#i want him to experience something new and fresh after whole drama

[hellomelody312]

Which mon I should chose, the apple for an acceptance to be happy together ever after, or the fish symboling my love and endearment to my precious boy.

[whatthefishh]

until we bleed

Rydal Keener x F!Reader ; part of the Oxford Comma series

Words: 6.4k

Warnings: swearing, an unnecessary amount of big words being used, smut, pinv, um... slight dub con... drama...

Beta read by the lovely @xbellaxcarolinax who basically jumped on the doc every time I helplessly texted her to ask if I was being stupid, and special s/o to @melodygatesauthor for helping me talk out the smut hehe

The charity gala was a front for the girls to get dressed up and the men to boast about their new business ventures. The charity mentioned in the invitation was picked out by the dean’s wife, a hedge fund manager – a most noble career – and she had already swindled enough out of the guests for the entrance fee before the scheduled auction later that evening. 

You didn’t want to go but you couldn’t really tell Rydal that, especially after the whole thing with Chester just last week. He had been a little down since then, his skin halfway healed from where the skin had broken. You couldn’t help but feel a current of electricity pass through you straight to your core whenever you looked at the slightly swollen pout he was sporting because of it. And the bastard knew it, too. He had been using the pout, with the added weight of his baby cow eyes, to get his way for the past few days, easily swaying you into submission for the littlest things. 

Which is how you ended up at the pretentious gathering being thrown in some philanthropic attempt to absolve the attendees of their greed. The dress you got for this event specifically was more expensive than any you’d ever worn before, the black satin silk of it tickling your calves where it hit. Your heels were new and not broken in, the thin straps sitting across your fresh pedicure — also something he insisted on paying for, picking out your nail colour for you. A glossy soft pink, a shade that reminded you of the Chanel perfume he had gifted you with. 

Rydal had taken you out to buy an outfit when you tried to tell him you couldn’t go with him to the gala because you had nothing to wear, rolling his eyes at what he knew was you trying to weasel your way out of it. You felt bad, making him wait while you tried on every dress the saleslady threw at you. He kept telling you it was fine, eventually threatening to come in there and dress you himself if you didn’t cut it out and that he was comfortable lounging on the sofas outside the fitting rooms. 

Slipping on the next dress from the large selection you had gathered in your fitting room, you checked yourself out in the mirror. Flatting the skirt with your palms, you tried to imagine yourself at the party, your arm looped around Rydal’s elbow and everyone’s eyes on you. Would this help you blend in? Was this the golden ticket you needed to finally gain acceptance? You’re starting to feel like it didn’t matter what you wore, they’d be able to sniff you out regardless, the vultures with their sharp manicures and syringe sculpted faces. 

When you finally stepped out in the simple but flattering black dress, Rydal’s eyes flashed as you turned this way and that in the mirror, trying to see it from all angles. This could work, it was simple enough that you didn’t feel entirely unlike yourself but it was still a lot more extravagant than anything you owned.  

You didn’t notice him slowly getting up like a predator stalking its prey, too focused on whether you liked the garment or not until his hands came to rest on your hips and his nose pressed itself against your neck. Only then did you take note of his half hard bulge pressing into your bum, your body temperature jumping at how quickly he was reacting to you all dressed up for him. You weren’t a lingerie girl, never had to be in your experiences but the way he was growing more and more feral by the second had you itching to buy the most delicate, laciest sets just to pull this behaviour from him on demand. 

“D-Do you like it?” you hated the way your voice wavered when you spoke, the slight increase in pressure from his hot hands causing you to blush heavily. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Go take it off before I do it for you–”

“Yeah, on it,” you pushed his hands away, bolting towards the fitting room before he got any ideas and shaking your head at him. 

He purchased the dress while you were changing back into your regular clothes, coming out to the sight of him holding the garment bag over his arm while dumbly ignoring the stares of the other girls in the store. 

You weren’t used to feeling so aggressively desired so publicly but Rydal never made you feel like he wanted to hide how he felt about you. He would compliment you in front of his friends, in front of strangers, he would speak highly of you despite having told you something that would send your blood boiling seconds prior. It was reassuring, especially since you weren’t blind to the way girls would look at him, especially the ones in his social circles. 

The dress would help you fit into the crowd a little better, the shoes only slightly uncomfortable so far but that wasn’t the part that bothered you. Before leaving for the night, you made sure to try your best with your hair and makeup to look effortless with the help of your roommate, Eleanor, who told you that Rydal was going to go crazy over your look. That didn’t make you feel any more comfortable, however, wearing clothes much too expensive, you began to wonder if he liked you better like this, if he wanted you to be more like them. 

His reaction upon seeing you made your stomach swoop, the reverence in his eyes making you shyer than you’ve felt in a long time. You think maybe you should dress up like this more often, maybe he’d prefer you like this. Trying to shake those thoughts out of your head, the two of you make your way to the party being held on campus, looping your arm through his. Rydal was wearing a beige linen suit himself, the white dress shirt underneath had the first couple buttons open for a more relaxed look that you knew he only did to stick it to his dad.

You don’t know if you would have preferred to be invisible rather than be gawked at by the guests, but either way you were extremely uncomfortable and trying your best to mask it for the sake of your boyfriend. The party itself was unlike any other you’d attended, and why would you have? It wasn’t something you’d normally be invited to, especially with your financial struggles. It was kind of ironic, you being here now. At least you were dressed for the part.

Most of the guests were in casually lavish clothing themselves, almost everyone in the room exuded an air of superiority and arrogance you didn’t know how to handle. Walking by a group of older men dressed in various shades of browns and beiges, you overheard their heated discussion regarding the new instalment of fine art in the library’s entryway. There was a table full of what looked like raffle prizes to be won, along with a small brass raffle drum at the end. Near the end of the room stood a podium next to a sign with the charity of the night outlined in large, black lettering. For the good press, for the photos, you bitterly think. There was even a small group of classical instrument musicians playing classical renditions of modern day music. 

In every cluster of guests, there was an undeniable condescending overtone, the haughtiness oozing from every direction and you didn’t know where a safe space was for your eyes to land so as not to be assaulted by a judgemental gaze. Rydal was walking with ease, his hand at the small of your back, the warmth from it burning your skin due to the backless nature of the dress but you were thankful for the touch as it kept you somewhat grounded, helping you not trip over your heels. 

He walked you through the psychological battleground, gliding through the people who were most definitely whispering about his date for the evening, leading you to the food and drinks table. Exotic delicacies littered the banquet table, carefully prepared for consumption and small enough to grab several handfuls before feeling any sense of satiation. The rich were an interesting breed, despite their indulgence they loved making things tiny. 

The purpose of the night was drowning in the show of snobbery, and you were so bitter inside at the show they put on for each other that you opted to stay quiet so as not to make Rydal uncomfortable. These were his peers, the people he grew up with, the old man in the corner, his godfather, the lady with the laughable plastic surgery was his favourite ‘aunt’ growing up, giving him the biggest presents at his birthdays. Countless familiar faces for him, all of them sneering at you. 

The comforting touch of his hand leaves your back and you immediately turn to him in a near panic, the idea of being left alone in the sea of sharks making you stumble over your shoes. Upon seeing Rydal’s father right behind you, you opted to stay silent. This was not the first time you were meeting him, but it was the first time you were seeing him on school grounds after spending the summer at their family home. 

“Rydal,” he nodded to you and greeted you by name, “Come, I need you to meet a couple of people from that firm I was telling you about. Quickly now.” 

Lawrence Keener wasn’t the most terrifying person you’d ever met but he was definitely intimidating and he definitely was aware of it. The man had influence at the school, and honestly anywhere else he went. His handsome face and strong jaw demanded respect before his clothes did, his bespoke and cleanly pressed suit giving him a reason to tilt his chin just that smidge higher so he could look down at you with a single snobby brow raised. You could see where Rydal learned that expression from. 

He was somewhat dismissive of your presence, which only served to piss you off further but you had to hold back from rolling your eyes since Rydal was looking at you with a plea in his eyes, asking if it was okay to leave you for a few minutes to go meet the senior partners his father was pushing him towards. 

You nodded with a tight smile to him, trying to be supportive without showing how anxious you already were on the inside. Stepping into his world and pretending you were fine with it was proving to be more difficult than you initially thought.

Rydal leaves you with a relatively chaste kiss on the cheek, his father watching you two with blatant boredom before ushering him away with a hand on the back of his neck. After watching them turn a corner, you have to blink a few times before gathering your bearings and heading straight for the hors d'oeuvres, the miniature yet intricate selection taking your attention away from the prickly company. Devilled eggs, stuffed mushrooms with crispy onions on top, micro fig pies, melted brie and shortbread, roasted oysters with butter mignonette, caviar and creme tartlets and bowls and bowls of shrimp cocktail met your eyes. Reaching to try a pie, it almost made you laugh at how tiny it was in the palm of your hand. 

Some time must have passed and you’d eaten several different kinds of mini appetisers, gulping down the mocktail a random floating waiter had offered you after watching you stuff your face while you observed others mingling and networking. Hearing Rydal’s voice over the soft music playing, your eyes start searching for him excitedly. 

There’s a girl. Walking next to him, there is a very pretty girl. And they’re laughing. She’s touching his arm – familiar, they’re familiar – and he doesn’t brush it off, he’s smiling with her and for a moment you forget that you’re together. 

They look… they look quite perfect together, to be honest. She’s taller than you, blonde hair perfectly coiffed with a classic cocktail dress in a shade of blue that matched her eyes, making her smile look all the more bright. The girl in question throws her head back in laughter at something Rydal says, and it must have been funny at the way she covers her mouth elegantly to hide her grin and–and you want to leave. Badly. He’s not flirting but he’s also not taking her hand off of his arm, and he’s still smiling at her. 

They…fit. She looks like she belongs. Here, with him, on his arm, wherever she pleases really. Maybe she’s the girl his father wanted him to go for, the choice that made sense for him. The option that was easier. The kind of girl who crossed her ankles when she sat at the dinner table, the one who knew which one the soup spoon was. The girl with the right parents, the right upbringing. The one who didn’t need a room at their family home because she had her own next door. The one he didn’t have to take shopping to make her look the part at a charity gala. 

The girl that wasn’t a charity case. 

You should just leave now, and leave them to it. They would probably be engaged right after graduation. Rydal would get a job with the law firm his father was pressuring him about and she would be the host of their next charity event. Hell, maybe she’d even run for a council position. Talk about a power couple. 

While your intrusive thoughts were spiralling, you get caught staring by Rydal, his eyes lighting up to see you and you can see the words forming on his lips as he’s about to call out for you, most likely to introduce you to the girl in question. Turning on your heel before he had the chance to get your name out, you walk with speed and purpose, hunting for the washroom to collect yourself. You know people are looking at you walking past them, you probably look a little out of it but you couldn’t care less right now, just focused on getting some air and maybe splashing some water on your face.

Ducking into the washroom with a sigh of relief – the door matched the wood tone of the walls, the little sign above labelled “Washroom” in tiny, cursive writing making it incredibly difficult to find – you manage to find an empty stall. Leaning your head back against the stall door, you close your eyes as you try to even your breathing. You have to manage the anxiety bubbling up in your chest and the influx of negative thoughts about Rydal, it’s not fair to you or him.

The washroom door swings open and shuts, a pocket of music from the main hall echoing for a few seconds before giving way to the animated chatter of the girls who just entered. Their giggles and whispers became more clear once they settled in front of the large mirror hanging above the marble sinks. 

“I’m going to need a lot more champagne to withstand anymore of that woman’s inane chatter, like, we’re already helping so much,” one girl huffed. 

Peeking your eyes through the tiny gap in the door, you catch a glimpse of the back of their heads. 

“Yeah well at least your boyfriend hasn’t been ignoring you all night. All I said was that he was repeating his outfit and that people would notice!” 

“Oh honey, don’t worry. Nobody is going to notice that with Rydal walking around with his charity case girlfriend. What the fuck does he see in her anyway?” Another girl said, carelessly loud. 

Your ears perked up again, your heart dropping in your stomach. Now was not the best time for you to hear this, their conversation only confirming your shameful thoughts about your boyfriend. 

“I always thought he was easy but to stoop so low? She’s basically the farmer’s daughter!” 

The scandal in her voice almost made you laugh in disbelief from where you were hiding in the stall. 

“I think he’s doing it just to get back at his father. Lawrence doesn’t even look at her.” 

Well. That’s not… that’s not what you wanted to hear. Lawrence looked at you, right? He said hello perfectly politely, right? You’re frowning at the thought.

“Ha! That’s because he wanted Colette for him. My mom told me he’s secretly hoping Rydal wakes up one morning, ready to go running back to Barbie Blue Eyes and make them all proud parents,” the loud one from earlier said with a wicked tone. 

Colette… you didn’t know a Colette. Blue eyes? Could they be speaking about The Girl from earlier? Were they right, were you just a phase for him? 

“Oh my god El, you kill me! They are really blue, and that dress she’s wearing tonight looks so fucking good on her, I can’t deny her that. It’s like she got it custom made to match her eyes.” 

Oh fuck. The Girl was Colette. Of fucking course. 

And from the sounds of it, she was Rydal’s ex. No wonder he never mentioned her. No wonder she was so friendly with him, hands all over his arms, giggling together like a couple of young lovers. Compared to her, she was the obvious choice, and it wasn’t a surprise that Lawrence had given his approval. 

“Sounds like Colette,” the third girl chimed in. 

“I don’t care how much Rydal spends on this new girl, she isn’t fooling anybody. I bet she’ll be gone by the winter. Anyways,” the first girl sighs tiredly, as if unloading all that gossip took a physical toll on her. “How’s my lipstick, Vee?” 

They descended into a different topic, focused on adjusting each other’s appearance until they left the washroom leaving you to stew in silence. They wouldn’t have known you were listening but they said everything you didn’t need to hear anyway. 

So Rydal was dating this perfect girl, Colette, before you got together. You were the rebound. You were never permanent. You didn’t belong. 

You should’ve known he wasn’t serious, it was too good to be true. You should never have opened up to him, never have trusted him with all your insecurities and vulnerabilities. He probably bought all the girls Chanel. He couldn’t have been serious about you. He hasn’t even met your mom, hasn’t visited your home yet. You couldn’t let him get any closer. 

Stepping out and gently splashing your cheeks with some cold water, you walk out the doors on shaky knees and look around. Nobody is paying you any attention now and you exhale a breath of relief. These people are never going to respect you. No matter how many pretty clothes he buys you. 

Rydal finds you before your eyes find him, his hand snaking around your waist and mouth finding your ear to whisper a sweet little I missed you, softly kissing your skin. You shiver, and despite the direction your thoughts were going you find comfort in his smell and warmth, closing your eyes while you turn your body into his. 

He’s the same and yet he isn’t. Rydal slips into his social persona and you’ve never really paid attention before but there’s a slight difference to his voice and once you notice it, it bothers you. You stare at him, perplexed and hurt. You wonder if you know him properly at all. Which one is the real one? Is he pretending with you or with them? 

Rydal tells you he has someone to introduce you to but your stomach starts churning and you think you’re gonna be sick because you see Colette making her way towards you in the crowd and you can’t face her, not after what you just heard. 

“I feel kind of sick, actually, can we go? Like, now?” 

You know you have a frantic edge to your voice but you can’t help it. 

“Can we go in a bit? Just stick it out for a little longer, baby—“ 

There’s a bubble of anxiety in your chest that rises to your throat the closer she gets and you look to Rydal with pure panic, upset that he’d even suggest you stay in this stifling room for any longer. He stops talking upon noticing the tears welling in your eyes, brows immediately furrowing in concern and then nodding quickly.

“Okay, yeah. Yeah, we can go, c’mon.” 

His hand returns to the small of your back, guiding you out of the hall and you’re glad for it because all of a sudden your vision is blurry and if it weren’t for his persistent hands helping you, you would’ve surely never found your way out. 

The way back to his room was tense. Not the comfortable silence you were used to, your throat closed and sealed shut since leaving. Your mouth has opened and shut several times, wanting to break the silence but your tongue felt like lead. 

Rydal doesn’t make any attempt at conversation either. After putting his blazer jacket around your shoulders, he stuck his hands in his pocket and frowned the whole walk back. 

By the time he let you in his room, your bottom lip was wobbling and your anxiety was suffocating you in its attempt for release. Either you were going to cry or yell or both. 

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you reach for the makeup wipes you keep with his things, aggressively wiping at your eyes and fighting with the layers of mascara you had put on. He slowly comes up behind you, not looking into your eyes but his hands reach to unclasp your necklace, brushing your hair aside for ease of access. 

You inhale a shuddering breath. 

You should just do it now. Just come right out and say it. You may as well cut your losses and let him be happy with whoever he wants, let him make his father happy and stop standing in his way. You were only holding him back, and that’s not what you wanted to do. You still loved him, even if tonight did break your heart. 

Dropping the necklace on the counter, he reaches for the zipper of your dress next but his hands still and instead rest on your waist as he presses his forehead into your shoulder. 

“Did something happen? Did someone… say something?” He mumbled, the vibrations of his voice almost triggering your tears. Instead you let out a sniffle.

“She really is beautiful. Why didn’t you tell me about her?” 

“Who?” 

“Why did I have to find out about her from a bunch of girls in the washroom? Does she go here? Is that why your dad doesn’t look me in the eye when he talks to me?”

“…it’s not like that—“ he sighs.

“No? It’s not like you become someone else when we’re around these people? It’s not like you have this whole goddamn life that I’m not part of, that I’ll never be part of because they’re never going to accept me? They’re never going to respect me, never think I’m good enough?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, I don’t even know what you heard!”

“Everyone thinks I’m with you just for your money, you know. They called me the farmer's daughter. They said I’m your fucking charity case. Do you know how that makes me feel? As if I don’t already feel like an outsider here?”

He opens his mouth to respond but you don't let him, rushing to hurt him the way you’re hurting inside. 

“You’ve never had to work a day in your life, you don’t know what it’s like in my shoes.” You laugh humorlessly. “What are we doing, Rydal?” 

“What do you mean?” His voice sounds so small and the knife just twists deeper in your gut. 

“Why should I have to deal with this constant bullshit from the people in your life? I don’t even know them! Maybe… maybe we should—“

“Stop, stop, listen I can handle everyone else being upset with me, but not you. Not you, please. I can’t take it from you, please don’t say what I think you’re going—“ 

“I don’t know. I just can’t, I— maybe, maybe we should break up, I think you’d feel better, too, I think—“

“How could you think that? How could you say that?” He’s upset, expression sour and twisted.

He looks the way you feel. 

You watch him fumble for words. 

“I literally left my dad at this stupid party and he’s going to be fucking pissed, like seriously livid because he was building me up to his buddies but– but I don’t care because I wanted to make sure you were okay!”

His palms grip your waist tighter and he steps closer, crowding you against the basin and doesn’t give you any room to move. You can’t look at him so instead you stare at the makeup wipe, the angry black marks mirroring your heart as your mind yells at you to run, to leave and hide where he can’t hurt you, where he can’t see you crumble and break after he inevitably agrees to leave you. 

You push it once more.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have. Maybe I should’ve just left you there.” 

There’s a small part of your brain that tells you that you’re being irrational. That he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t care, he must care even a tiny amount, even if you were a temporary toy. 

His hands leave you for a second and he takes a step away. You feel cold, immediately feeling small and stupid, fighting between wanting to cry and going numb until suddenly the familiar warmth comes back, his hand pushing your back with so much force that your hands shoot out in front of you to catch yourself. One on the mirror, one on around the edge of the vanity. 

Looking up at Rydal in shock, you open your mouth to ask him what the fuck his problem is until you see he’s not even looking at you, his eyes are trained on your ass and he’s biting his lip, but he still looks… broken. 

“Rydal, what the fu—“

“Stop. Talking. You’ve said enough.” His voice was almost a whisper but still firm enough to cut through yours, and his hands were still kneading your hips. 

His behaviour is new and kind of confusing, if you’re being honest. It’s clear he’s never been denied before in his life. He looks helpless and angry and worried and aggravated and entirely too focused on your body at this moment for any of it to make sense. 

Rydal’s fingers trail down your dress until they reach the slit in the back and leave goosebumps as they make their way back up, hooking into your panties and then tugging them off and around your heels. Upon rising, he’s still avoiding eye contact. Your cheeks are burning, legs slightly wider than before. Despite being mad at him, your body still obeys. 

“So mouthy all the time.”

Balling up your panties, he surprises you further by shoving them in your mouth even as you protest and try to push back on him but his body keeps your balance wavering. You have no choice but to keep your hands where they were if you didn’t want to fall. 

Your eyes must be bugging out of your sockets and the rise and fall of your chest is coming quicker and quicker.

“If that’s what you really want, then leave.” He’s saying this while the tips of his thick fingers brush and tease your entrance, keeping you frozen in place.

Your mind was at odds with your body as you felt your instinctive reaction to him touching you. Fighting the urge to embrace the desire now dripping down your thighs, you knew you had the ability to walk away if you wanted to and yet you found yourself pressing back against his hand wanting more. 

“Aren’t you gonna leave? Isn’t that what you wanted? No?” 

Rydal slides two fingers inside your cunt, easily and without warning and you grunt but it’s muffled against the cloth. This is absurd, you think dumbly. You want to feel embarrassed but you can’t bring yourself to.

“Didn’t think so, baby,” he’s saying while stepping closer and his fingers reach even deeper, if that were possible.

His mouth comes up to your ear, whispering his next words and sending them straight to your gut, weighing heavily inside you. 

“I need you, can’t you see that? Look at me,” his hot breath hits the shell of your ear and you’re panting. “Can’t you tell? How fucking badly I need you?” 

So you look at him, and you see a desperate and needy man in the place of your Rydal, the one you’re familiar with. This wasn’t the same man you were used to, the one who would make you laugh while he was making his way inside you. This Rydal was upset and he was adamant on making you regret your words. 

His fingers were curling inside your wet heat, pressing up against that spot that made you see stars and stealing your breath so hard your fingers were curling. Your fingerprints were marking the mirror, the squeaking sound making you shudder against his body. Moaning around the fabric still in your mouth, you tried to grind down on his hand, desperate for him to move, to do something, anything to the tension in your body coiling tighter and tighter. 

Rydal could feel your hips moving back against his hand and moved to still you, fingers holding you tight enough to bruise. Slipping his fingers out, he taps them against your clit before removing his hand entirely and making your shoulders sag at the loss.

Reaching one hand up and back to keep him close, afraid of his warmth leaving you, your hand wraps around his neck as he rushes to unbuckle his pants noisily. He’s shaking a little, breaths coming out ragged at how badly he needs to fill you up. 

Once he frees himself, Rydal uses one hand to push you back down and bunch your pretty dress up, lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in swiftly without hesitation. 

He groans loudly, tilting his head back with his eyes shut for a moment before looking down at where he’s seated to the hilt inside you, unmoving. 

“You lookin’? You need me, too, I can see it in your eyes. Look,” he reaches forward to grab at your jaw, making you watch yourself as he slowly pulls his cock out and slams it back inside to kiss your cervix. Again, and again, and again. “See that?”

Rydal forces your head to nod with his hand still holding your face while you try to speak, voice coming out unclear against the panties still in your mouth. The stupid fucking fabric was making it hard to breathe and you were going to pass out, drunk on his cock, you were going to faint against the god damn builder’s grade medicine cabinet. You want to moan out loud, you want to tell him he wasn’t playing fair, that he was going too slow. You want to pull his beautiful hair out and yell at him, you want him to hurry up and fuck you harder, you—

You’re coming. 

“Ohhh, fuuuuck,” he let go of your face, hands dropping to press on your lower back and push you more forward, your hands clambering on the mirror like a fool. “Look so—so, oh fuck, baby, look at you.”

It didn’t take him long at all to make a mess of you. 

“You gonna take it back? Take back what you said, tell me you were wrong,” he whines, still fucking you hard but not hard enough. 

The problem was that he was dragging his girth out slowly but stealing your breath on every hard thrust forward. And it still wasn’t enough, not for this, not for right now. 

Your attempt at speaking is ruined by the fact that your panties were still in your mouth, your saliva soaking the material by this point. You wanted to spit it out, hurl the obstructive garment across the room but it wasn’t possible in your current position. He can’t possibly be stupid enough to expect you to answer him like this. 

He almost laughs when he realises you’re trying to say something, quickly pulling the fabric from your mouth to let you finally have your voice back and you immediately let out a cry at his perfectly timed thrust. His cock was moving faster, intent on not having you speak but making you come again. Now that he could hear you, he was becoming more and more unhinged. 

Embarrassingly, you’re having a hard time keeping your voice down, whines and cries falling from your lips continuously while Rydal fucked you against his sink. Your hands are leaving fingerprints all over his mirror from where you’re trying to get a grip and push yourself back on him, his own hands keeping you bent over for him but squeezing whatever flesh he could reach. 

Leaning forward to kiss your back, he mumbles words he thinks you don’t hear, don’t leave me, mine, my baby, stay here—

“S’wrong, I-I was wrong,” you whimper. “M’sorry, fuck—“

“Shhh—“

“I—“ you hiccup. “I hate them, I, yesss right there, god—“

“I know, baby, I know, I got you,” he’s back to grunting in your ear and you can’t see or feel anything that isn’t Rydal. 

You’re overwhelmed by everything that’s happened tonight, your feelings from earlier still bubbling up and causing you to tear up while he continues to ram into you. He sees you crying, reaching his hand in front of you to toy with your clit.

“Stay with me,” he demands, voice low against the shell of your ear. Desperate, he’s still so fucking needy even after making you cry on his cock. 

You nod before you realise you’re nodding, sniffling in your daze. 

