. The city, with radios blaring Yoongi's songs, in a cab or on public transportation, interviews blaring on TVs in shopping malls. The city, with the international news, which echoed so much, about the spectacular promises of modeling. The country couldn't be prouder to have representatives of that caliber, because the moment Taehyung and Jimin overtook the West and broke the international barrier, it was only a matter of time before the others followed suit and completely changed the idea of entertainment and media in the country.

The first months in the city were nauseating, when you had to get used to and overcome your emotions the hard way, fighting against the aggressive tide that all the time tried to drown you, and that was noticeable in every word and every scene of that book, and you were almost sure that if any of them read it, they would know immediately. If they wanted to know anything about you, if they were really interested, there would be no better way than through your books; in no other situation would you be so vulnerable.

You wondered, for a moment, if any of them would have read any of the books by now. If Namjoon would remember when you asked him for strange words to describe emotions and now they were captured in those impressions, or when you asked Jin and Hoseok for their opinion about the complex construction of your world and each of their peculiar and crazy details can be found in those pages. Just as your books had all the pieces of you, it also had crumbs of them, and you wondered if they would notice if they read it.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

Maybe you do. That's why you had decided to close that cycle once and for all, and there was no better way to do it than to finally start with the edition of this book. Of this fourth book, so strong in its toughness and determination, so vulnerable in its rage and palpable pain.

It was the cleanest and purest and truest version of you.

But as much as you deserved it, it felt more like punishment. Reliving those emotions and evoking those memories caused you more anguish and you didn't know if you could face a kind of shock therapy like that to finally let go.

“The editors said you'd be here.”

You saw Choi Dohyun standing, leaning against the door frame above the computer screen that still displayed the title of the first chapter of your fourth book. On a Wednesday at barely eight o'clock in the morning, the great CEO decided to set aside a few minutes of his busy time to gratify you with his presence.

His calm, serene and carefree expression was the contrast to the swirl of emotions that ran through that room, rising from the crown of your head. You could almost tell he wasn't venturing into the office because he could feel the tension radiating from your position at the desk. He must have even seen it on your face.

You sighed and barely waved at him, running your hands over your face, trying to ease your tense muscles a little.

“Is there a specific reason why you don't want the editors to read the book?”

Choi Dohyun was a mystery. You only knew about him from the three-hour conversation you had the day before, besides the strange looks he cast at Yoongi from his office entrance. He had shown himself to be a very open person and it was clear that he was an expert at making things work his way. You knew he had agreed to many of your conditions because what he would get in return was bigger than what it would cost him, which really wasn't too much, just enough to maintain a level of creative freedom that would allow you to access editorial support when you saw fit —because you knew that once you handed it over, it would no longer be entirely yours—and often businessmen reflected their own personalities in how they negotiated a deal.

Dohyun tried to come across as a fairly personable person; he tried to be understanding, communicative and open-minded, so much so that he reminded you of the comfortable security of an older brother. However, you could tell in that meeting that he held back too much; that he had hated the way Yuna used to interrupt him to ask him questions or how your brother would put too many buts in his mouth and try to get information out of him that he shouldn't give away. You could tell he was impatient, that he really expected the meeting to last less than twenty minutes because he was sure you would sign the contract blindly as soon as you saw the profits you'd gain from the distribution and sale of your books. You also noticed, in case it wasn't obvious already, that he preferred to be in control as long as the situation and the people around him allowed it, for his convenience. If he gave in on several occasions, you knew it had been because he was very, very aware of everything that benefited him.

There were two options: Choi Dohyun wore a mask constantly, or Choi Dohyun was a fraud.

“I just wanted to read it one more time… before handing it over. I won't take long.”

“It's okay. No problem.” Dohyun finally walked into the room, the office he had handed you for whenever you decided to go to his publishing house. You didn't even know writers had that option; you didn't know if it was common, but he allowed it. He had also offered you a writing kit that included a typewriter that looked quite expensive, and although you hadn't accepted it, there it was in one of the corners of the office. Dohyun sat across from you, glancing at the few things you had brought from home to make the place a little more pleasant. “I understand that sometimes it's hard to separate yourself from your work. It's a part of you, after all. A kind of vulnerability that not everyone sees.”

That was the kind of thing that kept Dohyun's true nature a mystery. His stoic expression as he blurted out words of comfort. It almost felt like running sandpaper over cement. Not that you needed to figure him out, because at the end of the day he was a boss of sorts and you two were bound by a contract with mutual economic benefits —technically, you were each there for a benefit of your own— but it was something you wanted to be aware of, watchful of, informed of, because you had no way of knowing this guy wouldn't try to take advantage of some situation later, in any possible scenario.

“Yes…”

“Take as much time as you need. The demand for the trilogy is still pretty high, after all.”

You nodded at him in response, wary of his attempt to lighten the mood. If he was the kind of person you thought he was, he surely knew you didn't feel an ounce of trust towards him.

“In just two days you must have quite a bit of work to do with that,” you tried to continue the conversation, interspersing your gaze over the letters on the screen and his dark eyes.

“But it's a very welcome work. Aren't you glad your books were so well received?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation, momentarily remembering the proud look on Yuna and your brother's face when they finally got you to see the reactions and opinions of your books on social media. “It's comforting. For your work to be appreciated, recognized… moreover, that it allows you to make a living from it. It's amazing and a very great privilege.”

Dohyun shook his head in assent, interlacing his fingers over his abdomen. From his nonchalant way of taking a seat across from you, slumped over the chair almost as if he was an old friend from college and not practically your boss, and from how his voice reflected that sense of calmness and confidence, you could almost tell he was perfectly selling the facade of the most trustworthy person in the world.

But ultimately it was your feeling and your need to automatically distrust anyone you met because you didn't know at what point they would try to take advantage of you or turn their back on you, and maybe Dohyun wasn't as bad a person as you wanted to paint him in your head. Maybe you would even accept that his presence was a bit comforting and that he actually reminded you of someone you used to know in the past and of whom currently, if you knew he was still alive, it was by sheer luck. That personality, that sense of security he conveyed and that way he had had of expressing himself to you in that meeting that showed a different and more mature kind of wisdom, indeed reminded you of someone else.