Rydal’s index finger, the same one he teased you with earlier, starts circling your clit in the surefire way he knows how to make you cum, grunting when he feels your walls fluttering over his length. 

And when you’re gushing all over him, his finger still circles your nub but he stills his hips as he feels you come undone and talks you through it. Pretty baby, love you so fucking much, stay, stay with me, stay—

Lifting you off his length he takes off your dress completely and turns you around with his hand wrapped around your neck to bring his mouth to yours, kissing you like a man possessed. He doesn’t wait to slip his tongue into your mouth, claiming it as his own to prove a point. He’s always fucking proving a point, always pushing his way through your walls. 

Walking you backwards towards his bed, he only breaks away from your mouth to help you remove his shirt and pants, your hands mapping out his chest and shoulders. You don’t let him get far from you even as you lower yourself to lay back on the mattress, pulling his body along needily while he crawls over you. 

This time when he enters you, it’s slower, softer, gentle, but you’re shaking in his arms, foreheads touching as you share a breath and syrupy kisses. You cry a little, mascara messy and lipstick smudged, but he shushes you, mocking you, “thought you could leave me,” he says and anticipating your rebuttal — as he does, he always fucking does — he says, “thought you could go on without my cock, hmm?”

And then he’s kissing you again before you can say anything, effectively shutting you up while pressing you into the mattress, fucking the fight out of you as his hips slide into yours again and again. Your bodies are sweat ridden, your pussy is soaking his sheets and he still hasn’t cum yet, but you think he’s close. He has to be, he’s barely pulling out now, his length throbbing inside your pulsing walls as he ruts into you. 

He’s biting your shoulder and your eyes are focused on the popcorn ceiling, your oversensitive core trembling as he tries to pull another orgasm from you. You’re probably crying, it’s hard to tell at this point, face and body damp, but your ears are attuned to his sounds, his gorgeous whimpers and grunts. Rydal’s body is heavy on yours but you’re floating, you don’t feel a thing until his thumb starts pressing hard against your clit that you try to curl in on yourself, thrashing against him and– yeah, you’re crying. 

He’s speaking absolute filth, it doesn’t make any sense, but in the midst of your pleasure you hear him saying he’s going to fill you up. 

He does. It’s so wet between your legs, the glide of his half aborted thrusts smacking lewdly and loudly and you feel like an exposed nerve and numb all at once. His spend is leaking out of you and just when you expect him to pull out and play with your puffy folds, he turns on his side, keeping you full of him. Rydal rests his face against your chest, your sweaty and spent bodies tangled together. Boneless and breathless. 

His arms are everywhere, one running down the length of your thigh soothingly and the other wrapped under your torso to pull you close by your waist. Touching, always touching. That’s been one constant you’ve noticed from the start. Your breaths are echoing loudly and you’re almost afraid to speak, afraid to ruin the tranquil silence that envelops you both. 

You open your eyes to find him already watching you. 

“I’m hopeless without you,” he says, so so softly. “I’ll let you win at monopoly every time, I’ll stop ruining the ending of the books you’re reading, fuck, just tell me what I have to do. Tell me, I’ll do it.”

You just hold him tighter to you, kissing his temple.

[positivelybeastly]

Hi, new here, but very interested in what you've got going on-- I don't know a lot of active X-Men readers I can discuss things with, let alone any who are actually interested in Beast, so I wanted to ask, how do you feel about the writing for him over the last decade, taking into account the awkward situation X-Men as a whole has been in over that time (Schism+) but particularly, I suppose, how his character's been treated from then through Krakoa, and this "fresh start" we've got with From the Ashes not having memory of... really this entire time period highlighted?

Hello there, welcome! Hope you enjoy the experience, because it's liable to be a rambly one.

So . . . man, this is gonna be a long one, because I actually have to dial it back a little further and talk about Beast on Utopia if I'm going to talk about Schism and everything that came after.

I don't like Matt Fraction's X-Men run. Aside from the Greg Land art, which is an obvious problem, I'm not massively in love with what I kind of end up reading as a justification for black ops kill teams and militant, isolationist statehood, to say nothing of just. Poor pacing and messy storytelling and a lot of really confused storylines that just feel weird and jarring and full of really strange character choices.

I think that Fraction did mean for his run to be more critical, that when you read Hank and Scott arguing about preserving the soul of the X-Men vs. saving mutant lives, you're meant to come away conflicted, but I think that Fraction's Hank just kinda sucks and that he comes across as very whiney and self-centred.

Like, in the end, I don't think that a lot of what Cyclops did in this era, a lot of morally repugnant shit, actually really cost him anything, because history validated him and he was elevated to whatever the big general position was on Krakoa.

It wasn't a great feeling to see the guy who literally, textually abandoned members of his teams to torture, used bioweapons as a first resort, and basically told a kid to just kill people to solve the problem, have all of his actions be whitewashed and ignored post-Schism.

Like, Bendis' Uncanny and All-New act like the only bad thing Scott ever did was kill Charles Xavier while under the influence of the Phoenix, and I'm just over here like, nnnnnno he did a lot of bad things before that, very much in his right mind, and he never paid for any of that. He got to be the black ops kill team leader and the saintly revolutionary, and I don't think that the narrative really interrogated that contradiction all that much, it was just #CyclopsWasRight.

With that context . . .

I don't have a problem with Hank being a conscientious objector and leaving the X-Men. He's done it before, and I think he was right to do it, and it fits his character.

That being said, he was then pushed straight on to the Secret Avengers, which was, while not a kill team, very much a black ops, deniable operations organisation with team members who did kill people, and while I like some of the stories from his time with the Secret Avengers, overall, I think it was an intensely stupid move that made him look like a massive hypocrite and damaged his credibility, making it look less like he was taking a moral stand and more like he just didn't like Scott.

Which is a bad thing!!! Hank loves Scott! They've been best friends since fucking forever! Not only do you damage Hank's character by doing that, but you also reduce what was a moral conflict with nuance and dimension down to petty bullshit! It's a disservice to both characters! God!! It frustrates me SO MUCH when this conflict is boiled down to that!

God forbid that these characters actually stand for something and have actual intellectual, moral problems with one another that they can have compelling conversations about, why not let's just make them petty assholes who snipe at each other for drama?

You can do this conflict and make it good! It's possible! I promise!

This is what Schism should have really been about! And Hank was, at least before the dumb move to push him to the Secret Avengers, a character with moral legitimacy who could have made Schism work! I think there's a lot of mileage to the idea that Wolverine has progressed to the point where he wants to protect people from violence, where he wants to save kids from being turned into weapons like he was, but that's a personal motivation, and it's really, really, really hard for him to have the moral high ground.

But, in the end, Wolverine sells comics, not Beast, so Wolverine became the figurehead of the less militant side of the X-Men comics. Fine. Okay, we'll deal with it.

Wolverine and the X-Men is . . . good. It has problems, but on the whole, I like it more than a lot of what came after. I especially like Jason Aaron's moves to keep Hank and Abigail together, as well as fold Broo into a growing family unit. That's a good progression for his character, and it makes sense.

Then there's Avengers vs. X-Men, and it's. Like. Garbage, but. Whatever. I do appreciate that Hank is at least occasionally in character during it.

But then we come to All-New X-Men, and I just . . . ughhhhh.

UGHHHHHHH.

I hate it, man. I hate it. I hate Bendis' bullshit garbage characterisation of Hank McCoy, and I hold it directly responsible for everything that came after it, because it functionally replaced his prior characterisation.

Hank is a character obsessed with consequences in the 00s, he's obsessed with making the right choice, he's already learned that there's only so much that he can do to fix the world. Endangered Species (which I think is an amazing Hank story) shows us that Hank will only go so far, and that, honestly, in the grand scheme of things, he will stop himself.

And then Bendis was just like, well, fuck all that bullshit, Hank blew up the space-time continuum because he doesn't like Scott Summers.

And I hate it.

It would be one thing, if Bendis were actually interested in Hank as a character, if he was willing to examine his character and his choices and his reasons and his personality, but he isn't. He flits in and out of All-New as and when required, to be castigated for a decision made while he was dying, depressed, and dealing with multiple brain aneurysms. Ostensibly, we're meant to buy that Xavier's death was the tipping point, but we don't even see Hank react to it. It's not considered important.

Hank's grief, Hank's isolation, Hank's horror, all of it is just ignored.

There's no real emotional dimension here, there's no 'what is Beast thinking, why is he doing this, let's have him talk with characters that are his friends and try to work out where he's at mentally,' because Bendis doesn't care. "Why is Beast like this? He just is. He's just a morally hypocritical asshole who judges other people and does things without thinking." He just makes Hank look like a goddamn lunatic, and it all culminates in this.

I just. I fucking hate this issue, man. It's a long, excruciating character assassination that casually wrecks Hank's long running relationship with Abigail Brand, torches his legitimacy as an intellectual or moral individual, and portrays him as a sad, lonely old man who might as well just leave because no-one actually wants him around. It's fucking galling.

Hank just straight up would not wreck the space-time continuum to teach Scott Summers a lesson. He just wouldn't. I fundamentally reject the premise. I reject it just as much as I reject the shitty attempts to make Hank/Jean Grey a pairing.

I reject the idea that Hank is a loose cannon with no regard for rules or others, who just believes in his own moral authority and says fuck everyone else, I do what I want. That is NOT who he is, and I really do just have to wonder what everyone was smoking that no-one looked at this and went, wait, when did Hank change into this? Everyone just accepted it.

It really does just feel like people got tired of Hank complaining on Utopia, so when it came time to pile on the blame for all the problems that happened after it, no-one really cared when it all became Hank's fault. No-one was willing to point out that Bendis' characterisation of Hank doesn't make sense.

Does Hank hate Scott? Why? "He's going to cause a mutant genocide" = based on what? "He killed Charles Xavier" = under the influence of a cosmic force. I don't understand these characterisation choices. Hank knows Scott better than this.

Bendis just. Does not like Hank McCoy. I really can't come up with another explanation for why he went out of his way to do two bumper issues, All-New X-Men #25 and Uncanny X-Men #600, that are just a round robin of everyone telling him that they hate him and that he sucks and he should go die.

There are glimmers of better characterisation during this period.

Jonathan Hickman's New Avengers is - complex, and you'll often hear people gesture to that as the point at which Hank became full on amoral, but I reject that hypothesis entirely. It's a conclusion come to by people who haven't actually read it.

Hank spends most of that series being wracked with guilt, trying desperately to find another way to solve the problem that doesn't involve blowing up planets, and refusing to take a life. Which tracks with Hickman's characterisation of Beast.

"Broken him." Implying that it's not his natural state, and that there are other factors are at play. This is important to keep in mind.

For most of this time period, Hank is in a very rocky state. He's not quite with the X-Men, he's not quite with the Avengers, he's got a reputation for being a chronic screw-up, people regard him as unstable, and yet they'll still call on him to fix their problems for them.

Like, the amount of times that the X-Men call on him to help them, despite the fact that he left after their failed, garbage intervention, and he still goes back to them, is just so very tiring. Either the X-Men should stop relying on someone that they seem not to like or trust, or Hank should stop going back to a 'family' that seems not to value him or have his best intentions in mind. The halfway house they settle into is just weird and inconsistent.

Like, which is it? Do you guys actually want him around or not? Because you're kind of being massive assholes to a guy who primarily wants to help. And we're meant to be knee deep in his turn towards moral ambiguity by now, but he's still just kinda being a good dude!

Anyone who tells you that Beast's moral downfall has been a consistent slide since Threnody is a fraud, because there is nothing consistent about this period of history for Beast.

If these panels show you anything, it's that there are two Beasts running around - a guy who makes problems for other people to solve because he's an idiot, and actual Beast, who occasionally makes mistakes, but who has pure intentions, a good heart, a joke at the ready, and he's fundamentally a nice person. It's getting to be impossible to tell which one is going to turn up to your story.

The only really good writing comes in fits and spurts, and usually when he's under the care of a writer who seems to have some affection for him. Especially if Simon Williams is around.

Whenever I write this version of Hank, his tag is getting by, because it feels like his life is just perpetually on the skids and there's no real rhyme or reason as to why. He just oscillates between two extremes as and when the story wants him to be an asshole or not. Even he seems confused as to what's going on.

And then we get to Krakoa, and . . .

It's just fundamentally not the same character. It's not even the same as Dark Beast, it's just Mr. Sinister in blue fur with less jokes. Benjamin Percy just expects you to accept that Hank woke up one day and was like, y'know what? I think killing countries is fine, actually. I want to head up an intelligence agency. I should cut off Wolverine's head. Maybe torture some innocent aliens for fun.

Why?

Eh, he's just evil.

Why are you bothering to question it?

And people don't question it, because Hank is a horrible hypocrite who will do anything that falls within his narrow view of morally acceptable actions, and he's an awful person who people barely tolerate being around.

Except. He isn't that. Or is he? Because Bendis said he was like that. And as everyone knows, Bendis is the true arbiter of characterisation and continuity. Just ask a fan of Wanda Maximoff, and they'll tell you how happy they are with his definitive version of the character.

Like, I just don't buy it. Not for one bit. You can't make this character this and pass a spot check. The only reason people are fine with it is because they never particularly cared for Beast to begin with, and so this new, more 'interesting' characterisation is better. It's 'truer.' Meanwhile, people who actually have been following the character for years remember when other X-Men were saying stuff like this.

Which is it? Has every single nice thing an X-Man said about Hank McCoy been a horrible, hilariously off base misjudgement, or is Benjamin Percy a hack who can't write? Iunno, man. Jury's out.

And then we come to From the Ashes, which is . . . a little too early, to make a judgement? I'm tentatively optimistic, now that we have a Beast who isn't just. The worst. I don't love the fact that he's missing 40 years of memories, even if the storytelling opportunities of such a character beat are interesting.

I'm also on the fence about this.

Idk, I'm hoping that it'll be born out by the rest of the issue, and that Hank's characterisation here makes more sense with context, but I don't love the idea of bringing back the single most heroic version of Hank McCoy that ever existed, then side-jumping him straight into a redux of the Legacy Virus 'I can't leave the lab/I have to make moral compromises' storyline from the 90s.

I have faith in Jed MacKay, and I'm willing to give it a shot, but I'm just so used to being disappointed by Marvel and X-Men by this point.

To come back to how I feel about it all? This isn't what I would have wanted for Hank. Not even close. Bendis threw out everything I liked about Hank back in 2013, and it set us down a path that has even a hint of Hank being anything less than perfect seeing comments sections explode, saying that he's well on his way to becoming evil again.

His name is dirt in the fandom, and the reason it isn't considered more of a problem is because he never had that big of a fan base to begin with, which is mostly a result of the fact that he's not a character who gets big flashy 'I'm so cool' moments - he's a character whose storylines are often sad, morose, dark, and unhappy. People like Beast, but they won't generally go to bat for him.

The revisionist history bugs me, a lot. No, he wasn't always evil, and no, it's not been a consistent slide to villainy ever since 1993. He's just as liable to be written badly as any other character, and frankly, I think he's been a victim of it a lot more than a lot of other characters during the same time period, but whereas other characters will have that bad writing forgiven by both fandom and the writers (Emma Frost), it just. Hangs, over Hank's head, like Damocles' sword.

It's been disheartening, honestly. I left the fandom in 2015, after Bendis' runs, because I just didn't want to deal with it anymore, and when I came back a year ago, I found out it had only gotten worse. Everyone else got to enjoy Krakoa, with its big mutant pride storylines and their stories of redemption and deepening bonds and political machinations, and my character got stuck in the shitty black ops corner, acting like a James Bond villain with none of the charm. It really didn't make me feel welcome.

If it hadn't been for a good few other fans who have stuck by me since then, I probably would have left the fandom again, and while things are looking up a bit more now, I don't know if I'm ever quite going to be at a point where I'm not jaded, expecting another heel turn from Marvel.

It sucks, because Hank has always meant a lot to me. He's a character about ethical science, about body dysmorphia, about mental illness, about triumph through adversity, about second chances, about maturity, about nuance and conflict and complexity, and he just got bulldozed into being the war crimes guy.

I got invited to join an O5 X-Men Reddit the other day, and the only posts that even mentioned him both were like 'lol war crimes lol Beast killed someone,' and it just made me think, why in god's name would I want to be part of that?

Like, I have stuff to contribute. I have a lot of thoughts about Hank, and his friendships and relationships and his meaning as a character, stuff that people often haven't considered because they don't think about Beast as deeply as I do, stuff that could elevate and deepen people's enjoyment of stories they've read a hundred times before - and I just.

Why would I share it? Why would I go into a space where I don't feel welcome? Why would I share my thoughts on the deeper meaning of Hank's tendency towards performance and how it changes over 60 years of comic books, when I know that the first comment is gonna be some variation of 'lol war crimes'?

It'd be one thing if the story we got was any good, then I could at least say it was worth it, but it wasn't. That's the thing that bugs me the most. The story of Hank's heel turn could have been amazing, but the lack of care and thought to consistency extended so far that even his villain turn was bad. We sacrificed this

for this.

And it's just a straight up downgrade. There's none of what Hickman or Morrison talked about being the point or the appeal of Beast. There's no sweet man, there's no heart, there's no humanity. It's just edgy. It's just the ends justifies the means, and that's it. That's the final thesis. There's nothing more to it than that. It's just so. Simple. Undercooked, really. It feels like a disservice to the complex character that Hank McCoy is meant to be.

Final thoughts? Uh. It mostly all kinda sucks, go buy a copy of S.W.O.R.D volume 1 instead, it's really good.

[xxsycamore]

—𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘕𝘦𝘸 𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘳'𝘴 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨

► SYNOPSIS:

Jin wakes up in your shared bed and reminisces about the events leading to you and him getting together.

But is the other side of the bed truly not empty, just like he remembers it being after many nights spend under the sheets with someone?

[Part two of Mine For A Christmas Night.]

▍jin x reader (not belle) ▍rating: M for implied sexual content ▍tags: Drama & Romance; plot for a multichapter fic told in just two parts; possible spoilers for jin's route; Getting Together; First Kiss; Sharing a Bed; Some Humor; Pillow Fights; Fake/Pretend Relationship; Alcohol; Implied Sexual Content; Morning After ▍wordcount:  2,307

▍masterlist

▍a/n:  Welcome to the multichapter fic that never happened. I'd love it if you tell me if this made you feel like you've been reading it for a long time! This "accidental plot" thing went too far... The previous part left out too many unanswered questions, and for the people who were asking for more, I decided to write a proper ending. Special tags for @leonscape @randonauticrap @pieground

It's my final fic for the year and I want to use the chance to thank you for all the support in 2022. If you're here, no matter if just for this fic or maybe for every one before that, Thank you.

Written for mine and @voltage-vixen’s ‘Tis The Season For Love challenge! PROMPT: "Those clichéd traditions are exciting for me, now that I have you."

Light penetrates into the room through the open blinds in the late morning.

Jin didn't bother to shut them the night prior; either he was too used to the gray skies of late December being unable to shake him from slumber as they were; or, he simply had other things on his mind while making his way to the bed last night. Of course, the answer is the latter, the unforeseen sunny morning of New Year's having nothing to do with it. But he wishes he could turn the sun off for the sake of another five minutes of shuteye. It's tough to have the motivational rays of the fresh beginning of the year pouring down on you when you're hungover, and his arm is getting numb way too fast when he uses it to block the light. He rolls over.

In the bits of his mind that are sober and awaken, he thinks about his approach; you should be right there next to him in this very moment, a breath away. You're very, very quiet, even if his ears buzz with enough noise to block out your soft sleeping breather. He doesn't want to open his eyes yet, he's not prepared to face you in your full morning glory, freshly made love to and with his marks all over your skin. He'd do something awfully out of his character and lose his wits; maybe retreat under the sheets, or stare dumbfounded, or be very, very quiet. All of it stuff that he hasn't faced in the course of his, erm, abundant experience of bedding someone.

He doesn't mind discovering new sides of himself; new year new me or something? He doesn't want to get reminded first thing in the morning of motivational quotes he's heard around the palace or the faces attached to them, not yet.

And last night, well, that's another story. Jin could stay in bed all day, connecting the pieces between one vivid scene and the other in the reel of his mind. The alcohol in his system failed to wipe out anything related to you, and lucky him, his whole world revolved around you last night. Just as it has been the day prior, and the other, backwards on the calendar to one fateful Christmas night and then some more.

He grins into the palm of his hand as he tries to rub some awakeness into his eyelids. He did put his mouth on yours last night as the fireworks set off in a picture perfect first kiss, too bad that you already shared one before that. He had commented out loud a few times now, how he was hoping to rewrite that memory for you. But deep down you both know that that kiss in the tavern was special in its own way.

He now allows himself to look back on it with a different taste in his mouth. Things start to have shapes as he remembers the empty tavern after closing time when he stayed until late in the night to help you out, as promised. The blinds were shut and you were isolated from everything beyond the four walls of the tavern, and it's easy to forget how life goes on out there. In one second he was laughing together with you, in the next, your chin was caught in his hand. Lips meeting lips. A miscalculated spur of impulsivity, as it is normal for those to play out. Not short enough to call it an incident, with both parties prolonging the act. As confusing as it was for him, he understood not to linger as you gazed away from him and bid him goodnight.

It's not like all of these days were having this bittersweet aftertaste about them, on others Jin found it way easier to sleep at night. On one, chasing after you here in the palace had been quite tiring, as his brothers kept showing you things around. Those who were willing to, anyway. No, he was glad that you showed some interest in the life of the royal palace, slipping in role as his partner for the course of the tour. You told him that night, that you had a great day and then cut the conversation short. Then a barrier of pillows was assembled in the middle of the bed you were rightfully expected to share with him.

Somehow, he was able to make it up to you - about that kiss and all that. Turns out being honest and admitting his on you crush was maybe the right thing to do. He explained about the plan with the pretend date being his way of testing if what he felt for you was really love. Which, it is. He let himself slip too, opened up about some things, about old tales of forbidden love and how they might not be so old, after all. He's just thirty, mind you.

He didn't mean to make you cry for him. Heck, he didn't even expect you to look at him with anything other than hatred.

The wind has been harsh that day, and the sky darkened, but snow never fell.

You were clutching hard into the fuzzy inside of his warm coat as if instead of hugging him you wanted to curl up and disappear whole into it. He found it adorable, but he also wanted you two to be even, so he hurried to take you back into the palace where it's warm. He'd opened up a whole lot already and it looked as if you had some old tales of your own to share. Maybe over a cup of your tea of your choice, granted that they have it in the palace's kitchen. And the possibility was high.

It felt like more than a week.

If his brothers thought they saw him the most triumphal he's ever been in his life when he walked with you under his arm on the grand Christmas ball, they had to see him doing the same but on New Year's eve. Well, they were told to expect that, but why would they? As unbelievable as your relationship was at the beginning, the moment the champagne purposefully flew from your glass directly on Jin's clothes, they had abandoned all hopes for something to come out of it. Not that those hopes were theirs to begin with. They only cared so much because Jin made a big deal out of finally settling down, for some reason.

On New Year's eve, you shined with more than the intricate jewels adorning your form. It was either very real and Jin had found his perfect partner, or, maybe it was the perfect partner for his little theater. The conspirators went on through the whole night, with the majority of the princes joining forces to prove that this absurdity is but a game, and they were the audience soon to be tricked into falling for it. Even Chevalier would reasonably refuse to be laughed at by Jin of all people, simply because he was asked his opinion of the legitimacy of all of this, and he gave a positive answer. Yves tried a roundabout way to nudge you into tactically giving him a sign if you've been made to do something against your will. You were either dumb or you were really enjoying yourself in Jin's company.

By the time it got late into the night, all seven of them were working together for the mutual goal. They knew their time was running out the less remained of the year; and by the time the fireworks went off and they witnessed a kiss on a remote corner of the large terrace from their makeshift hiding spots, Leon silently told the rest to leave the two alone. The expressions on their faced varied from regret for the lost time to disappointment to full shock, but there were some genuinely relieved ones.

Of course, Jin knows all of that because Leon already shared it all, finding it hard to keep this brilliant comedy to himself. There'd hardly be a second chance of hearing about Chevalier joining the bunch in hiding behind tall potted plants. It was the only five minutes Jin spend away from you that night, and even after the good laugh he still missed you.

The rest of the celebration was nice. After that, it only became nicer.

The pillow barrier was dissembled in a show of flying feathers and a play-fight that started more clothed than it ended. Mutually disarmed from your pillows, you both knew that there must be a better thing for two adults to do while drunk on New Year's night. Especially if they were inlove. The first few steps of this dance Jin was familiar with. The rest, you had to show him.

Laugher rumbling deep into his throat and accompanied by the hints of raspy morning voice, Jin realizes he's producing sounds loud enough to wake you. It's time to face the consequences of being inlove, no more hiding.

His lashes flutter as he struggles to focus his eyes in the way too bright room, but soon they're open. The first thing Jin sees by his side is…nothing at all. The bed looks as if noone at all has slept in there during the night other than Jin himself.

Panic creeps its way into his now fully awakened senses, and he raises up his body enough to scan over the room. You're nowhere to be found. His bare toes touch the cold tiles beneath as he pays no attention to where his slippers might have been kicked to, and he's diving in the cold world of his morning reality as unforgiving as he remembers it. Empty bed. The coldness of crossing the room without a single article of clothing on your body, but said coldness coming from inside out.

Maybe it was all another miscalculation, an impulse. Jin and you had become a real couple, something amidst it all, with a proper asking out on his end like he's never done before. You had agreed without much thought; an answer coming from the heart maybe, or maybe just an equal spur of impulse on your end as on his. The morning is wiser than the night and the latter always seemed to be when the two of you took most of your decisions. It's doomed to end like that.

"Jin, are you awake?"

The way the door was opened in one precise, silent motion, it's normal that Jin didn't hear anyone entering. The creaking of its closing which accompanied that question is what got to his ears. And the question was dressed in your voice, an unmistakable sound for his ears. Strong enough to pull him out of this delirium he created in his head.

"You are…"

"Late for morning cuddles, I know. Don’t fret, I'm sure you'll get your cuddles one of these mornings… I plan on keeping waking up here, after all."

Jin stares at you propping yourself on the armrest of the sofa, holding your cup to your mouth with both hands and enjoying the scent of the freshly brewed warm liquid inside. He feels like he can't talk anymore, or at least cannot say anything of matter right now.

"Did I, uh…ask for morning cuddles?"

"What, you don't remember?"

Jin's eyes follow the cup as it's being set on the nearby table, and in the next second warm hands wrap around his sides. When did you get this close?

"Don’t be so dense now! Here, you can have a hug for starters."

This is all a little too much for his heart; emotions fighting each other inside him but none of the negative kind. It's still not enough to keep him upright, and it's good that the bed is right there behind him.

"Oof!"

Your fall is saved in the extra softness of his chest and the bed underneath. Jin giggles first, surrendering to the absurdity of the situation. He really just thought here for a second that you abandoned him, when in reality, you probably woke up first and sneaked out of your warm bed for your favorite tea that you cannot resist. He keeps your head pressed down to his front because that's enough running away for the morning.

You giggle too, between struggles to get out of his gasp, and it only results on you coming up to the level of his face.

It's a kiss that noone has to think much of beforehand. Yet Jin puts it on hold, sucking on a breath. He discovers that he misses a damn lot of pretty sights of you up close while busy kissing you.

"Are you sure about that? If you stay here with me, you'll have to attend a bunch more of those banquets. Christmas, New Years, these are just a small portion of the occasions… it gets old after awhile. And all the stuff that comes with them, too. Traditions, customs…"

"Shhh, Jin." You put your finger in front of his lips, catching his mouth frozen while it stays in an "o" shape. "Quiet. Those clichéd traditions are exciting for me, now that I have you."

His lips tickle your finger as he moves his mouth, unable to keep shut after such remark.

"Liar."

You're done playing this game with him. You'd rather save your energy for all the little things you'd need to get him used to in a normal, proper relationship - with nothing pretended this time! And it was just yesterday when he was the one teaching you how to carry yourself as his girlfriend around the palace. Satisfied with the entertaining way the tables seems to have turned, you're now going to resume the kiss, and Jin better not have anything more to say right now.

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @animeworldsposts @randomanimatedhusbandoseeker @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @pro-cat-stination @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou @themysticalbeing @canaria-blackwell @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia2 @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 @ikemenlover24 @violettduchess @mcofthemansion @tiny-wooden-robot @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @atelieredux @moonstruck-writing @aceuuuuu let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[itsbinghebitch]

I was trying not to get involved in everything going on right now but after reading your last post I just felt I had to say something. Firstly you seem like a really mature and thoughtful person which is such a breath of fresh air in online spaces in general. The way you're handling the situation is really admirable and your words really resonated with me. I'm relatively new to this fandom (I watched KPTS after the shitshow in January) and, after learning what happened, I've done my best to keep my distance from the cast and BOC and just focus on the story and characters. Based on what I'd read about the case I was willing to give Build the benefit of the doubt but the recent leaked messages make that nearly impossible which is also preventing me from enjoying the series which I've come to love. What makes it worse is that I'm an artist who loves VegasPete and, just like you, every time I try to make art with them, I keep thinking about all the awful comments Build made about Bible and it feels plain wrong to draw them together. Even for someone like me who's not emotionally attached to the actors it's really hard to separate them from the characters and it's making my fandom experience pretty miserable. I have very complicated feelings about the whole ordeal - on one hand as a queer person like you I'm tired of people's homophobia and bigotry being swept under the rug, but on the other hand I've seen first hand what an abusive relationship can do to a person so I can't help but feel some compassion for him too. I truly hope he can reflect on his mistakes and heal and grow as a person. Maybe I'm just too old for celebrity culture and drama but I do feel the need to be able to discuss issues like this one in a calm and level headed manner instead of falling victim to black and white thinking and turning things into a witch hunt. Sorry for the rant and feel free to ignore this message, your post just really resonated with me and I wanted to share some of my thoughts on the matter. I hope you have a lovely day/night ❤️

thank u sm for this message.... i really appreciate you taking the time to write about your experience and i'm glad you felt like you could share ❤️

there isn't a clear-cut answer to the whole debacle. whoever tries to sell you one is a scammer or is speaking out of an emotionally clouded place (as i was last week lol).

taking a look back at everything, i think it's important to acknowledge:

1. multiple things can be true at once: you can feel hurt by build's comments and still feel sympathy for his predicament.

2. you should be able to discuss these things without feeling like you'll get, idk. fandom black points. or get blocked by everyone who thinks differently than you (which happened to me), or even hounded and hacked by people to the point of getting your blog shut down (which happened to blramblings).

3. it's really fucking hard to be a fandom creator in these circumstances. i'm really sorry to hear your art has been impacted. especially in the case of vegaspete, i tend to believe there was an "aura" inextricably linking biblebuild as actors to who they were representing on screen. no one but biblebuild could've been vegaspete for me. it was their contrasting facial features, it was in their on-screen rapport and chemistry for me. their choices in portraying the characters, the behind-the-scene interviews... that aura mesmerized me for an entire year literally. and it's not only fine to admit that the situation complicates your fandom art, it should be an *active conversation* we have as fandom creators. because let me tell you, i don't write fic on top of my insane job out of the goodness of my heart. it's because of that spark of joy i feel, that stepping out of the regular day to day. the moment that joy isn't there anymore, it becomes labor. and let me tell you one thing i DON'T do. it's FREE LABOR corporations fuck me on the daily already so why would i let them do it as a hobby too

so yeah thanks so much for sharing your thoughts <3 i rly rly appreciate it and sending you lots of good vibes. who knows what the future holds in store for us etc. etc. but we out here!!!

[septembersghost]

in a timeline where Elvis had been in good health and lived longer or even was still alive! what do you think might've happened with his career?

this is a great question, and i love it despite it also making me unspeakably sad. obviously so many things would have to change for this to happen, and there are endless hypotheticals that can be asked about him - what if he'd gotten, and been willing to accept, help with the pills and his other struggles, what if he hadn't been trapped in vegas, what if he'd left parker, what if he had had the chance to make dramatic pictures and choose/record more music that inspired him rather than the movies and soundtracks he ended up having to do for so long, what if he hadn't been drafted, what if his mother hadn't died when she did - any one of these changing potentially changes the whole course of his life. but let's say nothing is different except he's healthier and survives. keep in mind elvis would've only been 45 in 1980, and, all things being equal, his voice would still have been strong and clear and beautiful. i don't think he's the type of person who ever would've wanted to stop creating and performing. the 80s gets us into an interesting time with music, disco fizzles out, a bunch of fresh rock and pop and country sounds rise and flourish, hip-hop begins to enter the mainstream. another big thing that happened was the revitalization of broadway, with particularly flashy, sweeping musicals. barbra streisand, who'd primarily been recording various forms of pop as it shifted for a good decade or so, along with her successful film soundtrack music, returned to her roots and released the broadway album in 1985 (one of my albums of all-time), when el would've been 50, and it was seen as a gamble, but turned out to be a huge hit. elvis may not have been a musical theatre performer in that sense, but he had a natural affinity for drama and flair, so it'd be cool to know if he would've taken to any of that or incorporated aspects of it (in my head, he'd totally enjoy the phantom of the opera). the rock sounds, the r&b, the fusions in pop and country, all of that would've piqued his interest, i think, because he was so passionate about music and was so skilled (and such a sponge for it across genres) at adapting it. so he could've experimented with new sonic forms, kept expanding his abilities and repertoire. i'd love to imagine that he'd have flown away out of vegas and finally gotten to tour the way he wanted. i even think he would've added innovation to the culture and music happening at the time. if he'd remained well and found creative outlets that inspired him, it's something he could've kept going on and building for a long while. i feel certain he would've done more gospel records too eventually, while still staying current at the same time. i imagine any of that would've somewhat altered how his legacy has been viewed, especially the wrongfully disparaging commentary. maybe he'd be like some of the other artists we've seen, paul, elton, bob dylan, billy joel, and so on, and kept playing well into his 70s. maybe eventually he'd have retired instead and taken time for himself (and you asked career specifically, but i hope he could've found some personal peace and love that he kept looking for too), but...part of me really does think he never could've left making music or being onstage and sharing that love and energy with an audience, as long as he was able. he would've found those songs to keep singing. which is what he did do in life. if only he'd had more time.

kind of off-topic/an aside, but i honestly believe he'd be so, so touched, and so amused regarding some things (i simply know he'd dissolve into that contagious laughter), that the young women on the internet, even a generation behind me, (after i explain the internet to him, i will tell him <3) are listening to and watching, and writing and reading about, and making countless fanvids and edits/gifs/etc for him in 2023. i hope in 2027, when he's been gone for fifty years, all the fans right now, new and old alike, still hold onto part of what they're currently experiencing. there's something indescribably wholesome about it (even in the thirst posting tbh, because it's still his power?!). i just cannot fathom any current star having this effect decades later, including the ones i adore. not because they aren't great, not because they aren't creating wonderful, lasting work, they undoubtedly are, but so much has shifted in how we absorb and keep and pass that on which alters it along the way. elvis' status as the best-selling solo artist of all time could *maybe* be broken eventually (although it's not in the foreseeable future), but it won't actually be comparable because streaming and everything within the industry has vastly changed. another difference, unfortunately, also lies in the tragedy. i hope our current young musicians have long careers and carve out happy, peaceful lives free of as much of that torment as possible, but the immense sadness and mythic rise and fall of it all are why we culturally still cling so much to certain people - as i've oft mentioned with EP, MM. to those eternally young and heartbreaking figures. if they'd experienced recovery, and lived the long, contented lives we wish they had, would we be this captivated by them now? or do we look into the abyss of their absences and hold them closer to keep them alive, to understand and feel that connective empathy? it's deeply human nature to be drawn to trying to understand the shadow of that darkness chasing their light. we want them to live and we can't give it to them, so we find ways to bring them to life instead.

i wish he was here to know how beloved he is, and i wish he was here because it would mean the trajectory of his life was far more gentle. i wish he was here to laugh with us about it and see us singing and dancing along to his music as if it was brand new, but i do believe he often looks down at us like:

[teeny-tiny-revenge]

I feel like there are two periods in Ed's life where a huge emotional piece that says TRUST NO ONE makes sense. This is reminder. It's a lesson for himself written in ink (hilariously in a place where he will not be able to read it). He got the hand spiders to teach himself to not be scared of spiders, and he got the back piece as a reminder to never ever trust anyone ever again.

Young adult Ed, just starting out in piracy, certainly made a lot of traumatising experiences, and something like "do not let your guard down, ever" and "trust no one" are lessons you can see being learned under a cruel captain like Hornigold.

I don't see it being something Ed would have done in the, say, decade before the show is set. Ed's whole thing in the beginning of season one is that, outside of all the trauma woven into the Blackbeard identity, he is stuck in a neverending circle of same old same old. It's nothing but the uzsh, over and over and over. There's no drama, no fucking life. "This role I have to play day in day out is stifling me and also I'm bored to death" isn't a state of mind I would assume produces a big statement tattoo that says "trust no one". The tired boredom is apathic. This tattoo isn't apathic. The event that made him get this one hurt.

When discussing it, we tend to point out two instigating factors in Ed's spiral into full on suicidal depression: Stede leaving him and Izzy threatening him back into the hated Blackbeard performance, aka a very new fresh pain on top of a lifetime of "I'm an unlovable monster" trauma. But that's a very psychoanalysis approach. This is what an outsider looking at Ed can say. This isn't what it'll feel like to Ed.

What happened to Ed is the following: in a span of maybe a week or two:

- His first mate of many years (who was a dick who made Ed feel bad frequently, but hey), whom Ed entrusted with tasks he deems important, first tries to increasingly unsubtly make Ed kill his new friend/crush (which Ed will consider his own fault because he said that was his plan), and when Ed says no to the killing, his long time first mate whom he trusted at least in a business kind of way, directly goes against his orders and tries to kill Stede anyway. (Betrayal Number 1 by someone Ed assumed he could trust!)

- An old not quiet friend but also not quite not friend (who saved Ed's life once and who is thus a person Ed feels endebted to and whom he must trust at least a bit) shows up for fun nostalgic party time! Except turns out he's being a dick and he makes Stede realise that Ed is a terrible person (and Ed's been waiting for this to happen, so he accepts his fate and leaves). Only to find out that this whole thing was a con and Jack drove a wedge between Ed and Stede on purpose. (Betrayal Number 2 by someone Ed assumed he could trust!)

- Turns out aforementioned first mate apparently used his self-inflicted banishment to sell them all out to the cops! And got Jack to betray Ed, too! And then he tries to buy Ed from the British! (That's at least two or three different types of betrayal in a trenchcoat!)

- Then Ed signs the Act of Grace for Stede, and tells Stede he makes him happy, and makes plans to run away because Stede wants plans, and then Stede doesn't show. First guy Ed ever really bared his heart to, he was all in and he gave Stede everything he could, and Stede didn't want it. And he didn't even say no, he said yes and kissed Ed back and then he didn't show up! (That's a big one that hurts, and it's number four to six, depending on how many separate betrayals we count for Izzy so far.)

- And then, when Ed dares to be vulnerable with the crew and with Izzy because he wants a better life even without Stede, Izzy goes "you are better off dead than openly queer". (There goes another Izzy betraying Ed's trust on the list!)

Ed, in the second half of season one, makes experience after experience where people he assumed he knew and could trust or at least could rely on betrayed him.

Isn't this an experience that would make you consider a big ass statement piece tattoo like this?

That it's in a vulnerable place is a bonus, really. Ed's mindset in the beginning of season two is "I was completely right about being unlovable and I need to die about it because my life will never get better". Ed wants to die! Most of this arc was cut, but I'm convinced the reason Ed even starts on the whole record breaking thing is that he knows it'll make Ned Low mad and he hopes a mad Ned Low will come after him and kill him. Ed then decides this is taking too long and he can't do this shit anymore so storm or mutiny is going to be the way to go, but, point being: Kraken Ed is not worried about being stabbed in the back by a tattooist. Kraken Ed doesn't even watch the battle around him during raids in favour of smoking his pipe. If a stray bullet hits him, whatever, cool, gotta die anyway. So if a tattooist tries to murder him from behind, whatever? Saves Ed a lot of trouble.

The TRUST NO ONE skulls and snakes tattoo is a huge piece that was painful and dangerous to get. It's emotional and dramatic and it's depressing as hell. This is a Kraken tattoo.

And I find that narratively juicy, too, because going on, Ed's life takes a turn for the much better. He stops being suicidal. He finds happiness and love again. But this reminder of his pain was also written on him in permanent ink, and it's going to stay there for the rest of his life. He can try to get some of it covered up with something new and more positive, but the dramatic depression tattoo will stay underneath it forever. And I find that... poignant? Because healing doesn't mean all the scars fade. It doesn't mean the hurt gets unmade. You live through a terrible thing, you survive and you bear the scars, and they will fade (like an aging tattoo) and you can cover some of them up, but they will never be gone because they're a part of you now. And that doesn't mean they define you or that they're all you are or that you'll constantly think of the bad thing from your past. Maybe it's on your back where you can't really see it without twisting around in front of a mirror. Maybe your loved ones will see it easier than you do. But in spite of all that, you get to have a good life, you get to be happy, you get to trust again. What if someone wrote Trust No One on your back and you trusted anyway? What if you thought you were unlovable, but you found love? What if life just begins again? You know?

I’m sure this conversation has been had before but I have a shit memory and tumblr search function is ass so—

[hansolmates]

distance learning (m)

banner done by the beautiful @eerieedits​

summary; after their first hookup, jungkook isn’t so sure whether you’re serious about being exclusive. after all, people say things during sex. jungkook takes it in his own hands to figure out where you stand, and he realizes soon enough that eavesdropping is a bad habit pairing; neighbor!jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; fluff, humor, crack, insecure!jk, unresolved sexual tension, stressed!mc, this is really just unnecessary drama bc drama is fun™, sexting, dom kook’s still a meanie in control, posession kink, cock slapping, a blowjob, cockwarming, unprotected, creampie, squirting, (wrap the pickle before u tickle folks) and of course the excessive use of the petname [redacted] w/c; 6.1k a/n; haaaaaa three months later im finally posting pt 2! i figured that no matter how many times i edit/reread at this point i think it’s time to finally let this beast go!!! enjoyyy click here for part 1: remote learning drabbles; 01

if you enjoy this, please considering giving our pasta couple a like n’share💚

It’s been a week since the thing.

The remote-controlled vibrator thing. 

The whole sappy-love-confesion-during-sex thing. 

Jungkook is antsy, tail tucked in, perpetually wondering whether he went too far. You seemed to like it, and Jungkook definitely loved it. It was spicy and dirty and hot, and at the same time Jungkook thought he really made progress in expressing his feelings for you. Not only that, you said you liked him back!

At least, he thought you did. 

“I really said I’d feed her lasagna and cum in the same sentence,” Jungkook bemoans into his pillow, which still lingers faintly of your Redken shampoo. “I’m disgusting. She thinks I’m disgusting.” 

People say things during sex, Jungkook knows that. In the throes of passion and pleasure, people will say anything that comes to their mind, anything that fits the mood. Of course, you’d be tied in and say you like him back. But did you like him back as a friend? As a fuckbuddy? As something more? 

“Fucking text her,” Taehyung is tired of Jungkook’s wallowing, everytime he checks in on the app developer he’s brooding in one of three places. Today’s his bedroom. Taehyung dips under the blankets, and steals Jungkook’s pillow right under his nose.

Jungkook suppresses a whimper, face melding into the blankets. Now that pillow is going to smell like Taehyung.

“Text her what,” Jungkook replies despondently. 

“I don’t know, something along the lines of ‘I wanna follow through with my proposition of feeding you my cum and lasagna—not simultaneously. Wanna go on a date this weekend?’ It’s that simple,” Taehyung gets up in Jungkook’s face, dark eyes forcing him to bore right in. “Want me to do it for you?” 

“Noo, I’m an adult I can—”

“I did it for you.” 

Jungkook nearly knocks into Taehyung’s hard head, sitting up straight when he notices his phone behind his roommate’s back. This is what he gets for sharing passwords. Thankfully, the message is cleaner than Taehyung’s words, and you’ve already replied. 

[1:23] Jungkook: would you like to go out for dinner this weekend? pasta and wine?

[1:25] You: it’s a busy week this week 🥺 raincheck? 

“Was the sex that bad?” Taehyung frowns, reading the message twice. 

“N-no,” Jungkook is sweating. He isn’t sure anymore. 

Taehyung hands Jungkook back his phone, slowly, as if you’ll reply back with a change of your mind. Jungkook is a deflated balloon on his bed, feeling like a bum in his ratty sweater and a dateless weekend. 

“It’s just that,” Taehyung puts a hand on his lip, mulling, “busy people don’t reply that fast. Like even if she wasn’t busy, there’s a fifteen-minute leeway before replying.” 

This silly rule overrides Jungkook’s mind for the rest of the week. 

The gyms have been reopened for months, and Jungkook’s trainer misses him dearly. Jungkook meets with Saeroyi in the morning, eager to get a few jabs in with some fresh equipment. He tries to move on, distract himself with a couple of pumps and a match with Saeroyi. It feels great to sweat it off, but it doesn’t help sway Jungkook’s incessant thoughts. 

The ball is in your court now, Jungkook has nothing to do but wait. Some people are just bad texters, maybe you just happened to have your phone near you when Taehyung sent the message. Maybe you just wanted to cut Jungkook off as quickly as possible so you decided to reply fast and rip the band-aid. 

No, you’re definitely not that cold-hearted. 

Re-entering his apartment complex, his eyes linger towards where your room lies on the first floor. It’s all the way at the end of the hallway, and he’s tempted to just confront you and make sure that what you and him really had is indeed, over. Conversely, you could just really be having a bad week and you genuinely do want a raincheck. 

Jungkook’s eyes trail to his form. Still in his gym clothes, and a little sweaty from the travel time. If he gets caught, he can just tell you he’s doing a cooldown by running across the hallways. Not the first time it’s happened, afterall it led him to you at one point. 

He breaks into a soft jog, making a beeline to your front door. His feet squish against your old welcome mat. You haven’t changed it since Halloween, and he smiles fondly at the black scripted “Boo Y’all” written in script next to a chibi-ghost. 

His heart beats faster as his hand lingers by the door, ready to knock. Deep breaths. Who knows, he could just be overthinking (like usual.) 

“Fuck, Hobi!” 

Jungkook freezes, his knuckles a centimeter away from your door. He backs up as if he’s been burned. His heart has fallen all the way down to his ass, and intends to stay there because now he feels like a damn fool. 

The bed is creaking relentlessly, a rhythmic pattern that has Jungkook’s face crumbling at every spring. Jungkook’s face hovers over the door, his ear brushing against the wood. 

“C’mon, bunny,” the male voice is teasing, “you know you love having me over. It would satisfy both of us if you’d just let it go.” 

Bunny. A cute pet name, for sure. The way it rolls off the stranger’s tongue is natural, as if he’s been saying it for years. But what about being his doll, is that not good enough? 

You’re huffy, taking deep breaths. He doesn’t want to hear anymore. Jungkook has put himself through enough self-wallowing for the week. What if he was just a stepping stone to meeting new people that will satisfy you better? What if you just needed one good orgasm to get your flow back, and Jungkook’s job is done? Sure, there were no strings attached when he proposed to have sex with you, but he thought… 

No more thinking. Jungkook jogs away from the door, even going so far is to jog all the way up to the penthouse. 

He hates this. 

You hate this. 

It’s been five days since Hoseok’s arrival, and you are going bonkers. Why couldn’t he get a hotel or an AirBnB? Because he’s cheap as fuck, that’s why. Your dinky cousin has been clinging to you like a lonely koala, and while you found it cute in the 5th grade, it doesn’t translate well nearly two decades later. 

Every morning is the same. You make a subpar toast and Nutella breakfast, letting Hoseok’s slices go cold as you log in for work. You’ve been clocking in earlier in the hopes to finish the majority of your tasks before Hoseok wakes up, because by then you can barely function. Once he wakes up, he’s relentless, bouncing on the bed and talking your head off while you try to concentrate on whatever your boss is telling you. Whenever he jumps too hard, your cheap mattress causes your laptop to fly, and the only thing you can do is curse him out. Sometimes he plays Disney movies and sings in tandem, choreography and all. 

You know that Hoseok is stressed and this is his outlet, and you don’t have it in you to stop his incessant habits. He’s visiting your area because of a lucrative job offer nearby and the interviews are sporadic, making Hoseok linger in your apartment for hours at a time until he’s summoned for whatever test they want to throw at him. 

Most of the interviews are in the evening, and it’s when you can clock back in and finish your leftover assignments while Hoseok is also working. By the time he returns, you’re dog tired and so is he. 

Every night, you try to move away from Hoseok’s clingy self, as he grapples onto your waist and slings a thigh over your belly. You wish it were someone else sharing the bed with you. 

If you bring Jungkook into the picture however, you’d be burnt for the week. Complete crumbs. It would be too much stimulation for you, having to balance work, Hoseok’s incessant attitude, and putting on a face for Jungkook. Your relationship with the penthouse neighbor is barely budding, hardly watered considering Hoseok’s sudden visit. You cling to the fact that in a couple days you would be giving your undivided attention to Jungkook, most of your priorities out of the way, and most importantly, you’ll have your own room back. 

Maybe you could surprise him by giving him a pasta dinner, just like he proposed. 

Unable to get the thought out of your head, you blindly reach for your phone on the nightstand. It’s late, very late for a workday. The blue screen burns your eyes a bit, but you're determined to at least check up on Jungkook. You can’t take too long, otherwise you won’t be able to sleep and get him out of your head. Dear, unassuming cousin Hoseok is fast asleep next to you, due to the fact it’s nearly midnight. Making sure not to disrupt him, you carefully cup your phone in your hands, putting it on the lowest light setting. 

[11:54] You: hey, hope work hasnt been as draining for u as it’s been for me  ☠️  what’s your opinion on pasta sauces, red or white? 

Jungkook is normally a fast texter, at least from your experience. It’s you that’s the sporadic texter, sometimes taking hours to reply, other times in seconds. It never really mattered until now, however. But it takes five, ten, and finally fifteen minutes before you get a response. 

[12:09] Jungkook: ??? 

You frown, wondering what you said wrong. 

[12:10] You: do you not wanna do pasta anymore? Are you craving something else now?

[12:10] Jungkook: i don’t think it’d work out 

[12:10] You: why? 

[12:11] Jungkook: im sure you know why, bunny. 

Strange. He’s never called you bunny before, and in your opinion you think he’d be the bunny in the relationship—soft and cuddly on the outside, and an absolute horn ball in bed. Is this some sort of weird power play? Is he being passive aggressive on purpose? Whatever this game is, you’re not into it. Grumbling under your breath, you snake out of bed, looking blindly for your slippers in the dark. You’ll be in and out of Jungkook’s apartment in ten minutes. 

Just as your hand brushes the doorknob, your new roommate calls for you. 

“Bunny?” Hoseok calls blearily, and you’re staring straight at his cookie-printed eye mask, “what time is it, where are you going?” 

“Um, out,” you reply shortly, “I forgot I left my laundry in the dryer.” 

“Oh, m’kay. Come back soon, y’know I can’t sleep alone.” 