Dohyun was very, very much like Jin.

“Can I… ask you something?” you hesitated, alternating your gaze between the screen and his dark eyes, not quite sure if you wanted to go down that path, but aware that you would get something in return if you did, and perhaps the risk would be worth it. “But it's not related to… this.”

As you pointed to your computer and the rest of the office, you couldn't decipher what expression Dohyun sketched. Trying to read him like you did everyone else, it seemed he entertained a specific train of thought in his head and was sparked by your question, but you couldn't probe much further because he agreed, tilting his head to invite you to ask bluntly.

“How do you know Min Yoongi?”

Dohyun then lifted his chin and his lips curved into a sort of small smile that could more accurately be described as a grimace. With his eyes on the window, with the beautiful view of the city and its busy streets, Dohyun took his time to answer and his pleased and almost satisfied look gave you to understand that your question was not a surprise at all. Dohyun could take it simply as healthy curiosity, for after all Yoongi was a celebrity and there weren't many people around the country who couldn't recognize him and you literally saw him face to face.

However, of course, there was something about his attitude that felt different. He wasn't surprised by your question, it was true, but maybe not for the reason you thought.

“He's a friend of my best friend.” Dohyun finally answered, returning your gaze, a glint of amusement highlighting his dark eyes. “I met him a couple of years ago through him, who is also his best friend. Otherwise, I doubt we would've ever met.”

Ah, Dohyun had a best friend who was best friends with Yoongi. That could only mean one thing.

“Ah. Then your best friend is part of the seven kings.”

Dohyun raised his eyebrows, clearly amused by your choice of words and the permanence of that haunting smile and the glint in his eyes should've been warning enough. He had the posture, demeanor and speech of a person who knew he was in control of the situation. Whatever his purpose was in entertaining this conversation, you already knew you were involved in that reason, indirectly.

Dohyun knew something about you that you had no idea about.

“Yes, indeed. It's Kim Seokjin. We met in college.”

As you guessed, of course. That's where the similar traits you could find in his personality came from.

But then Yoongi wasn't directly friends with Dohyun, and they couldn't be that close because of the nonchalant way he referred to him, so the question of why he was here yesterday, precisely when you came, would remain unanswered. It could be a coincidence? Of course, and you could remain in doubt, or you could…

“Wow. You two really are a powerful duo.”

Dohyun let out a laugh, nodding, looking so comfortable with himself, as if you were asking all the questions you should be asking.

“I love my job and I know I'm good at what I do, but Jin is simply on another level.”

You nodded, getting into his game of pretending, with a half smile on your face.

You knew that if Yuna knew what you were doing she would shake her head and tell you that you were crazy; that you should try to be less hard on other people and that's why you had never been able to hit it off with the other co-workers in Sol's cafeteria.

“Yes. I hear he's a great surgeon. He was top of his class, wasn't he?”

“That's right.” Dohyun nodded, determined not to look away from you. “But you're close to them too, aren't you? I saw Taehyung's Instagram stories when he uploaded your books.”

You blinked. Once. And again. He had already figured you out, and now he wanted to reverse the table and get some kind of reaction or information from you that you didn't know what kind of mystery it would solve in his head. The best option was to feign a bit of surprise, which was what you did, as if you didn't expect him to suddenly bring that up.

“Well, we studied together in school, but we were never that close.”

You lifted a shoulder, trying to downplay the subject, as if on cue, and Dohyun nodded slightly processing the information, averting his gaze over the dark carpet on the floor. He seemed to be tying up loose ends in his head and had more questions, the way he squinted his eyes as you gave him his space to think.

You had no idea what he was getting at. You had already brought out to him that he was close friends with Kim Seokjin and that, basically by extension he knew Yoongi. You could almost say it was a bit of an ordinary, almost trivial topic, not overly suspicious. Unless, of course, he knew something else that raised his curiosity and made you look suspicious in his eyes for asking such questions.

It seemed the most certain theory.

“And through him you must have met the others sometime, right?”

And it seemed you were right, too.

You had to deny his assertion, you knew, but it seemed you had taken half a second too long because he beat you to the word, shaking his head in a nod, and then said:

“That explains a lot.”

“Huh?”

Play dumb, play dumb.

Dohyun cracked a big grin, looking almost like a predator in the midst of its hunt, and from that alone you knew he'd already put his puzzle together.

“Well… actually, now that we're being honest, Jin was the one who recommended me to read your books.”

Wow.

Okay.

Jin… told Dohyun about you? About your books?

That doesn't explain anything. In fact, more questions popped up in your head than you could control and you were sure Dohyun could see the question marks moving over your irises.

“He told me that there could be a great opportunity if I published you and he was really right. I don't regret sending you that offer.”

Dohyun leaned back against the backrest and stretched one of his arms over the chair next to him. His posture was a little more relaxed than before and you couldn't help the feeling of anger that ran through you because you had given him just what he wanted, but you couldn't concentrate too much on that because you were too surprised by what he had just blurted out, as if it was nothig.

Of all the things you could've imagined, you would never have considered that this huge and prestigious publishing house had offered you a contract just because one of the CEO's great friends had recommended it to him. I mean, if Jin had never talked about it, would you have had any chance of getting this offer? Of signing this contract? Would you have been recognized on your own merit and not because you were linked to the mouth of a close friend?

None of that made any sense. Why had Jin told Choi Dohyun about you? His best friend being the owner of the most prestigious publishing house in the country, clearly knowing the implications of his actions, why would he do that? Maybe he didn't count on his friend throwing him overboard someday for gossiping and because he has an ego bigger than his own head? Maybe he thought it would be an anonymous job forever? And for what reason? On what grounds? What kind of emotions moved him to make that decision? Maybe it was simply an altruistic desire. Maybe he was moved by the same thing that moved Taehyung, the one who started all this. But was it something premeditated or not? Was it something he had previously discussed with Namjoon? Would the others know about it? Would they have agreed? Would they not have cared?

In the midst of that mental stupor, the very idea of healing seemed stupid to you. The immense confusion and anger that was coursing through your blood had no place for this group of fools to continue to meddle in your life as if they were playing a fucking election game on their computer. Why? Why? Why?

You wanted to get out of a simple doubt with Dohyun, to know what kind of connection he had with Yoongi and that everything that had happened was a coincidence, and you had ended up with a thousand more questions, with a hundred confusions and even more mixed emotions.

And Yoongi… would he have been in his office yesterday for something related to that?

“At first I thought Taehyung had asked him, but Jin is quite careful about such things. He wouldn't hint something like that to me even because his brothers ask him to, unless it was someone he could vouch for. So you knew Jin too, right?”

You didn't try to deny it, but you didn't give him the reason either. Amidst a sea of questions and confusion, incredulous and angry, you just shook your head and crossed your arms.

“I'll bring the first draft tomorrow.”

Dohyun took his time, drumming his fingers on the wood of the chair, sending you a look as if he wanted to get more answers out of you because your attitude raised more doubts than he initially had. Maybe you let go of a wolf's leash or this would be a one-time occurrence, you had no idea. But he said nothing more. Finally he got up, said goodbye and left.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

You should've listened to Yuna.

-

The next day, when you finished editing the draft of your fourth book amid tears, several cups of coffee and an excruciating pain in your wrist, you finally handed it in to the editors with a heavy heart and an hour of sleep in your body. It had officially ceased to be yours. The revelation that Dohyun had actually offered you all of this because Jin had asked him to do so kept going round and round in your head and made you revise and edit that draft more harshly than you would've done before.

Maybe you added a few extra curse words.

“If you don't finish that pasta, I'm going to steal it from you.”

Yuna hadn't even finished her own plate and was already eyeing yours, her brow furrowed and her own fork stabbing the ceramic of the deep dish you'd served your friend in as she crossed the threshold of the front door. You had been stirring the food with your fork for a while, thinking, reflecting, theorizing, trying to figure out what you really wanted; trying to recognize and accept the emotions inside you that were upsetting you.

Your parents had left early and Seojun was back in his college dorms, so you invited Yuna to lunch because you knew she loved the pastries your mom made and because you thought it would do you good to have some company after turning in the draft of your book. But, really, you were more overwhelmed than before. Yuna's presence didn't stop the thoughts in your head from racing, nor did it erase from reality what had happened.

“Y/n?”

You raised your head.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, and tried to focus on eating lunch before rambling on.

“Is it because of the book?”

“No, no. Everything's fine. I was just thinking.”

“Do you think you should've waited a little longer to turn it in?”

You shook your head. “No.”

It wasn't an order from Dohyun or anything like that. You decided to get started on editing the next book because it was a bit desperate to have nothing to do. Before you could focus on the whole operational and logistical process of delivering the books, but now that was taken care of by a separate company and all you had to do was verify that the money was coming into your account and that was it. Not that it was bad, but you were not used to just sitting idly by. So you thought that continuing with the pre-publication editing of the next books might be a good way to pass the time.

You didn't expect, of course, the statement you heard the day before, let alone that it would knock down your motivation like the wind to dry leaves. After that conversation with Dohyun, you decided that the best thing you could do was to turn in that draft and give them as much work as possible as a distraction so that you wouldn't have to go back to that building for at least a couple of weeks. It wasn't a healthy activity, of course, because at the time you were only functioning to keep Yuna from questioning if there was something wrong with you. Well, she probably did, but she preferred not to comment on it, because you hadn't been giving her too many answers to her questions lately.

Having decided that Dohyun was an expert manipulator, you could only worry about the possibility that he might decide to comment something about that conversation to Jin or just stir up a conversation about the possible existence of a friendly bond with him during school time. You didn't know what could trigger that; with everything that had happened up to that point you could no longer be sure of anything or trust anything.

“No. I thought I'd turn it in now so I'd have more time to read the next books. I know that one isn't too bad. I revised it too many times while I was writing it and even after.”

“And it's pretty long, isn't it?”

You nodded, finally tasting another mouthful of pasta. “Seven hundred pages.”

“Holy Christ,” Yuna put a hand to her forehead and sketched a worried expression. Then her excited exclamation echoed throughout the house. “What a thrill! I can't wait to read it!!!!!!”

Yuna returned to work an hour later and you spent the rest of the afternoon between shifts of lying down staring at the ceiling and watching more videos about your books on social media, which you hadn't been able to leave since you saw them with your whole family in the living room. It still seemed surreal to you that you could search the name of your books on the internet and you would indeed get the results you expected. Clearly not all the opinions were praise, but you were willing to take all of that and learn, implement and consider it for the next stories you were willing to tell. For now, you were going to focus on keeping the editors busy enough that they wouldn't have to ask about it or demand your presence for any reason. This trilogy really was quite a lengthy saga, so when they finallt finish editing the fourth book, you'd have the fifth waiting, and so on. At least until you had another amazing idea for a new story.

Now, on the slightly more disturbing topics, you still had more loose ends to tie up than you had initially thought. As you still had those particles of anger running through your body and you were still convinced that there was still no room for healing and overcoming, you could only think about what Yoongi's presence in Dohyun's office was about and if it had to do with what Jin had done.

That was the first line of thought. The second one sounded more like Yuna with her serious voice trying to talk some sense into you and tell you that you were seeing into it too much, that surely it was all just a coincidence and that Yoongi's presence was just some kind of crossfire.

But… yet… how many more times did something like this have to happen before you stopped chalking it up to coincidence? How many more times would you say it was a coincidence until everything started to connect to a purpose? Did they even have a purpose? Did they have a reason for all this, for all this unnecessary drama? And was their reason worth it to compensate for the instability you were going through? Having pent up emotions, confusion, lots of doubts and zero answers was about to drive you crazy.

However, maybe seeing things from another approach would allow you to understand.

Because, honestly, you saw it as too complicated to be able to leave them behind in this way, when it seemed that, on purpose or not, you would keep finding them in your soup. Adopting a slightly more objective approach, even though your emotions were always running high when it came to them, could give you the resolution you were looking for and the answer to the questions you were asking yourself. And there would be nothing more than that, because it would be impossible to restore the friendship you once had. Perhaps the truth would be painful, but you would accept it as it was and move on. Now, as old as you were, it would not be as hard as it was ten years ago when in the midst of confusion and desolation you could only cry.