It’s then you realize. Bunny. Jungkook thinks that Hoseok and you are a thing. He really needs to stop eavesdropping on you. 

You feel your pussy frown. Your cousin is such a cockblock and he doesn’t even know it. Without an answer, you slip through your door and into the first free elevator. As you zing up the floors with the magical 1234 code, you work and rework your hair in and out of its style, wondering if you’ll look more presentable with your hair messy or thrown back. 

As soon as you reach the penthouse, you burst into action. “Jungkook!” you cry, pounding the front door, “it’s a misunderstanding, open up!” 

The door immediately swings open after the first three knocks, and you punch Taehyung in the chest. 

“You look awful,” Kim Taehyung drawls. Taehyung is wearing nothing but a cranberry red silk kimono, and you have to avert your eyes and focus on his face, which is even worse because he’s looking at you like an all-knowing psychic. 

“Gee, thanks,” you try to move past him, but he’s blocking the door. 

“Jungkook’s in a meeting with some foriegn developers,” Taehyung talks with his hands, pretending like he has any idea of the nature of his roommate’s job, “when it’s this late he doesn’t leave his office until morning. Door’s locked.” 

“Well then, can you relay a message?” 

“Depends, is this message going to hurt him further?” 

Oh my goodness, when Taehyung wants to be he is such an enabler. “Tell Jungkook he’s done wallowing. Instead of jumping to conclusions, maybe he should’ve just asked me why we couldn’t go on a date this week.” 

“You could’ve also just told him you have a man on the side.” 

“Ohmygod you two are two iotas of a combined braincell!” you shove your hands in your pocket, hotly scrolling through your phone so you can shove a picture in his face. “This is Jung Hoseok, my cousin who derailed my plans this week by crashing in my too-tiny apartment and forced me to raincheck with Jungkook. He’s a blabbermouth and would tell everyone—my parents, my grandparents, my great-aunts—about Jungkook if he found out I was dating, and I’m not ready for that,” you zoom in on the picture, despite the fact that the screen is practically touching Taehyung’s nose, “and the reason Hoseok calls me bunny is not sexual—you two are fucking gross—I had front tooth problems in elementary school and I had a brace on my two big teeth, it was not pretty.” 

“Ah, bunny.” Taehyung echoes with wide eyes, looking at you as if you’re now the one with sage wisdom, “it all makes sense now.” He gulps, taking in the old photo of a mini-Hoseok and you, yourself frowning to cover your huge braces and Hoseok trying to pull your gums apart with his greasy little fingers. 

Satisfied by Taehyung’s evident squirming, you decide you’re too tired to further this interaction. “Tell the other half of your cell for me, will ya?” You’re already turning away, pressing repeatedly at the elevator button, “I would love to go on a date with him as soon as he gets his head out of his ass.” 

Jungkook is tired, but not tired enough to murder Taehyung and make it look like an accident. 

When he has late meetings, Taehyung is usually quieter around the apartment, and even gets Jungkook a hot meal once he wakes up in the afternoons. Today, Jungkook slept through and through. Normally he’d wake up midway to Taehyung’s television dramas, or the clanging of last night’s dishes but nope, not a peep. 

And today’s hot meal is takeout from Jungkook’s favorite ramen restaurant. That only means one thing—something has gone to shit and Taehyung feels guilty. 

Jungkook sips his tonkotsu impossibly slow, hearing Taehyung’s words—your words from last night—clear as day. Taehyung even describes in detail where the nickname bunny comes from, down to how miserable you looked in the photo with your monstrously metal-bent teeth. Oh, how he wishes he can swaddle you between the blankets, hold you and comfort you while you deal with your family. 

[2:45] Jungkook: doll, im so sorry

[2:45] Jungkook: please, i booked us a weekend at that new spa that just opened downtown. The tickets are flex, so if your cousin doesn’t leave by then week we can always reschedule 

[2:51] Jungkook: baby doll… 

This is far worse than believing you didn’t like him. Now Jungkook is antsy, knowing you deserve all the space in the world because of how silly he was being. You owe him nothing. If he just waited it out until you were ready, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He’s potato-esque throughout the day, thankfully Taehyung gives him space as he watches hours of mindless television. 

You don’t reply until very late into the night. 

[10:10] You: IM ALIVE--barely!! And mr. jeon, you’re not only a triple texter, but an ellipsis texter???? You’re asking for trouble

Jungkook has no shame, immediately texting you back. He can’t help it, he’s smitten. 

[10:12] Jungkook: taehyung explained everything. It’s all his fault. Don’t ask why, it’s his fault. Im so sorry. 

[10:12] You: mm, it’s okay. Just a misunderstanding. I was pretty upset last night, but i’ve been pretty tired this week so my fuse is short. 

[10:14] Jungkook: you should go to sleep now, doll. We’ll have time together after your cousin leaves

[10:14] You: just a couple more minutes. Miss u and your cute face 

[10:16] Jungkook: 

[10:16] Jungkook: will this hold u off until saturday?

Jungkook is a pile of goo. Pink, warm, happy heart-glittered goo. It takes a minute for you to reply, and for that whole minute Jungkook is kicking his legs under the sheets of his bed like an eager five-year old who just gave his crush his Valentine. Maybe it’s taking you so long to reply because you’re trying to send a selfie of your own, running off to the bathroom to take a cute selfie if your cousin is asleep in bed. 

[10:19] You: fuck, i kno that’s supposed to be a cute selfie, but i want you so bad. I want to sit on your face, let your lips glisten with my pussy as i cum all over that pretty face

[10:19] You: i wanna touch myself so badly but fuckin’ hoseok is out here snoring like he’s gon hack a lung. Panties are so wet 🥺🥺 your doll is needy for you, wanna be played with

[10:20] Jungkook: lfjsdl;fkjs;fjsoisfoisljsdfsdklfjsdklf 

He throws his phone across the bed, feeling himself twitch in his red flannel pyjama bottoms. The thought of you so hot and needy when you’re ten floors down has Jungkook absolutely livid. He doesn’t know how he’s going to talk to you, comfort you without missing you like crazy. 

Jungkook thinks back to what he has in his fridge. His contractor sent him a cheese assortment, maybe he can bring it down pretending to be a friendly neighbor. Maybe Hoseok can go to the convenience store to conveniently grab a bottle of wine. He can make both of you cum in five minutes, flat. 

Akin to a dumb, horny teenager, he sighs. He rubs his palm longingly over his member. He’s horny, but he’s also eager to see your face. Talk to you, get reacquainted with your routine and sneak his way into it. He wants to be a part of your life, and he’s hoping you will too. 

[5:02] You: Jungkook, you left me hanging last night

[5:05] Jungkook: baby doll… i wouldnt have been able to handle myself if we continued

[5:06] You: so you decided to dip :( 

[5:06] You: could u play with your doll a lil bit, kook? Hobi left for another interview

[5:08] You: PNG.0901

Jungkook was a fool to believe that you would drop him like that. No, Jungkook can see now that you two are a match made in heaven. You have a bite, never afraid to speak your mind when needed. This translates to a hunger you shamelessly share with Jungkook, both sexual and romantically intimate. He almost wishes he could’ve seen you act like a bitch to Taehyung last night, he can only imagine how sexy you looked telling him off. 

He has the technology to blow up your picture, the one that’s currently having him close his laptop and shove it to the side. He spreads his legs further across his glass desk, trying to find comfort between his tight pants as he absorbs every bit of your skin. 

It’s nothing too risque, but it’s nothing short of sensual. The room is dark, but it’s very clearly a picture of your hand between your thighs. Again, you’re between your wall and bed, squished between your office chair with your legs spread as far as they can go. Your skin is so soft looking, plush as you press two fingers between your damp panties. Adorable. 

[5:12] Jungkook: you know why i never replied last night? Because i was too busy jacking off to your dirty words doll. U really need your mouth washed

[5:12] You: wanna wash it with something else🍆

[5:12] You: please kook, i need something. Hoseok will come home soon and i might rip his head off. Help prevent a murder

Jungkook chuckles, clutching his phone closer to his body. He loves how much you’re opening up to him. Last week feels like so long ago, how you were all flushed and wide-eyed at the proposition of sex. He thinks you two can have a lot of fun getting to know each other, both emotionally and physically. 

[5:15] Jungkook: i was gonna wait until i sent this, but i think my doll needs it. Here’s what i was doing last night

[5:17] Jungkook: MP4.13

He… has a meeting in five minutes. A very important, very serious meeting. Jungkook jacked off enough last night, now it’s your turn. He hopes you like it. It’s not a very long video, barely a twenty-second clip of him fisting his cock. Taehyung was still home at the time, so he had to keep quiet. However, he couldn’t get the image of you out of his head that night, rubbing your thighs together in a cramped mattress as you try to erase the dirty thoughts of him. A murmur of your name, and the image of his precum dripping down his knuckles. You hope it’s enough. 

[5:34] You: u make everything so much easier💜✨

[5:35] You: MP4.234

Two minutes. The video you send is even shorter than his, barely fifteen seconds. You’re in a much more comfortable position, horizontal on the bed. Your shirt is ridden up to the underside of your breasts, one hand clutching your bare breast so hard he can see your cotton plush skin bulging between your fingers. The other hand has your panties shifted to the side, three fingers in your sopping cunt. 

“Mmh��fuck, f-uck Jungkook—” the words are mere breaths, puffs of air as you reach your orgasm. 

His call connects. He nearly drops his phone on the glass.  

“Jungkook!” Andreas from Germany wishes him brightly, “you look great, glowing even!” 

Jungkook blushes, and mutters something about having to go to the bathroom before they start. 

Taehyung makes himself scarce on Saturday. He packs a duffel bag for himself and takes the PlayStation, knowing it’ll be a long weekend at Jimin’s. 

Jungkook is on livewire for the morning. He even express-delivers a pasta roller to his house, and he spends all morning testing out the perfect pasta dough. His black apron is covered in flour, and he can barely comprehend the tutorial that’s teaching him on his flatscreen. 

He’s on autopilot. He hasn’t contacted you since he sent that selfie, and he doesn’t intend to. Jungkook understands why you made yourself scarce in the beginning of the week, preferring to raincheck and pin your relationship for a better time. Jungkook’s brain is overridden with you, swollen with thoughts of you. You would never be able to focus if you kept in contact like you did last night, especially if you can’t get away from Hoseok. 

Absence surely makes the heart grow fonder. 

Slapping his hands against his trousers, he surveys his handiwork. His pasta is appropriately floured and wrung, each handful of fresh dough wrapped in little nests. Off the stove is a bechamel sauce, a base ready to be cooked in whatever kind of pasta dish you want. He thinks the two of you would have fun making your own non-traditional pasta dishes. 

The soft knocks on his front door interrupts his train of thought, and he knows it’s you. 

You stand in front of the door, impossibly small in a large shirt and a plain pair of leggings. At the sight of Jungkook, a smile as warm and sweet as hot chocolate worms its way to your face, and you collapse into his arms. 

He sighs gratefully, sinking into your small body. When he pulls away, he can’t help but frown at your apparent exhaustion. You must’ve come back from something tedious, because sweat dots your brow and your eyes are still puffy and dark. Your chest arches bonelessly into his, hoping to melt in his embrace. 

“Hi,” you say.

“Hey,” he replies. 

“It’s Saturday.” 

“It is Saturday.” 

You rub your nose between the fabric of his button down, “I should’ve been more specific when I wanted to raincheck on you,” you murmur into the white cotton. 

“No, I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions,” Jungkook whispers, even though you’re the only two people on the floor, “I’ll make it better, yeah? I’m going to love you so good tonight, won’t have to lift a finger—” 

You shake your head, looking at him calmly. “Jungkook, it’s been a long week. Hobi got the job, I spent all this morning moving his two-ton speaker set into his new apartment. I don’t want anything gentle. I want you to rail me into next week,” Jungkook chokes on his saliva when you reach to cup his dick through his pants, already sporting a chub, “fuck me breathless. I want—no, I need this.”

Anything for you, but Jungkook isn’t going to let your mouth runneth over that easily. He wants that too, obviously. But again, you’ve made him wait. 

Bending slightly, Jungkook whispers darkly into your ear, “Who said you can decide the rules here, doll?”  he’s been waiting all week to slip back into this persona, one that has you shivering delightfully under his touch. A small, secret smile tucks itself under your lips as you tilt your head down, but Jungkook catches it. It shows you’ve missed it too. He lets your sneaky smile  slide for now, only because he’s missed you so much and you’ve had a long day. 

“If I wanna fuck you rough, I’ll fuck you rough. If I want to edge you until you're sobbing on the corner of the kitchen table, I’ll do it,” Jungkook spits every declaration into your skin, biting at your shoulder so hard you cry deliciously. 

He drags you over to the living room, and he could sing at how easily you follow directions. Both of you have been tied up this week, and some hard sex would definitely ease that frustration, “Knees,” Jungkook commands, and you waste no time sinking to the floor, hands atop your knees. 

You look up through your lashes, eyes big and glassy. His poor girl is tired, and he finds it all the more attractive that you’re willing to push that aside to make eachother feel good. 

“Pretty, pretty,” he chants, pulling down his pants and letting his dick spring free, “suck.” 

You waste no time, and he watches as your eyes dilate over the expanse of his cock, half-hard and ready for your mouth. Your nails dig into your knees as you start with featherlight kisses, finally turning into sloppy smacks as you lick all over his dick. 

Jungkook groans, weaving a hand into your hair to force his dick down your throat. You gag at the sudden intrusion, but it doesn’t stop you from taking it like a champ. Hard, deep thrusts that he’s sure you can feel all the way in your stomach. You gag at each thrust, but don’t let up as your hot tongue wraps him up and licks at the pre-cum. 

“Fuuuuck, doll,” he rips you away, his now hard dick springing away. He’s a little shaky on his knees, but he plants his feet down as he grips his cock, slapping the tip of it across your cheek. It smears your face, glossing your flushed cheeks in a mixture of your saliva and pre-cum. “Are you trying to make me cum first? So sweet, you don’t even care if you cum tonight, hmm? You owe me, making you believe you had another man.” 

This isn’t true, of course. The both of you know it was just miscommunication, but it doesn’t hurt to play it up for pleasure. 

“N-no Kook, I’m yours,” you grapple at his pants, pulling them down so he can get them off completely. 

“Right. You’re. Mine.” With every punctuated word is a light slap to your cheek, and you take it. His cock bounces right off of you, until you finally move your head to suckle at the engorged tip, “I’m keeping you forever, doll. Don’t you know that?” 

Throughout this whole process, you don’t move, other than the minute clawing at your knees. You’re so good to him. Jungkook pulls away and ignores the ache in his member for now, taking off your clothes for himself. It’s like unwrapping a gift, revealing every bit of skin reserved for his viewing. “So sexy,” he remarks once he’s got you bare, pulling you onto the couch. He’s still in his button down shirt, his date night shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. However, he lets your hands inch under the stiff fabric, feeling for his taut muscle. 

He guides your aching cunt to his cock, sinking you down. It’s a tight fit, and you both moan at the brush of contact. Despite not being prepped, you’re still slick, and it makes up for it. He doesn’t thrust up or anything, just guides his lips to yours with a threadbare brush of his finger. 

“Kook, d-do you want me to move?” you mumble against his cherry-flavored lip balm. 

“Good dolls don’t move until they’re told,” your eyes widen innocently at the statement, and you crumple against his mouth, at his next words, “cum like this.” 

“Awh shit, please no,” you tear up, burying your head between the crook of his neck, “I can’t wait.” 

“Thought you wanted me to fuck you into next week. You can’t do this one little favor for me?” he’s being so mean, and you hate him for it. Haven’t you earned it? “C’mon baby, I thought you wanted me?” 

It’s silent, save for the soft Italian restaurant music playing from whatever tutorial he’s hooked up to his television. It’s terribly cliche, like you’re in the porno version of a European romance movie. He thinks nothing of it, not when your juices are dripping on his thighs, your skin soft and pliant in his grip. Jungkook drums his fingers against your spine, seemingly uncaring that you’re stuffed deep into your womb. 

On the other hand, it’s the only thing you’re acutely aware of. His thick, warm cock is nestled between your folds, right where it should be. You clench once, twice, thankful that this isn’t some crazed wet dream. States of sleep and consciousness have blurred this week, you’re lucky that you made it all the way up to Jungkook’s apartment. 

You can’t cum like this. You need to bait him. You moan, the sound slow and rumbly against your throat as you weave your fingers through his dark tresses. Moving the strands aside to kiss his cold metal earrings you murmur, “I love this, Kookoo. I’ve wanted you all week, I was going crazy. I kept playing last week in my head over and over. I even put in my little vibrator, hoping you’d pull up the app.” 

Jungkook’s teeth clench, and his grip is borderline painful as it digs into your hips. 

“I haven’t been able to cum all week, and I want to do it all over you,” you husk, playing with the roots of his hair. 

You can feel yourself dripping, wetness lubricating you even further and probably staining his thighs and couch with your arousal. Every second that passes is killer, and the fluttering towards your pussy tighten further as Jungkook’s cock twitches in response. Your pussy continues its ministrations, butterfly-like flaps against his hot member that have you vibrating.

“Mm, oh, I’ll cum for you,” and surprisingly, you might be able to. All this dirty talking has gotten you riled up. Just a little bit more and—

Jungkook shoves you off his cock, forcing you to land on the couch. 

“No!” you cry, wiping your face. Your cheeks are ruddied, and you’re annoyed. The coolness of the autumn air has you feeling chilly, and you want to scream at Jungkook for disrupting your orgasm. You feel empty. 

You’re not annoyed for long however, as Jungkook flips you on your back and gives you what you’ve been craving. 

“You glide right in, don’t ya doll,” the friction is deliciously blazing, his hands pushing you further into the large couch as he takes you from behind. Hot, fast smacks against your ass come from the way his balls bounce back and forth as he pistons his cock in and out. “F-fuck, you’re so good to me. So good, I love having you like this. All pretty and dripping, you really know how to make a guy wait, huh?” 

“Mmph! N-no—hng, but I’m y-yours, Kook,” you garble out, and you’re practically eating the throw pillow you’re propped up on as he slams you further into the cushions, so hard you may fall off, “all yours, honey. N-no more waiting. I want you, want you so badly—ah fuck!” 

“It’s worth it, you’re worth it,” he says over and over, his thrusts becoming sporadic and losing their rhythm once he feels you clenching uncontrollably. He presses his two fingers to your sloppy bud, swirling around the juices eagerly. “C-cum, baby doll. You deserve it, yeah? Cum on this cock, let go.” 

You’re starting to see spots, black and white alike. Finally shying away from his cock you rest on your back, but Jungkook doesn’t stop his fingers from flying across your clit. One look at his face and you’re gone. Pretty brown eyes, overflowing with affection. The feeling is different, and it’s the acute pressure between your stomach and pussy that makes you notice what’s going on with your body. The pressure finally releases, your eyes fluttering shut as you rest your cheek on the cushions. You dissolve, a mess on the couch as white hot liquid ejects from your body, spraying Jungkook’s thighs and cushions. 

“Y-you just,” your lover’s mouth is parted open like a baby kitten, uncaring as to how the dark liquid stains his couch fabric. 

“Squirted?” you answer breathlessly, a melty smile on your lips, “y-yeah.” 

 It sets him off, a button left dormant until now. The thatches of hair that surround his cock are dripping with your mess, a cold reminder that he got you to this high. He doesn’t hesitate to slip his cock back into you, and you gasp at the overstimulation. You try not to focus on how your body is a bundle of lit nerves, only to help Jungkook reach his completion. 

“S-so perfect,” he warbles, pressing kisses to your jaw, chin, lips. Each thrust is deep, thick and heady with emotion. “Mm, I wanna cream this pussy sooo badly—mm, all mine, all wet and warm and so so sweet—” 

He cries out your name, biting into your shoulder as your walls fill further with his hot cream. Your thighs are shaking from sensory overload, and Jungkook has to hold you down and soothe you into a state of reality to cling on. 

Satiated, he nuzzles into your chest, feeling absolutely featherlight. 

“T-thank you,” you say gratefully, when at least three out of your five senses return to your body. Your hands dip down to clutch his cheek, pinching lightly at the warm skin.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Jungkook exhales into your breasts, “d-didn’t even feed you my cum yet.” 

You scoff, pinching his cheek again. You’re aware of his softening cock between your folds, ready to seep the efforts of today’s coupling, but your stomach says otherwise. You crane your neck to make note of the kitchen island, staring curiously at the metal pasta roller and the little nests of carby goodness that decorate the cutting board. 

“Feed me pasta first, please. You have all night to feed me dessert.” 

Jungkook giggles into your stomach, he doesn’t mind feeding you in that order. 

bonus.

“So.” 

“So?” you have cream sauce on your lips, happily slurping on an angel hair. 

“You haven’t told me you liked me back yet,” Jungkook rests his palm in the swell of his cheek, content with watching you eat from where he’s standing on the counter. He leans his upper body across the marble table, muscles rippling against his white shirt. 

“Oh, I did!” you’re affronted, swinging your legs on the high chair, “I totally did last week!” 

“Yeah, well. Can you say it while I’m not inside you?” 

“Okay,” you blink, quirking him with a simple smile, “I like you.” 

“That was anticlimactic,” Jungkook jokes at the brevity of your confession, yet his heart betrays the charm he finds in the three words. 

You scoff, jabbing your fork in the little next of springy noodles. “What do you want to hear? I’ve wanted you since I’ve moved in? I think you’re really handsome when you pace the hallway doing work on your phone? I like the way you cook?” 

“Keep going,” Jungkook sing songs, walking over to hug you from behind.

The stool swings back and forth as he rocks the two of you, softly and slowly so you don’t throw up your dinner. He noses into your neck, inhaling your scent and committing it to your memory. 

“Mm, dessert first,” you insist, twirling around the stool so you can wrap your legs around his waist. “And then I can tell you exactly how much I like you,” your fingers play with the buttons of his shirt, walking the pads of your fingers across his chest. 

Jungkook grins, hands reaching to cup your bottom and bring you to his bedroom. Of course, he’s always willing to satisfy your insatiable appetite. 

[heyyyharry]

Deja Vu (part 2 of 'Drivers License')

(inspired by deja vu by Olivia Rodrigo)

Word count: 2.5k

Read part 1 here

.

.

.

“What the fuck is this?”

Harry flinched as his girlfriend shoved the phone at him. He’d just got out of the shower, hair still dripping wet, but it wasn’t so out of the ordinary that she would start a fight first thing in the morning.

He sighed and gently pushed her phone away from his face. “Baby, if it’s another rumour about me cheating on you...I was with you this whole week!”

“No.” She lifted the phone up to his face again. “That girl just released another song about you.”

Even though Harry didn’t let it show, whenever he heard about Y/N, his heart would always skip a beat. He couldn’t remember exactly when the last time they’d spoken was, but he knew in his last message to her, he’d congratulated her on that new song about him. She’d never replied, and he’d taken it as the answer — they could never go back to the way it was.

It had broken his heart to listen to ‘drivers license’. Y/N had never been the kind of person to be vocal about her feelings. Or maybe she’d expressed it through actions instead of words, and he had been too nonchalant to see? He hadn’t meant to break her heart and leave her in the dust. After all, she used to be his best friend.

“Y/N’s a songwriter. She writes about her own experience the same way I do. Maybe that song is not even about me, babe,” he calmly told his girlfriend, who was standing in front of him with fresh tears in her eyes. He hated to see her cry, and he hated that this wasn’t the first time she’d done it because of him. He tried to reach for her but she stepped back, shaking her head.

“Listen to the song.”

“Baby.”

“Listen to the song,” his girlfriend repeated without looking at him. “Why are you so afraid?”

“I’m not.”

“Then listen to it and tell me it’s not about you, and that she’s not throwing shades at me. I’m so tired of this girl telling the world about how horrible we are as if you had even dated her in the first place—”

“Fine,” Harry exhaled sharply, his eyes pinched shut. He hated that when his girlfriend got mad, she would get so mean for no reason, and the last thing he wanted to hear right now was her insulting Y/N. He knew Y/N. She had always been respectful to his new relationship. However, he wasn’t in the position to tell his girlfriend how to feel about this situation. He knew it was all his fault, so he stayed quiet, took the phone from his girlfriend and sat down on the edge of the bed. His girlfriend stood with her back against the wall facing him, waiting for him to play the song so she could see his reaction to it.

“Go on,” she told him, her voice emotionless.

Harry looked at the song on Spotify. It was titled deja vu. He took a deep breath and one last look at his girlfriend before finding enough courage to press play.

Y/N’s previous song about him had been blasted in every shop he’d visited, all the time when he was filming, every time he was in the car, and now, the moment he heard her voice again, it really did feel like deja vu.

Car rides down Malibu

Strawberry ice cream

One spoon for two…

.

.

.

“Are we there yet?”

“No, stop being so impatient! Just keep on driving!” Y/N said and looked out of the window on the passenger side. The sun was going down, and the horizon was gradually turning the colour of an egg yolk. It was their last day in Miami. They had been filming for every day that week, and this was the only day they could spend just for themselves.

Harry stole a glance at Y/N and saw that she’d finished half the strawberry ice cream while bobbing her head to the song Uptown Girl on the radio. He frowned, making her laugh when she noticed.

“Open your mouth,” she said and fed him a spoon of ice cream.

“Ahh, brain freeze!”

“But it’s good, isn’t it?”

“So good.” Harry licked his lips. The face he made got Y/N laughing harder.

Fifteen minutes later they arrived at a secluded beach. Y/N had found this place when she traveled to this city alone two summers ago and almost got lost.

Together, she and Harry carried their picnic things through a palm forest, and by the time they saw the ocean, the moon had made a fading presence on the pink Miami sky.