Now, you had already gone through the mourning and made peace with the distance, the absence and the betrayal.

Maybe, if you tried a little harder, you could bring real closure —and soon, hopefully— by finding the answers on your own.

-

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, which he was spinning around like a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and solve any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would make everyone feel comfortable enough to move forward.

In his head, Namjoon was a three thousand dollars conflict-solver. Seeking solutions from reason and objectivity was basically how he kept his company afloat, that company he had inherited from his parents and had turned into the economic juggernaut it was today. All that success was summed up in the capacity for resolution that Namjoon had in his super head and, of course, his strategic capacity that allowed him to read his opponents and know exactly what they wanted, how they wanted it and when they wanted it.

However…

The whole table was still silent.

And Namjoon could only look at the faces of each of his friends, his best friends, practically his brothers, while they shied away from his gaze or directly ignored him, while he clasped his hands on the edge of the chair and tried to keep his composure because he no longer knew what to do.

Kim Namjoon, the three-thousandth troubleshooter, had a factory defect and could not fix the one thing he had always been able to fix with ease.

When Hoseok had walked into his office two nights ago with that stern and serious expression, Namjoon knew that there would be more problems to solve. But if he had to be honest, even before that moment he knew it wasn't working out well. Maybe it was because of the delicacy of the subject or the crudeness of his friends to address it, but Namjoon was losing the important ingredient of patience and that was something that hadn't happened to him before.

But then again, how could they all be so insensitive?

“Doesn't anyone have anything to say?”

Hoseok had been the only one to be spared from this discussion, though his presence was required at the table and tension radiated from his body in equal amounts. The others were directly attacked by the three thousandth (broken) problem-solver and despite Namjoon giving them a space to try to explain the situation, the table was still silent and with each passing second the pressure cooker containing Namjoon's anger was beeping louder and louder.

“I don't think there's much to say.”

It was Jin who finally broke the silence and Namjoon let out some air.

“Ah, thank you, Jin. Why do you think so?”

With his arms crossed, the older sent him an incredulous look.

“We've had this conversation three times already, Namjoon. Why do you think it's necessary for us to keep repeating ourselves?”

Hoseok had told Namjoon that he was concerned about the coexistence in the pent-house and that perhaps the elephant in the room was not being addressed in the right way; that more and more misunderstandings were being created between everyone and that it was making for an untrustworthy environment for the youngers. Namjoon agreed halfway through; if he had to be honest, none of it would've gotten to that point if none of them had been so irresponsible and daring to do all that they had done. And Jin had the least right to dismiss the issue as he had.

“Because you all don't seem to have listened to me at all, especially you.”

Jin snorted and turned his head away. Jungkook beside him barely winced at the hostile exchange.

“And what did I do?”

“What did you do? Jin, how can you be so inconsiderate?”

“I only rushed an exchange that was eventually going to happen, what the fuck is wrong with that?”

Namjoon tried not to look so surprised by the fact that the conversation he had had with him two nights ago and Yoongi had basically gone in one ear and out the other. Namjoon had no idea if it was an occupational hazard or a personality trait, but Jin was having a kind of stubbornness that bordered too much on his pride and desire to be right.

And right now it wasn't about who was right or wrong. It was about the fact that they had all made a promise and now they were breaking it as if it was worthless. Worse, as if the only ones affected by it were them and not a third party.

“Didn't you stop to think how she would feel if she found out that was how things went down?”

Jin rolled his eyes, but didn't answer him.

“Why do you all do all these things without believing that they will have consequences beyond your own feelings? That's all I'm asking you to consider!”

Taehyung and Jungkook at least had the decency to actually look embarrassed, avoiding Namjoon's gaze. Jimin was still convinced that he had done nothing extremely wrong and Yoongi simply demonstrated his sorrow through indifference. Namjoon knew that Yoongi was just as frustrated as he was with the way things were going, because they were the only ones trying to fix the messes the others had been thoughtlessly causing. And Jin… well, it was obvious that he didn't see any big implications beyond having to be scolded by Namjoon.

“Guys…” Hoseok started, sitting to Namjoon's right with a tired and defeated expression. If Namjoon and Yoongi were looking out for the integrity of the third party concerned, Hoseok was the one who was most concerned about the bonds that were breaking between them and that was why he had gone to Namjoon to have a group meeting again and set the boundaries once and for all. “You guys know that Namjoon is not just talking for the sake of talking. Jin, you don't need to get defensive. I understand that you tried to make the connection in good faith, but you have to understand that it was a very high risk. And while Dohyun is your friend, you know he's not very trustworthy.”

Jin grunted then, despite the kind tone Hoseok used to address him, and the others at the table only sent him a surprised look.

“Sure, now it's all my own damn fault. Not only do I have to deal with the stress of work, now I have to come to my supposed time off to deal with this too?”

“Hyung,” Yoongi called after him and frowned at the rude tone the older had used. “No one is saying it's your fault. We all have a part in this.”

“I don't care, Yoongi. Whatever's going on right now you know who's really to blame. And there's nothing you can do about it anymore.”

“Jin,” Namjoon called back and the aforementioned turned to look at him with daggers in his eyes. “You made the promise too.”

“Yes, one I never agreed to and you know it.”

Hoseok sighed and ran his hands over his face. “This is not the time to apportion blame, okay? I only wanted this space because I want us to fix this lack of communication and all this hostility that is affecting our living together.”

Namjoon turned to look at the table, finding the younger ones sealed in silence. None of them raised their heads and they showed signs of nervousness and anxiety, even if they tried to hide it under the tablecloth on the table.

There were too many things Namjoon wanted to control; there were too many things he wanted to solve; there were a number of other things that drove him mad and others that made him feel hopeless. Understanding all these emotions, his own or others', was wearing him down and perhaps that was why he was increasingly losing an ounce of patience. However, no matter how hard it was for him, Namjoon had to be sure that his priority was right in front of him. He had chosen to do so a couple of years ago and he could no longer turn back time.