Y/N picked up her shoes and ran towards the waves, letting it chase her back into Harry’s arms and nearly knocking him over. Their laughter echoed in the wind as their shadows stretched out long and lanky on the empty beach. In that very moment, it felt to Harry as if they were the only people in this world, and he had a sense of peace that he might never be able to experience again.

“You don’t get to see this in the city,” Y/N said dreamily as she pulled Harry’s jacket tighter around herself. It was dark now, and the sky above them was full of stars. They sat shoulder to shoulder on a picnic blanket, listening to the whispers of the ocean and the wind. Harry used Y/N’s jacket as a blanket because it was too small for him to put on. They’d laughed for five minutes straight when she told him he looked like that monkey from Aladdin and took plenty of photos just to prove the point.

“I don’t want to leave tomorrow,” he said, still looking at the sky.

“Me neither,” Y/N sighed, her shoulder brushing his. There was a pause, and he could feel her eyes on him, so he turned and saw her looking. “When I get home,” she said with a small smile that made her eyes sparkle, “I’ll learn to drive, and when we come to Miami next time, I can drive you to this beach.”

“I’d love that,” Harry said, then made her pink-promise him.

.

.

.

“They went to Miami last week.”

Y/N blinked. The beach and starry sky disappeared in a second, and she found herself once again standing in the fitting room with her stylist and best friend.

“What?” her best friend marched over to where she stood in front of the full-length mirror.

Her stylist was holding the phone up to show her the article. “Here. Harry took that actress to Miami last week.”

“Don’t show her these!” Y/N’s best friend grabbed the phone and put it on the vanity desk as she gestured to the stylist. “You do your work. Enough chit-chatting.”

“I took him there,” Y/N said. She didn’t even recognise her own voice at first because she was too in shock. She didn’t think Harry would do something like that. But let’s be honest -- how much did she really know about him?

It had been a few months since his last text to her, which she had ignored, and now her song had been overplayed, and nobody cared about the drama anymore. The whole world had moved on, and she had, too. Or so she’d thought. Now, seeing these pictures of him and his girlfriend on that Miami beach made Y/N feel betrayed.

“Asshole,” her best friend said and grabbed her shoulders. “Don’t worry baby. You’re prettier.”

Y/N worked up a smile and opened her mouth to say that she was fine, but then she heard someone call her name and turn around. They weren’t calling for her. Just a name similar to hers that had become an inside joke between her and her friends.

The moment she locked eyes with Harry’s girlfriend, her heart seemed to stop as she held her breath, her lips thinned as if to hold back a scream. She didn’t know the girl personally and had never run into her before today. How unfortunate that they had to be in the same room after Y/N had seen those Miami pics.

“What is she doing here?” Y/N’s best friend asked the stylist the question Y/N was too afraid to ask.

“Fitting for an event, I guess,” the stylist said.

Y/N told them to just ignore the others and mind their own business. The sooner they got the measurements, the faster she could leave. Or she could leave right now and come back another day, but that would make it look like the other girl’s presence was bothering her. They were both actresses, and so they would have to run into each other at some point. She must be professional about it. This was normal. Just act normal.

“He’s so unique,” Harry’s girlfriend said while laughing with her team. Y/N didn’t mean to overhear the conversation, but apparently, the girl was making sure that Y/N heard her loud and clear. “We were watching reruns of Glee last night, and he even sang to me and told me he loved me inbetween the chorus and the verse. Don’t touch the jacket! It’s Harry’s and it’s Gucci. We exchange jackets sometimes. Isn’t that adorable?”

“Show off,” Y/N’s best friend scoffed while shaking her head.

Y/N didn’t say anything. In her mind, she agreed with her best friend for a second and immediately felt that she was being petty so she forced herself to just be nonchalant about it.

She could not. She could not ignore the fact that she’d been replaced as if she didn’t matter. Harry was doing all the things he used to do with her with his new girl. Even taken her to that Miami beach. Their place.

Y/N bit her lip and tried to hold back the half-formed tears in her eyes as the stylist went on talking about the fabric. She chose a random one just to get this over with.

“I hope that fucker gets deja vu.”

“What?” Y/N blinked at her best friend, who gave a mean shrug as she glared at the girl.

“He’s probably thinking of you while doing all that shit with her.”

Y/N pondered over it. Over and over. Even after the girlfriend’s laughter had faded down the hallway, and Y/N was also packing up to leave the studio. Her best friend’s words stayed with her as she got into the car and watched the street of London pass by her window.

That night, when she was alone in her living room with her piano. She sat down and started playing a few experimental chords. Then, she cried. Her tears blurred the handwritten lyrics on her notebook as she tried again.

“I have this idea,” she told her manager on the phone before sending the recording. It was three in the morning.

“Oh my god,” her manager exclaimed, sounding much more enthusiastic than he had when picking up her call. “This song...is so gonna win a Grammy!”

.

.

.

Y/N’s song had won a Grammy.

They had talked about it for so long. Harry had encouraged her to pursue a singing career, because she’d started out as an actress but was blessed with the most beautiful voice he had ever heard.

Ironic, wasn’t it? Now he was sitting at the front row and looking up at her as she received the award from an artist she looked up to, for the song written about him. She smiled at the crowd as the light shone on her and everyone was cheering because she deserved this. She said her thanks and expressed her gratitude to her family, her teams and her fans. She didn’t say his name. He hadn’t hoped that she would, because he knew there was no way his name would come with a positive message. So he was kind of glad she hadn’t mentioned him.

His girlfriend squeezed his arm as if she knew what he was thinking of. He smiled at his girlfriend. A smile of reassurance. They had put it behind them and promised to try again after all the fights about the song they were playing right now. Nothing would change after tonight. Because there was nothing Harry could change.

He caught Y/N’s eyes for one brief moment as she ascended the stage. Although he was sure he loved his girlfriend, there was something about that look that made him sad. Would he be happier to come here with Y/N tonight instead of his girlfriend? He wouldn’t know, because that would never happen. He didn’t even know if she still resented him, or if she was still the same person he remembered. A lot could change in a day let alone many months. And it was scary to think someone you used to know so much had become a complete stranger. The opposite of love wasn’t hate. It was indifference. And Harry felt it deeply as Y/N never paid him a second glance.

At the after-party, he worked up the courage to approach her when he found her standing alone texting on her phone.

“Hi. How are you?” he said.

Y/N looked at him as if she couldn’t understand English. If she ignored him and walked away, this would be the most humiliating moment of his life.

But no. She pressed her lips into a gentle smile and said, “I’m good. How are you?”

“Good.” He nodded, wanting to shake her hand, but his fingers stayed glued together behind his back. “Congratulations on your win.”

“Thank you.” She picked up the glass of wine on the table beside them, and Harry knew he’d lost his chance of shaking her hand tonight. “Did you like the song?”

“Yeah. It was good,” he said, finding it difficult to hold eye contact with her. There was something new about her that unsettled him, and he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For speaking out about it.”

“Oh.” Y/N showed no emotion as she shrugged. “It’s alright. I only said the truth. The song was fictional, and I don’t want anyone to get hate for it.”

They both knew it wasn’t true, and he couldn’t tell her that his girlfriend had almost broken up with him for it. Even if he had told her that, he didn’t think Y/N would care. She didn’t look like the Y/N he knew anymore. Suddenly, he recalled that night on the beach, when she was still looking at him with feelings.

“Look, Y/N, I—”

Before he got a chance to form a proper thought for what he was going to say, his girlfriend, who was obviously drunk, shouted from somewhere behind him. “Babe, Jeff’s wearing a tiny jacket! He looks more like the monkey than you!”

Harry looked at Y/N. She held his gaze. The corners of her red lips quirked as she raised her glass. “Deja vu?”

Just like that, she left him standing there all by himself.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Interviews - Henry Cavill x wife/actress reader

Summary: You and Henry have been married for a couple years now, and when you’re both part of the Witcher cast, fun interviews are to be had.

Warning: nothing but a good time, btw I’ve never written anything like this so I hope it’s good enough that I might feel motivated to write more

-Readers Witcher character is loosely based off my Geralt fic from here (just a little self promotion), but in this case you play a full vampire in this Witcher universe

The days have been long and grueling, filming hours upon hours of stunts and regular acting had taken its toll. Not to mention the countless times in hair and make up paired with costume changes and traveling to film on certain locations.

To say being apart of Netflix’s The Witcher was full of tiring days and some accidental bruises would be a huge understatement. But none of that mattered, nor did you bother to complain when through the thick and thin of it all did you have Henry with you along the way. And your favorite big slobbery bear, Kal whenever he was allowed on set.

Fortunately for you in the beginning of all the craziness, the casting and writers had wanted you specifically for the part of Y/C/N in the new series before Henry even auditioned for the role of Geralt, that was soon given to him after you accepted your fresh role of vampiric heroine.

It was ironically strange in a good way, you had watched your dork of a husband play the Witcher: Wild Hunt a few times before, eventually learning of what Geralt of Rivia was, who Y/C/N was in the story, who Yennefer and Ciri were, Tris and even Jaskier.

Who would have thought that you’d finally get to snag a role side by side with Henry in quite literally one of the most fantastic shows you’ve ever heard of. You didn’t even need to see the show yet to know how well it was most likely to be reviewed. Being a key character in the grand storyline was enough to convince you of how amazing it would most certainly turn out in the finished product.

And after all was said and done, you couldn’t believe how well loved and popular the show truly became in the following months after shooting and its eventual release onto Netflix. The after parties and cast celebrations truly made you blessedly grateful for pulling through to the vary end.

Then again you had your mans Henry by your side every step of the way. He was your rock and you were most definitely his. You know life on set would have been far less entertaining and dreadfully long if not for the lovely company of your dear Witcher, Henry. And so far after the fact, you and a good portion of the cast have been placed in random interviews for the majority of the day.

Reason being, The Witcher has at long last finally premiered and as per usual the people and media live for those cast interviews that always reveal some interesting events. So far this morning you’ve done some interviews with Anya that have gone perfectly fine since the two of you seem to click so well.

Also it helps ease the anxiety of your fellow newer cast mates to the world of continuous interviews with an experienced veteran actor like yourself, who’s gone round the ring more times then you can count. Though you can’t help but wonder how Henry’s doing, considering you’ve been separated since the sessions began at 10am, you’ve had lunch and now it’s about 1 in the afternoon with more hours to go.

Luckily for you, you’ve just been informed of another interview with the man of the hour himself. Saying your goodbyes and well wishes to your fellow cast mates, you stand and follow the guide into the advised place. Aka some really nice hotel room that’s been done up real nice for efficient interviewing, complete with the Witcher insignia on a large background poster and three chairs that happen to look rather comfy.

The camera and sound people nod in acknowledgment as you walk in, you nod back no doubt making their day with your friendliness and adorable smile that quite literally lights up a room. Soon you spot the bubbly yet nervous interviewee who instantly welcomes you into her space like you’re an old friend.

You sit, a bit confused as to where your partner happens to be at the moment, the interviewer, Lauren makes small talk before a door opens and her big bright doe eyes go wide in nervous excitement. A telling smile upon her face as she shifts in her chair before looking back to you again with a happy grin.

Henry says a quick hello to the behind the scenes crew before waving to Lauren, you smirk while watching him get comfortable next to you, “Well, well, well. Get lost on your way up, you know they have guides for a reason.” You tease as he chuckles at your humorous jab, relieved to see you again after a couple hours apart.

“Traffic.” He quips with a shrug.

“Uh huh.” You mutter with a shake of your head before drawing your attention back to Laura, “Can’t take him anywhere I swear, he does this all the time.”

She laughs as Henry pretends to gasp at your teasing, you chuckle along with them before she finally collects herself, “Well, welcome back to London. It’s fantastic to have you both in town once again, and your big beautiful faces all over Leicester Square.”

You both laugh, “Right.” Says Henry, “I guess we do look pretty cool.”

“Hell yeah, I mean where else can I see myself with a giant sword on a building? And anyways look at this beautiful mug,” You say gently squeezing Henry’s cheeks in your hand, “he’s literally killing it out there.” They laugh as you give Hen another playful squeeze before letting go and setting your arm against the chairs cushioned armrest. 

“Alight let’s start.” She says enthusiastically before glancing down at her cards then back up to you and Henry. Then into one of the two the cameras, “Hi I’m Lauren from Entertainment Weekly and today we’re here with the two stars of Netflix’s The Witcher.” She says enthusiastically while giving a nod to you two, indicating that the camera is now focused on you both, “Henry Cavill and Y/N Cavill.”

You both smile in acknowledgment as Henry gives a slight nod, “How you doing?”

“I’m great,” She beams, “So, I’ll get right into it, what do you like most about the story? What really drew you into the script that made you say, yes this is going to be awesome?”

Slapping a hand against Henry’s muscular leg, you hum, “I’ll let Hen take this one he’s a real expert on the linguistics of the whole show.”

“Thanks Y/N/N.” Replies Henry, bemused that you’re making him take the first question.

You nod to him knowingly with a smirk, “Of course.” Knowing how much he loves to talk about the show and also because you’d rather have him use his energy to talk about it then do that yourself. Priorities, right, though in your defense it’s been a long day.

“Well I absolutely love the games and the books themselves are phenomenal works of literature.” He explains, his face glowing with that usual glimmer of excitement in his eyes, “The story and the world of the Witcher is just so rich and full of potential that when I signed on for the show, I immediately knew it would be amazing, no doubt.”

You lean into the arm of you chair, “And of course I was there so that’s always a bonus.”

“That too.” He smiles adorably, “That too of course.”

Lauren smiles, “Great. So, what was it like working together, how was it having your characters interact with one another?”

You smile, setting a hand against Henry’s forearm, “This guy right here.” You deadpan before waving him off dramatically, “So annoying, my god he whined all the time and he was such a drama queen dear lord so ugh....” You start cackling before you can even finish the sentence causing Henry to loose it as well and with that the interviewer.

Shaking your head you rest your hand against his shoulder, “I joke, he was a gem to work with as usual...I mean I feel incredibly blessed to be able to act alongside my husband for months and months every single day. It’s a rarity in this line of work and I’m grateful to have shared this experience...and I guess more so this whole adventure with him as well.”

The interviewer aww’s as Henry tilts his head to lean into your hand that’s still resting atop his shoulder before pulling away just as quickly, the intimate sentiment not going unnoticed by you or Lauren who looks to be enjoying your loving yet calm energy with one another. “That’s so sweet, what about you Henry?”

“Oh yes absolutely,” Agrees Henry to your recent statement, “not only did I have her by my side through it all but the dynamic of our characters interacting together was so fun to shoot. I think the audience will really be able to see their relationship grow on screen into something strong and beautiful like in the books.”

Slow clapping you give him a curt nod of approval, “Well said.”

Lauren smirks, “Seems like it. Well, I was able to catch the premier yesterday and I gotta say...it was fantastic! I couldn’t believe how diffident the two of you looked from how you are now.” She gushes enthusiastically.

The corners of Henry’s lips curl into a proud smile for the fellow crew of the Witcher’s, “Oh that’s great then, honestly we gotta give all the props to the costume and makeup team, they’re so talented and know how to make us look like real badasses.” He adds.

You nod in agreement before grinning at a positive memory of your first interaction with Henry as Geralt, “Oh for sure, I remember during the early stages of production when our characters met each other for the first time, before this we came to set together but went separate ways to shoot our own stuff in the meantime so I never got a real look at him.” You recall with a bright smile as Henry watches your every move, beaming just the same.

“It was so funny, I was in the tent with Freya Allen, the wonderful girl who plays Ciri, and then suddenly her eyes got all big and nervous and I was like, that’s not me right? Something weird didn’t just happen with my costume? And then I turned around to find this man, wig on, face a mess, and his eyes looked so fearsome and different...it was a bit startling.” You say with a chuckle, “I clearly wasn’t expecting to see Geralt right then and there. He just looked so unlike Henry.”

“Yeah, I was almost hurt.” Laughs Henry, “She had to like squint and make sure it was me.”

Rolling your eyes, you shrug, “He had some real creepy looking colored contacts, yunno?”

Henry fake scoffs, “You’re one to talk, I mean when I first say her, Y/N’s eyes were red and she had fake blood spattered all over her face and shirt. Oh, and not to mention those fangs they put on your teeth...we probably traumatized poor Freya that day.”

“Oh shit you’re right!” You exclaim with a snort of concealed laughter, “God I completely forgot about how I looked...now since I think about it, I did that a lot too. I would just walk up to people and be completely oblivious as to what kind of nightmare I looked like, honestly I might have scared one of our producers a couple of times.” You add with a half nervous laugh, it’s true, you did scare some of the crew unintentionally. Most of the time.

Lauren lightly chuckles, “That sounds like you were quite the sight to see then.” She says before glancing back down at her notes, “Alright I have’ta ask, is there anything that you two took home with you from set?”

“Besides Henry every night,” He holds back a laugh while covering his mouth as you nonchalantly continue, “Uh, yes actually I got to take home Y/C/N’s wolf ring that I loved so much and just thought was the coolist thing ever and....uh, I might have stolen some socks too.”

“So that’s why after filming the amount of socks of yours I had to fold increased?” Wonders Henry with a surprised snort of realization.

Turning your head to give him a “no shit” kinda look, you look back at Lauren, pointing your thumb at Henry, “Master sleuth right here, but hey, he folds my laundry.”

“Aw that’s great.” Adds Lauren with a smile before turning her attention to Henry, “What about you Henry? Take anything from set?”

“More then Y/N did actually...”

“He just about took the whole makeup trailer most nights, I swear.”

Henry chuckles, “That. Is true.” He agrees with a nod, “Interesting enough, at home I’ve got Geralt’s armor hung up in our living room and a multitude of other nicknacks that I’ve collected during filming.” He adds, glancing over to you, “So uh, yeah, we were fairly lucky to be able to snag what we could.”

Lauren smiles, absentmindedly shuffling her cards, “That’s awesome to have such special memorabilia, you guys really are fortunate.” She adds before reading off from another card, “Alright you two, care to play a game called guess the image? Witcher style.”

Your face perks up at this, you’re a sucker for interview games and Henry knows it, “Are you reading my mind or something, I have been waiting all day for someone to ask about playing a game.” You gush rather enthusiastically. 

He smiles at your adorableness and how excited you’ve just become, Lauren grins, happy that her suggestion has been so well received, “Okay so how it works is, I’ll show you an image on my iPad and then you have to guess who or what I’m showing you.”

“Oh, cool I’ve heard of this,” You reply, turning to Henry with a smirk, “Loser has to clean Kal’s yard poop for a week.”

Rolling his gorgeous blue eyes he chuckles, “You’re on.”

“Alright, the stakes are high, you two ready?” Beams Lauren, holding her iPad to her chest as she awaits an answer.

“Yes, I’m ready to kick his ass.” You quip, leaning an arm against your chair while Henry does about the same, though he does his best to contain his laughter.

“Okay, first image.” She holds up the device to show some sort of weird golden thing, it’s shiny and hard, worst part is that you’re not entirely sure what the hell it could be.

Sensing your confusion Henry nudges your shoulder, though you ignore it before he smartly answers, “Oh, is that...Renfri’s brooch?” Little shit knows exactly what that is, of course he does.

Lauren claps, “Correct.” Zooming out of the image to show the full picture of the golden brooch, “Right on, that’s one point for Mr. Cavill.”

You scoff playfully, “Beginners luck.” While Henry side eyes you with a humorous grin upon his plush lips, he nudges your arm, “I’m going to really enjoy not cleaning up Kal’s grass turds for awhile.” He mutters lightheartedly, though you know deep down he’s being serious, no way is he going to win this, you think. You won’t have it, hopefully the next few pictures aren’t as difficult, Kal duty is not fun by any means.

“Shut up.” You grumble with a dismissive wave of your hand, though just teasing of course.

“Okay next image.” This time the blurred photo looks much more familiar, soon it clicks as to what the obscured blurriness actually is, yes!

“Got it! Anya’s er I guess Yennefer’s dress from the fight at Sodden.” Lauren giggles, zooming the image out to reveal Yennefer in her tasseled blue and purple dress from the battle at Sodden Hill. “I’m amazing I know.” You boast at Henry with a casual little bow in your seat.

“It’s the second question.” He deadpans, eyes crinkling in amusement as you shake your head at him.

“Pffff get outta here.” You mutter back, gently pushing his arm off of your chairs armrest and setting yours in its place while he gives you a fake shocked expression.

In turn you can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips, so instead of saying some sassy remark that would no doubt get a reaction out of him, you turn your attention back over to Lauren who’s looking over her notes again.

“Fantastic,” She says, glancing back up at you and Henry, “you’re both tied with one point each. Alright, anyone know what this is?” She asks showing something red and fuzzy, a bit of dirty skin showing from one corner but with The Witcher this bloody image could literally be anything.

The both of you squint, puzzled as to what this could be, “Y/N you got any ideas.” Wonders Henry, brows furrowed as his face contorts into deep concentrated thought.

Raising a brow, you hum, “If I knew I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Fair point.” He chuckles.

Lauren smiles, “Any guesses?”

 After a few concentrated moments, Henry shrugs in defeat,  “I’m stumped.” He admits as you study the image harder, mind racing to put the pieces together as to what the hell you’re looking at.

“No, I think I might know this....erm is it...me?” You wonder, voice raising in question, hoping to be correct about this or face the teasing of Henry.

Lauren quickly zooms out of the obscured image, “It is!” She says excitedly, revealing the picture of you from your characters debut in episode 2 where you save a girl from a werewolf, your mouth is covered in blood and so is most of your costumes chest area and left arm from the struggle. Not to mention the make-up teams fun 20 minutes of throwing fake sticky blood all over you to get the right look for the taxing scene.

You grimace a bit, “Oh god that was quite the day on set,” You recall with a half smile, “I was doing stunts all day covered in that red syrupy dye, I think it took a week to get out of my skin.”

Henry suddenly snorts with laughter, “Right! That reminds me, I thought Kal had gotten cut or something, it was just Y/N who had hugged him not realizing she still had some fake blood on her arm.”

“Jeez that’s right, I felt so bad, but I couldn’t stop laughing once we realized it was just me.”

Lauren grins, excited to hear some hidden information about little things that happens behind the scenes, “Oh wow that must have been a sight, alright Henry, Y/N’s taken the lead with a two to one score.” She says as you playfully nudge his strong shoulder. “Second to last image, what is this?”

Without missing a single beat Henry replies, “Jaskier.”

Squinting at the image you lean closer to the iPad, “How the hell do you see Jaskier?”

Smiling the interviewer zooms out to reveal the bards full outfit from the banquet scene, though he’s in the background of a fight between Geralt and some Cintran knights. “Right on!” She exclaims as you lean back into your seat dumbfounded, shoulder flush against Henry’s as he clutches your arm and squeezes it affectionately.

Ignoring his silent show of victory you shrug, “And they say he’s just another pretty face,” Earning a laugh from Lauren and some of the crew as you smirk at the camera, face them shifting to apologetic, “also I’m so sorry Joey you beautiful bastard apparently I’m blind. Uh, we don’t have to dwell on it, Lauren whatcha got?”

“You guys are both tied with two points each, last chance to win.” She replies before glancing down at her iPad, “Alright, what is this?” She asks, her iPad showing that of fuzzy bright colors, with a small corner smear of dull white that clearly wouldn’t make much sense to the untrained eye.

Smirking you glance at a puzzled Henry before sitting up in your seat, feeling rather good about yourself, “Would that happen to be, Hen in Stregobor’s illusion?” You answer with, though sounding a bit as a question considering you aren’t entirely confident as to what image this is.

Lauren’s brows raise in surprise, “Henry, looks like we have a winner. Y/N you are correct.” She beams, enlarging the image to reveal Geralt’s side profile as he talks to the old wizard while the background stays colorful and shrouded in various arrays of sunlight..

Shaking your fist victoriously in the air you give a couple enthusiastic whoop whoops while Henry simply takes it like a champ, “Have fun cleaning up Karl’s monster turds, cause this lucky lady doesn’t have to.” You boast as Henry and the crew laugh.

“Well that was something,” Beams Lauren, “I’m so glad to have chatted for a bit about your guys’ amazing new series, and maybe ended a relationship in the process.” She says jokingly as both you and Henry chuckle.

Patting his thigh affectionately, you smirk, “He’s a tough old bear, but yeah, it was awesome having you talk to us.”

“Yes, take care now.” Adds Henry while the interviewer Lauren stands, saying her goodbyes as she goes to exit the room.

The camera crew take a small break to adjust things and whatnot as you and Henry wait patiently for the next interviewer. He turns, an adorable smile pulling at his lips while you pretend to ignore his fiery gaze. “Well that went pretty well, minus the fact that I’m on Kal poop duty for a week...but uh...” He leans in close to you now, “I missed you all morning.”

Breaking out into a smile you raise a brow, “Boring without me huh?”

“Always.”

You casually shrug, “I figured as much. Don’t worry, we have a hotel all to ourselves tonight.” Your brows wiggle suggestively causing your blue eyed lover to shake his head with amusement.

“Say it louder next time.” He jokes.

Side eyeing the oblivious crew you begin to speak a couple octaves louder, “Henry I can’t wait to fu..” Suddenly his hand presses against your mouth before you’re able to call any attention to yourself. He gives you a warning look before slowly pulling his hand from your mouth.

You grin mischievously, “I wasn’t gonna say that...”

“Sure Y/N,” He mutters in your ear as a new interviewer walks into the room and finds their chair, “and I’m wasn’t going to make you scream tonight.”

Your brows raise in surprise and admittedly slight arousal at his choice of wording in this room of all places. Eyeing him up, face still showing surprise, you finally break out into a satisfied smirk. “You know what? I think you should consider changing your offer.”

He thinks deeply for a moment, though you know he’s only pretending to get you riled up, “Hrmm...maybe, possibly, should I? Should we? You are my co-star after all, that wouldn’t be very professional now would it Y/N?” He states with a shit eating grin, all done while the crew and interviewer get ready, minding their business and completely unaware to yourself and Henry’s teasing.

Scoffing playfully you lightly swat his arm, “We are way past being professional.”

He chuckles, looking from you to the rest of the room, “Oh, they have no idea.”

[helenazbmrskai]

Las(t) Vegas Ring [Teaser]

I didn’t forget about this story guys I’m working on it and while you wait I thought it would be nice to give you a teaser, also if you want to get tagged when I release it feel free to tell me and lastly, thank you for anticipating my fic!

Title Las(t) Vegas Ring [one shot; teaser]

Pairing Namjoon x Reader

Genre angst, crack/humour, romance, got married in las vegas au, newly established relationship, smut, fluff, strangers to lovers

Summary Attending your sister’s wedding in Las Vegas helps you cross out two things on your bucket list, first you got to visit Las Vegas so you know you’re in for a wild night and two, you always wanted to get married yourself even if the circumstances are not so favourable. (or.) You wake up next to your sister’s husband’s best man naked and with a ring on your destinated finger and not only did you get married and have no recollection of such a thing but you took his virginity too.

Warning(s) nothing for the teaser

Word count 1.28k (10k in total)

Teaser release date 2021.05.30 

Masterlist

”So you’re telling me that you not only got married to the Kim Namjoon from Kim corp. but took his virginity?” Sohyun wheezes once you tell her the news that caused you intense headaches ever since you woke up in the same bed as your sister’s husband’s best man. The headaches started partly from the extreme hungover that morning but the better part was because of this new arrangement that you can’t quite wrap your head around just yet. This stranger that you only just met at your sister’s wedding for the first time now suddenly become your lawfully right husband.

You always wanted to get married and have kids of your own but this is not how you imagined meeting your husband. It’s less than 48 hours that you set your eyes on his dirty blond hair and charming dimples under the shady nightclub’s sparking lights and now, suddenly you two are husband and wife in front of the law and on top of that, he’s the Ceo of Kim Corp. the head of the biggest car import business in the entire industry that makes things even more complicated. Not that it wasn’t before that.

You heard crazy stories before from friends who let loose in Las Vegas but you always thought you would never drink that much to let it cloud your rightful judgement skills. They might have gotten arrested for public indecency but at least they are not married to a multimillionaire who despises their whole being after they just literally met. A part of you can’t even blame him because, this is straight-up crazy, waking up with a band around your destined finger was a huge shock, to say the least. Almost resembling a picture-perfect scene you see in your favourite K-dramas.

He tries to put all the blame on you even though it’s clear that marriage requires two signatures to become legalized and as far as you remember you didn’t make him drink shots after shots at the party.

It isn’t your fault that he got blackout drunk and married you on a whim. You’re not saying that this is not crazy, and it’s still hard to completely wrap your head around the consequences but he took his part in it as much as your drunk ass did. So you think this silent treatment on his end is rather childish for someone who operates a whole blooming business even though you heard that his father still supervises his work. He acts like a kid throwing a tantrum over lost candy and you’re getting tired of talking to his secretary that always tells you he’s busy or out of the office magically when you want to reach him. It supposed to be easy to clear up – you just need to file for divorce and everything can go back to where it was before in your very normal and mundane life.

She starts slapping her highs under the chair cloth but then she sees the elegant bend around your fourth finger on your left hand. You’re not sure why you haven’t taken it off yet, considering that your husband refuses to see you. Maybe it has to do with the busy life that you need to get a hang of again after your getaway trip and everything’s a little fresh in your mind. Las Vegas was beautiful and adapting back to your normal life seems to be harder than you first thought it will be.

Sohyun squeals like you didn’t tell her just now you got married in Las Vegas and grabs your hand like she intends to dislocate your shoulder with the sheer force of her pull. It’s a great temptation to let her hair sit with the bleach on but you don’t own this salon and you need to save money for the lawsuit that’s probably going your way very soon after you married Kim Namjoon –against his will as he put it.

However, no one seemed to consider how you felt about this whole ordeal. The last day spent in Las Vegas was a shitshow with thrown accusations and bad blood between the two families as they argued who should be the one to blame when it truly is something that should be only discussed between you and him. It’s your life, your business after all. You only just got married but you’re here to get the divorce process going, just thinking about Namjoon’s glare gives you a massive headache and shivers. This is not at all how you imagined your life. Not to say your married life. Call you a hopeless romantic but you always imagined your husband to be someone simple and caring, who would make you breakfast in bed and kiss you goodnight. Someone that you love and can rely on when you’re having a bad day and vice versa, just simple things like that. It shouldn’t be too much to ask.

”What exactly happened in Las Vegas? Tell me everything and don’t let any detail out. I need to know every little thing that you can remember.”

You snort at her clear enthusiasm, you would like to know every little detail yourself but the problem is, you have absolutely no idea how this happened in the first place. As much as you can recall from your foggy memories you didn’t even go near him – there’s was no reason to – as you two were strangers who so happened to learn each other’s names because he was your sister’s husband’s best man and sat next to each other at the wedding it’s natural that you at least learned his name but how you two ended up together in a church to get married is beyond your imagination. It’s on the top of the list of the few crazy things that you’ve ever done in your life and it had to be him that you knot the ties with.

It’s been a full week after the plane landing and getting back in Seoul and the memory of that night seems to be lost forever in the depths of your brain or maybe none of them registered there. You had no idea before this trip that you are capable of being that shit faced to the extent that you forget most parts of your wildest night with the richest person that you know exists. Waking up in his hotel room and seeing your clothes on the floor came as a huge shock and when he accused you of forcing him into sex. It was one of the most stressful experiences in your life and none of you could remember what happened. Even a casino dept would have been better at least you can make money but you can’t give back his virginity that you don’t even remember taking.

Namjoon wasn’t subtle about showing his distaste for the situation first thing in the morning and barely letting you put on your clothes before he kicked you out. It was intense as both of you yelled at each other he was immensely rude but you felt a little bad when he admitted it was his first time sleeping with someone.

In your opinion virginity was never something that you cared much about but it seemed like that he cared about it a lot. He probably didn’t intend for you to hear it but the overbearing silence that took over the room let you hear every anxious breath and frustrated hair pull. Not remembering the night that he lost his virginity, you can sympathise with that part but it doesn’t justify his behaviour towards you when you’re as confused as he is. Burying his face into the sand won’t solve his problems.

taglist: @hearteuforjoonie, @jooahchu, @xyahrinx, @baby-noodles​, (I hope I got everyone!)

[msjdott]

Will be updated frequently!

Last Updated: 5/18/2024

Feel free to save the link to this list if you want to see more recommendations!

All fanfics are worth recommending since each word was written out of love for the subject, some just take it to a whole different level, giving each character new life.

NEW NOTE: HELLO !! It’s been a while…a few years actually since I’ve last touched this thread and I am well aware that the links in this post are not functioning for some reason, so I’ll see if I can fix the links in a few days and get back to you shortly ;)

Fic Recommendations

BokuAka

Your Place Among The Stars

↳ Word Count: 33,741

↳ Main Ship: Akaashi Harem

↳ Summary: Akaashi is an astrologer who’s made a fortune predicting the highs and lows of the rich and famous. He’s predicted everything from the growth of the stock market to the most auspicious times to make an investment. The one thing he hadn’t predicted was the banker who’s been soliciting his services breaking off one of the most high profile engagements of the decade to confess his undying love to Akaashi. As Akaashi tries to salvage his reputation, the circle of men who have become fixtures in his life swoop in to offer their services.

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: I really enjoyed this fic because it was all set in the 1920’s! So it was a breath of fresh air if you are looking for something new. There’s really no main ship in this fic, everyone was just so whipped for akaashi and every interaction just fitted each character so very well! A must read I must say. Also! It has visuals and drawings inspired by this fic right here so please support both the author and the illustrator because it’s all so well made!

Behind Bricks

↳ Word Count: 60,400

↳ Main Ship: BokuAka

↳ Summary: Akaashi has always had a good idea of what his future would look like. Becoming a prostitute hadn't been part of the plan. Bokuto Koutarou wasn't part of the plan, either. Akaashi meets him by chance, and is drawn in by Bokuto's optimism and authenticity. He's never met anyone like Bokuto, and despite his initial reluctance, Akaashi finds himself getting a little too attached.

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: If your are planning on reading this, be warned, this fic is heavy. It tackles some very serious topics, including r4pe and the reality of what people under this line of work go through without it being romanticized. It was handled with care and I am in awe of how well the author executed this fic. Binge worthy in my opinion.

Rules

↳ Word Count: 120,327

↳ Main Ship: BokuAka

↳ Summary: In which Akaashi Keiji is an overworked accountant who stumbles upon Bokuto one night playing the piano in the lobby of his work. Bokuto is different, that much is obvious. But with such supreme musical talent and a smile so dazzling it rivals the sun, there's just something about him that brings Akaashi back every night.

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: I am going to run out of words if you asked me to describe my experience upon reading this fic. It’s immaculate. I am not kidding. The over all choice of words, the plot line, the characterization, especially bokuto’s! It was a joy to read and I guarantee you that after reading this, your standards in fanfiction will be elevated.

Bang! Now We’re Even.

↳ Word Count: 11,902

↳ Main Ship: BokuAka

↳ Summary: Akaashi only has two rules when it comes to his profession. One, complete the job as swiftly and cleanly as possible. Two, never trust anyone who smells like blood. Rule three is to shoot Owl Eyes in the face should he ever come across him, but Akaashi never tells anyone about that one.

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: This fic was hot, let me tell you that! It was full of action, angst, drama, and sexual tension. It’s a good fic that is definitely worth reading.

Midnight Moon

↳ Word Count: 246,362

↳ Main Ship: BokuAka

↳ Summary: Akaashi always thought life gave Bokuto everything: fame, money, friendship. Eventually, even true love. What Akaashi didn’t know is that a perfect life always comes with a price, and now it was time for Bokuto to pay it. Or, less dramatically, a Circus AU featuring an untamed lion tamer, an acrobatic fire dancer, a mysterious master of horses, the world’s greatest illusionist and a guy who’s only supposed talent is to be good with animals. You’ll get lots of purple, glitter, magic tricks, lions, junk food, an epic seaside trip and a secret from the past that threatens to take everything away from Bokuto. Especially Akaashi.

↳ Status: Finished

↳ Comments: Nothing in this life excites me anymore, except for when this fic gets updated by the end of every month! I have been invested in this fic because of all the mystery, the chaos, the angst and how the plot progresses in such an elegant manner it leaves me coming back for more! Another fic that will raise your standards when it comes to quality.

Boundless || bokuaka

↳ Word Count: 107,485

↳ Main Ship: BokuAka

↳ Summary:

I have

Climbed mountains,

Crossed the seas,

Soared through clouds,

In pursuit of your soul—

For

Countless

Lifetimes.

And still I wonder,

When you will remember,

That it was I who thawed your ice—

And brought ruin unto the walls around your heart—

As I screamed that

"For you,

I

Am

Here"?

↳ Status: On going

↳ Comments: This fic. I thank my lucky starts every night because I happen to stumble across this fic by complete accident. This fic is full of so many mysteries that every chapter just plummets you even deeper to be that invested! It’s in my top 3 so far and each chapter just gets juicier and juicier, I am practically begging for more! And word of warning, it is on the darker side, so if you are into that then you’re in for a very exciting treat.

Undeniably Special

↳ Word Count: 2,230

↳ Main Ship: BokuAka

↳ Summary: When Keiji looks at his team, the corners of his mouth start to turn upward. He looks at Bokuto and thinks, I’m going to make this into a team that supports you. Then he thinks, involuntarily, I really want you to kiss me right now, followed by a very voluntary, Shit. Falling in love is strange.

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: It’s a classic if you are a BokuAka fan and worth reading over since it’s simplicity really charms your heart into reminding it of why you first started liking BokuAka in the first place.

In Another Life

↳ Word Count: 22,995

↳ Main Ship: BokuAka

↳ Summary: Sleeping didn't come as easy as it used to. Bokuto knew this, and now Akaashi did, too. The hospital AU that no body asked for, but that I took upon myself to write.

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: This fic is a hospital au and I think I speak for everyone that had the courage to read this that this fic destroyed us all in the summer of 2020. Though it was written back in 2015, it remained unmatched up to this day and it really does hold a special place in my heart because I am so close to tearing up from even writing this comment. I’m surprised this fic even made me cry because I am not prone to crying over fiction that easily. Highly recommend, please read if you haven’t.

The Way You Look At Me

↳ Word Count: 79,288

↳ Main Ship: BokuAka

↳ Summary: Bokuto sees him every day, every commute, at the final train. The stranger he only knows as Train Guy. Wrapped in coats, mystery, and distance - that is, until Bokuto breaks their familiar silence. He struggles with the hardest part of befriending someone he thinks he already knows: taking a step back to reevaluate all his assumptions. He finds the easiest part is getting to learn about Train Guy all over again.

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: This fic was super memorable and established a good piece of it’s plot onto me. It also included a hint of mystery and added angst behind each character, while still giving them an authentic feel to the real haikyuu characterizations. Overall a very leveled out and cozy experience, please read if you have time to spare.

Love Potion Of The Century

↳ Word Count: 170,383

↳ Main Ship: No Main Focus

↳ Summary: "Wait, give me a sec. I have 7 brain cells left." "I bet you 5 galleons professor Takeda and professor Ukai are smashing each other, right now as we speak." "That Akaashi-san doesn't seem like a Ravenclaw at all. I was so sure he was in Slytherin." "Wait, Sugawara is in Slytherin? ... I've been calling him Hufflepuff trash this whole time." "Guys, I just saw that Slytherin kid Tsukishima and the Hufflepuff Yamaguchi making out at Three Bro-hey, stop laughing! I'm serious!" "You think if I turn into an owl I won't have to do the exams?" "That bitch Oikawa got another love letter. Thinks he's the shit..." "Why are you crying? Stop it." "With how often Kuroo goes to the Ravenclaw tower, you would think he was one of them. Kinda sad though, he's stupid." "I'm telling my daddy about this! ... No, that's my father. I'm pretty sure I said daddy."

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: This fic is actually part 1/4 for the author’s Hogwarts!au series. The way this fic was set and how the pov changes every so often to reveal the bigger picture of what the main problem is was such a fun experience, I did not get bored at all while reading this because of how much it urged me to use my brain for once! If you like harry potter as much as I do, then you will enjoy this fic to it’s fullest potential.

Upstairs

↳ Word Count: 15,971

↳ Main Ship: BokuAka

↳ Summary: Bokuto first sees his neighbour at the supermarket, three days after he's moved into his new place. For about a second, a heartbeat, he's met with a pair of dark, piercing eyes, with what is probably eyeliner, looking back at him. It really is just a split second before his hand knocks down three cereal boxes that hit him square in the head, effectively making him break eye contact and drop his groceries to the floor. In which some of the first things Bokuto learns about his upstairs neighbour are the colour of his eyes and the sound of his moans.

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: This fic was one of the very first fics I have ever read and I remembered being very engrossed because hello?? akaashi with eyeliner?? and I remembered squealing so much because of all the fluff this fic had! Another must read if you’re just starting out.

Lover Of Light

↳ Word Count: 19,138

↳ Main Ship: IwaOiBokuAka

↳ Summary: “Do you think you could find it? You know...better than you had it?” Bokuto asked cautiously, and even if Oikawa didn’t have the guts to turn around and look at him, he still could picture his lost expression, with his big owl eyes still roving like boiling honey running down his spine.Oikawa dropped his eyes down to the floor and sighed, his back still turned to him. “I’m not sure if I truly want to find it out,” he said in a whisper of a voice.In which Oikawa misses Iwaizumi, Bokuto misses Akaashi and the universe decided it was a funny idea putting the two lonely souls in college together. Spoiler alert: the idea wasn’t actually funny, but it turned out it was so many other things instead.

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: This is the prequel and part 1/3 for the homeward series by blackandorange, which is also the author for midnight moon. It screams very much nostalgia to me and be ready the angst that will hit you when you decide to read this series. Any fic that was written by blackandorange is definitely a must read!

Pink Roses For The Couple At The Back

↳ Word Count: 4,830

↳ Main Ship: BokuAka

↳ Summary: The first-year, who Kuroo assumed to be Akaashi, seemed to grow more dead inside as the two approached them, and Kuroo couldn’t help the smirk on his face as Fukurodani’s setter patted Akaashi’s shoulder and departed with a pitying, “Good luck, Akaashi-kun.” Akaashi barely looked at him as he dryly said, “Thank you, Uchido-san.” “AGHASHEE!” Kuroo briefly wondered if that was how Bokuto always pronounced his name, then snorted when he saw the first-year close his eyes and mutter a bitter, “Fuck you, Uchido-san.” Alternatively: bokuaka is in love but in kuroo's point of view.

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: Not gonna lie this fic is one of those 2 am reads where you’re just laughing from the stupid high school shenanigans between friends and it really does provide this sense of bliss whenever kuroo was on the first row for the bokuaka fest. I loved it, a quick read that will make your day!

Star Catcher

↳ Word Count: 14,035

↳ Main Ship: BokuAka

↳ Summary: Keiji is a catcher of wishing stars, and one day a very strange one lands straight into his arms.

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: This fic is such a hidden gem, like it needs and deserves more attention and I need people to read this right now because this fic was so magical and shiny and bright and warm and it was filled with pretty words that I myself can’t even form coherent sentences now because of how start struck (no pun intended) I was, I had tears in my eyes after reading this it was so amazing! Easily in my top 5.

The Fugitives

↳ Word Count: 190,003

↳ Main Ship: No Main Ship

↳ Summary: Iwaizumi's band of mercenaries is hired to capture three fugitives by order of the Crown Prince of Miyagi.

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: I went through many sleepless nights, desperately trying to find this fic. This fic has no main ships, it kind of switches between them in order to show how they develop under different circumstances. This fic is such a solid piece and it’s story line really stuck to me. It’s been a while since I’ve last read this but I still remember it like I’ve just read it, it was that memorable. A good fantasy fic for a different au to try out.

Like Shining

↳ Word Count: 5,713

↳ Main Ship: BokuAka

↳ Summary: Akaashi likes to consider himself a composed, rational human being. He can keep his hands and eyes to himself. He can control his hormonal, teenage impulses just fine. He even manages to keep the PDA to a minimum, even though his very attractive and very cuddly boyfriend makes it difficult. Akaashi makes a point to keep focused during practices and games. The last thing he needs is for Bokuto to somehow make himself more distracting than he already is. But that all goes out the window when Bokuto buys himself a new pair of gym shorts.

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: This fic reminded me how painfully single I was. It made me feel all sorts of feelings swelling in my chest seeing BokuAka just being disgustingly sweet, and the over all silliness of it. I really did love it so much and I highly recommend that you read it anytime of the day!

Tea-Stained Polaroids

↳ Word Count: 5,765

↳ Main Ship: BokuAka

↳ Summary: “I'm gonna date that,” Bokuto declares solemnly, and Kuroo throws a plastic spoon at his head.

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: I had to re-read this because this fic was also one of my very firsts and I was thankful I did. It’s just this sense of comfort will wash over you while reading and it gives off a very cozy vibe that just perfectly encapsulates BokuAka. A nice starter fic if you’re new to the whole scene.

Better Than Spy Films

↳ Word Count: 3,177

↳ Main Ship: BokuAka

↳ Summary: Akaashi knocks Bokuto out and Bokuto falls in love. Kuroo laughs about it.

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: I now get why every Fic recommendation I come across always had this fic linked for all to read, it’s just fluff galore and I’m not even mad about it! It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy through and through. I recommend this fic for new readers since it’s an easy one to digest.

With You Between Immortality And After That Too

↳ Word Count: 10,316

↳ Main Ship: BokuAka

↳ Summary: This was how it always went, and Akaashi, the reigning Olympian, knew better than commence the cycle which was the twisted and fraught love story of Zeus and Hera.

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: I Loved this fic so much, it managed to squeeze a single tear from my eyes because of how beautifully well written this is! I’m a sucker for mythological fics and this is just what I needed to satisfy my cravings for a good mythological fic. Please read it, I beg of you!

Be Good, Bring Joy

↳ Word Count: 1,587

↳ Main Ship: BokuAka

↳ Summary: Akaashi is surprisingly dense. Bokuto is surprisingly shy. And there are no chocolates.

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: Again, back with the 3 am fics. This one was short but very sweet, and it made me smile towards the end because of how heartwarming it is. BokuAka just gets me every damn time.

In The Absence of Light

↳ Word Count: 50,787

↳ Main Ship: BokuAka

↳ Summary: In which Akaashi is a witch, and Bokuto is a witch hunter. Kuroo turns into a cat, and Kenma’s second-favorite hobby is building traps. What could possibly go wrong?

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: This fic was one of the first fics that I’ve read that were on the longer side. I remembered reading this in a state of awe because it was full of fantasy, action drama but are all set in an urban or modern setting. It’s a great read and a beginner friendly one if you’re looking for a fantasy filled first read in fanfictions (that was a mouthful) !

A New Chapter

↳ Word Count: 7,746

↳ Main Ship: BokuAka

↳ Summary: A day in the life of Bokuto and Akaashi with their three little angels

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: I’m such a sucker of Domestic BokuAka and this was tooth rotting fluff through and through. It’s also a nice break from all the angst I have recommended from above, so read it if you also need a break.

IwaOi

Melt Me With Your Gaze

↳ Word Count: 3,989

↳ Main Ship: IwaOi

↳ Summary: “Don’t play dumb with me Iwaizumi Hajime!” Oikawa cries. “You were staring at me the whole time!” “You’re a moron. I was staring at you because you’re fucking hot,” Iwaizumi snaps back. Aka: Oikawa wears glasses and Iwaizumi has a Gay Panic over it

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: This fic is so worth the read, it had me laughing and pining along to Iwaizumi completely losing it to Oikawa having glasses I MEAN WHO WOULDN’T RIGHT ?? Had so much fun reading it, highly recommend !

Color Me Red

↳ Word Count: 5,194

↳ Main Ship: IwaOi

↳ Summary: Oikawa Tooru is a perfectionist who insists on doing everything himself, including his massive home renovation. Until today, when he finally decides to pay someone to paint the exterior of his home. No one told him the painter would be this hot.

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: THIS FIC !!! I love it sm !! Perfectionist Oikawa and Painter Iwa, the chemistry, the feels, the tension it’s all there ! A quick read if it fancies you but this fic checked every box I had in terms of oneshots, read it if you need a quick way to pass time while still being entertained.

I Choose You

↳ Word Count: 9,315

↳ Main Ship: IwaOi

↳ Summary: There's a tiny clock on his wrist, bright red numbers. It's supposed to tick, supposed to move, supposed to tell him when he'll meet his soulmate. The time will run to zero when they've met, moving numbers will become stationary—the ticking that signified uncertainty transforming to the silent stability of forever. Iwaizumi Hajime's clock hasn't ticked for as long as he can remember.

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: The dialogue in this fic was a solid 10, it’s so well written and it really frames how heavy or how playful the scenes were between Iwaizumi and Oikawa. This fic constantly reminds you that their situation is balancing atop a very steep hill and it adds more layers to the finality of it. In short, it’s amazing. Read it, please !!

Build A Temple In Me

↳ Word Count: 39,780

↳ Main Ship: IwaOi

↳ Summary: Up the mossy mountain steps, past the komainu guardians and the faded red gate, and beyond the boundaries of the green shrine—that’s where the forest and the spirit world within it lies. That’s were Hajime met him, and where their story began. But intertwining of destinies can be ugly business, Hajime finds, when their first meeting begins with blood and the too-human eyes of a beast.

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: A while back when someone recommended this to me with they started it off with saying it’s like a ghibli movie and boy it did not disappoint because it’s all so dreamy and magical and it really puts you in that fuzzy and warm feeling when watching a studio ghibli film easily in my top 10 fanfics ever.

Press ‘1’ to Get a Call From Your Drunk Best Friend

↳ Word Count: 5,400

↳ Main Ship: IwaOi

↳ Summary: Press '2' to hear him talk about you for thirty minutes, press '3' for him to compliment your ass, and press '4' for more options.

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: GOD TIER IWAOI FANFIC I have never felt more embarrassed as I read this fic because I almost went through what Iwaizumi did in this fic IT WAS SO FUNNY I LOVE IT SMMMMMM HIGHLY RECOMMEND !!!

DaiSuga

Perfectionism

↳ Word Count: 2,911

↳ Main Ship: DaiSuga

↳ Summary: “I just wish it was something you could practice before you have to… perform.” He narrows his eyes, imagining it. “Like a CPR class.” Suga raises an eyebrow. “You want to practice it. Beforehand.” “Yeah. Are you offering?” ((Daichi doesn't like to be bad at things--kissing included--and Suga is willing to help him practice.))

↳ Status: Completed

↳ Comments: Daichi being a relatable teenager who is so self conscious about his everything and Suga being so down bad for this man I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOR a quick read and very adorable

[constellaj]

16

Please talk more about your reboot!