“Hey, I'm sorry, okay?” Namjoon started once again and although Hoseok tried to shush him to calm down, he continued, “I know how I've acted during these days since everything started and I have not been very open to dialogue. For me it was… it was like crossing a forbidden boundary and I couldn't understand how you guys could jump over it without a second thought. It made my hair stand on end and I didn't… I didn't… I didn't know how to contain those emotions, I didn't know how to control them and clearly I didn't know how to express them. And the truth is that it worries me. I understand that you don't, because otherwise you wouldn't have done any of that, but I would like you to try to do that because this is not a unilateral action that will only affect you and will only be in your memories. You are affecting her too, and very much so. We were not good, not even friendly or cordial, so I need you to understand that all these things she will not see them as you think. Jungkook, you experienced it first hand. She hates us.”

Jungkook jerked on the chair and Taehyung was the one who reached over the table to take his intertwined hands. Jin sighed, finally letting the anger dissipate and Yoongi mimicked him, a little calmer as he watched his elder relax. Hoseok shook his head in assent, noticing the tension at the table dissipate a bit and how the young men held each other.

“And rightly so, because we made an inexcusable decision. And not only that, but she will now believe that it was a simple Tuesday for us and it's not. We made the promise for a reason and anything related we were supposed to consult first as a group. Sure, life happens and we get busy with a lot of things and have too much on our minds, but this was all inexcusable and we owe her more than forgiveness. We probably owe her our lives.”

“Hyung, I'm sorry…”

Jungkook was the most regretful. Since that harsh encounter, for which he dared to risk his presence in public and for which he believed it would be worth a try, Jungkook had never regretted something so much since the day of the promise. He still remembered the hatred your voice exuded and shivers ran down his spine. He had been unconscious, that was true, and he didn't know what he had let consume his body to have made that decision or to have simply acted without thinking. The possibility of seeing you again simply…blinded him. But that was never an excuse.

And Namjoon knew that. It was Jungkook who acted worse than everyone else, but he also couldn't deny to himself that had he found himself in the same predicament, with the same opportunity, he wouldn't have done the same. Maybe that's why he was so demanding of others, because that's how he reminded himself that he had no right to even think about it, much less act on their emotions, when they had taken away your choice as if they had any say in it.

“We can't erase what has already happened and what you have already done. All I ask is that you don't make it worse.” Namjoon implored, closing his eyes in silent prayer. “At this point there is no way to fix anything, and if every day we do things like this we are only inflicting pain on someone who doesn't deserve it. So please, for the love of God, leave her alone.”

The whole table was still silent, but this time Namjoon could clearly see everyone's face and notice their emotions right away, as he had always been able to do. He still didn't understand what had moved them to do all that; to Taehyung, to Jungkook, to Jin, to Jimin, despite everything they had discussed before, and he didn't understand how he hadn't been able to foresee their intentions from the beginning. But he could no longer focus on what had happened, but on what was happening and what he could still fix.

For that which had already been broken for years, Namjoon doubted too much that any of it could ever be fixed, no matter how hard he tried. And boy, would he have wanted to try.

“I'm sorry,” Jin mumbled, and it almost seemed like he had ripped the words from the back of his throat, but Namjoon took it with all his being and considered it the first victory on this new path.

When he finally dispatched everyone, Jimin remained seated to his left.

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

The blond looked disgruntled, and though it was clear that the tension was gone from his shoulders, in his gaze was that longing that Namjoon hadn't seen in years and certainly didn't allow in himself for all that he had previously exposed.

“Do you really think it's impossible to fix it?”

Namjoon hated knowing that the gleam in Jimin's eye had no future. At least not the one he wanted to believe. Namjoon, like everyone else, had spent sleepless nights thinking, remembering, reflecting and considering that they were never brave enough nor necessarily tough enough to earn that friendship once again. It had all gone to waste and it had been because of them.

“Yeah, I don't think that's possible.”

Jimin passed his saliva harshly, as if his mouth was dry, but he had to control and keep his emotions in check. Namjoon knew his every emotion and mainly knew how sensitive this whole issue was for Jimin, who from the beginning never agreed with him on anything and never hesitated to let him know. In fact, it took a couple of years before Namjoon could finally have this close relationship with Jimin again, until the blond decided to forgive him.

“It's silly to hope at this point, right?”

Namjoon also knew that Jimin struggled a lot to stop pointing blames, as Jin still did. He knew that, had Jimin had the opportunity in his hands several years in the past, he would have taken it and perhaps left them behind if he could. It was an extremely complex and long process to get the blond to trust Namjoon and those on his side again, which was one of the reasons why Hoseok was so insistent on talking and communicating and keeping everyone on good terms. It had cost them so much to re-form their trust that he couldn't allow it to crack once again.

Jimin nodded at his words when they were met with silence, for there was nothing Namjoon could say to comfort him. It was simply a heartbreaking situation.

“Tae and I will be with Jungkook.” Jimin assured Namjoon as he stood up. “Thank you… for trying.”

Namjoon only nodded, pressing his lips together in an attempt at a smile. Things would not automatically go back to the way they were before, as Namjoon's sternness in dealing with this issue on previous occasions was what initially caused this whole fiasco of miscommunication and hostility. He was heartily grateful that likewise Jimin took him into consideration, because he didn't know if he would be able to sleep knowing that everyone in that pent-house hated him. He didn't know if being the reason for the constant discord would allow him to have a respite of peace of mind at some point, when he was simply trying to do what he thought was best for everyone and what suited them on a sentimental level.

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, over which he circled as if it was a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and provide a solution to any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would allow everyone to feel comfortable enough to move forward.

However, at that moment, the past tense wording was the most accurate.

Namjoon used to believe.

Jimin stopped halfway up the stairs, transfixed, and Namjoon watched him curiously. Then, the blond half-turned on his heels and Namjoon got front row view of Jimin's pale face and his exaggeratedly expanded eyes as he looked at his phone.

“Hyung…”

Namjoon came striding over, intrigued as well as concerned by the expression on the blond's face.

Jimin had his Instagram open, specifically his direct messages. There was the message there that had made Jimin stop dead in his tracks and all blood dropped to his feet, but Namjoon didn't understand what the reason for his surprise was until he saw the sender, and then his eyebrows disappeared into his hair.

y/n Let's meet

--

omg🙊🙊

tag: @rinkud@futuristicenemychaos@pastelpeachess@parapiop7@11thenightwemet11 @yoongznme @queenbloody @lynnettys-world @darlingz99 @dreamerwasfound @chaotickyrith @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthigs @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @kariningss @juju-227592 @zippaur @v4ksk4tz @kookierry @idk179634 @canarystwin @jincapableoflove @notrustfratedjin @elliott-calls @devilzliaison @ismelllikechlorine247 @19yearoldjstryingtolivelife @thatgirliehan @yuuuumii @welcometomyworld13 @sugarbaby69x @whoa-jo @cerulean1riz @kawennote09 @angelfuzzy2 @themoonsblueside @damn-u-min-yoongi @drenix004 @dhanyasri @borahaetelevision

[fanficsformyfaves]

She Got Away

Agatha Harkness x Fem Witch!Reader

WARNING: ANGST, SMUT 18+, Violence, Mentions Of Sickness And Symptoms, Mentions Of Murder, Lovers To Enemies To Lovers Trope, Agatha Uses Sex Magic To Give Herself A Cock, Rough Sex

PREFACE: Reader and Agatha were together back when they still lived in Salem, but when Agatha takes the coven's power and kills almost all its members, she fled, living only Reader alive

A/N: Flashback In Italics!

Marvel finally grew a pair and gave us the lesbian angst we deserved

And yes this was heavily inspired by Chappell's unreleased song 'Subway'

All I remembered seeing, as the last of my vision faded into darkness, was someone stashing me inside a hollow tree and growing vines shielding me from view. In the far distance, her silhouette turned to face me once more, before disappearing into the thick fog ahead.

I hadn't seen Agatha since then, but I was determined to find her. After everything we'd been through, the last thing I ever expected was for her to betray me the way that she did. She killed our coven and ran off like it was nothing. Like what we had was meaningless and insignificant to her.

From that day forward, I vowed to make her pay, if it was the last thing I did.

It took a while, but I managed to track her down in New Jersey. It became difficult when I couldn't sense her magic anymore, but I knew she was there. It was just a feeling I couldn't shake.

I walked down the lane of houses, wary of the eyes following me, when I arrive at the very last one at the end of the street. I take a quick glance through the window and that's when I felt my heart drop.

The woman I loved all those years ago. The same woman who made me feel like I was actually worth something, just to take it all away from me.

Amidst the blinding rage that coursed through my body was the agony I felt when I she first left. It was a knife twisting inside me with no way out.

Wanting to end this once and for all, I stormed the house by kicking the door open to find her huddled in the corner of her kitchen. She tried hard to mask her fear with a cocky grin, but of course I saw right through her.

"Well, if it isn't (Y/F/N). God, how long has it been?"

"Three hundred years, six months and six days"

"Awe, you kept count-"

She was interrupted by a dagger I threw her way. The blade striking the cabinet when she ducked.

"I see you picked up knife-throwing", she teased.

I lunge forward, grabbing the back of her head and slamming her into the wall. I wanted her to hurt the way I hurt. Only ten times worse.

She falls to the floor, holding her head, as I grabbed another knife, but before I could drive it into her chest, she stops me by my wrist.

"Remember pain? Kinda tickles doesn't it?", I said through gritted teeth.

I only managed to draw a drop of blood, before she reached for the chair and knocked me off of her. She gets back on her feet and makes a run for the door, when I use my magic to block off her only exit.

"I'm surprised you aren't using magic to get out of this one", I say, following her into the living room and blowing a fallen strand of hair away from my face.

She sighed through her nose, not taking her eyes off of me.

"Don't tell me you've reformed?"

"Another witch took my powers. The Scarlet Witch"

I scoff in surprise.

"So you finally got what was coming to you"

Her lips were set in a fine grimace.

"Well...almost. I'm just here to finish the job", I say, using my powers to launch her across the room.

She hits a glass case and falls to the ground with a thud, wincing. Just as I go to throw another one of my daggers, she holds a hand out.

"Wait! Wait", she pleaded, halting me.

"This isn't what you want. Me? Without power?", she chuckled nervously, carefully getting back up.

"This is- this is undignified! Don't you want me at my best?"

She stretches out the kinks in her neck, making sure not to take her eyes off of me.

"Admit it, you prefer me-"

"Horizontal? In a grave?", I cut off.

"Formidable", she answered.

"Come on, baby. You love it, the anticipation", she whispered, taking a step closer.

"Hm. That would be fun", I shrugged.

"Wouldn't it? Just...let me get my purple back and come find me after-"

"Not a chance in hell. Which is exactly where I plan on sending you. I promise to make it quick", I mocked, winding my blade back.

"Wait! Please!"

I roll my eyes, irritated with the stalling.

"Look. I hurt you, I'm not denying that", she swallowed thickly.

"But I didn't want to. I didn't have a choice", she shakes her head.

"You always have a choice. Like not killing our coven for example"

"You don't know what happened-"

"Or leaving me...when I needed you", I struggled to hide the hint of sadness peaking out from behind my anger.

Up to this point, I was able keep my composure, but the longer I looked at her, the more I felt the pain I'd been carrying around for years creep up on me.

"(Y/N)-"

"I woke up alone, surrounded by nothing but a pile of bodies and no one to turn to. You did that!"

Agatha bows her head, unable to hold my hurt gaze.

"I loved you, so so much", my voice was reduced to nothing but tearful whispers.

"So could you imagine just how much it killed me when you left? To find out it was all one-sided?", I hissed through gritted teeth.

"I did love you-"

"No, you didn't. You don't leave someone you loved behind"

I could tell that struck a nerve in her, when the brim of her eyes began to water.

"Why do you think I spared you and hid you in that tree? Hm? So you could exact revenge on me three hundred years later? Why not just finish the job?", her tone now angry at my accusations.

I was dumbfounded by the revelation. It was as if time ceased to move and the rest of the world disappeared around us.

"What?"

"I left to protect you. It was for your own good"

"That was you?"

"Of course it was. Everyone else was dead by the time I found you again"

My brows furrowed in confusion.

"What do you remember?", she questioned, mimicking my expression.

"I..."

"We were in the woods. I was confronting my mother about conspiring to kill me, when you showed up"

Suddenly, rushes of the past engulfed my vision. The grief of losing both my family and Agatha must've been too much for me to bare and caused my mind to distort my recollection of it.