16: If you could change anything in the show, what would you change?

okay so how i would re-do CANON is completely different from how i would talk abt a reboot so im gonna touch on a couple things in both contexts! the reason for the difference is canon rewrites imply i can go back in time and introduce dp fresh and new, before anyone knows what it is; but for a reboot, id be working with an audience that has a better understanding of the source material, so i dont need to spend as much time explaining, but i also need to keep everything recognizable

Valerie

REWRITE: i would def make it more danny's fault that her dad lost his job, like danny was intentionally being reckless and shattered some security stuff, and he has a whole mini lesson about learning to not just run in guns blazing. i would probably remove the dating stuff with her and danny (and tuckers crush) too, I think them wanting to be good friends is good enough for freshman year

REBOOT: the fandom already knows valerie exists, so i would actually skip the whole shades-of-gray introductory episode and have her be present as the huntress from day 1-- probably even before danny got his powers. cujo is also HER dog, and her backstory-- we'd find out in like, season 1, that a natural ghost portal (maybe one wulf opened) ripped open on her dog and killed him, and since then shes had a vendetta against ghosts cause of how reckless they are and their disregard for life-- of course, cujo isnt actually dead. cujo is a halfa. a puby halfa. anyway instead of a hoverboard she actually rides cujo around cause he can fly and its big and epic. valerie has BEEN amity parks ghost-eradicating superhero for at least a year (tho shes been in the shadows abt it) and her hatred towards danny actually just becomes really petty, like them flying next to each other chasing skulker just going "I got this. no I got this. no I got this" and they just get in each others' way and its a mutual grudge.

BOTH: i am NOT keeping in vlad giving her the suit to watch danny under any circumstances. it was only utilized half assedly in canon (when vlad couldve just had an invisible duplicate watching him instead) anyway, and I dont have any reason to keep it in a reboot either. instead i want her tech to be a combination of half-stolen and half-gerryrigged stuff and she slowly slowly learns how to build her own.

I also dont want anyone knowing her secret identity, except maybe her dad, and sam or tucker. i think it works better if danny isnt privy to this magic info

Freakshow

REWRITE: i would honestly just remove him. the episodes hes in arent particularly interesting, theyre just generic "we need a plot about x" filler and he's not compelling enough a character (at least in writing) to carry a better plot that another antagonist couldnt. i'm serious

REBOOT: unfortunately in a reboot he's gonna have to pop up somewhere or else ppl will be like "where IS HE" so I'm going to stick with running some kind of ghost circus, maybe a few occult things, but cut out a lot of the spooky magical knowledge and mcguffin stuff. maybe i could make him like, someone from vlad/jack/maddies college who always felt pushed around by them and so he has a vendetta? and theyd be the only reason he even learned abt ghosts in the first place. idk in either way I want to force him into being irredeemable but also include LYDIA (the tattoo girl ghost) way more-- I want to give her an arc that ends in her tossing freakshow aside and running off to be a ghost vigilante.

BOTH: dear god the infinity gauntlet is stupid that needs to GO AWAY. especially for the reboot cause it would exist in a post-mcu world and way too many people would complain about it

Vlad

REWRITE: amp him up to a far more sinister and villainous character. the crushing on maddie isnt enough, I want to show him on-screen performing experiments on ghosts and himself, dismissing everyone else cause he thinks hes smarter than them. i want him to be actively sabotaging the fentons at every turn. i would also clarify that he doesnt actually want danny as a son, but as a trophy-- a line where danny says something along the lines of "you don't want a son. you want a slave". i want to make him a character who wants to destroy the entire planet and put it in the ghost zone so he can be the true ghost king and i want to make this all evident from day one. if i'm writing a series villain you can bet i'm going to write a GOOD one. less petty drama here and more actual stakes.

REBOOT: it seems silly but sense with reboot we have the benefit of hindsight and recognizing that vlad wasn't a big series villain, theres no way i'd actually go back and write him to be such. for starters, of course, theres the fact that anything he does would really be an exaggerated part of the original, and it would bore an audience to see the same story again-- theres also the fact that it doesnt seem right to take a character who was treated as a joke half the time and suddenly make them big and important. no, instead for my reboot i want to lean into the petty gay uncle vibe. he had a crush on jack and now just casually insults him. he moves mansions every now and again by just haunting the family who lives in the one he wants, and taking over-- i mean, who is gonna believe that an actual ghost haunted you. he dislikes danny not because he has some concept of 'evil' and 'good' but bc danny is just too damn active. of course he actually does care about danny and his safety deep down, it's just on the surface they have very conflicting motivations-- not to mention that danny has been raised on legends from his parents of the villainous Wisconsin Ghost, who has to be stopped at all costs.

BOTH: i want jack and maddie to KNOW he's a half ghost and to actively be hunting him down for it, maybe bc they think hes possessed, or been a ghost tricking them this whole time, or the victim of a tragic lab accident who needs to be put to rest, etc. whatever the case it will give vlad actual tangible reason to despise them and genuinely suspect they dont have dannys best interests at heart. i think it would be neat if vlad was cynical and every time danny hit him with the "I'll expose us both. at least theyll still love ME" vlad could be like in the back of his head "oh god theyre going to kill this child"

Dani

REWRITE: cut her out. we don't need her character at all. maybe replace her with a more ominous shadow duplicate / clone that actually looks like danny himself and doesnt really have a name? you could probably combine her and dark dans characters for their arcs

REBOOT: instead of a clone from vlad, she's a guys in white creation using some of dannys dna after he was captured (and vlad broke him out bc he was like "ugh i guess i have to save this child")

BOTH: vlad actually cares abt her (duh), shes nonbinary (double duh), she gets the funny dissolve into goo powers

i had more i thought i was gonna write but this post is already very long and also im running out of coherency for this LUL

[simpingforsoftboys]

The Odds of Us All

Chapter 2 Pt 5/5: Food & Tea- But Not The Drink Kind

It was finally lunch time, Y/n was more than ready to leave her classroom and head to the twins class. Saying goodbye to some of her new friends, she departed from class 2-5 and headed down the hallway to class 2-3. While she was in college prep, the twins and Suna were in the other classes below her. The girl didn’t hold it against them, some people were made for different fields- academics didn’t define anything besides a persons academic intelligence. 

Several people stared after her as she walked, everyone was intrigued with the new transfer student who was the soulmate of Itachiyama’s star ace and the cousin of Shiratorizawa’s famous Ushiwaka. It got on her nerves at first but she got used to the attention eventually. If she was rude to her “fans” then it’d look bad on Sakusa and Wakatoshi.

“Ushijima-san!” Someone called after her, stopping her in her tracks, Y/n turned and looked over at the person. It was a first year from class 1-2, if she remembered correctly he was in her “fan club.” (Honestly she was a little flattered at how fast she gained a following here, back at Nekoma it took her a whole two weeks before some classmates formed one for her.) “I was wondering if you would be willing to accept this... I made it just for you!” She was about to thank him for the horribly wrapped bento, when someone decided to stop her. 

“Y/n.” Suna said from across the hallway, phone in hand, “come on we’re eating outside.” He gave the first year a deadpan, daring him to speak, Y/n smiled apologetically at him, thanking him for the bento and accepting it. The first year hurried away, but not without a pleased blush coating his cheeks. “Told you- you’re Ms. Popular.”

“Maybe... but it doesn’t really matter.” Y/n replied, tucking the bento into her satchel. “It’s always been this way, but not for the reasons you might think.” Seeing her soulmates inquisitive gaze she continued. “I mean maybe they start genuinely liking me eventually, but initially they follow me around and try to befriend me in an effort to know about all the drama in my life. Having a famous cousin and soulmate does that to you. Oh- but I’m sure you deal with it too- I mean you and the twins are famous on the volleyball scene for a reason.”

Suna hummed noncommittally, pocketing his phone and shoving his hands in his pockets with it. “I get it- people only want to get to know me cuz of the twins or my looks... but I don’t really pay attention to them... neither do Atsumu or Osamu.” He gave her a side glance. “You shouldn’t either, people like that just aren’t worth the energy.” 

“You make a good point Suna- but I can’t. I got to make a good impression for them. Oh wow, Inarizaki sure has everything doesn’t it?” They were in the schools private garden, it was a large plot of land- with rows or fresh vegetables and countless beds of flowers- Y/n could even spot several wisteria trees. “I think it’s even prettier than Itachiyama’s greenhouse.”

“Itachiyama? I thought ya went to Nekoma.” Atsumu asked, popping up in front of her. Osamu walked over to them, they had just arrived too. 

Y/n nodded, “Hi Atsumu, Osamu; I did, but I was initially planning on going to Itachiyama- I toured the campus, passed the entrance exams and everything too. But my friends went to Nekoma so I followed.” Osamu said ‘hi’ in response.

“Interesting.” Atsumu said, his mischievous smirk never leaving his face. “Hey follow me will ya?” He grabbed her hand gently, leading her to a round, stone picnic table below the wisteria trees, leaving Osamu and Suna to trail after them. 

“There he goes.” Suna whispered, earning a sigh in response from the gray haired twin. “So touchy... surprised no one reported him for harassment yet.”

“I’d thank 'em if they did.” Osamu huffed with an eye roll. “Maybe then he would learn ta keep his hands ta himself.” The four of them settled at the table, Atsumu on Y/n’s left, Osamu to her right, and Suna in front of her. 

“Y/n got a bento from a first year earlier.” The brunette gossiped (but in his weird deadpan way), he hid a grin at the matching scowls the twins wore. “Hey Y/n what did you think of him?” 

“He was sweet.” She pulled the bento out and plopped it on the table. “But I’m not going to eat it- he’s still a stranger and I’m not the type to eat food from just anyone.” She didn’t notice the glances the three shared at her words.

“What if I made it?” The younger Miya muttered, staring at the h/c (hair color) girl. Atsumu did his best to hide his snort- meanwhile Suna subtly recorded the moment. 

“Oh? Well you’re not just anyone are you?” Her words seemed flirtatious, but in actuality she was just being genuinely blunt. “I wouldn’t mind if it were you.” Let’s just say Suna was very glad he was recording- because the pink hue that overtook Osamu’s cheeks was HILARIOUS. 

“Good, cuz I made ya some f/f (favorite food).” Osamu pulled an expertly wrapped bento from his bag and placed it in front of Y/n, who looked pleasantly surprised at his kind gesture. 

“Look at him flirtin- almost as good as me. I’m so proud.” Atsumu grinned, not the least bit jealous (shockingly). “Never thought I’d see the day.” 

“Not you getting a big head over this.” Suna teased, earning himself a mean scowl. “If it were you, Y/n would have said no... maybe even eaten that first years bento instead.” 

“Ya know I’m startin to think ya spend too much time with ‘Samu.”

“Heh.”

Y/n took a bite of the food, meanwhile Osamu watched her from the corner of his eye- pretending to be occupied with his own serving of f/f. Her e/c orbs widened as her tastebuds registered the burst of flavor that was overtaking them. The entire dish was seasoned to the point of near perfection- of course there was some fault, but that was probably due to Osamu’s inexperience with this specific food. Even if it wasn’t a first for him, this was still some of the best damn f/f she had ever tasted. It was tempting to scarf it all down at once, but she forced herself to savor the taste. 

“So... how is it?” All eyes were on her, each of them eager to see what she thought of Osamu’s cooking. 

“You cooked this by yourself?” She questioned, swiveling to the right to look at the younger twin. Osamu nodded, fidgeting ever so slightly.

“Yeah... m’sorry if it’s not that good- was my first attempt at makin’ f/f.” 

Shaking her head and placing her chopsticks down, Y/n smiled at him cheerily. “When you told me you could cook I was expecting something like a simple tamagoyaki- but this is what it’s like when you’re just experimenting? Miya Osamu you are seriously talented- this is some of the best f/f I’ve had in a long while- and I eat this a lot.” 

“Thanks so much, means a lot-” Osamu began, a small, genuine smile slipping on his face.

“IDHOISA Y/n yer so cute! Can’t believe I thought ya were a total jerk on Twitter-” 

“How tf did he say that out loud?” Suna wondered, referring to the verbal version of a keyboard smash.

“NO I WAS HOPING YOU DIDN’T SEE THAT TWEET.” Y/n screeched, appalled at the expected- but completely unwelcome- news.

“Pfftt-” The brunette snorted at her expense.

“TSUMU YA RUINED THE MOMENT YA ASSHOLE!”

“OW- THE HELL? YA WANNA FIGHT SAMU?”

To put it simply it was pure chaos, their chances at a peaceful lunch completely dashed. For the rest of the lunch break the twins argued, meanwhile Suna live streamed their idiocy, and Y/n enjoyed the chaos while simultaneously savoring her delicious meal...

Facts/Trivia

Y/n was actually pretty popular in Nekoma- but it took a good two weeks before she had her own fan club

So majority of her fan club actually liked her for who she was as a person and not because of her cousin

Her new Inarizaki fanclub is not like her Nekoma one

This club was only formed because people want to get to know her in order to meet Sakusa and Wakatoshi

Some people like first year kun are apart of it because they think she’s attractive

Yes some girls left Atsumu’s fanclub in order to simp for Y/n

Atsumu may not care for his fans but he does like the attention 💀

Any peace between the twins is ruined because Atsumu can’t stfu

Osamu and Atsumu are actually pretty good at sharing and not getting jealous over partners

Suna never helps stop fights

Good thing Y/n’s here now

Fyi the ramen incident is filed on Osamu’s highschool record 😭

It took all of Atsumu’s willpower to not ask Y/n to be their manager when she talked about cheering for him

Series Masterlist

Prev | Next

Taglist: @kac-chowsballs @kotwd @ems1des @normalisthenewnorm @micheleinumaki @gomchan @empress-simps @mer-der-mi @honeyswhiskers @astronomyturtle @sakusas-number1-stan @akirahyoshi @chibiitakoyaki

*send ASK to be added; BOLD means I’m unable to tag you

[bookwyrminspiration]

hi! i noticed on the one post about ro that you said you have some thoughts about the whole process of everyone trying to help keefe with his new abilities. this is also something i can't stop thinking about so i was hoping you could talk about that, if you have the time ofc

hello! yes! I do! I don't like that scene! I've been excited to get to this one (thank you for your patience with me), because it just feels so...off, that whole scene. reading it just makes me furious at everyone interacting with Keefe

something that doesn't sit right with me is how everyone was so eager to keep experimenting with him, to keep overwhelming him to the point of extreme emotional discomfort, to the point he would break down, again and again and again. and it was portrayed as helpful, like he just needed to go along with it and cooperate and that it would solve everything if he just stopped resisting. no wonder he ran away if that was their "solution"

maybe this was just me, but it gave me the vibes of adults teaching sensitive (in terms of sensory input) kids to just deal with things by exposing themselves to what they don't like to "get used to" it. and that really isn't gonna be helpful--teaching myself to hide what overwhelmed me and just deal with it led to a disconnect where I have trouble identifying when I'm being overwhelmed now, so seeing these adults just push this uncomfortable sensation on Keefe to try and get a reaction out of him and then immediately fix it just made me uncomfortable.

there was also like this pervasive denial? like they were convinced if they got this ability under control right away before it could hurt anyone then it would be the same as if he didn't have it at all, you know? i didn't feel Keefe was being heard or taken seriously when it came to his fears about his new ability and what it could mean. it almost became a game to them, just a challenge to overcome. specifically, the line where they all start chanting "USE YOUR VOICE!" (Unlocked 657) made me upset on Keefe's behalf. he has specifically shared that he is afraid to do that and given a pretty solid reason why! have there been valid arguments as to why it isn't dangerous for him to talk, yes. but when push comes to shove his fear of talking is going to win because it's irrational and not something he can just immediately logic away. and yet they're just pressuring him into doing exactly what he doesn't want to

it seemed they addressed the theoretical logistics of the situation without touching on his fears. he was hours/a few days out of a major traumatic event, both physically and mentally. this kid needs some space, some time to process before he even begins to start doing some of the things everyone else was so ready to jump into. within hours of waking up he lost control of his new power, temporarily cut off a friend, temporarily moved into a new living space, and just generally didn't know what to do. keefe isn't the kind of person who likes to have answers handed to him, he likes to puzzle things out for himself--which we saw in Neverseen--so everyone just presenting solutions without him being able to actually work through them and understand them and apply his own logic isn't going to work.

this isn't to say that Keefe was a pinnacle of healing and reason and that given time he would've come to the perfect conclusion on his own, because he does make some stupid decisions a lot. but he also works well when he's motivated by others (mainly Sophie), it's just that this particular approach didn't take that into account. it was almost like they were treating him like Sophie, I suppose. they were taking what they'd seen happen time and time again with Sophie, who would manifest a new ability and then follow the guidance of the Black Swan to get it under control without drama, and apply that to Keefe--but he doesn't work like Sophie. He doesn't follow instructions or look to other's for guidance.

because I'm still mad about it, I want to jump back to that scene where they were all testing things on him. I want to know who thought that would be a good idea. to overwhelm him over and over again when he was fresh out of this event and still trying to sort himself out. there is the element of "these characters are showing how much they care for him by working so hard and collaborating for his sake" (namely Dex and Elwin), but it also feels...weird. I guess i'm just stuck on the overwhelmed thing and angry for Keefe, because being overwhelmed sucks and I don't think he should've had to endure any of that. I don't think any solution they found would make that worth it, but that's a personal opinion.

one other thing before I forget: Ro being there through this all--like she was physically in the room--irritates me. This boy cannot get some fucking privacy, even after such a huge event. He's still being teased about his relationship with Sophie during all this. Ro straight up tells him to tell sophie he's in love with her. My guy (Ro) now is really not the time and please shut up.

to summarize: everyone feels incredibly dismisses of his very real fears and apprehensions about this new ability, addressing it like it's a solvable puzzle and not like it's his actual life. his history of joking his way through these kinds of things has left everyone utterly clueless with what to do when he's not joking and when he needs to be treated like an individual person and not just a trouble maker whose a little in over his head.

and I will forever hate that scene where he's enduring being overwhelmed with emotion again and again again

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Start Line (Part One of Two)

M/F Pairing: Fem!Reader x Bang Chan (SKZ)

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 7.2K

Genre: Boys over Flowers AU! Strangers to enemies to potential lovers!

Summary: Starting a new school is never easy, but the four rich and popular boys who pretend like they’re above the rest of the student population? Well, that makes everything even worse.

A/N: You don’t need to watch the show to understand, but it might be fun! AKA this is a Kdrama recommendation. 

Also, I’m super sorry to the anonymous user who asked for this and probably impatiently waited for me to get a grip!!! 

Tagging @skzwriternet​

For my entire life, I’ve had to work harder than everyone else to secure the things that I wanted the most. 

Which is why nothing could enrage me more than the sight of the four boys sitting on the bleachers together in my new school’s gymnasium.

I had just recently transferred into the school on a swimming scholarship, and a young student assistant offered to give me a tour of the facilities before my first day of scheduled classes. Her name was Suzy, and she had enough intel on the school’s population that even the CIA would be jealous. 

I wasn’t normally one for drama, but Suzy’s warning about the school’s infamously named “F4″ was enough to leave me feeling cautious: “You see those guys over there?” she had asked when we sat down together on the bleachers. “It’s fair to say that they run the school, so most people try to avoid pissing them off.”

The boys in question were all starters for the school’s accolade-heavy basketball team. Apparently, that meant a lot in this affluent and well-endowed community, and I could tell that they considered themselves with the highest regard. Especially the oldest, a handsome blonde whose killer accent was surely the ruin of any one of those poor girls who flocked around them like they were desperate for attention.

“Bang Chan,” Suzy informed me. “He’s the leader, and his family owns an entire line of luxury hotel chains.”

“I guess that means something special?” I remarked, and Suzy gave me a curious look. 

“His family owns the school, but if we’re talking worth, then his parents pretty much own this whole town.”

“So, he takes advantage of that,” I noted, and Suzy nodded her head before indicating to the other three boys.

“They’ve all been friends since they were kids, but everyone knows that Chan and Changbin are super close.”

“Changbin?” I questioned, and Suzy pointed to the introspective and sullen-looking student who was ignoring all of the other girls with narrowed dark eyes. 

“His parents died when he was young,” she explained. “He lives with his grandfather.”

“Oh?” I wondered, and I looked at Changbin again with a fresh perspective - as someone who had experienced trauma that would follow him for the rest of his life.

“Felix and Minho are the real fuckboys,” Suzy continued. “They’re notorious for the weekend rule.”

“The weekend rule?”

“Find a college party, hook-up with a nameless girl, and then leave her before she’s too attached.”

“Fuck boys,” I grumbled in agreement, and Suzy sighed as if she had personal experience...but I seriously doubted that someone of her caliber would stoop so low knowing full well what kind of reputation she was dealing with.

“The entire school is at their beck and call,” she said. “They do whatever they want, and nobody ever questions them.”

“Well, I’m here to graduate and find a good college for swimming,” I said, meeting Chan’s gaze from a distance. “I don’t have time for games.”

The ominous faction leader smirked as he held my stare, eyeing me up and down with a flicker of interest that I chose to ignore when Suzy asked if I wanted to finish the rest of our tour.

Day One

On my first day of classes, Suzy was kind enough to stick close to my side, although I was beginning to see that she wasn’t very popular, and we were mostly ignored by the rest of the populace. Which was just fine with me.

“Check it out!” she exclaimed. “Our schedules are almost identical.”

“I’m glad,” I said, ducking my head to avoid a couple of rough-housing football players who were “playfully” knocking each other into the lockers. “I’m pretty sure you could get lost in here.”

“Well, ideally, most students start here in Elementary school, and they stay all the way through High School,” Suzy said. 

“A pretentious education at its finest,” I remarked, wondering how much money was literally walking by me with every Luis Vuitton bag and Gucci-made uniform that passed in opposing directions. 

“Do you start swimming after school?” Suzy asked, making easy conversation as we entered our first classroom - advanced biology.

“Yeah,” I said, following Suzy to the back of the room. “There’s a tournament this weekend.”

“Already?” Suzy gasped, and she plopped down into one of the desks next to me. “Will you have enough time to practice?”

“I’ll be fine,” I reassured her, reaching for a spare notebook as the teacher walked in to begin one of the most intense lectures that I had ever attended.

But the school’s Academic reputation was no joke, and I imagined that they hired the finest teachers that the school’s infinite endowment could afford - a budget that would eclipse the remainder of the public schools in the district. Yet, no one seemed to blink an eye at how obviously unfair that was, as if these well-off students deserved a high-class education simply because their parents made more money than they could spend.

My new socio-economic environment was becoming more and more apparent, and I was suddenly feeling every part of the outcast who wandered into the wrong part of town with good intentions. But a moralistic attitude would get you nowhere in life if everyone else refused to acknowledge the fact. 

I learned quickly that the students at this school were only looking after themselves, but the lesson was hard to accept. Which might explain my uncharacteristic heroism when it came to defending Suzy later on that afternoon when she agreed to give me a ride home after swim practice.

I was outside, sending a message to my mom, when I noticed a black SUV careening backwards at a speed that was far too fast. Meanwhile, Suzy had settled down inside the car to start the ignition, messing with the dials on the radio, when a powerful jolt sent her jerking forward. “What the hell?” Suzy shrieked, turning around in her seat only to startle with that “deer in the headlights” look of absolute horror.

“Shit!!” she cursed, and I watched her get out of the car before taking a deep breath and joining her on the opposite side of her smashed trunk where a huge crowd of students had started to gather around us.

They were talking rapidly amongst themselves, and I figured out why they were so interested the minute Bang Chan and one of his friend - Felix, perhaps? - walked up to Suzy with a bored expression. “You do this often?” were the first words I ever heard from Chan. “I can’t believe you got in my way.”

Suzy immediately bowed her head - submitting to the older Senior. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, but I couldn’t stand to watch her expose her most vulnerable position. 

“Hey!” I shouted, walking around Suzy’s crumbled form to stand toe-to-toe with the infamous Bang Chan.

“You must be the new girl,” Chan remarked, eyeing me up and down with vague interest. “I kinda expected something more when I saw you the other day...”

I seethed when his gaze fell lower, as if pointing out something that only hormonal teenage boys would care about. “I’m not here to impress you,” I replied, and he arched one brow.

“I don’t need to be impressed,” Chan said. “But your little friend disrespected me, and I think she should apologize.”

“You’re the one who wasn’t looking!” I snapped. “Anyone with eyes could see that you were too busy on your phone to pay attention!”

There was a collective conversation from the crowd, and Chan studied the growing conglomeration of students surrounding our confrontation. “Do you have proof of that? Or, is it your word against mine?”

“Someone with any sense of dignity wouldn’t act this way,” I countered, and Chan immediately started laughing.

“Oh? Isn’t that cute,” he said, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You have a lot to learn around here.”

“The only thing I’ve learned is to stay away from you,” I said, and Chan rolled his eyes like it was the dumbest thing he had ever heard.

And the torment only continued.

“Hey!” I snapped when he knocked his shoulder against mine, coming to stand in front of Suzy again with disdain.

“Pay for the damages,” he ordered. “And then apologize to me.”

“Chan-” Suzy started, but I grabbed his shoulder and forced him to turn around. 

“I wasn’t finished,” I said, and our noses almost brushed from the minimal distance I allowed between us. 

“I don’t want to hear anything else about your idea of honor or whatever,” Chan sneered, but he paused when I held up my phone, pressing the play button on the video which provided convincing evidence of the incident.

“What about this?” I asked him, and I could practically see him come undone.

“Give that to me!” he demanded, but I took several steps away from him, returning my cellphone to my pocket. 

“But I’m sure the police would be interested in seeing it.”

Chan’s eyes perceptibly widened, and I felt a surge of triumph in knowing that I had the upper hand. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” I taunted him, briefly glancing over my shoulder at his friend who had started snickering - like he was enjoying our fight. 

“Fine,” Chan huffed. “What do you want?”

“You’ll pay for the damages to my friend’s car,” I said. “And...”

“And?” Chan snapped, clearly impatient.

“You can apologize to her instead,” I finished, and there were several consecutive gasps from the student population.

“Is he gonna do it?”

“There’s no way Chan will give in!!”