I was walking through the forest, looking for my familiar, when I stumbled upon the empress and Agatha fighting.

"You were born evil", the empress snarled, as Agatha tensed at her tone.

"Empress? Agatha? What's happening?"

The empress turns back to Agatha with a look of disgust.

"No-", Agatha goes to intervene, but was interrupted by me getting struck with a bolt of magic.

"Obviously, I struck her back and when the other members overheard us, all hell broke loose. I was running and fighting for my life for hours"

"Why would she do that? Why would she try to kill you?"

"You heard her, I was 'born evil'. Finding out about the Darkhold was just the nail in the coffin"

Each missing piece of what happened finally began falling into place.

Back in Salem, a devasting sickness swept through the town and nearly claimed the lives of all its residents. Unfortunately, I was one of the unlucky few that fell victim to the disease's rampage.

It started with a fever and a few aches, but quickly escalated to me vomiting blood by the pint. I was bed-ridden for days and sure to die as there was no traditional spell to cure my ills, when Agatha made me a promise to keep me alive, no matter the means.

"I won't let you die", she sniffled, wiping the sweat off of my forehead.

"Agatha-"

"Don't. I'll find a way"

And that's what made her turn to Dark Magic and discover a book called the Darkhold. In the dead of night, whilst everyone was either asleep or nursing the sick, she snuck back into my hut and performed the ritual that restored my health.

"I don't know how she found out, but somehow she did"

I angrily wiped away the tears that managed to escape me.

"Let's say you're telling the truth about what really happened. You still left me", my voice trembled with each word.

"I couldn't risk people thinking you were involved. If they did, you would've spent the rest of your life running and you deserve better than that", she said, getting close enough to cradle my face in her hands.

I inhale, shrugging to get away from her.

"I don't believe you"

"Seems like you do"

Finally fed up with her mind games, I grab her by the throat and spun us around to pin her to the wall. I conjure another dagger and just as I raised it high into the air. This was it. The moment I'd been working towards for the last three centuries...only I couldn't move. She didn't have her powers, so I knew it couldn't have been her.

"You can't do it, can you?", she struggled.

"It's cause you know I'm telling the truth"

She was right. The realization knocked the wind out of me like a bat to my chest. I knew deep down, no matter how much she hurt me by leaving and how much I hated her for it, she only did what she had to...because she loved me. I took a shaky breath and felt another tear roll down my cheek.

She lowers the hand I held the dagger and cupped my face.

"That's it. Easy"

Once my hands were both to my side, she pulled me into a tight embrace, as I nuzzled into her neck.

"Oh, sweetheart. I missed you", she sighed contently.

Her own voice quivering at the feeling of my trembling sobs.

She eventually pulled away just enough to wipe my face dry and in that moment, my eyes poured into her baby blues.

I didn't know whether it was the adrenaline or the burden of the last few centuries being taken off of me, but before I could figure it out, I dropped the knife, grabbed her face and smashed my lips against hers. I backed her up against the wall, careful to guide her around the broken glass.

She quickly got to work on pulling my shirt off over my head and I followed suit, untying her robe. I couldn't help but take a moment to admire her hardened buds peaking through her nightgown.

"Missed me?"

"Shut up", I exhaled, pulling her back onto my lips, as she moaned at my man handling.

Once we were done ridding ourselves of all our clothes, she spun the both of us around to pin me now. She held my wrists against the wall and trailed her kisses down to my neck.

"You're so fucking pretty", she mumbled, painting my skin with shades of red and purple.

I whine at her nibbling down on my shoulder and throwing me around her waist. She takes us to the couch and I grind myself down on her lap, groaning at the sensation. As I returned the favor and left marks all up and down her neck, she mumbles something in Latin. Before I could question what she was doing, I felt something press against my core.

"Is that..."

"Really thought I forgot your favorite spell?", she grinned wickedly, running her hands up my waist to hold me in place.

"I always did enjoy fucking you raw"

I dive back into her lips and adjusted my hips to help her along. She grabs the appendage by the base and uses the tip to rub firm circles on my already aching clit.

"You're a mess", she chuckled, taking one of my nipples into her mouth.

"Please, take me", I moaned, grasping the back of her neck and bracing for her to stretch me out.

In one smooth thrust, she filled me to the brim, as I cried out. It was much bigger than I remembered.

"God, you were always so warm...and tight", she panted between each subtle thrust.

After giving me a moment to adjust, she started with a gentle pace, reminding herself to litter my neck and shoulder with kisses to soothe me.

"My sweet angel, fuck", she groaned.

As I began to ride up and down her length. Her eyes rake over my form and the way my hips dropped forward and pulled back over and over again. With each motion, her tip directly pressed into my g-spot, making her name fall from my lips repeatedly like a cursed hymn.

Her nails claw down my back, earning a wince.

"I'm sorry", she panted.

"Don't stop"

"I don't wanna hurt you-"

"I don't care", I whine, diving back into her lips and riding her faster.

She uses her biceps to hold me in place, ramming up into me harder.

"Agatha, fuck", I whimpered, holding onto her shoulders for dear life.

"That's right, baby. You're all mine"

My climax was fast-approaching and all I could do was fight it off as long as I could, until she gave me permission. Even after years of hating her, my body never forgot.

"I can feel you getting close", she moaned.

"Do it for me, come on, baby. I need you to come", she pleaded, reaching down between us to vigorously rub my throbbing clit.

I came with a scream that surely echoed throughout the neighborhood, but I couldn't care less. My vision momentarily faded to black, as my head fell back from the overwhelming pleasure that consumed me.

She held me against her, groaning as she coated my walls with her warmth.

"Fuck", she grunted, still thrusting into me to help us both ride out our orgasms.

Both spent and covered in each other's sweat and essences, we stay still for a while to catch our breaths.

"Miss me now?"

Too tired to think of a comeback, I simply nodded against her shoulder, hearing chuckle.

"Welcome home, baby"

[c0nfessions-of-a-writing-freak]

Protective Flower

Pairing: Harry Hook x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 1.4k

Summary: While making your rounds of the Isle making sure everyone still fears your name, you run into an old acquaintance. Someone oversees this and doesn't take lightly to others touching what is his.

Bingo: @eclipsingbingo with the square 'Jealousy'

*Gif does not belong to me

Boots clicking with every step, you had not a care in the world as you walked through the Isle of the Lost. Why would you? You were the daughter of Madame Gothel, the Mother Gothel. Everyone on the Isle knew of your mother's story and with that came protection, a blanket of safety that her name alone offered you.

That didn't mean you let the glare on your features fall or had your back turned on anyone for too long. With brisk steps you passed through different sections of the Isle, never staying for too long. It was only when you saw the back of someone's head whom you never thought you'd see again.

"Jay?" You slowly question, your voice hesitant in case who you thought was in front of you was an illusion or just an insanely good look-alike whom you've never seen before that day. It was only when the boy's head of long brown hair turned and a whisper of your name left his lips that you knew it was him. "What are you doing here? I thought you had gotten off this island and were at Auradon."

"Some circumstances have changed," He muttered with a coy grin, bounding his way over to you. The fast approach made you take a few small steps back, trying to put distance in between the two of you in case he decided to try something, though Jay bypassed this easily, one of his strides making up for three of yours as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. "I've missed you. We all have."

You froze immediately as you were engulfed, not expecting the embrace and hardly knowing what to call it. The feeling that arose from being trapped within Jay's arms was odd, almost comforting. That didn't matter though as you kept your arms glued to your side, not raising them to return the gesture.

"I'm sure it would've passed," You mumbled, voice gruff as you remembered what it had been like before Jay, Mal, Evie and Carlos left the Isle. How things have changed since then. Your words caused Jay to finally pull back, which you were both grateful for since the action was weak, though also longed for it to return, the simple contact something you have never experienced on the Isle evoking something within you. It must have been some trickery Auradon had taught them. "You never did say why you were here. And if you're here, I'm assuming so are the others."

"About that," Jay trailed off, hand sheepishly going to rub at the back of his neck. The action instantly had you quirking an eyebrow, never before seen such an action from the taller VK. Or former VK. "Carlos actually sent me to come and find you. We were wondering if we could use your help. Like old times-"

"What do we have here?" A taunting voice called out, cutting off the end of Jay's sentence, not that you needed to hear the rest of it to know what he was asking of you. You didn't even bat an eye to the new voice, coming well accustomed to it in the past year, more so than before Jay and his little redeemed squad had run off. "Runnin' into ya two times in a day has got ta be a good omen."

Jay's whole deemer immediately changed at not only the sight of him but also the sound. Turning an annoyed glare that held more heat than you knew Jay could still muster onto the newest arrival, Jay greeted him with a less than pleased grunt, "Hook."

Harry Hook, in all his glory, came out from the shadows he had previously lurking in so the deranged grin he was flashing could be seen by all.

"Don't sound so sad ta see me," Harry's laugh felt as if a harsh bite had sunken into you. It wasn't unwelcomed but such a stark contrast to what Jay had offered you moments ago. His eyes fell on you quickly, blue irises sucking you in as he walked closer, sealing his spot at your side as he wrapped a tight arm around your waist and pulled you flush to his side. "I was wondering when the two of yer would meet again. It was only a matter of time I suppose."

Jay's eyes locked in on the hand on your waist, Harry's fingers flexing at the sight as they curled in tighter. The sensation didn't hurt, not when you've felt it before. It was almost comforting, though in a different way to how Jay tried offering it. You weren't oblivious enough to not understand that Harry was staking his claim, however, making it known to Jay how things were running this time around.

"I didn't know the two of you had buddied up since we've been gone," Jay had to drag his eyes away from where the two of you were connected, never taking his eyes off of you as he refused to look into Harry's.

"Things have changed since you and the others were taken off the Isle," You shrugged your shoulders up as you spoke, giving it to Jay plainly. After he and the others left you were without a gang to call your own, leaving you to resort to other means of getting by. "Not all of us were whisked away to be Princesses and Princes."

"I can see that," Jay breathes out as if the words were vile on his tongue. You weren't ashamed of this. Just because you had grown closer to Harry and his crew in his and the other's absence didn't mean you were going to flip a switch now that they were back. "It was nice catching up with you. If you want to talk more, you know where to find us."

"I'll see you around Jay," You bid your farewell, surprised that Harry was able to remain as quiet as he did. Not sparing you another word, though his eyes flickered down to where Harry kept his hold on you, Jay turned away so he could make his way back to the hideout he must've come from.

"Now wasn't that a lovely chat," Harry chirped, rounding on you once Jay was out of sight. His other hand came down to your hip, resting there tightly as he slowly began to back you up. "I was just on my way to warn ya as well of Mal and her little crew's arrival. Somehow ya always beat me to it though."

"I must just be lucky at sniffing out people with pretty faces," You say, not a second later your back came in contact with the wall behind you, a small huff leaving your nose at the contact. With a cruel quirk of your lips, you bring a hand up to pass through some of his hair. "Maybe that's how I found you all those months ago."

"Cute," Harry barked out a bitter laugh, bringing his face closer to yours. Some of that bitterness seeped into his face as he looked down at you, his next words coming as a sting. "Uma doesn't want ya going near them. Who knows what they've brought from Auradon. And we all know how close ya were with them before they left."

"Good thing Uma doesn't control what I do then," You dipped your face to the side as Harry tried to trap your lips in a harsh kiss, his teeth ready to make an appearance. Instead, a kiss was left on your cheek, the pirate recoiling back once he realised. With a smirk of your own, you leaned in, trailing feather-light kisses across his neck and jaw. Your lips ghosted his skin, never staying in one spot for too long. "Though I'm sure an exception could be made if you asked nicely."

"Stay away from Jay and his friends," Harry spoke lowly, lips chasing after yours as you continued to evade him. With a raised brow, you stared at him as if you were waiting for more, leaning back so he couldn't reach you. With an eye roll from his dark eyes, an abundance of eyeliner smeared around them, he grinned out, "Please."

You waited a few moments, bringing both of your hands up to cup his face. Dragging him slowly, you brushed your lips quickly against his, muttering before finally giving him what he wanted, "I'll consider it."