“Someone film this!”

My smile continued to widen at the jeers of my classmates, and Chan was finally at his wits end, spinning around on his heels to growl an imperceptible attempt at an apology to Suzy who could only look at him in awe. “We’re done here,” Chan said, and I shrugged nonchalantly, watching him storm away with his friend in tow behind him.

I sighed once they were both gone, feeling a sense of profound justice after proving that even the great Bang Chan could be defeated, but then Suzy appeared in front of me with a grave look in her eyes that told me this whole ordeal was far from over. “Y/N,” she whispered. “What have you done?”

Day Three

The next morning, I walked to my locker feeling every gaze turned in my direction. I frowned at each of them, wondering if this was the aftermath from the incident with Chan and his stupid friends. Yet, when I finally paused in front of my locker, an uncomfortable sensation of dread sent me into a cold sweat when I saw what was taped to the front of the door. 

It was a red card with a black skull at the top and the infamous “F4″ written across the bottom.

“She got the card!” someone announced from off to the side, and it didn’t take long for other students to rush in my direction.

“The card?” I whispered to myself, remembering Suzy’s previous warnings concerning the exploits of the F4 boys. It wasn’t an accident that I had received this ominous warning, and I knew that I was in trouble.

Quickly, I darted through one of the exits leading outside, placing me somewhere on a small veranda where I leaned against the bannister overlooking the school’s athletic fields. “What the hell is wrong with this place!” I screeched, projecting my voice across the fields, and I didn’t expect anyone to hear me...

“Why the hell are you screaming?” 

I paused at the sudden question, widening my eyes when I realized it was closer than I expected. “You come up here often?”

I staggered backward at the interjection, spinning around to locate the voice that had uttered the simple question. “Hello?”

There was a sigh, and then a familiar sweep of brown hair appeared from around the corner. “This is my spot, you know?”

“No,” I said, cringing at my tone. “I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

The recipient in question was none other than Changbin, one of the four members of the school’s notorious F4. His dark black hair was wind-swept across his forehead, falling in thin strands over attentive brown eyes while he leaned against the wall of the small patio sectioned off from the rest of the veranda. “Lesson learned,” Changbin continued, swaggering up the stairs to stand next to me, looking out over the playing fields. “I guess I can’t come here anymore.”

“What do you mean?” I found myself asking without really thinking about what it might look like to show that I was concerned. After all, he was a member of the same F4 that had just terrorized me with their stupid calling card.

“You’re here,” Changbin replied as if the answer might suffice. “I have a feeling this place will be too loud.”

He sighed then before starting for the exit. “W-wait!” I stuttered, unable to put together a logical sentence before Changbin was already walking back inside.

But Changbin’s unexpected appearance proved to be the least of my problems.

For the remainder of the afternoon, I faced an onslaught of humiliation courtesy of my classmates. Everything from jeers between classes, to more insulting pranks like decorating the desk on my homeroom classroom with vulgar language and pictures.

Yet, worst of all was coming face to face with Bang Chan himself who smiled some kind of sickening smirk at me before quietly asking if I had had enough of the torment. “This is nothing,” I growled at him.

“Oh? Well, it’s only gonna get worse,” Chan promised, and he left without another word, leaving me to stew over a powerful combination of anxiety and frustration.

However, Chan’s idea of worse was, indeed, inexcusable. And I nearly screamed when I went to swim that afternoon, only to discover the pool littered with trash. But there was nobody around to help, and I spent the entirety of my scheduled practice time cleaning up with water, wrinkling my nose at a few questionable banana peels.

“I guess he went through with it,” a familiar voice interrupted my trash session, beaming through the haze of disgust lingering with every brush of my fingers across sodden newspaper or moldy plates.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded of Felix and Minho - the infamous duo who were practically glued to Chan’s side.

“We just wanted to meet you,” Felix said, and I watched through narrowed eyes as they brought over chairs from the side to sit down at the poolside.

I frowned. Couldn’t they help? “Why are you interested?” I asked instead, bringing another load of trash to the edge.

“Well, it’s been awhile since anyone stood up to Chan,” Minho explained, and there was a playfulness in his gaze that left me feeling uneasy in concern to their real intentions.

“Doing what’s right shouldn’t make me a martyr,” I said.

“But it does,” Felix replied with a cheeky smile. “He’s gonna keep up the torture, you know,” he continued, waving his hand around to indicate the trash still floating on top of the chlorine-caked water. 

“Forever?” I grimaced, hating that the word had slipped free without really thinking about what it would mean to admit such things to Chan’s friends.

Minho smiled, looking up at something over my shoulder. “I’m surprised to see you here, Changbin?”

I turned around as if it was instinctual, watching the same person from earlier on the veranda walk inside from the locker room. He seemed even more out of place than Minho and Felix, studying the pollution of trash swimming with me. “She’s interesting,” Changbin said, and I was surprised when my stomach did a few somersaults at his confession.

“I agree,” Felix inserted, leaning back against his elbows with his shirt sleeves rucked up high on his forearms. “It’s been a while since Chan has been this invested in something.”

“It would be nice if he could stop,” I grumbled, and I met Changbin’s sincere gaze as he knelt down next to the poolside.

“He’ll give up when he thinks you won’t back down,” Changbin finally decided, and I watched as he started gathering the trash floating in his direction.

Day Seven

In hindsight, my imagination ran wild with scenarios that were more insane with each progressive image that crossed through my head. 

But what could you expect from someone who had just figured out that she was being followed by three burly men wearing suits like they were the Men in Black. 

Each time I started to walk faster, they would also do the same. Until it got to the point where I was zigzagging around corners, doing my best to dodge out of their sight, only to find myself once again confronted with the strange men who had no intentions of leaving me alone.

Eventually, I paused on the sidewalk outside of the school’s entrance. I was running late that morning, which meant nobody else was around to witness this madness. But I was a strong, independent woman with a a no-nonsense attitude that compelled me to project my voice across the well-polished front lawn. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” I began, holding up my hands when they grew closer. “What seems to be the problem?”

“We have orders to bring you to our boss,” they said, which only confused me even more.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know who you’re talking about?”

“Our apologies, miss,” the first man continued. “We were informed that you might try to resist.”

“Like I’m just gonna skip school and leave with a couple of strangers who have no conception of personal space,’ I glowered, but when I tried to spin around on my heel, I found myself colliding with an enormous chest, and I sighed, realizing that they had clearly been distracting me long enough for the third guard to sneak up behind me. “Fine,” I muttered, rolling my eyes when he grabbed my arm, leading me to the sleek black car running at the front of the school.

From there, my day only continued to grow even weirder, especially when I found myself walking up the steps of a gigantic mansion that looked like it could grace the cover of Vanity Fair magazine.

“Where am I?” I tried to ask, but the guards ignored my question, bringing me inside the house where I felt a twinge of misplaced guilt for treading my dirty sneakers across the pristine marble floors that practically shined with my reflection looking back at me.

“Greetings, miss,” a friendly tone greeted me, and I studied the older gentleman who dismissed the guards with a wave of his wrinkled hand. He was dressed impeccably in a suit with a long coat-tail, balding gray hair styled atop his head in a delicate swoop.

“What’s going on?” I demanded, but the butler was silent as he indicated for me to follow him. Down the crowded corridors, decorated with large, extravagant paintings, and down the granite staircase descending to the floor in a circular pattern.

Down a stretch of never-ending hallway that led to a bedroom at the end where two younger women - identically matched in uniform - greeted me by name before ushering me inside.

“Can you at least tell me where I am?” I asked the butler who followed us inside, giving out instructions as I was forced onto a stool in front of a vanity mirror, wincing when the woman immediately started to yank a brush through my long hair.

“This might take a while,” she said, and I frowned at her tone, coughing when a fresh puff of powder was streaked across my face - compliments of another girl who had a palate of make-up balanced on her hand like it was a paint tray and my skin was her canvas.

“I’d like to know something,” I insisted, but I was met with silence, crossing my arms across my chest as I resigned myself to the unexpected makeover since it was a thousand times better than my earlier scenarios where I envisioned myself dying from a James Bond-esque death.

It was only a half-hour later when the women declared themselves finished, standing back to admire their work while I had a staring contest with the girl looking back at me in the mirror. Because it was hard to believe that it was me with neat ringlets decorating my scalp, and sticky globs of mascara and foundation hiding the blemishes on my face.

I looked amazing, but it wasn’t really me. Still, I wasn’t given much time to study my new appearance, and I hesitated when the butler extended a black dress in my direction. “Our boss wants you to wear this,” he informed me, and I hesitantly accepted the expensive fabric.

“Who’s your boss?” I tried once more, but the butler simply smiled at me before waiting outside for me to get dressed, and I squeezed myself into the exquisite gown that swept the floor at my feet, hugging my curves and accentuating my figure in ways that my sweatpants and t-shirts couldn't.

When I finally walked back out, the butler smiled at me in approval before waving his hand in a grand fashion. “He’s waiting in the living room.”

I swallowed hard, following him once again through the maze of the house while wondering who I might be meeting. A rich donor? A potential Sugar Daddy?

They were all grand ideas that proved to be far better than the truth, and I could only gape in surprise when I was led into the living room, only to meet Chan’s eager gaze from across the expanse of white, designer-brand carpet.

“You!” I hissed in an accusing tone, watching the butler leave from the corner of my eye.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Chan asked, eliminating the distance between us with a few calculating steps. “They were right about the dress. You actually clean-up nice, Y/N.”

I scoffed at the backwards compliment. “Are you serious?” I nearly growled. “You kidnapped me for this?!”

Chan looked at me in disbelief, and I wondered if it was the first time that he had ever been rendered silent. “Do I not get a thank you?”

“A thank you?” I repeated. Incredulous.

“I brought you here,” Chan said, but he was clearly hesitating. “I thought you might like the attention? The clothes aren’t to your taste?”

“Shit, you’re dense,” I muttered. “Why the hell would you think that?”

“It’s obvious,” Chan said. “Talking down to me the other day, pretending like you aren’t affected by the F4 card...you just wanted my attention. And guess what, Y/N? I’m willing to give it to you.”

I blinked once, trying to understand his ridiculous train of bullshit. “What?!”

“You can be my girlfriend,” Chan said, shrugging one shoulder. “It’s a pretty big deal, but I’m sure you know that. I’ll even let you hold my hand between classes, and maybe come to your swim meets or whatever.”

“Chan...” I started, but then I broke off with a sigh because nothing I could think of seemed like an appropriate response. “I don’t think there’s even a remote chance that I would want to be your girlfriend.” I shivered, releasing a groan just saying the title. “Whatever you think is happening…it’s totally warped inside that screwed up head of yours.”

“Y/N-”

“Please,” I interrupted him, holding up one hand. “I’ve had enough, okay? I just want to go home.”

“But...” Chan tried to protested, stuttering around his words when I yanked off the expensive heels, chucking them off to the side. “How could you not want this?” he asked. “The outfit itself cost over $1,000 dollars.”

“$1,000 dollars?” I repeated, widening my eyes when I thought about how many hours my parents would need to put in at our local laundromat business to even make close to the amount he just threw away like it was nothing. “Chan, I might not live in the same world as you, but where I come from? You don’t make friends with money...you make them from the heart.”

“Impossible!” Chan protested, even as I turned my back to him. “Money can buy anything!”

“Is that why I’m leaving?” I returned, reaching down to hold my dress in place while feeling a small sense of satisfaction at having left Chan completely speechless.

Of course, in hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have tossed the shoes because the cement was hot against the soles of my feet, and I had attracted more than one curious look as I stormed down the street in search of the main road to take me back home.

“Stupid moron,” I huffed, practically jogging down the road with bare feet and my dress hiked up my legs to prevent me from tripping over the train. It was probably a sight for sore eyes when it came to the rich socialites who populated the neighborhood.

But like the sun’s rays penetrating the clouds on a rainy afternoon, I heard the sound of a motorcycle growing closer from behind me. Until the bike was right next to me, and the driver removed his helmet to expose a familiar bush of brown locks.

“Do you need a ride home?” Changbin asked, and I swallowed hard as I met his steady gaze. It was a simple question, but the fact that he didn’t even question me about why I was here? Nor could I detect any judgement in those impenetrable brown eyes that held all the allure, sending my heart knocking against my breastbone once again.

“Yeah,” I agreed, taking the extra helmet from him. “It’s been a shitty day.”

“I know how that feels,” Changbin said, and I was surprised by his easy conversation, planting myself on the seat behind him.

“Thank you for this,” I said, wrapping my arms around his waist and shivering at the thick smell of his cologne.

“It seems like you might be worth the effort,” Changbin remarked before kicking his bike into gear, and my heart did something strange that might be considered very dangerous when it involved the F4.

But I couldn’t help it, and I had never been more at ease this close to someone else.

Day Ten

Despite my adamant protests, the school insisted that I needed to take a physical education course, which meant that I was forced to pretend to enjoy dodgeball with the rest of my classmates. Hiding out at the back while most of the other girls did all the hard work. But I was only meant for one sport, and dodgeball was as far from swimming as one could get.

It helped that Suzy had gym at the same time, and we talked between games, with Suzy leading most of the conversation.as she offered introductions for most of our other classmates. “Mandy,” Suzy grumbled at one point, indicating to a tall blonde with long legs and a permanent sneer. “She thinks that she somehow has a chance to be with Chan, even though he’s kinda made it obvious that he doesn’t think anyone here is good enough.”

“Really?” I snorted, seeking Chan out from the corner of my eye, playing basketball on the courts with the rest of the F4. 

“It’s a running thing here,” Suzy continued. “But most people don’t even try since they don’t want to get on Mandy’s bad side.”

“Whatever,” I replied, averting my gaze when Chan’s eyes met mine. “He’s not even worth it.”

“Most of our classmates would disagree,” Suzy said with a shrug, nudging her shoulder against mine when one of the instructors ordered us to begin the second round.

As usual, I lingered at the the sidelines away from my team, making a half-hearted attempt to play along, especially since I seemed to be a recurring target, using other bodies to protect myself from stray plastic dodgeballs. “What the hell,” I grumbled, wondering if that stupid F4 card was to blame for my classmate’s sudden desire to single me out from everyone else.

I crossed my arms at the thought, finding myself once again looking back over at Chan...Did he think it was funny to make me a target of ridicule? Well, at least Changbin was being surprisingly nice, and just the mere mention of the older boy was enough to do crazy things to my poor heart.

But lost in my daydreams, I failed to notice that Mandy and one of her friends had stalked to the edge of the court, rearing back to throw their dodgeballs at me while I was distracted. “Y/N!” I heard Suzy’s voice scream from across the field, and I looked away from Chan only to find myself frozen in place while a dodgeball flew in my direction.

The sickening CRACK! of the stupid thing hitting my nose was audible, and I immediately tasted blood on my upper lip. “Go clean yourself up, Miss Y/L/N,” one of the instructors said, but I was furious that she was treating the situation so nonchalantly.

It was all Chan’s fault. Even if he hadn't thrown the ball, he empowered his classmates to belittle me at every opportunity, and I was tired of being the school’s metaphorical punching bag. And I hated the tears threatening to fall, refusing to show any signs of weakness as I stormed past Suzy for the girl’s bathroom.

“Fuck,” I cursed as I leaned over the sink, splashing some cold water on my face as I looked at my bloody and mangled reflection in the mirror. 

This was the worst incident so far, and I hated that the situation had escalated to something physical, gripping the edge of the sink tightly as I closed my eyes to regain control over my breathing.

“Here,” a voice whispered from behind me, and I turned around with a glare already contorting my expression when I was forced to face Bang Chan once again.

“It’s your fault,” I replied, snatching the paper towel from him as I dabbed at my nose. “What the hell are you doing in the girl’s bathroom?”

“I’m sorry,” Chan said, but I refused to believe it was sincere, turning back around to check the damage of my nose in the mirror. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“You can’t be sorry after the fact,” I snapped. “You had every chance to make things right and leave me the hell alone.”

“Well, I can’t do that now...” Chan trailed off, and it was surprising to see him suddenly look so unsure of himself. “I'm just trying to help...”

“And who asked you to do that?” I returned, looking at him from the corner of my eye. “Even if you were the last person on Earth, I would never ask for your help!”

My exclamation was punctuated by a rather harsh sound after I shoved the paper towels into the trashcan, preparing to leave the bathroom before Chan grabbed my arm to turn me back around. “What do you dislike so much?” Chan whined. “I don’t understand...I’m rich, handsome, smart...”

“All of it!” I interrupted with a harsh tone, and Chan immediately stumbled back against the sink. “You must not realize, but do you think those things matter to me? Because I can’t even consider them when your entire personality is unattractive! Your arrogant attitude, your stupid face, and that ridiculous curly hair!!”

“Are you insane?” Chan asked, and his bewildered expression would be funny under any other circumstances.

“I’m not done yet,” I sharply interjected. “It annoys me that you guys are allowed to do whatever you want at this school, and the whole red card deal? Where you give everyone a free pass to bully other students? Like it’s nothing? That’s the absolute worst thing about you!!”

“Y/N...”

“Do I need to repeat it?” I interrupted once more. “I hate everything about you!”

The harsh exclamation was met by silence as Chan continued to stare at me, and I decided to leave him alone in silence to think about everything I had said, rejoining my classmates with a sense of relief at having stood up to someone who considered himself as better than everyone else.

Day Fourteen

“You should come with me,” Suzy remarked one afternoon, sitting next to the poolside with me as I swam my regular laps. 

“I’d rather not,” I said, pausing at the edge of the pool to consider her request - a night under the stars, as the school’s dance team had proclaimed it, and it was one of the biggest school events of the year.

“Why?” Suzy whined. “The F4 revoked your red card, and you can meet some more people...maybe even score some connections.”

“Right,” I scoffed, thinking the idea absurd, but I guess it wouldn’t seem so outrageous to the ones who had been dealing with these politics for their entire lives. “I’m not really that outgoing.”

“It’s okay,” Suzy reassured me, and I could tell that she really wanted me to come with her, which is probably why I felt compelled to agree. But her smile and cheering was worth it, especially considering just how good of a friend Suzy had proven to be during the past two weeks.

And that’s how I found myself walking up to the school’s gymnasium that weekend, wearing an uncomfortable black dress that Suzy had agreed to lend me for the occasion. “You look hot, Y/N,” Suzy said, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that my reflection reminded me too much of the time when Chan had brought me to his house to play dress-up.

“I can hear the music all the way out here,” I said, following Suzy up the gym steps.

“Yeah, this event isn’t regulated by the teachers, so it’s basically a free-for-all,” Suzy explained, and I desperately wished that I could find the appeal in that statement, especially once we entered the building, washing us in neon colors of purple and pink. “Let’s dance!” Suzy immediately cried, pulling me to the dance floor despite my protests.

Thankfully, I only had to awkwardly navigate the party scene for one song before Suzy became preoccupied with a very cute Senior boy from our homeroom. I was able to sneak away to the punch bowl, ladling some of the red liquid into my cup before bringing it to my lips. “Hmm,” I wondered, eyeing the drink because it tasted so familiar...”Oh well,” I said, shrugging as I proceeded to drain several more cups before sinking down against the wall, never noticing that a pair of eyes had been watching my every movement until a pair of Versace-toed boots stopped in front of me. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Chan remarked, and I was shocked that he had the guts to talk to me after honoring my request to be ignored for the past several days.

“What do you want?” I grumbled, reluctantly taking his outstretched hand to help me stand again because my vision was unusually blurry and my stomach was churning.

“The punch was spiked,” Chan said, chucking at my disheveled state.

“Spiked?” I repeated, finding myself totally incoherent as I leaned most of my weight against him. “When did that happen?”

“The Seniors do it as a prank,” Chan said, and his gaze seemed to soften as he held me close. “Do you want to sit down?”

“That would be nice,” I slurred, allowing him to guide me over to the bleachers where I dropped down with a thud!

“Damn, you’re pretty wasted,” Chan said, looking me over with an uncharacteristic amount of concern.

“I didn’t know...” I trailed off, pointing back at the punch bowl. “It tasted so good.”

“I bet it did,” Chan said, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he cleared his throat. “I saw that you came with your friend, but maybe you might want some company?”

“Sure!” I said, patting the space next to me. “You’ve caught me in a good mood.”

Chan grinned - a genuine smile that I could hardly recognize - as he sat down with a sigh. “This doesn’t really seem like your type of scene.”

“Not really,” I agreed, narrowing my eyes when the room started swaying. “But you’re not my usual type of person.”

“Right,” Chan agreed, chuckling awkwardly as he messed up his hair - straightened instead of curly. “Maybe we could go somewhere else?”

I frowned because, even though I might’ve been a little more than tipsy, I still remembered that I didn’t like Chan, and there was no reason for me to go anywhere with him. “Are you intentionally ignoring everything I said from the other day?”

“No,” Chan murmured. “But I was hoping that I could give you space...and maybe a chance to prove myself?”

“Really?” I snorted. “How much have you changed since the last time we talked?”

“Probably not much,” Chan acknowledged, much to my surprise. “But after everything you said, maybe I’d like to? And I feel like you’re the only person who can be honest enough to help me.”

“Oh,” I replied, slightly disconcerted by Chan’s abrupt change in attitude. “Still, after everything you did...”

“I know I don’t deserve it,” Chan quickly agreed. “But I think you’re one of the rare kinds of people who believes in second chances.”

I exhaled loudly at his words, and in part to keep myself from throwing up after all the alcohol I ingested. “Where would we go?”

“What about a date at the diner downtown?” Chan asked, swallowing hard. “With me?”

“Let’s not call it a date,” I grimaced, and Chan agreed, even though it seemed to be a reluctant remission on his part. “But, yeah, that actually might be nice.”

“Perfect!” Chan said, and he was already on his feet with an energy that was impossible to ignore. “I’ll have Changbin tell your friend. Wait right here, and I’ll come back.”

“Okay,” I muttered, clutching my stomach as I watched Chan run off into the crowd. “Jeez, Y/N,” I groaned. “What are you doing with this guy?”

It might be one of the worst decisions of my life, but something he said struck a nerve deep inside of me. He might be unbearable, but he was right about one thing: people could always change, and I was the type of person who allowed second chances...just as long as someone was willing to earn it and prove themselves.

“Are we taking your car?” I asked, staggering against Chan’s hold as he brought us outside the gym.

“Yeah,” he said. “We can take my car, and you can sober up on the way.”

“Good idea,” I agreed, regretting the decision to drink so much of that stupid punch with every swaying step towards Chan’s expensive sports car.

He had the decency to open the door for me, and I fell inside with a grunt, waiting for him to turn over the ignition before he started fussing over me. “Do you need anything? Something to drink? Are you hot or cold? Should I turn on the music?”

“Don’t ask questions,” I gritted out - a response to everything while I leaned my head against the window.

“Got it,” Chan said, and he dutifully followed through on his promise, never speaking again until we pulled into the parking lot of the diner he had advertised earlier. “Do you feel any better?”

I nodded, an honest response. Because the drive had taken close to twenty minutes, and I had found a water bottle in the floor, downing the contents to settle my stomach and the wave of nausea that only alcohol could bring. “We can go inside,” I said, rolling my eyes when he made a show of coming around to help me out of the car, grabbing my arm despite my protests. “What is this place?” I asked when we walked inside, choosing an empty table near the back.

“My friends come here a lot,” Chan replied. “It’s quiet.”

“Quiet?” I laughed. “There’s no way it’s quiet if the whole school comes here.”

“They don’t,” Chan said, surprising me yet again. “Nobody knows we come here.”

He gave me a meaningful look, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was risking a lot by entrusting me with their secret. “Got it,” I said, miming myself closing a zipper across my lips (perhaps that was the drunkenness affecting my judgement).

But Chan still laughed, and then he went to the counter to order, leaving me to contemplate what the actual hell I was doing with the school’s literal celebrity who treated most people like shit, including me for a short while at the very beginning.

At this point, I really couldn’t blame the alcohol. So, what was wrong with me? Why was I doing this?

“Here,” Chan said, dropping a mug of something sweet down in front of me, effectively interrupting my internal conflict.

“Hot chocolate?” I asked, and I was definitely caught off-guard as Chan shrugged and sat down in front of me.

“I thought you might prefer this,” he admitted.

“Oh...” I started, searching for a good response. “Thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” Chan said, and he smiled as he watched me taste the foam resting on top. “Is it good?”

“It’s nice,” I admitted, and Chan had the appearance of someone who had just landed an acceptance to their dream college.

“You’re different from the others,” Chan said, switching the topic. “I like that about you, and it makes me regret everything I’ve done even more.”

“Yeah,” I huffed. “That red card shit needs to stop.”

“I agree,” Chan said, bringing his mug even closer. “My friends have wanted to stop for a while...”

“They’re way smarter than you,” I said, tilting my head to the side as if it might give me a different vantage point of the confusing boy sitting in front of me. “Did you really want to come here with me?”

Chan nodded, eyes gleaming. “You’re interesting,” he decided, mirroring the exact same thing that Changbin had said to me a while back. “I think I like you a lot, which is why what you said to me at my house and in the bathroom really made me reconsider a lot of things.”

“Oh?” I questioned him, amused by his reasoning, and possibly even endeared by his regretful expression. “I might learn to like you...” I trailed off, laughing at his puppy-dog eyes as he looked at me with obvious desperation. “If you learn to behave.”

“Is that so?” Chan remarked, and his smile was perfectly sincere. “Well, I think you’re the best person to teach me.”

And despite our complicated history together - unwinding after such a brief amount of time in one another’s company - I was more than willing to try for the very strange boy who was starting to show me the intricate layers underneath all the wealth and arrogance - a mere façade for something better, the potential for good if a brave enough person was careful enough to find it.

End of Part One